Not Everything Dies

by John Patrick Kennedy

  “I’ll try to stay up until you get back,” Jana said.

  “Even if you don’t,” Ruxandra said, “I promise to tell you all about it.”

  She gave Jana a hug, holding the girl’s small body close. Jana hugged back, and for a moment Ruxandra could pretend they truly were sisters.

  Jana let go first. She stepped back and curtsied. “Have a good night, my lady.”

  Ruxandra curtsied back. “Good night to you, Adela.”

  As soon as she said the name, memories came flooding back.

  Ruxandra was smaller, younger, and running with two other girls through the yard of the abbey. She worked in the kitchens and was terrible at weaving. She snuck into Adela and Valeria’s rooms to hug and hold them. They all comforted each other after facing Sister Sofia’s strap. And one night . . .

  Ruxandra stumbled back and sat heavily on the bed.

  “My lady?”

  “I had a friend,” Ruxandra whispered. “Her name was Adela, and when she was young she looked like you.”

  Tears, unbidden and unreasonable, welled in Ruxandra’s eyes. “She and Valeria. They were my best friends. How could I forget my best friends?”

  “My lady . . .” Jana looked helplessly at the door. Ruxandra knew she must go, knew that Dorotyas would blame Jana if she were late. But she didn’t want to move. She wanted to remember more. She wanted to see them again and ask how they were and what had happened to them.

  They must be grown now. They probably have their own children.

  Oh God, how long has it been?

  More tears rolled down her cheeks and spotted her dress. Jana dashed forward and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “Please, my lady. You mustn’t cry.”

  Ruxandra sniffled and took the handkerchief. The memories sank back in her mind, but they didn’t fade away.

  Maybe I’ll remember more soon. Maybe I’ll know who I am.

  Or who I was once, before I became this . . .

  She snuffled back the last of her tears, wiped her face again, and gave Jana her handkerchief.

  Jana kissed her hand. “You’ll be all right, my lady. I’m sure you will.”

  “I will,” Ruxandra agreed. “Thank you, my friend.”

  Jana’s eyes lifted. “Friend?”

  Ruxandra nodded. “Always.”

  She straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath, and headed for Elizabeth and the party that awaited them.

  Elizabeth spent the ride giving instructions, but Ruxandra hardly listened as she replayed the memories again and again. It wasn’t until Elizabeth grabbed her arm and shook it that she returned to the present.

  “Ruxandra,” Elizabeth glared at her. “Why aren’t you listening?”

  “I’m sorry.” Ruxandra meant it. Even so, she couldn’t concentrate. “I remembered some things about when I was young.”

  “That is important,” Elizabeth said, “but not as important as what I am trying to tell you.” Elizabeth let go of her arm. “Then, for the second time, Lady Czobor holds her parties to extend her influence and the influence of the king, to promote her daughters for marriage, and to subject those she wishes to under her thumb. Which one of those do you think this is?”

  “The . . . the last?”

  “Precisely. She invited you to this party, and me as your guardian. She wants you under her control, so she can turn you against me. Do you understand?”

  Ruxandra nodded.

  “Instead, you will show yourself to be a model young lady, a credit to me and my gymnaesium. You will talk very little about yourself. Only dance those dances I taught you, and never with the same man twice. Otherwise, it may be construed as showing favor. Further, you will not, under any circumstances, show yourself to be other than what you appear. This woman wants to humiliate me and she will use you to do it. Do not show your strength, do not show your abilities, and in the name of God do not show your fangs. Otherwise, she will use you as proof that I’m the monster, and she will destroy us both.”

  “I understand,” Ruxandra said.

  “This is my last chance to negotiate with the courtiers,” Elizabeth said. “It is my last chance to keep things as they are without resorting to other . . . methods. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  Elizabeth gripped both her hands. “If you love me as I love you, do not show your true self tonight. No matter what. Promise.”

  “I promise,” Ruxandra repeated. “I won’t. No matter what.”

  “Good. Because we are here.”

  The carriage stopped, and a pair of footmen opened the door.

