After a quick check of their surroundings, Gaiane made up her mind. She collected the rope like a dress train and threw it over her arm before slowly making her way down the slope. One step at a time, dragging her achy leg and jumping on the good one, she stubbornly approached the basin.
I won’t be alone, and that’s my first concern, for now.
But the lower she moved, the more insistent the flies became. She could hear them buzz from all around, as if the whole world was trembling and humming.
Her companion was nowhere to be seen, so she limped toward the houses. Withering flowers were dangling sadly from the windowsills, and everything was deadly silent, except for that maddening buzzing.
Gaiane gasped, and her throat clenched when a gust of sweet, rotting stench invested her. Her vision blurred as she stumbled forward--flies were everywhere, dark patches in the shadows of the roofs, drinking from the moisture around the well.
The black whirl coming from the chimney? Not smoke either.
Corpse eaters. Parasites.
More flies.
Her jaw tingled as she panted.
No birds. No wind, here, only the suffocating sultriness of a lethal summer. And when the wind came--a quick gust that made some shutters creak and slam--the stink invaded her.
Rotting and penetrating, it clung to her skin and her tongue, it crawled down her throat and choked her. In vain she waved her bound hands, trying to summon anything--air to clear her lungs, fire to cleanse that place, water to wash over her and purge her. This time she felt something, the distant echo of power, but it was beyond her reach.
She took another step toward the houses, desperate for the presence of her companion. Rude as she was, that girl was alive, she was real, and Gaiane needed to anchor herself to life.
“Where… are you?” she called softly. The other girl didn’t answer, and Gaiane shivered in the sun. She reached the well, its chain whining gently under the breeze.
The open windows were empty eyes staring at her. That single open door a gaping mouth.
On the threshold, it peeked at her. Pale, otherworldly.
She didn’t recognize it at first, and she approached it cautiously, squeezing her eyes.
Her lungs emptied of all air.
The arm was the same color as the faded limestone of her palace. The nails were a pale blue, as were the veins under the thin skin. A plump fly landed on the curled thumb and tapped it with its small paws.
Gaiane took in the yellow dress, crumpled on a skinny shoulder, then everything faded to black. A beastly shriek wounded her ears, thumped in her head covering the murmur of the flies.
Dirt was hard and dusty under her knees, her mouth filling with a bitter, acrid gush. And the cry roared on, broken here and there by a gagging cough.
A small, hard hand was on her forehead, brushing her hair back, gentle despite the frenzied movements.
A moment later she found herself with her back against the warm plaster, her head between her knees and a voice seeping through her panting.
“Like that. Breath in, count to three… then out. No, no, slow and nice. Here, take my hand, it’s going to be over soon. One, two, three, out…”
Gaiane recognized that voice, young and oddly concerned. The black veil wrapped around her slid down her face, and through a cascade of tears she saw the stranger fumbling around her wrists.
“Come on. We’re leaving,” the girl said, helping her to her feet with a practical pull. Next thing Gaiane knew, there was a strong arm around her shoulders and they were moving.
Her hands were free.
She squeezed her eyes shut and let the other girl guide her, and after some time--minutes? An hour? She couldn’t tell--a cool shade washed over her.
Her eyes fluttered open and she found they had left the valley to find shelter under a patch of shrubs. Her nameless companion was ashen grey, her hands clutched into shaking fists.
Gaiane slumped in the grass and stared at her hands.
“What happened there?” She let her voice sound as rough and feeble as it wished. She didn’t care. “They were all…”
“Dead.”
“H-How? There were no flames, it can’t be my mother’s soldiers, they would never…”
The pitiful lie died in a stifling silence. It was them, the Asares patrols sent after her. She knew it, and it tore something inside her.
Her odd companion rummaged in her bag and threw a white rag to their feet. Gaiane looked away from the ruined silver butterfly of her own coat of arms.
“They poisoned the well. They really want to find you.”
