A New Princess

by A. R. Henle

  Chapter 19

  Gisela leaned back against warm wood planks. Neither smooth nor rough, the slightest shift in either direction resulted in a most wondrous rubbing of her bare skin. She wore nothing, the better to enjoy the steam bath. Thick air heavy with moisture and heat drained tension from her body. Even the heated floor beneath her feet eased overstressed muscles and helped erase sore spots. The scent of sweet pine tinged with flowers she couldn’t identify further relaxed her.

  Her hand fell to her side and wrapped around a handleless clay mug. Decorated in a simple blue and red pattern, it was warm but not hot to the touch. Lifting it, she drank deep. As with the clay, the water remained notably cooler than the air. A faint aftertaste of mint lingered on her lips as she set the mug back down.

  She let out a soft sigh, echoed by others in the room. Some sat, as Gisela, and others lay flat. Whenever the air began to dry, someone would rise just enough to lift a full dipper from the pail of water and pour it over the hot stones in the center of the room. With a hiss, clouds of steam gusted up to fill the room again.

  Since leaving the dance floor, Gisela had rested in the steam room apart from plunging into the cold-water baths in between luxuriating in the warm humidity. She knew better than to stay too long. Foleilion had its own bathhouse, small despite serving all of the villagers. The only way to luxuriate there was to bathe very late at night. She’d never enjoyed so much room and time before. Yet the dancing pavilion included not one but two bathing complexes, for the princesses and the compeers, should they choose to remain separate. Such luxury.

  So easy to keep putting off rising to leave.

  Other parts of her new life she might resent, or enjoy with a tinge of guilt. Given how the dancing exercises had wrung Gisela of energy, she refused to allow any shadow to her taking pleasure in the baths.

  Here she might rest. Upright or upon her back, either way her sore muscles found ease. Aches dulled. Pain slipped away. Even the tender spots in her feet faded.

  Though she indulged in bodily relaxation, her mind was elsewhere. Still in the dancing chamber so nearby. Whenever she closed her eyes, the last dance returned to fill her with energy and peace. In darkness, she’d exulted in being a flood sweeping away all before her—while avoiding other dancers. Other princesses. She’d existed in her own space, tracing and retracing steps and ignoring others save when she needed to shift to keep from brushing them.

  Until Stevan found her. No matter that she hadn’t seen his face until they removed their blindfolds, she’d recognized him. Noted the ease with which he aligned his body to hers. The spark of energy between their skin as they all but touched.

  His solidity. Although his movements matched hers, portraying a flood, he’d seemed to her instead to resemble an immense rock so firm in its foundations that the mightiest flood could not shove it so much as a hair. No, nor even make it sway.

  Todor’d given her no such assurance, verbal or physical. Based on appearance, Todor and Stevan were of an age or nearly, and both likely a few years her junior. Yet the royal scion struck her as the younger and less reliable. Gisela had no quarrel with his partnering her in the exercises. He’d braced her competently, ensuring she didn’t fall and righting her the few times she started to slip.

  But that was all. When it came to Dances that invoked power, she’d rather ally with the tree than the sapling. The more so as Stevan attracted her body, mind, and movement.

  Even though all they’d truly done, apart from the last dance, was exercises. Most frustrating, too, for the movements were so limited. Why those particular sets of actions for winds, rains and floods? So separate and restricted. The floods to stay low—could they not flow high? The winds to be always moving, but surely they might circle in one place or vary more. The rains so . . . simple.

  “Why?” Gisela had asked Amara after, while they both sat in the steam bath.

  The older woman had only shrugged a shoulder and given a half smile. “These are the movements the Terparchon considers most useful in easing lake storms. Enjoy the rest of the day.”

  Upon which she wrapped a towel around her torso and left the chamber.

  Almost all of the princesses departed before Gisela. One by one they slipped away. Some paused to exchange pleasantries, including Jola and Heron, and others merely smiled. Until only two remained.

  Gisela lingered in the baths partly because she had not yet determined what she was supposed—or allowed—to do next.

