One of Jessica’s favorite rooms was a sewing chamber. Bolts of satins, linens, cottons and wools, sorted by color, were stored on large wooden frames stretching from the floor to the ceiling. A smaller frame held spools of thread, assorted needles in cushions, and a few pairs of scissors.
“I can sew. Well…I can sew a little bit.” Jessica said while she ran her hand over a bolt of pale green satin. “I’m going to make myself some new clothes. I’ll make some for you too, if you’d like.”
“Thank you, but it would not be wise…for me that is. You’re welcome to use whatever is here as Daenon took the tailor with him, however, I must keep to my own uniform.”
“Is that what you call this?” Jessica fingered the sleeve of her friend’s tunic. “I’m really not into fashion, but there has to be something better. You’re falling apart.”
Merula gave a weak smile. “It will do.”
“All right, suit yourself. Just remember, I did offer.”
Late into the third night of touring, Jessica awoke to see Merula standing over her. “Good heavens, Merula!” she nearly shouted, “Do you want to give me a heart attack?”
“Shhhh,” Merula put a finger to her lips. “There is one last room I must show you and now is the only time.” Her voice was scarcely a whisper.
“All right, but shake me next time. My heart’s still pounding.”
In nightgown and bare feet, Jessica followed while Merula crept out of the bedroom and down the dark hallway. They tiptoed to where a six-foot high ceramic urn marked the corridor’s end. Merula bent to a kneeling position and wiggled behind the vase, then disappeared. Jessica crouched down to peer behind the tall pot, but in the dark, she could see nothing. Slowly inching herself forward, she reached out to the wall and patted around. To her surprise, she found a small opening.
“Hurry,” came a whisper from the dark.
Wiggling like a snake, Jessica squeezed through the open trap door. Merula took her arm and helped her up.
“Don’t move,” she warned.
Jessica heard Merula secure the trap door, then reach for something. An instant later, a spark flashed and Merula held a small fire brand in her hand.
“I keep a supply there,” she motioned with her head to three other torches lying beside the closed hatch.
In the flickering light, Jessica saw they stood at the top of a narrow, winding staircase made completely of stone.
“Wow! It’s a good thing you stopped me from stepping forward, I could have broken my neck.”
Merula quietly laughed. “I nearly did the first time I found this passage.” Holding the torch high, she led the way. “Be careful, these steps aren’t very wide.” They descended at least three levels before coming to a narrow hallway. “We’re on the lowest level of the mansion,” Merula whispered.
Built of precisely fitted stone blocks, the secret hall was not only a passageway, but a part of the mansion’s foundation. There were several side channels, but Merula stayed on a straight course until the fourth passage to the right. Here, they turned and followed it to the end. Reaching up, she pressed on a stone where the dead end wall met the ceiling. A small door magically appeared in the wall. She pushed it opened and went through, with Jessica right behind.
“Daenon spends hours in this room,” Merula said. “It’s his Treasure room.” She held the torch high. “About a year ago, very late at night, I was in here admiring these things, when I heard someone unlocking the main door. I dove for this hidden passage and only just made it out without being detected. Daenon would have killed me on the spot if he’d caught me.”
“You like living on the edge.” Jessica shook her head.
The size of the Treasure room amazed Jessica. High-ceilinged and windowless, it was filled with every type of priceless object. The light from the torch’s flame revealed delicate marble sculptures directly in front of them and many paintings on the walls. There were four long rows of gleaming treasure and slowly, the pair walked up and down the slender aisles. Jessica inspected golden artifacts of every sort: goblets, jewelry, coins, and vases. There was a crown imbedded with polished rubies and emeralds, an elegant scepter, and matching ceremonial shield. She caressed intricately carved jade statues of birds and animals, many of which were accented with jewels. Daenon had accumulated polished and uncut gems of every description, both precious and semi-precious stones, as well as shoebox-sized chests of rubies, emeralds, diamonds and topaz. Strands of pearls and ornaments of silver, copper and bronze lay neatly displayed on satin-covered racks. There were bolts of rich, velvet cloth and many pieces of gilded mirrors and fancy furniture.
“This place looks like a pirate’s den,” Jessica exclaimed.
“More like a den of thieves,” Merula corrected. “This is the accumulation of years of preying on the people. In here are the art treasures from the Palium Provincial Art Gallery and the Snow Peak Museum of Art. There are jewels from the wealthy families who tried to buy their freedom and ended up in slavery anyway. He has plundered and robbed his entire life. I’ll wager his father was just as bad.”
While Merula walked around the room she described some of the different artifacts and the circumstances surrounding their acquisition. “This golden platter belonged to a drug dealer who was caught keeping some of the profits. In fact, this entire set of eating ware used to be his. It’s solid gold. Addex took care of him. Now this little trinket,” she held up a delicate locket studded with tiny diamonds and rubies, “is new. It was brought here about a month ago. I think it belonged to your Aunt Illa, Protector Haesom’s wife.”
Jessica took the offered necklace and opened it. Inside, were two tiny drawings. Gasping, she recognized the same stoic young men from her vision so many weeks earlier. These were her cousins and tears stung her eyes. She placed the chain around her own neck, then hid the locket portion under her gown.