Gaiane took the banner and twisted into a knot. A bird cackled loudly in the distance.
Her mouth still tasted like vomit, her voice was still rough, but words rolled from her tongue without her control.
“I can’t go back. They would use me again, and I fear the reckoning would be even worse than this…”
“Use you,” the girl snarled. “As if you could be of any use for…”
“I know I can’t use my powers since I met you, but it hasn’t always been like that. They created me as a weapon. My mother and my father. They… wanted a mage whose power would never run dry, and it took them years to have me. I was born in the royal palace of Zafiria, and I spent my whole life in the same tower. Locked away, indoctrinated, my powers stifled with a magical artifact.” Her hand went to her neck. She could still feel the warm touch of living metal on her skin. “I was allowed to use my powers only to train.”
The girl brushed her mohawk back until it stood up and frowned.
“Train? For what?”
Gaiane kicked her remaining slipper away and sunk her toes in the grass. It was warm, dry despite the recent rains.
“For the Spring Slaughter. Hadn’t it been for me, Zafiria couldn’t have invaded Epidalio. I… I thought… they told me we were taking back land that was usurped from my family centuries ago, but it was a lie. Now I can see it.” She hugged her legs and perched her chin on her knees. “They unleashed my power over the land, and our--my mother’s soldiers became unstoppable. I was ten, and I saw so many people die, I felt every gunshot, every splash of blood as if I was on the battlefield…”
Her throat clenched again, but this time tears came quietly, streaming down her face and washing away a lifetime of secrets and loneliness.
The silence stretched for what felt like forever.
The stranger girl frowned, her hands clenched into fists.
“You didn’t want to,” she said.
“No! Of course not--I never wanted anyone to suffer because of me, I just… I just wanted mother to be proud. I…”
“And you didn’t even know about the war.”
”I didn’t”. The other girl looked away, her face inscrutable.
“I, too, tried to make Ma proud of me. Unsuccessfully, though—she always said I had to study and behave, and I hated it. But I was good with practical stuff, and when I was seven I carved a wooden squirrel for her birthday. She liked it at first, but then she asked if I’d skipped lessons to do it… and she didn’t like the answer.” She ruffled her hair with a sad smile. “And now she’s gone for good. Because of a stupid war she never knew of. I can’t make her proud anymore.”
“Oh.” Gaiane blinked and stared at the girl. Where words were supposed to be, now there was only a gaping void. What could she say to someone who’d lost her own mother because of her? “How… how was she?”
“Pretty, tall and slender and with the most gorgeous black hair. Funny, too—she always said Da had married her because she made him laugh so much. She was a terrible cook but had a delicate hand with paintbrushes. She loved to wear red, and she was…” A moment of silence. The girl lowered her head, and her profile strained with anger and nostalgia. “She loved me fiercely even if I was a mess. She was my mom, and I’ll always miss her.”
Gaiane rubbed her eyes, where tears were swelling again.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. �
�I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t know, and… and it’s haunted me ever since. That’s why I escaped the tower, I didn’t want to… to be part of it ever again, and instead… and I swear, I wish there was something, anything I could do to make things right, or simply to atone for what was m-my responsibility, if not my fault, but how…”
“Leo.”
Gaiane looked at the girl at her side. She was staring into the distance, her dark eyes glimmering and the sun drawing golden flickers from her hair.
“W-What?”
“My name’s Leo. I mean, we’ve been through enough, and I’ve seen how you’re not just some… some annoying brat, so I think a real introduction is in order.”
Gaiane hesitated a moment. Was there really a shift in the girl—Leo’s voice? She didn’t sound as hostile as before.
“Oh. Nice to meet you, Leo. I suppose you know my name already,” she said in a nasal voice, holding her hand out. Leo chuckled without a sound, giving her a firm handshake, very different from the curtsey she was accustomed to.
“That I do…”
“At least now I know yours.”
“How did you call me in your head?”
“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”
They smiled at each other, then Leo fell serious again.