  Next to her sat Danissa, bent over and bracing her elbows on her knees with her head in her hands.

  The air began to dry, and grow less comfortable.

  “One more bout of steam?” Gisela leaned forward to wrap her fingers around the blue-and-white ceramic ladle. Only one more for her, and then she'd leave to plunge in the pool and . . . whatever she might discover lay next.

  Danissa waved a hand but said nothing, returning it to brace against her knee and thrusting her fingers into her curls.

  Gisela lifted the ladle, then let it tilt so half the water ran back into the pail. The remaining drops she drizzled over the hot coals. Gouts of pale-gray steam billowed up. The air grew moist again, her skin slickened, and she sighed.

  But not so hard or loud that she missed the sniff from the other princess. Danissa’s shoulders had yet to ease in the heat. She kept them hunched up by her ears.

  “Did you strain yourself in anyway? Or drain yourself?” Gisela echoed queries she’d heard other princesses exchange earlier, while stripping to enter the baths.

  “No.” Danissa straightened and tossed her head, then slumped back against the wall. “Not me.”

  The odd note in the other princess’s voice puzzled Gisela. Even more troubling, Danissa had said so little and lacked her usual vivacity. Gisela shifted on the plank bench, just enough to be able to glance over without being obvious, or straining her neck.

  She waited as drops of condensation or perspiration rolled down both bodies and the steam began to ease again.

  “It’s my father. He wasn’t on the floor at the end of the storm exercise. Brushed another compeer, the merest touch but Amara noticed.” Danissa waved a clawed hand through the last wreath of steam. “Though even if she had not, he would have removed himself. Too honest to remain.”

  “That’s not common?” A shiver ran down Gisela’s spine. She’d participated in dances where the numbers of participants dwindled as people made mistakes and left. Sometimes such a dance would be called at an impromptu occasion, but not often. Usually when a passing caravan of traders offered to teach villagers the latest dances.

  Yet at the depth of winter, the full moon celebrations always end with such a dance. The more people who fell away having made mistakes, the worse the coming year was thought to be.

  Was it the same here?

  “Most unusual. Others get knocked out when we do competitive exercises, even when not blindfolded which is more often the case, but never him. I haven’t seen it, not since I became a princess.” She turned an agonized expression toward Gisela, eyes big and damp. “I asked him how he was doing, what was wrong, but he said nothing and sent me away.”

  “Perhaps he was embarrassed?”

  “Or ill, and does not want me to know.” Danissa’s hands curled into fists.

  “You might ask him another day, when the memory is not so fresh for him.”

  “Oh I will. He’s always told me I can tell him anything. He gets me to do so even when I promise myself I’ll keep secrets from him. Never big secrets, only little things. Yet he keeps things from me, and that’s not right. He should share. I will make him share.” Some of Danissa’s energy returned. She sat taller, straighter, and her words tumbled over each other again. “Somehow.”

  “I believe you.” Gisela frowned at the coals. Better not to risk another pour, but to go back out . . . and do what? Setting feet firm on the warm floor, she rose and stretched. Arms high overhead, then curving outward to fall back by her sides. “If I may, whe
re are we supposed to go next? Back to the chamber to learn more dances?”

  “Did no one tell you? However not? It was posted along the eastward door, though you wouldn’t know to look on your own.” Danissa rose as well, doing a few toe-touches and rolling her shoulders. “Ylena’s unexpected visitation quite drove that from my mind, but I would have thought Amara or Jola or Heron might have mentioned. The more so in the event you do not know how to read. You do, don’t you?”

  “No, no one told me to look, and yes I know how to read. The common alphabet.” Gisela sighed, blinking her eyes against sudden memory of holding the council scrolls for the last time before passing them on to her former apprentice.

  “That is all most use here, save those from the northern mountains.” Danissa yanked the door open.

  Cool air rushed in, raising goose bumps all along Gisela’s skin. She wrapped her arms around her chest and huddled, anxious not to lose the warmth and flexibility.

