Storms Over Open Fields

by G. Howell

  Could I trust her? I didn’t know. Was she involved? I didn’t know. What would she have to gain from involvement?

  Me?

  I ran the scenario through my head. She could create dispute. Make me conveniently disappear with plausible deniability. Keep me where they could extract what they wanted later, at their leisure. It was possible. But how possible? Would she do that?

  I didn’t know. It didn’t feel right. And why would she go so far as to hide me and not just call the guards? I felt as if I could trust her, but then my feelings had been wrong before. Damn, I was too tired to think.

  Water splashed across the pale stone as I hauled myself out. A cut on my foot had opened a bit. It stung and I was leaving a faint trail of pink footprints on the floor tiles. There were towels: huge soft terry cloth things of immaculate white that also became smeared with more red. Blood was seeping from the abrasion on my neck where a scab had pulled away. I patted at it carefully, drying it as best I could. At least I was feeling clean again, and there was the smell of food from the next room.

  “How are you doing?”

  Her Ladyship was standing in the doorway, watching me. As I turned her ears laid back, plastered flat against her skull. “I didn’t realize...” she said, and gestured distractedly toward her own neck and torso, then just clenched her hand. “Do you need a doctor?”

  I shook my head and returned to drying myself. She was royalty, a queen. I was naked and dripping out of a bath. It really didn’t matter. “I don’t think so. They’re clean. I think.”

  Toe claws clicked, the sound loud against the bathroom tiles, and then her fingertips touched my arm. As she circled she looked me up and down, at the greenish-back bruises, the scrapes and cuts and lacerations, the sunburn. And I flinched, then stood rigid as a finger touched my back, running over the corrugations of the scar tissue there. The sensations were... I shivered and clenched my teeth as numb tissue transmitted only the pressure of her finger. It made my skin crawl.

  “This, what did this?”

  “Rris,” I said quietly.

  She said something, quietly; I couldn’t quite make out what it was. Claws ticked on the tiles again as she stalked around and looked at my neck, then took my hands one at a time and inspected the damage there carefully.

  “Shackles?” she asked.

  “A.”

  “You removed them?”

  “A.”

  “How?”

  “With difficulty,” I said and she glanced up, studying my face for a second before she just said, “A,” once again. Then she moved her attention back to my arm, up to the biceps, then she gently took arm and raised it slightly to see my side. The bruises I’d acquired from my abduction were fading, but the baton marks were still garish green-purple against my hide. “Those... is anything broken?”

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  “Is there anything you need?”

  “Just to rest for a while. Please.”

  Her ladyship stepped back, looking me up and then down again. Despite everything I felt a flush crawl up my neck. Hastily I wrapped the towel around my waist. She looked slightly chagrined, or was it amused?

  “Apologies. But for a thinking mind to inhabit such a frame... it is remarkable.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  She chuffed air, then patted my arm; like one might pat a skittish horse. “When you’re ready, there’s food.”

  ------v------

  The meat was Rris rare, dripping, almost tartar; the bread a little stale. I couldn’t care less. I went through the meats and breads, the stew and pastries like they weren’t there. And when I came up for air, Lady H’risnth was looking a little startled as she surveyed the debris littering the low coffee table sitting between us in her study.

  “Is that sufficient?” she asked, with possibly a little sarcastic tint to the question.

  When I put the remains of the drumstick down on the dish with the rest of the ex-wood pigeon silverware clinked. Cluttered dishes bumped against the swanlike crystal decanters in the centerpiece and almost upset it. I sat back on the cushion and drew the sheet I’d wrapped around me a little closer, somewhat embarrassed. I’d been starving, but I’d been surprised at how ravenous I’d been. “Yes, Ma’am. Most. Thank you.”

  Then it was time to retell my story. Every little detail this time. From the time we’d left the palace that morning, the tour through the glassworks, when Shyia and the other Mediators had stopped us. I recounted it as best I could, elaborating when she pressed for more information.

  Outside the shadows were growing longer, denser, as the sun sank low. I told her about the city, about my abduction, about their treatment of me and described my captors as best I could. She was interested in hearing about the ferry and wanted details about that, about the number of Mediators who’d been there, if I’d heard any names or places mentioned. I related all I could.

  But not everything.

  There were things that were better not said. Some details, like the names of the Rris who’d helped me I... edited. I thought it best. And it couldn’t hurt to keep them anonymous.

  My escape, I told her about that. My escape and then the days slogging lost through the wilderness. There wasn’t a lot to say about that: there were a lot of trees and they all looked pretty much the same. Then there was the farm, the Rris who’d... no, they hadn’t taken me in, but they’d believed me. And there was Heksi and his help, which had been far more generous than I’d expected. Their names, I didn’t tell her those. Instead, the names became those of some of the Rris carpenters who’d worked on the house back in Shattered Water. If her Ladyship were on the level, nobody would ever find out. And if they did find out, well, then I was being only as honest as she was.