“I come here often, when I want to be alone,” Merula said. “I don’t know if Daenon knows about the secret passage. It’s so well-crafted into the wall behind the urn that it’s invisible. It was pure chance I found it while hiding from Chak when I was younger.”
“Did you have to hide a lot?”
“Chak fancied me; he forces all the new female slaves.”
Jessica’s stomach turned. “Merula…”
“Lepsis put a stop to it when he found out.”
“But Lepsis is gone now.”
“Yes, but I’m no longer a child and Chak knows I’d kill him if he touched me again.” Her tone sent a shiver down Jessica’s spine.
“What about the other women here, are they safe?”
Merula cast her eyes toward the ground then shrugged.
Jessica turned her attention back to the spotlessly clean room with its neatly ordered rows. “Daenon sure is a neatness freak.”
This brought a laugh from Merula. “You don’t know the half of it. Now come and look at this,” she motioned. “This is one of the more interesting trophies I know nothing about, but wish I did. It was here before I came. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” She pointed to a glass case, set off from the rows of glittering objects, at the very front of the chamber.
When Jessica walked to the case, she let out a low whistle. There, lying on a red satin cloth was the Sword of Mercy. She would have known it anywhere. It perfectly fit Anton’s description. Stunning in its simplicity, the blade was not as thick or as wide as the Sword of Judgment, that sword was forged for battle. This one was obviously ceremonial.
The hilt was covered in pearl dust, with the delicate hand guard being encircled by a spiraling cord of spun gold. The metal was twisted as it cooled and then wrapped in a web-like pattern around the elongated handle to form a filigree sphere. A clear, round ball, of what looked to be glass or crystal, crowned the end of the hilt. Anton had said the blade was sprinkled in diamond dust after being forged, but in reality, Jessica saw it was studded in thousands of one and two point diamonds. In the gleaming torchlight, the entir
e piece seemed to come alive. Torchlight reflected from every facet of the blade and Jessica was certain the clear ball on the end of the handle pulsated. She had a nearly overpowering urge to take it.
“This sword belongs to my family,” she told Merula. “It was my great-grandfathers. It’s called the Sword of Mercy. It has a sister sword my father now owns, the Sword of Judgment.”
“Then this is yours. What was it used for anyway? It’s not strong enough for battle.”
“I was told it’s a ceremonial sword. You’re right though, when you say it’s mine. I can almost feel it in my hand, but not now. I’ll know when the time is right.”
Jessica looked up. Directly opposite the glass case was a large wooden door reinforced with bands of steel. Pointing to the door she asked, “Where does that lead?”
“Oh, that’s the only real door in and out of this room. Daenon keeps it locked.”
“You said this is the last room to show me? There are no more?”
“None of consequence.”
“Well, I’ve been looking for a room with two old men in it, scientists I think. It’s heavily guarded and there’s a green crystal ball about this big,” Jessica held her fingers together, forming them into the shape of a softball, “on a pedestal this high,” she held her hand at waist level, “in the center of it.”
Merula looked perplexed and shook her head. “There’s no such chamber here and I’ve never seen two scientists, but Daenon has another retreat. More than once, servants were transferred there, but they never return. I’ve heard terrible experiments are done. How do you know about such things?”
“You’d never believe me, but trust me when I say Daenon’s working on a lot of stuff. War is the mother of invention and I have a feeling my cousin is inventing some terrible weapons, or at least trying to. I just hope he doesn’t succeed in time to use anything against the Esparians.”
“We’d better go now. I don’t want anyone to miss us.”
They left the room by the secret passage and retraced their way to the bedchambers, narrowly escaping detection by a guard doing his nightly rounds. Back in her bed, Jessica lay staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Thoughts of the magical sword burned in her mind.
In the morning, Chak put Merula on a clean-up project in Daenon’s quarters. It was to take several days, so, left to herself, Jessica decided to do some cross-country running. For four days, from sun up to sun down, she ran over the grounds of Rendaira. It did not take long to become familiar with the layout. Because Daenon had mastered irrigation, the rolling hills abounded with green life. Manicured grass accented with colorful gardens made Rendaira a visual paradise. In the desert climate, where few trees could normally grow, Daenon produced several forested areas of firs and hardwoods. Jessica wondered if it resembled the lush land Demar had been millennia earlier when Bree was alive.
Merula had said she thought the Palium border was three to four days of hard riding to the east. Jessica figured the war probably began on the fifteenth or sixteenth, a little over a week ago. She did not know how the war was going, but optimistically hoped no news was good news.
To keep her mind from worry, she kept herself busy, spending her evenings in the sewing room until exhaustion drove her to bed. Having no patterns, she used her jeans and ingenuity to make new clothing. Drawstring cotton pants and capris with a few simple silk blouses soon complimented her wardrobe.
Many nights, when sleep was impossible, she stole through the secret passage behind the vase and went to the Treasure room to gaze at the beautiful sword. Whenever she drew close to the case, the crystal ball at the hilt’s end would glow. It did not reflect light from her torch, but pulsed with a power of its own. When she would back away, the glowing ceased.