“My village was one of the first to be raided, I think. It was as small as that one,” and she pointed to the horizon with her chin. “I lived with my father. I’ve always wanted to be a mage, but I… I can’t. I just can’t, I’m a decent blacksmith, a good woodworker, I build toys and make fireworks for the Summer Solstice. I used to, at least.”
“I like fireworks. I could see them from my tower,” Gaiane sniffed.
“And I thought I was doing the right thing, giving you back to your family. Da is sick, and we lost everything. I needed the money. Now I’m not so sure anymore—what if your family decided to use you again against my country? I can’t risk something like that, it would make me accomplice to… to whatever atrocities your folk would carry out!”
“I wish I could help you, but I fear we’re at a dead end. Maybe… maybe if you just escort me to the border, if I go back on my own and confess…”
“That’s a lot of ifs and maybes to begin with, and I’m still not sure I want to be involved in any political scheme. Or, well, give the Asares the chance to use you again,” Leo grunted, patting Gaiane’s shoulder.
To her surprise, the princess realized she’d never experienced anything like this. Sharing a secret, smiling, opening up...
Of course, she’d had servant girls and handmaids, but this was different.
Leo got up and took her bag. It looked plumper.
“Anyway, wherever I’m to take you, you still look like a princess. Not the cleanest, maybe, but a princess all the same. I bet we can change it, though.” She took a crumpled pile and threw it in Gaiane’s lap.
She took it and spread it open. The dress was a faded blue, the dye uneven and the laces frayed. The hem was ripped, and the seamwork on the neckline was clumsy.
“I know, it’s not the best. My dad used to be a dyer. Now he’s just a tailor, but he would still despise such sloppy work. But I think it’s your size,” Leo said.
“Well, I’ve had better, and…”
The thought flashed in her mind. Gaiane dropped the gown as if it burned and covered her mouth with her hands.
Leo grumbled and put her fists on her hips.
“What’s with you now? I know, it’s not the most fashionable or elegant thing in both our lands, but it’s clean and it’ll make you look like a peasant girl, if…”
“She’s dead, isn’t she? The woman who wore this.”
Leo closed her eyes and nodded.
“I’m sorry. Survival isn’t a business for the weak of heart.”
* * *
Weak. She’d been weak for eighteen years, sheltered and pampered. Her hands were covered in the blood of thousands for that. She was done with weak.
She rose and grabbed the gown. The coarse fibers were almost warm in her fingers, as if the soul of its previous owner was still lingering about.
“You’re right,” she said. She threw the fabric on a branch and squirmed to reach the buttons on the back of her bodice.
Leo gasped softly and her cheeks flushed.
“I’m… I can turn around, I mean, you have every right to your privacy, if…”
“Turn around?” she laughed. “How are you supposed to help me if you’re not looking?”
“Oh, come on! You can’t be that clumsy!”
“Excuse me, but I never did it on my own!”
“I learned when I was two, so you can do it too.”
“Fine!” Gaiane snapped. She snatched the gown from the branch and glared at Leo. “Then yes, turn around. If you, please.”
Leo sighed and threw her hands in the air.
“As your royal highness wishes... “
Gaiane wiggled out of her torn dress, kicking it in a pile of silk. Her pendant got caught in her hair in the process, and she grimaced when she pulled it free.
Her chemise was stained in mud around the hem, torn up to her knee. She gladly discarded it, and crouched to pick up her new outfit. If she didn’t stop to think it had been taken from a dead person, she could endure it. The bundle in her hands was a mess of white linen and rougher, faded blue fabric. She folded the latter at her feet and spread the chemise around her.
The linen was blessedly clean, soft from the long use and frequent washings. When she pulled it on her head, it unfurled down to her feet like a caress, and she complimented herself for the grace with which she’d worn it on. The dress, though, was a different matter: Gaiane twisted and turned it in her hands, and on her third attempt she found the hem of the skirt and slithered in. Soon she found herself lost in a whirlwind of blue, missing the neckline and sleeves, no matter how attentively she shook her arms about.
