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Isibel has never seen an odder collection of fauna. She has not traveled extensively, but she is sure that creatures of this size - lizards as heavy as ten elves together, beavers eight and nine feet long, turtles with shells the size of small houses - are not customary. Yet the island is riddled with them.
The creatures have no particular fear of elves, but nor do they seek them, and none of her party have been attacked; she feels safe enough traveling through the forest on her own, stepping lightly, looking for the sweep of the treeline and any springs that might be useful for settlers if elves settle here. Besides, she is a student of the small magics, some of which may be cast quite rapidly if there is need; she could frighten away an animal that took too much interest in her. The ribbons tied around each of her knees and ankles (blending seamlessly with the rest of her travel outfit) are some of her finest small magic, guiding her steps so that she may place her feet as elves ought to be able to and bring no embarrassment to her House. They don't make her truly graceful, but she can walk, and care will do the rest.
She's deep into the forested part of the Unknown Island when she starts finding statues. Old statues. The trees have grown up around them, it looks like, they've been here that long; they're worn and weathered and have lichen growing on them.
And they're all of unicorns.
The oldest sculptures are none too skillful, but as she proceeds inward towards the center of the island, they become newer and better and it's plain to see that they're not of unicorns, but a unicorn. A unicorn with a broken horn; this is not, it soon becomes apparent, random damage to early statues. Someone has carved a specific unicorn, dozens - hundreds? thousands? - of times. And the art has been made with such intense love, and the newest of the statues are so delicately done that they look almost like real unicorns, with all the magic that implies, though they hold still and are on closer inspection all still carved from stone.
Someone loved this unicorn, and lived on this island, and made a thousand statues of her, and now the place is inhabited only by giant animals that certainly could have done no such thing. Isibel wonders what happened to the sculptor. To the unicorn, too.
On she walks.
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She nods. She waves.
And off she goes, looking for the expedition leader as soon as she's back in sight of the tents on the beach.
And off she goes, looking for the expedition leader as soon as she's back in sight of the tents on the beach.
Magania's tent flaps are pinned open, indicating the approachability of the occupant; she is sitting inside, taking tea.
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Isibel stands in the doorway and waits for her presence to be acknowledged.
"I See you, Isibel," the older woman says politely. "Enter and be welcome."
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"I See you, Magania." Isibel enters. "I apologize for my bluntness, but I fear that some among us may be liable to eat of poisonous plants or animals from the island, expecting safety in the way more typical of island-dwelling species."
"...It would please me greatly," says Magania, "to hear all you may wish to tell. Come and take tea." A hint of a smile touches the corners of her eyes. "It was brought from the mainland and should be quite safe."
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Isibel sits and accepts tea. "Thank you. I went into the forest along the south side of the island, exploring, and I found a great many lovingly-carved statues of a unicorn, and when I went further in, I found their carver. We shared no language, but communicated through mime and pictures, and he was able to tell me which things that grow here will be edible to elves." And Magania's certainly not going to ask her what the sculptor was if not an elf. She can come at this information as slowly as she likes. "He has been living here for many centuries, and did not volunteer his name."
"I am grateful for this knowledge," Magania murmurs. "It would please me to hear more, and perhaps to meet this person myself, if he is willing. But the knowledge of what is and is not safe to eat is the more urgent matter."
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"It is," agrees Isibel. She turns to the relevant portions of her book and tears out the color-touched index of potential food and potential deadliness. "He first showed me by gestures the berry that appears in my own lines, and then drew the remainder himself; without a language in common to describe the items beyond their shapes, he changed the color of the paper instead."
"This sculptor is both knowledgeable and resourceful," Magania observes. "I will see that we all have the opportunity to learn what he has shared with you."
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"Thank you." Isibel looks down at the rest of the notebook, still in her hands. "He - fears for his safety if others find him. He has been alone save for his Bondmate for what I believe to have been thousands of years, fleeing those who wished him harm - the unicorn he sculpted, called Tialle, aided his escape." There, more tidbits to postpone telling her about the demon part; maybe the unicorn's name is known or the existence of a previously unknown dragon will be distracting or Magania will rashly issue a guarantee of his safety.