  She seemed a little surprised that someone had given me a lift back to Open Fields. I caught a slight shift in her posture when I simply told her I managed to get a ride back in a boat. She’d have known that no Rris would just offer me a ride, not just like that, so there had to be something more to my story. In other words, she knew I was being deliberately vague, but she didn’t interrupt or try to pry more information out of me.

  The sequence of events that’d taken place since I’d returned to Open Fields were still fresh in my mind. Some were crystal clear snapshots Chaeitch’s features... what I’d thought were Chaeitch’s features contorted in agony and fury... while others were blurs careering through a maze of unknown streets in the night . But I told her what I could as best I remembered. From the swim across the harbor to the moment she’d found me on the balcony.

  When I finished her Ladyship sat and stared at me for a while. “You know,” she said eventually. “You’re luckier than anyone has a right to be.”

  I almost laughed out aloud. “And what sort of luck would that be?” I asked, “because it didn’t feel like the good kind.”

  “Hai,” she flicked her ears. “If half of what you’ve said is true, then... You’ve told this story to anyone else?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Because the repercussions of this are likely to be extreme,” she said quietly.

  I stared back at her unblinking gaze, then gestured to the decanter and glasses on the tray vying for table space with the remains of my meal. “Is that alcohol?”

  She gestured an affirmative and I just un-stoppered the crystal and poured a generous shot glass.

  “You’re supposed to...” she started to say but I tossed my head back and downed it in one hit. Damn, the stuff went down easy, then snuck up again and punched me behind the eyes. I coughed and wiped sudden tears away. She snorted and waved a dismissive gesture. “Mikah, do you understand? Did you speak to anyone?”

  I gazed down into the little shot glass. “No. I don’t understand. This is to do with the Mediators? Why? I always thought th
ey were police. They help to enforce the law. You said they answer to no government. I don’t understand how that can be.”

  A soft exhalation of breath. “Your kind, you don’t have Mediators?”

  I toyed with the glass, turning it between my fingers. “We have something I thought was the same. The governments dictate the law and these departments of the government enforce that. I believed that was what the Mediators were.”

  “It sounds... corruptible,” she ventured.

  “But if you can’t control the Guild, then who does? They’re all-powerful?”

  “Yes, and no,” she leaned forward.

  “Can you please give me a straight answer? I’m sorry Ma’am, but I’m very tired. I’ve heard they have authority over government troops; I’ve heard they have influence in the highest government; I’ve heard about the... Reshara Charter, but I don’t know what any of it means.”

  “The Reichis Charter,” she corrected me. “Interesting you should bring that up. Perhaps a good place to begin.” She clicked forefinger claws together a few times as she gathered her thoughts and then took a breath:

  “Mediators have always been with us. As far back as telling goes there’ve always been facilitators; individuals to whom people would go to for a resolution to problems or disputes. If there was a murderer to be brought to trial or just a squabble over boundaries or possessions or even less significant matters, they would look to a Mediator. Their decisions were generally fair and respected and they banked on that for their profession.

  “Since they relied upon that reliability they’ve always looked after their own, training and teaching from master to apprentice. Early stories don’t mention a Guild, just individuals; some achieving things that are perhaps just the other side of incredible, and thereby raising the esteem in which their work was held. As they grained in [face?], their scattered numbers coalesced and organized. The Guild formed from that and now takes in, tutors, teaches and looks after its own.

  “The Reichis Charter came about hundreds of years ago. I don’t think the original parchments still exist, but there are copies of essential [tenets?] in all Guild halls and Royal archives. It essentially ratified what had been custom for a long time: the Guild had authority over Governments where matters of Guild business were involved. Guild business was law, the law is the maintenance of the peace and justice. The greater the [instability?] the greater their authority. You understand this?”

  I blinked, then rubbed my eyes. “The words… make sense, but the idea behind it... “

  “You don’t understand?”

  “Ma’am, I think that I don’t think the same way Rris do. It’s to do with the way my kind grew. Something that might see quite normal to you can be quite unusual to me. This is one of those things.”

  “That sounds unusual in itself. But what you told me about your methods... that really doesn’t make sense to me.”

  “I should tell you about the Roman Catholic Church sometime,” I sighed as I refilled the glass. I took another shot, grimaced, then raised my hand to ward off her question. “Don’t ask. Perhaps... is there some history behind this agreement?” That might help me put things into perspective and perhaps get some grasp on why they did it.