  “Into the lion’s den,” Elizabeth said. “Come, Ruxandra.”

  Ruxandra nodded, gathered up her skirts, and stepped out.

  Lady’s Czobor’s house was a statement of power, privilege, and excess, made in marble and stone. It stood three stories high. Tall, wide windows ran the length of the walls. Every one was lit up, shining down on the streets below. The women wore gowns even richer than those Ruxandra had seen at the opera. The men wore fur on their collar, and brocade on their coats.

  Inside was even more magnificent.

  The front hall was done in marble, polished to a shine. A hundred candles flickered in the chandelier above them, lighting the room. A pair of liveried footmen took their cloaks and guided them into a long, wide hall where a hundred people stood in rapturous silence, listening to a woman sing.

  It was a sound Ruxandra had never heard. The woman’s voice climbed impossibly high, trilling on the words and swooping back down. The woman sang of passion and longing, of desperate need and profound love. Every note, every word, cut to the core of Ruxandra’s being.

  She was back in Neculai’s arms, getting her first kiss from a man. She touched the softness of the skin on his back and chest, such a contrast to his rough, gentle hands. She felt his lips on hers, his body pressed against hers. He looked down at her, his eyes filled with passion, and then she . . .

  “Ruxandra!” Elizabeth’s harsh whisper interrupted her revelation. “You are crying. Stop at once.”

  “I’m sorry.” Ruxandra pulled a handkerchief from her dress and wiped at her eyes. “The music. It’s incredible. It’s—”

  “It is opera,” Lady Czobor said, from behind them. “It’s a new form, and one that I think will do quite well.”

  Elizabeth and Ruxandra both turned and curtsied.

  “So very good to see you again . . . Ruxandra, was it not?”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “I am so glad you like the concert. I do hope you enjoy dancing.”

  “Yes, my lady.” I am supposed to be a model young lady. “I am not terribly good at it, but I do enjoy it.”

  “I have heard this,” Lady Czobor said. “In fact, my nephew Ulrik saw you only last night, dancing with a young man in a tavern. Apparently, you were quite enjoying yourself.”

  Ruxandra looked at her feet. No one had said she should not dance in the taverns, and the young men she had been with had all been gentlemen of the city. Nor had she been the only young woman there. The others had been of equal rank, and had travelled with companions just as she had.

  “Elizabeth must certainly trust you”—Lady Czobor didn’t even look at Elizabeth as she said it—“to let you wander off alone like that. Does she teach all her students to be so free?”

  “I’ve only been a student for a short time,” Ruxandra glanced at Elizabeth. The woman’s face was cold, expressionless. On impulse, Ruxandra reached out to feel her emotions. She found a boiling caldron of anger and hate, all directed at Lady Czobor. Ruxandra winced and pulled her mind back. “Also, I was not alone. I brought my servant with me, to ensure there would be no impropriety.”

  “Ah, yes, your servant. The young girl with a penchant for kissing young men in back rooms.”

  “It happened once,” Ruxandra protested. “And he kissed her.”

  “They kissed each other, according to my sources.” Lady Czobor laughed. “Enough of this s
illiness. You are young and beautiful and deserve to enjoy your evening. Ulrik!”

  She turned away and waved a hand. Three young men detached themselves from a crowd and came forward. They bowed to Lady Czobor. She nodded with a smile.

  “Ruxandra, my dear, let me introduce you to my nephew, Ulrik, and his companions Dedrick and Harman.”

  The three men bowed to her in turn. Ulrik was tall and wide-shouldered, with narrow hips, dark hair, and a pair of brown eyes that smoldered like fire when they looked at her. Dedrick and Harman were blond, shorter than Ulrik, but with the same wide shoulders.

  “My dear Ulrik,” Lady Czobor said, “Would you and your companions be so kind as to take Ruxandra under your wing this evening? She is a stranger to our court and not well versed in our ways. Would you introduce her to others and show her around?”

  “Of course,” Ulrik said. “It would be our pleasure.”

  He bowed and extended a hand to Ruxandra. Ruxandra looked to Elizabeth, unsure what to do.