Magania sips her tea and lowers the cup onto the table in front of her.
"If he fears for his safety," she says, "then surely it would be a kindness to leave him alone until we have had time to fully consider his advice. You have told me many surprising things this afternoon. I am always pleased to hear the counsel of the young, and I thank Leaf and Star that I am not yet too old for surprises."
"If he fears for his safety," she says, "then surely it would be a kindness to leave him alone until we have had time to fully consider his advice. You have told me many surprising things this afternoon. I am always pleased to hear the counsel of the young, and I thank Leaf and Star that I am not yet too old for surprises."
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Isibel almost speaks, then she re-runs those sentences through her head. Apparently Magania picked up on more than Isibel had gotten around to disclosing - maybe Tialle's story is generally known and Isibel simply hasn't happened to hear it.
She sips her tea. "A life without surprises would be a dull one," she agrees lightly.
She sips her tea. "A life without surprises would be a dull one," she agrees lightly.
Magania smiles slightly, and nods, and remarks on the flavour of the tea. The urgent part of this conversation is over.
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Isibel doesn't really like small talk, but she can put up with it for the requisite three or four sentences, and excuse herself, and permit hours to elapse while she assists with various tasks of establishing the camp. In particular, someone found a water source that didn't have a demon floating in it; there is water to carry. She can carry water and think at the same time, even if it would be inappropriate for her to seek idle time with her notebook.
It is time for after-dinner tea when someone mentions to Isibel that if it happened to be convenient for her, she'd be welcome to take tea with Magania and then perhaps go for a walk.
Of course this will be convenient for Isibel.
Tea is had. Small talk is had.
It is time for after-dinner tea when someone mentions to Isibel that if it happened to be convenient for her, she'd be welcome to take tea with Magania and then perhaps go for a walk.
Of course this will be convenient for Isibel.
Tea is had. Small talk is had.
Magania remarks that she has not yet had a chance to explore the island, and that perhaps it would please Isibel to show her one of the paths into the woods which she discovered earlier today.
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...All right then.
"Of course. I began in this direction," says Isibel.
And in that direction they go.
And after a mile there is the first unicorn statue.
"Of course. I began in this direction," says Isibel.
And in that direction they go.
And after a mile there is the first unicorn statue.
Magania spends that mile either making idle commentary on the plant life they pass, or saying nothing at all.
When they come upon the statue, she inspects it for a moment, then nods slowly.
"In my youth," she murmurs, "I was for a time honoured to belong to the Unicorn Knights."
When they come upon the statue, she inspects it for a moment, then nods slowly.
"In my youth," she murmurs, "I was for a time honoured to belong to the Unicorn Knights."
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"Though I share no complete language with the sculptor, he did recognize the word unicorn, when I guessed at it," Isibel offers.
She nods.
"I am not surprised," she says. "During my time with the Unicorn Knights, I had many fascinating conversations with my partner about history and genealogy among unicorns and elves; he was a student of both, but preferred the former. Through him, I heard numerous stories of unicorns in ages past whose lives and deeds are preserved in the memories of their descendants."
"I am not surprised," she says. "During my time with the Unicorn Knights, I had many fascinating conversations with my partner about history and genealogy among unicorns and elves; he was a student of both, but preferred the former. Through him, I heard numerous stories of unicorns in ages past whose lives and deeds are preserved in the memories of their descendants."
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Ah-huh.
"I suppose a unicorn with her horn broken would be memorable indeed to those who knew her."
"I suppose a unicorn with her horn broken would be memorable indeed to those who knew her."
"Many things about this unicorn were memorable to those who knew her," Magania says quietly.
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"The sculptor certainly remembered her with great fondness," Isibel points out, indicating this statue and those visible farther into the woods with a gesture.
"As it was told to me," says Magania, "the story of Tialle says that her horn was broken when she was captured by our ancient enemy."