A Blank Slate
Dulce’s eyes shot open as her mind registered the soft bed under her. Her mind was already working furiously as she sat up and looked around. Nothing seemed familiar, and her brain seemed to have a few gaps. All she could remember was leaving His Highness’s Last Breath and having an annoying exchange with someone…
Zax, her muddled thought brought up a name that seemed right. Then another name ran through her blurry thoughts, Ignacio. Dulce blinked a few times and stared out a window, trying to put the random thoughts into a coherent order. The only thing that she found herself able to focus on was Ignacio. His name continued to play through her mind, over and over again, though she wasn’t quite able to figure out why. As she frowned at the window, a part of her brain noted the sights that her eyes were failing to take in. Trying to focus her thoughts on her surroundings, Dulce balled up her hands and placed them over her eyes, as if trying to block the world out. The sound of water caught her attention, and the seer pulled a hand away from her face. Her eye peeked open a little and tried to focus on the view. The sound of waves and a strange but oddly familiar bird call caused Dulce to move her other hand away from her face. Crawling over her bed, she looked out at an ocean that stretched for nearly as far as her eyes could see. Looking down, she noticed a narrow beach just outside of the window.
Dulce sat back and stared at the view, completely confused. “What does Ignacio have to do with a beach?”
“Nothing,” the voice was matter-of-fact and detached. “Don’t worry, when he tries to rescue you from yourself, he will find a letter. If he is smart, he will follow the instructions. If he is the fool you said he was, he will simply waste his time trying to find you.”
Unwashed. The word came unbidden into her mind, and Dulce slowly turned to see if the thought was correct. A soft bed and a gorgeous view did not seem like the kind of thing she expected to find if she were captured by the notorious magic-hating cult, but if they wanted to torment her, that was one way to go about it. Her eyes fell on the person she thought must have been the speaker. Standing at a table was a tall man with hair that could only be that of a champion. No other humanoid had blondish hair with black highlights—it was always a dead giveaway that you were facing someone who could easily snap you in half. Only white tigers were stronger, but they did not tend to carry weapons. Champions did. However, the champion in Dulce’s room did not seem to have one, and she frowned. There was no question that she was safe, but for some reason that did not make her feel better. Then there was the look in his eye, a look that hinted that something was wrong.
Feeling that the whole thing was too much for her to process, Dulce lay back down and pulled the blanket over her head. The sound of footsteps made her roll over and peek out. The champion was shaking his head as he left the room.
Am I on a mission? The thought was somewhat exciting because she always loved meeting new people and doing something worthwhile. But there was still something there that bothered her. Deciding that it didn’t matter, she closed her eyes and fell back to sleep.
A warm hand and voice woke her. “You can’t sleep yourself to death. Come, I have made you breakfast.”
Dulce pushed her face into the pillow and mumbled, “I’m not hungry.”
“Irrelevant.”
What a bizarre response. It dawned on her that the voice was not familiar, and perhaps she should be concerned. Failing to feel anything in particular about her situation, Dulce found herself a bit curious about who would go into a seer’s room and try to force her to eat. Opening her eyes, Dulce moved her head to look at the speaker.
“You’re a champion,” she said as soon as her eyes noticed his hair. “Strange color eyes for a champion, though.”
The shifter tilted his head to the side as if he were deciding how to respond. Finally, he said, “Yes, we established my species when we met.”
Running her hand over her face, Dulce tried to find that particular memory. “I feel a bit guilty, but I don’t remember meeting you.”
There was more she wanted to say, but the way the champion looked at her caused her to stop. He seemed to choose his words carefully. “What kind of powder do you carry in your pouch?”
Putting her hands on the bed, Dulce forced herself into a sitting position, uncaring about her appearance. “It’s a sleep aid.”
“How strong a sleep aid?”
Confused by the question, Dulce looked up at the ceiling, “Just something that another seer gave me that was meant to help me sleep because of… something.” She frowned, unable to remember exactly why she had needed help sleeping. “All it takes is a little pinch and it puts me right out.”
“What would an entire handful of the stuff do?”