  “Oh, do not be concerned,” Lady Czobor said. “The countess and I have much to discuss. When you are ready to leave, you will find her in my company. If you do not mind, of course, Countess.”

  “Of course.” Elizabeth’s voice was pure pleasantry. She smiled at Ruxandra. “I have the greatest confidence in Ruxandra, and I cannot doubt that your nephew and his friends will treat her with the utmost respect. Go and enjoy yourself, my dear. I know I shall.”

  “Then we will see you later in the evening,” Lady Czobor said. “Shall we go, Elizabeth?”

  With that, Lady Czobor left. Elizabeth nodded once to Ruxandra and followed Lady Czobor. Ruxandra stared after her, uncertain.

  “Miss Ruxandra,” said Ulrik, his hand still extended. “Will you join us?”

  RUXANDRA LOOKED BACK at Elizabeth. The woman followed Lady Czobor out the door of the hall. Her back was straight and proud, and she didn’t look back.

  She trusts me. The thought made her at once proud and afraid. She believes I will not do anything wrong.

  Ruxandra smiled, put her fingers on Ulrik’s, and dropped into a deep, formal curtsy.

  “I will happily join you,” she said. “I hope you will take care of me this evening.”

  “We most certainly will,” Ulrik said. “The finest care, in fact.”

  “This is no good,” Harman said. “A young woman alone with three men? It is a scandal.”

  “Not nearly as much as a young woman alone with one young man,” Dedrick said.

  “True.” Harman put his hand to his chin and looked thoughtful. “There is only one solution. We need two more young ladies!”

  Ulrik laughed. “One of those wouldn’t happen to be Miss Glerisher, would it?”

  Harman put on an innocent look. “You know, I had not thought of her, but that is a capital idea. She is over here, I believe.”

  “You will excuse Harman,” Dedrick said. “He thinks of exactly three things: horses, swords, and young ladies. In that order. Since he can’t find either of the first two here—”

  “Oh look,” Herman called. “She is with Miss Widhoezl.”

  “Then we should go greet them at once,” said Dedrick. “Come along, Ulrik. Don’t dawdle.”

  Ulrik laughed. “Would you be so kind, Miss?”

  Ruxandra laughed and followed.

  The girls curtsied, introduced themselves, and insisted Ruxandra call them Edda and Griffelda. When Ruxandra told them she’d never been to such a grand house before, they insisted on leading her on a tour of the mansion. The young men accompanied them. Dedrick and Harman took the opportunity to link arms with Edda and Griffelda whenever they were out of sight of the older members of the court.

  “Do tell us about your home, Castle Csejte,” Edda said as they went through the upstairs rooms. “Is it as old-fashioned as they say?”

  “I do not know,” Ruxandra admitted. “It is very much a fortress, though. It has high walls and towers.”

  “What a place to have a gymnaesium,” Griffelda said. “Where do they hold their classes?”

  “In the great hall.”

  “How strange. What do the other girls think of it?”

  They never talk to me. “I only joined the school recently, so I did not have much chance to get to know them before we came here.”

  “It is strange how she brought you, then,” Griffelda said, “if she wants to show off how well her students do. But never mind. Have you been to any galleries in the city yet?”

  The conversation turned to the galleries and the concerts the girls had seen recently. Ruxandra mostly listened, though when they discussed the singer, Ruxandra gushed with praise about her voice. She realized it a few moments later and at once felt awkward.

  Edda came to her rescue. “The first time I heard it, I felt the same way. Though Griffelda doesn’t like it at all, do you?”

  “It is too screechy for me,” Griffelda declared. “Like a cat being stretched.”

  The entire group laughed, and Ruxandra laughed with them.

  The music for dancing started, and the group half ran back to the ballroom.

  The dancing much different from that at Castle Csejte, where the girls moved in emotionless, expressionless steps to the harsh clap of Dorotyas’s hands. Here there was laughter and talking and a dozen musicians whose instruments together created music that spun and whirled with the dancers on the floor.