After a week and a half, Jessica became bolder. She asked a guard for a horse to go riding. The man ignored her, which came as no surprise, so she walked into the stable and chose one herself, a beautiful chestnut mare.
“I won’t hurt you,” Jessica told the animal. “I just want to explore the land.” The horse agreed to the outing. When they rode past the mansion, no one tried to stop them.
In the beginning, Jessica stayed well away from the main roads leading to Rendaira and explored the countryside around the estate. She found Daenon’s irrigation source, a small river dammed up to make a lake. It was an abnormal oasis in the barren ecosystem, with flourishing plant life of natural desert flora and tall, thickly twisted desert trees growing at the edges. Mountains lay in the distant north and Jessica reasoned the source of the water to be there.
The desert of Demar was typical of most arid lands, little variation in vegetation, mostly cacti and small scrub plants. Due to the heat of the day there was no sign of animal life, but Jessica knew better and carefully guided the horse so as to avoid disturbing any snakes or poisonous bugs. For the most part, the land outside of the estate was level. Daenon had chosen his parcel well, picking the most interesting property with its few hills and intermittent flat lands.
After a few days of inspecting desert land, Jessica decided it was time to check out the nearby city. The head chef, Cook Stratin, told her the tiern was called Asmerth. After Merula, this woman was Jessica’s most trusted friend. A short, muscular lady, Cook Stratin was not rotund, as one would expect a cook to be, but pleasantly plump. She had green eyes that sparkled when she spoke, and a high-pitched voice which, when angered, became harsh on the ears, much like fingernails scratching on a chalkboard.
Jessica distinctly remembered passing through Asmerth. She especially remembered the brave man who had saluted her. She decided to try and find him again. She remembered a large sign with a loaf of bread on it marked the side street where she had last seen him.
Before leaving the estate, she tied a large, homemade scarf around her hair to hide the color. Unsure of who might recognize her as a Protector, and wanting no trouble, she felt this thin disguise was necessary. It took her four and a half hours to reach the city, and if she was going to make it back to the estate by sundown, she could only stay about an hour. Traveling the road to Asmerth, Jessica encountered few travelers. Those she did see were all women. Some had wares to sell, others were there, she assumed, to do some shopping. No one paid any attention to her.
Asmerth appeared just as she remembered, dingy and dirty. Following the main road, she made her way to the central plaza. As the afternoon wore on, the streets became more and more deserted, for the oppressive afternoon heat drove the people indoors. Stopping at a fountain, Jessica let the horse drink her fill while she herself downed a small flask of water. The undersized flask was the only thing she was allowed to take on her ride. This was Chak’s way of making certain she did not travel too far from Rendaira. She was forced to return there each night for food and more water.
Jessica planned to retrace her journey through the tiern, scouring each side street until she found the one with the bread sign. After the water break, she started the trip back out of the city, taking the same route her captors had taken two weeks earlier. After about thirty-five minutes she spotted the sign. With her time quickly running out, she marked the place in her memory. She would have to return the following day.
Jessica arrived at Rendaira just as the sun was going down. After caring for the horse, she ran for the mansion. Chak, the household general, awaited her at the door.
“Where did you go today?”
“To the dine.” It was best to tell as much truth as possible. “I’m exceptionally bored here and thought there might be something in there to amuse me, but it’s so far away I could only stay a short time.”
Chak seemed to be satisfied with her answer. “Perhaps tomorrow you will be more successful.”
“Yes, perhaps.”
As soon as morning broke, Jessica rode to Asmerth, straight to the sign with the loaf of bread on it. No customers patronized the small bakery. She followed the narrow side street and quickly found herself in a residential district. Two and three story sandst
one homes lined the long, straight, narrow road. She rode to its end, exploring all alleyways as she went. The smell of cooking fat drifted in the still air, but the only sounds were those of her horse’s muted steps in the sandy earth. Every door was closed and each window shuttered against the afternoon sun.
She had no idea what she was looking for; just anything out of the ordinary. She was not very confident in her success, but when she reached the end road’s dead end, with no sign of her man, she felt disappointment none-the less.
Turning her horse to go back to the main thoroughfare, she scanned the immediate row of homes once again, and this time something caught her eye. A bright red scarf poked through the shutters of a second story window, two houses down. It had not been there a few moments earlier. She stared at the odd pennant. If someone wanted to get her attention, they had succeeded.
Dismounting, she walked to the door below the red scarf. She knocked softly and glanced around, but the street remained empty. When no one answered, she knocked again. This time the door opened.
“Please stay here,” she told the mare. The animal nodded. Taking a deep breath, she walked in. The door quickly closed behind her.
A rush of cool air washed over her, a relief to the stifling temperature outside. The room was darker than the alley had been, making it difficult to see. She sensed others in the room. Slowly her eyes adjusted. A wooden table with three chairs around it was in the center of the small room, and what looked like a wooden couch covered in pillows against the far wall. The floor of the home was made of stone with several tan, braided rugs thrown about, but the walls were bare. Through a doorway to her right was a kitchen, and on her left was a staircase against the wall leading to the upper level.
The Protector of Esparia (The Annals of Esparia Book 1) Page 38