“Oh, gods, I would never use an entire handful on myself. Maybe a shifter because you guys are so…” Ignacio. An image of the assassin passed through her mind. His hand was outstretched and he was saying something. Was he… confessing his love?
“Here.” The champion grabbed something off of the table and sat down next to her on the bed. Dulce felt confused as she couldn’t remember much of what had happened.
A glass was pressed to her lips, and the seer suddenly realized that she was very thirsty. Grabbing the glass, she finished all of the water at once. “More,” she gasped. “Please.”
The champion took the glass and left the room. Her throat suddenly feeling very parched, Dulce turned to look out of the window. She scratched her head and wondered about her current situation. When the champion returned with a glass of water and a pitcher, she looked up at him. “I seem to be having trouble with my memories. I’m so sorry, but I don’t even remember your name, let alone why we are here.”
He handed her the water, and she noticed that his eyes did not change as he started to look at her, almost like he was trying to determine if she was lying. “Well, I wouldn’t expect you to remember my name as I did not tell you.”
“What? Why not? If we are to work together, I think I should know who my partner is. How are we supposed to accomplish…” she waved her hands around as she tried to remember why she was on a beach. Finally, all she could come up with was, “…whatever we are doing here. If I don’t know your name.” She took the glass and drained it.
The whole time the champion never took his eyes off of her. When Dulce finished the water, he took the glass, refilled it, and handed it back to her. She took a long drink, but did not finish the glass. Turning to face him, she realized that he still had not answered her. Perhaps she was expecting to see amusement or interest, but his eyes reflected no emotions.
His voice was unchanged as he looked at her, “You have never heard of me, and you are not here on a mission.”
Dulce frowned at her water glass, “I wouldn’t just go to the beach. Ishtar is in trouble, and….” There was something wrong, but she couldn’t seem to place her finger on it.
The champion rose and moved over to the table. “Come eat.”
“I am not—” Her stomach growled before she could finish her thought. Something like a smile flitted across the champion’s face, but it was gone nearly as fast as she had noticed it. “Okay, maybe I should actually pay attention.” She gave him a sheepish look. “I didn’t realize just how thirsty I was. It is quite possible I just haven’t noticed I am hungry.”
“Of course you are hungry.”
“What makes you say that? I’ve never been a big eater, so skipping a meal or two is pretty normal for me.”
“I feel certain you don’t skip four days’ worth of meals.”
Dulce frowned, her thoughts trying to figure out what he meant. “Of course not. I would be starving if I did that.”
“Then come eat.”
Dulce scratched her head as she rose. “Why are my thoughts so jumbled and broken? Why haven’t I eaten for days? That doesn’t even make sense.” She sat down in the chair that the champion had pulled out for her.
Instead of responding to her questions, the champion asked, “Would it be alright if I take your pouch?”
“Hmm?” Dulce looked up at him. “Sure. There isn’t much in it besides the sleep aid, some money, and a few personal items.”
Hesitating, the champion gave her a quizzical look, but then picked up the pouch and bowed to her. “Please enjoy the food. If you are still hungry when you finish I can make you more. Otherwise, please stick to your room until I return.”
“How long will that be?” Dulce lifted the fork from the table and began to poke at a salad. There were a few things in it that she did not recognize, which was definitely unexpected. She had been all around the world—there weren’t many foods she had not encountered.
“I am not sure, but if you ring the small bell by your dresser, I will return. However, I would request that you only summon me if you need me.” He bowed again and left.
Dulce put the fork down and both of her hands over her face before turning to face the window. “What is going on?” Her voice was low as she muttered to a small bird that had just landed outside of her window. It made a little chirp, tilted its head, then flew away.
Another prompt from her stomach, and Dulce decided to eat. One bite was all it took, and she realized just how hungry she was. Less than 10 minutes later, she had finished everything on the table, including something she suspected was more of a garnish than a part of the meal. Still a little hungry, she looked over at the bell. For a moment, she considered ringing it because the champion had said to let him know if she needed more to eat. The serious look on his face and his request to only ring him if needed caused her to rethink calling him. Instead, she filled her glass and drank two more glasses until she felt full.