  Outside lay a rectangular hallway bare except for a line of shelving along the far wall. Two piles of cloth lay folded atop the shelves, both thin and small from the distance. The ripple of water flowing resounded from the right where the baths lay. To the left sat a wooden wall with a closed door that led back toward the dancing chamber.

  Danissa rose on tiptoes across the stone floor to the shelves. Gisela mimicked her, finding the stones warmer than expected albeit still chilly compared to the steam room.

  The shelf proved to bear small wooden plaques along its length. Each displayed the name of a princess, letters first carved then painted in bright gold and silver. Already someone had added Gisela’s name, and above it sat one of the two piles of clothes.

  Likely Emmi had placed them there, or someone who’d taken a degree of care, for they were placed in exactly the right order for donning. Clean underthings atop a pristine tunic in pale yellow gauze. Then a slightly heavier weight mantle in gold with pale yellow suns and flowers embroidered along one side. The folds of the mantle held a broach of entwined gold and silver to fasten the mantle at one shoulder and let the decorated side flow free. Instead of a circlet, a simple thong of gold-tinged leather to pull her hair back and off her neck.

  Of course, beneath all else, another pair of sandals.

  “Scholars, too, read other alphabets. The palace libraries are quite choice, most particularly at the winter palace. But the one here has ample holdings, if you have any interest.” Danissa pulled a rich pink tunic over her head.

  “Yes, but first I need to know where I am supposed to be next.” Gisela grimaced but donned the sandals before tunic or mantle, so her feet might adapt to the constraints as she dressed.

  “Oh, the time is ours do as we will. Afternoons, at least. Mornings we have practice always, save the occasional off day. From noon to evening meal is ours to choose.” Danissa paused long enough to tick off the times on her fingers. “Sometimes our presence is requested as attendants for court occasions or hunts. To judge competitions. Evenings, likewise, are usually free save that some of us must attend any court function, and if there is a dance we all do.”

  “Then I might do anything for the rest of the day?” Gisela paused, tunic bunched about her waist. The idea of not having her day set for her, at least for the first weeks or months, hadn’t occurred.

  “Unless you have been asked for specifically, yes.” Danissa gave a sharp nod as she threaded the ends of her purple mantle through a broach that matched Gisela’s. “Mind, you shouldn’t stray from the palace without escorts—or without permission because we might be called for a Dance at any time and so the Terparchon or Amara needs to know where we are, to track us down if necessary. Otherwise our time is our own. Most princesses have one hobby or another; things they enjoy doing besides dancing. Jola teaches dancing, she's organized schools in half the cities in the country. Heron weaves and embroiders and makes the most beautiful scarves and tapestries.”

  “And you?” Gisela eyed the other dam, unable to guess where her interests might lie.

  “I dabble. I’ve let each of the other princesses show me what they enjoy. I can recommend that as a way to get to know them. Some of them do go on and on, but I’ve learnt things I never expected.” Leaned in close, Danissa dropped her voice even though they were alone in the room. “Ylena, of all people, introduced me to the libraries. She will read anything she can get her hands on, no matter how boring. I would never have thought. Though there are some very interesting texts there, and good-looking librarians as well!”

  Gisela thought better of Ylena based on the news. If only the other hadn’t been the princess whose injury opened the door for Gisela’s forced recruitment.

  “What do you enjoy?” Danissa knelt down to fasten her sandals, glancing up between grunts and yanks on the straps.

  Gisela’s mind went blank. She laughed, wincing at the bitter tone audible even to her. “When I was home, in Foleilion, my joy and pleasure was slipping off to dance in a fallow field. Yet dance has now become my new livelihood, so perhaps my old position—being a scribe—shall become my new hobby.”

  Danissa rose to face Gisela, face tilted up but head leaning to one side. She pursed her lips, then gave a wry smile. “If you are a scribe, you may like the library here. Shall I take you there?”

  “Why not?” It might at least smell of home, for surely there would be ample ink and parchment.

  They left the pavilion and walked straight into the heat of full summer. Bright light shone down, nearly blinding in its strength. Though the indoors had not seemed cool to Gisela while she was there, leaving showed how much heat the thick walls kept out. Gisela blinked rapidly against the brightness as sweat dewed her body. Her whole self seemed an uprooted plant blowing this way and that on the wind.