“What… in the name of…”
Leo snorted something Gaiane couldn’t understand, but in a second a capable hand grabbed the back (or front? Hard to say) of the gown and pulled down.
Gaiane emerged to the light with a deep breath, sputtering a lock of hair that had got in her mouth.
Leo looked at her, half amused, half exasperated. She turned the gown around Gaiane’s neck and held the empty sleeves out.
“Can you stick your hands here now?”
Gaiane’s neck felt unpleasantly warm, clearly because of the friction of that ungodly coarse fabric. She stuck her hands through the sleeves and let Leo tighten the laces until the bodice fit like a glove.
The skirt was a little too short, ending a couple of inches above her ankles, but other that it was her size, after all.
Leo patted her hands together, satisfied with the result, then offered her a pair of leather clogs, only to hesitate a second.
“Let me see your wound,” she said, and Gaiane obediently sat down. “Ah, as I thought. Nothing serious, it’s just a spike. It’s coming out already, and… here!”
“Ouch!” Gaiane yelped, taking her foot back. “That stung!”
“And this will sting even more,” Leo said matter-of-factly, taking a small jar from her bag. It smelled like grease and herbs, so strong Gaiane’s nose prickled, and yes, it burned like hell on her skin. She ordered herself not to flinch, and she waited patiently as Leo covered the sticky mess with a clean wrap. “Here you go, tomorrow you’ll be alright.”
“You took that too from the…”
“Don’t ask, if you don’t want to know the answer.”
“Alright, you’ve got a point,” Gaiane conceded. “So, if anyone asks what are we?”
“I don’t know, cousins? Ugh, your hair is a mess. Sit here, I’ll braid it.”
“We’re not very believable as cousins,” Gaiane chuckled. When Leo’s fingers carded through the knots, a lovely shiver ran through her scalp.
“People see what they want to see. Try to be a little less stuck up and we’ll be
alright.”
“I’m not stuck up!”
“Hush now, and stay still.”
Leo’s hands worked swiftly in her hair, parting it into long strands and wrapping them in thick braids.
It was relaxing. Homey, almost, and Gaiane tried to look behind her shoulders.
“You’re good at this,” she admitted, and Leo smiled. She could hear it in her voice.
“I did mom’s hair when I was a child. Apparently I haven’t lost my touch.”
“You don’t do yours, though.”
“No. I haven’t since she died. Da was good enough, but… but no, this was a thing between me and Ma. And now she’s gone, so…”
“Thank you,” Gaiane whispered. Leo sighed and worked without a word, until Gaiane’s mane was neatly combed into a crown around her forehead.
“One last thing,” Leo said, pulling one thick braid low on Gaiane’s brow. “This way your mark won’t be as flashy.”
“Oh, right.” Gaiane stood up and tucked her pendant into her bodice, patting it against her chest. “Better not look too royal, am I right?”
“Good girl.” Leo winked, and Gaiane couldn’t help but smile in earnest.
She watched her collect some wood, busy around their few belongings. Leo was still talking about taking her to the border, considering the safest and fastest route, but Gaiane could barely hear her.
For the first time in her life, she was free and she wasn’t alone.
She could get used to the feeling.
Chapter 11
The throne room was oppressive, with the sultry air lingering low and not a breath of breeze to move the thick tapestries. A single fly buzzed by one of the tall windows, too far to ask a servant to smack it.
Worse even, Alcibiade was talking. A lot. In that monotonous voice of his, his balding head bowed low. Even Diocle, standing tall by her side, suppressed a yawn.
“Thank you for your detailed introduction, Counselor,” Cibele said with a stretched smile. Enough was enough. “I think we should let the soldiers tell their tale, shouldn’t we?”
“But of course, your majesty! I never meant to trespass, I live to serve the noble house of Asares…”
The Other Side of Magic Page 16