Looking around, she decided she may as well explore her room. It wasn’t large, but it certainly was bigger than… somewhere she had been recently. Frustrated with the gaps in her memory, Dulce stood up and began walking around the room. There was a dresser full of clothing, and when she began pulling clothing out, she knew she was not in Ishtar anymore. These were the clothes of somewhere out past the Kildian Isles, nearly half a world away from her country. It was rumored that the champions came from around that region, but that had never been confirmed. Nor could she think of any reason why she would need to be there. It seemed strange that anyone would send her so far away to such a remote place. She slipped out of her nightgown, a small part of her wondering how she had gotten into it in the first place. It was definitely not one of hers. With a shrug she pulled a pair of trousers on and a loose-fitting shirt. Stepping over to the mirror, she smiled at the effect the clothing had on her. Dulce had always loved dressing more like the locals, and any chance to wear trousers were welcome. Dresses were so impractical.
The memory of blood trickling down her leg caused her to pause. Dulce sat on the bed and pulled up the leg of her trousers. There was a cut on her leg, but it had clearly been tended to and would leave little, if any, scarring. Dulce pushed the clothing back over her leg and stood up, determined to keep exploring while ignoring everything she couldn’t remember. It will come to me eventually. No point in rushing it.
Unconsciously, she smiled as she moved around the room. There wasn’t much to it—table, chairs, sitting area, small desk, and a little bathroom. Dulce stepped into the bathroom and looked around and saw everything she would expect in Ishtar, but it seemed out of place on the beach. She walked over to the toilet and pulled a little string. To her surprise, it flushed. Giving a little clap, Dulce smiled again and looked around, more eager to see what else was familiar. After a minute of looking around, the only thing that seemed to be missing was a shower. Suddenly, an idea went through her head: If you were asleep for four days, don’t you need a shower?
The idea was mortifying, especially as she had a champion with her. They had incredibly sensitive noses, and the idea that she would have four days’ worth of odor on her was appalling. Immediately, she began to look for a cloth she could use to clean herself. Finding nothing in the bathroom, Dulce moved into her room and found a small stack of cloths on a little stand near her bed. There was also a small basin. Placing a cloth in the basin, and taking it to the bathroom, Dulce began to wash up a bit, humming while she did.
Once finished, she cleaned up the basin and hung the cloth over a bar in the bathroom. Returning to the room, she began to look around, wondering what else she could do with the time. There wasn’t much. Finally, she moved over to the desk. There were a few notebooks, and she flipped through a couple of them. All of the notebooks were empty, leaving her with nothing to read. Looking at the covers, she decided on one that she thought would be good for writing, then she started looking for a writing implement. A quill rested inside one of the drawers, and a little inkwell rested on top of the desk. Dulce peeked inside and saw that there was ink inside of it. For a moment, she debated whether she should bother the champion about it, but decided that her boredom was not a good enough reason to summon him. If he was displeased with her using the notebook or tools, she would pay him back and apologize.
Dulce tapped her face with the quill for a moment, trying to decide what she should write about. The most obvious thing for her to do was to try to piece together the gaps in her memory, and writing was probably the best way to do that.
For the next few hours, the seer scribbled down everything she could recall, which was frustratingly little.
A pleasant smell caught her attention, and Dulce turned to see the champion enter the room with a plate of food. “You are back!” She put the quill down and stood up. “I hope you do not mind, but I started to write, not too sure what else there was to do.”
The champion’s eyes moved to the desk top, and he appeared to get a little stiffer as he took in the scene. His eyes then moved to Dulce, who was now smiling at him from the desk. He did not move for a moment, and she wondered if he was angry as his eyes had flashed for a second at seeing the notebook. But it did not last, and she could not detect any emotion in his voice as he said, “You are free to do whatever you want in here. I imagine you must have been bored, so I appreciate that you waited. After you are done eating, I can take you outside for a bit.”
Dulce beamed, “I would love that. And thank you for the meal, I haven’t eaten anything that good in…” she frowned for a second before recovering herself, “a while. I am really looking forward to this meal too, but only if you will join me.”