  “Let's take the long way through the gardens.” Danissa jerked her head to the side, though Gisela had to squint to see the motion. “It’s shadier there.”

  “Shade would be good.” Gisela followed in Danissa’s footsteps.

  They turned to the side onto a path made of flat, oval stones in varied grays. The steps wound between banks of flowering plants and trees. Masses of blues and purples bloomed against leaves in varied forms and shades of green. From long, narrow, and palest green to broad and deep. Thick tree trunks stood tall, all well-grown and mature with ample foliage arching overhead. Rays of light passed through, but much of the path lay in shadow.

  Shade alone eased the heat beating down. The trees bore the brunt instead. Walking within the shady confines, Gisela paused now and then to hear breezes rustling through the leaves, and feel their caress wick the remaining drops of sweat from her brow.

  “An excellent choice.” Gisela lifted her face to the wealth of branches and leaves overhead. “I could remain here all day.”

  “No, we should have gone the other way, through the other gardens.” Danissa stopped and stood stock still, body stiff and tense. “I come this way so rarely I forgot this is why.”

  Gisela glanced over Danissa’s shoulder, but nothing explained the other princess's regret. They’d reached a clearing of some sort, wide and circular and nearly as large as the dancing pavilion. One line of oval, gray stones led straight ahead on the other side of Danissa, but stones also lay embedded in the ground to either side, tracing wide arcs around the perimeter of the open area.

  A dazzle of butterflies in golds, blues, and reds darted around the edge of the opening, doing their own dance above the blue-green sun mosses that covered the earth with their velvety growths.

  “It’s lovely. Those mosses must be a delight to dance on.” Gisela slipped around Danissa to kneel and stroke a hand over silky leaves. “Do we ever meet here instead of the pavilion?”

  “Do not wish that.” Danissa shook her head, shifting her weight from foot to foot as though stepping on hot coals. “The moss is wonderful to dance upon, yes, but as for the rest. The center . . .”

  “What’s wrong?” Gisela rose and stopped. There lay a perfectly round secti
on of earth clear of all mosses and greenery. White and chalky, it had ridges and dips that resembled the moon when full.

  “That’s one of the Shadows of the Moon.”

  “I thought you wanted to show it to me. That’s what you said this morning.” Gisela didn’t turn away from the pale spot nearly glowing against the moss.

  “Then I wanted more to help you avoid meeting Ylena. It was the first thing that came to mind. The worst thing so often is. But you’ve seen it, now, so you know and can describe it if you are ever asked. Sometimes ambassadors and visitors from other lands ask about these, and it can be quite tiresome to answer when one doesn’t know. So you do now, and we may go on to the library. It’s just around the edge and a few paths further.”

  “I’d like a closer look. You can stay behind, if you’d rather. Or I’ll meet you at whichever point leads on to the library.” Gisela took a step forward, then glanced back at Danissa.

  “I will escort you.” The younger remained in place, stiff and straight. She set her teeth in a fixed grin, eyes wide and round.

  “Truly, it’s not necessary. We can meet elsewhere. Over there perhaps?” Gisela pointed one-quarter around the clearing, where a path led off back into the trees.

  “No. It’s better not to be alone here. But”—Danissa’s tone shrank to a soft whisper—“if you don’t mind being quick about it?”

  An urge washed over Gisela, to forget the matter and go off with Danissa as she so clearly wanted. She resisted. This was the type of site the old Terparchon supposedly desired to the extent she destroyed Escalad and drove the Escalli into their new home far away. Gisela might never see that other site, but she could at least view this and maybe gain insight into what the dead ruler had valued so highly.

  She led the way along a path of well-trodden stones to the center.

  The round of chalky earth was big enough for three or five people to lie down and curl within. The color seemed off, lacking the silveriness of moonlight and instead holding the tinge of aged bone. Then the relative cool of the clearing bore in upon her. The sun shone overhead, surely as bright as before, but lessened. The Shadow drew it in, swallowed it whole.