  Ulrik took the first dance, which was, fortunately, one that Ruxandra knew. She followed him through the paces, made very few mistakes, and greatly enjoyed herself. The next tune she didn’t know at all, and Ulrik gallantly stayed with her while she sat on the sidelines, watching. Dedrick took her for the next dance, then Harman. Then several other gentlemen asked for dances, and Ruxandra obliged.

  Hours went by in a whirlwind of candlelight and music and conversation. Ulrik was the best dancer of the group and never missed an opportunity to dance with Ruxandra. His hands were warm and his touch gentle as he led her around the floor. When she didn’t know a dance, he stayed with her and brought her mulled wine. Ruxandra drank it greedily; it was so good.

  When the musicians took breaks, Dedrick told the girls stories about their training to be knights that put all six of them in stitches. Harman, despite being the quietest of the group, had a sly wit that made the stories even funnier.

  A clock chimed midnight.

  “Quickly, everyone outside!” Ulrik held out a hand to Ruxandra. “We must see the fireworks.”

  Ruxandra wasn’t sure what those were. Judging from the way the other girls clapped and grabbed their young men’s hands and dashed for the door, though, they must have been something exciting.

  “Shall we?” Ulrik’s hand was still out. Ruxandra took it and let him place her fingers in the crook of his arm. He led them out to the patio.

  The gardens beyond were small. Still, it was more than large enough for all the guests who came out to stand on the balconies and patio that stretched the length of the building.

  There was a hiss, then a thud and a whoosh!

  Ruxandra nearly jumped out of her skin as a rocket shot skyward in a bright streak of light. When the rocket exploded in a starburst of white and a thump that shook the air, she let out a screech and covered her head.

  The girls all laughed. Ulrik caught her arms and brought them gently back down. He was smiling.

  “They’re fireworks,” he said. “They can’t hurt you, and they are very, very pretty.”

  Now I look like a fool. Ruxandra straightened up and turned her eyes to the sky. Another rocket, then a third, leaped skyward. Ruxandra flinched at both, then again when they exploded in circles of red and blue. They are beautiful!

  Twenty-five more rockets launched, sometimes singly, others in pairs or threes. They exploded in every color of the rainbow. The audience clapped and cheered, and by the fifth launch, Ruxandra joined in. At the end, a barrage of five rockets flew up at once. Each one of them exploded three times, lighting up the sky
as bright as day and leaving the audience amazed.

  “That was wonderful!” Ruxandra said as the others began returning inside. “I wish there were more.”

  “There is nothing as spectacular as that,” Ulrik said. “But there is more entertainment. Have you ever seen a man juggle fire?”

  Ruxandra shook her head.

  “Then come with us!” Ulrik declared. “My lady aunt has arranged for three fire jugglers to light the carriages on their way out. Come this way, and we’ll see them first!”

  He caught her hand and pulled her down the steps to the lawn. The others followed. He led them around to the side of the house. It was dimly lit here, with not a single window to shine light down upon them. No one slowed down, though. Ulrik dashed forward and turned down an alleyway. The four behind them kept close, practically pushing them forward. Ulrik turned twice more, then stopped.

  “Here we are,” he declared. “Isn’t it magnificent?”

  “This?” Ruxandra stared at the dead end in front of them. Windowless brick walls rose up on three sides of them. Two torches hung in brackets on the back wall. A barrel stood to one side. “Where is the—”

  A tightly twisted strip of cloth dropped over Ruxandra’s head and pulled sharply back into her mouth. She stumbled back against Dedrick. He pulled the cloth tighter. Edda and Griffelda each grabbed one of Ruxandra’s hands. Harman pulled a length of cord from his pocket and wrapped it around one of her wrists.

  What is happening? What are they doing? Ruxandra tried to say the words, but she could only grunt and mumble against the cloth that bit deep into her mouth.

  “Hold the whore tight,” Ulrik said. “She is not to make a sound.”

  Harman yanked her wrist out of Griselda’s hand and brought it together with the one Edda held. He wrapped the cord around it.

  “Don’t worry,” Dedrick said. “She’ll not get away.”