The champion stared at her for a moment before responding, “I did not make enough for two people.”
Dulce laughed and moved to the table, “That’s alright. I can just drink some more water.”
The champion’s eyes moved to the empty pitcher on the table. When he looked back at Dulce, he was frowning. “Did you drink instead of requesting more food?” He quickly stepped over to pull the chair out for her as she neared the table.
Dulce shrugged as she sat, “Of course. I didn’t want to disrupt whatever you were doing. You were so serious, I didn’t think that being a little hungry was worth dragging you away from your task.”
When her offhanded remark was met with silence, Dulce turned to look at the shifter. His eyebrows were knit together. “I am always serious, and your health is my primary concern.”
“If that is the case,” she pushed the chair out from under the table and stood up, “let’s go make more food. I would love to see how you do it, and I am not going to eat without you.”
The champion’s eyes bore into her, but Dulce was not about to give in. With a sigh, he motioned for her to follow him. As they walked down the hall, he turned a little so she could hear him say, “When they said you were stubborn, this was not what I had come to expect.”
“Who said I was stubborn?” Dulce followed him down a bright, wide hallway.
He said nothing as they entered a large kitchen and pointed to a little chair off to the side.
Dulce looked at the chair, then the champion. “Surely you don’t expect me to sit and do nothing while you do all of the work.”
“You can provide the conversation while I cook.”
“I do know how to cook, you know.”
His eyes were passive as he looked at her, “I am not afraid of your cooking skills. For now, I prefer to keep you away from anything potentially dangerous.”
“What?” Dulce frowned. “What are you talking about? It’s just a kitchen.”
The champion moved around the space, picking up a few things before standing at a small island in the middle. “You have gaps in your memory, so I am not going to go into it. For now, I will only say that it is best for you to stay over there. I will attempt to keep you entertained, but be warned, I am not well suited to such tasks.”
Dulce laughed as she sat down, “You are quite honest, aren’t you? I like you.” She watched as he looked up at her, a hint of disbelief on his face. “I wish you would at least give me your name. Constantly saying ‘champion’ or ‘hey, you’ just doesn’t sit well.”
The champion looked torn for a moment. “Draven.”
Dulce smiled, “See? Not so difficult, was it, Draven.” She knew that it was his real name; the seer could not imagine the champion lying about anything. “I have known a few champions in my life, but none of them were quite as serious as you. I hope that you do not hate your assignment, but I will try to make it a little less of a burden. It is the least I could do since you have agreed to help me.”
Draven’s eyes flicked up as he cut a few vegetables. “I tried to warn them that there were champions better qualified, but my brethren were quite insistent that I… help you.”
There was something in the way he said it that gave Dulce pause. Seers and champions often helped each other through official tasks, but something about the way he said “help you” hinted that he meant something else. Deciding to ignore it, Dulce began talking about one particular mission she had done in her early days, one that had ended with her meeting Ignacio. Draven was the perfect listener, not once interrupting her story as he prepared the meal.
“And after that, I was quite adamant about saving him. I didn’t care that he was an assassin. He was just a cub, and one who clearly did not kill just because someone had offered to pay him. I think the term assassin is really a misnomer. They kill, but not just for money as the name suggests. Anyway, I don’t think he knew quite what to do with me after that, so he stuck around and learned as much as he could about me. It was rather charming and adorable, and I took it the wrong way. That was a very valuable lesson, one that I will never forget. Humbling, too.” As she finished the story, Dulce noticed that Draven was smiling.
As soon as she looked at him, he looked down. “It is ready.” He lifted a large tray from the counter. “I will have to insist you eat the fresh food, and I will take the cold dish.”
“Nonsense,” she waved a hand and moved over to try to help him by taking the pitcher.
He was too fast. Draven’s hand slid around the handle, brushing hers out of the way. “You are a guest here. Please, after you.” He nodded toward the hall.
With a huff, Dulce said, “I can help, you know. You shouldn’t do everything on your own.”
Draven simply repeated, “After you.”
Knowing that the champion was not going to change his mind, the seer turned and moved down the hall. He followed her back to her room.