  “A,” she said and rocked back on her cushion, tipping her head back to regard the ceiling as she gathered her thoughts. “Alright. Mediators have intervened in politics where the disputes were seen to have wider ranging implications, especially threatening common ground. Things like disputes over roads and rivers, crossings, open trade points, things like that. I suppose the earliest documented intercession was during the Swampy River wars, long before the Charter. The skirmishing was disrupting travel at a vital fork on the river. The blockades were not only hurting the participants, they were starting to draw neighbors into the dispute. The Mediators interceded during the Three-side Battle. They appeared on the field with forces that outnumbered the combatants. Thrisi aesh Cho and Eshe ah Feta were brought to a [parley table] where the Mediators dictated terms.

  “Then there were instances at Mishi Sounds and The Ford of Broken Legs and the siege of Sharsi Says. All historical conflicts, not necessarily large but that had wider implications and Mediators intervened in one way or another. Sometimes the intervention was requested, other times not. Sceri ah Nhires [something] Es’erithri aseh Re’aeth’s claim to the Wandering titles. A Mediator tribunal was requested by Guild houses and found that neither was the legitimate title-bearer. There were...”

  She went on. I just closed my eyes for a second.

  ------v------

  The branches were brambles that tore at me as I ran through a maze of stark grey trees. Branches and darkness, that’s all there was, until the first door of weather-split planks. The latch turned, but the further I opened it the more it pushed back, until I managed to squeeze through.

  “You’re still running?” Mai asked, holding the shuttered lantern high.

  There was nothing behind me. No way back.

  “Where can I go?”

  “Follow me,” she chittered and turned her back, flicking her tail as she ran up the hill. I chased her, but I was so slow and she was now just a glimmer in the darkness ahead. When I reached it, that glimmer was a lamp, hanging above another door, plated with battered tin sheeting like a service entrance in an alleyway.

  I was in the old classroom, sunlight streaming in through the tall windows. Jackie was there, sitting in the back. Her ears twitched and her muzzle pursed in amusement.

  “This isn’t right,” I said.

  “How can you tell?” Chihirae asked and turned from the chalkboard, colored dust coating her hands.

  “She’s not here.”

  “Of course not,” Jackie agreed and she wasn’t there. Just a Rris.

  “See?” Chihirae said and then smiled whitely. “How’s your history, ape?”

  “I’m not an ape.”

  Chaeitch walked across the front of the room and put his arms around her and grinned at me, then they kissed and then he starting tearing at her blouse, tearing at her hide, biting into her.

  I shouted. When his face came up it was a bloodied, vacant mask. Snarling as he lunged.

  And then I shot him.

  I saw him die again; saw the blood spattering on dusty floorboards. Saw the body twitching and then saw the face that’d betrayed me.

  “Mai!”

  It was dark. I was standing in an island of light. Shapes rose into the heights, into the darkness, slender columns supporting crowns of gargoyle figures watching me with stone eyes over snarling muzzles. Huge flagstones lay beneath my feet, the cold granite etched with words I couldn’t read. The grey light was filtering through high windows that might’ve been stained glass once, now they were just monochromatic slivers forming a pattern that refused to resolve into a coherent shape. And out there beyond the light were shapes, tiers of benches rising up to cathedral heights where indistinct forms watched, and from those heights the darkness closed in, pouring in like a palpable black wave with uncountable black wings whirling around and clutching and tearing and bearing me down. Then the figure was over me and the whip was coming down again and again and I tried to get away but the inhuman figures were pinning me and there were lines of fire searing across my back and white teeth lunged at my face....

  “Mikah!”

  A grinning face still loomed over me, glistening teeth visible as the jaw opened and closed, hissing something. A furry hand with leathery palm was pressed tight over my mouth, trying to stifle me while the other was trying to pin one of my arms. I went rigid, about to thrash wildly before realization sunk in.

  Oh. God. My heart was still racing furiously; I was shaking; heaving stuttering breaths. Her hand was clamped over my open mouth. Where her disheveled fur was pressed against me it tickled, sticking to cooling sweat. I s
huddered, then dropped back and only when I lay still did she slowly draw her hand away from my mouth. I gasped air, taking in my surroundings again. Pillows, and carpet. Lady H’risnth. Her study. It was dark out, real night, and the light was from a little oil lamp flickering on her desk. There was a noise from elsewhere in her apartments and her head went around, ears pricking. With a curse she flowed to her feet and vanished across the room.

  Sounds of a door opening came from an adjoining vestibule. I flinched violently, looking around at flickering lamp light casting moving shadows on a wall in the next room. There were low voices, then a louder one issuing curt orders. A door was slammed and the voices stopped. I heaved a trembling breath, closing my eyes. When I opened them her Ladyship was kneeling in front of me, panting gently, watching.

  “What... happened?” I croaked.

  The light behind her silhouetted her in a pale nimbus, leaving her face in shadow. It was enough to let me see her cock her head but not enough to make out her expression. “You fell asleep,” she said. “I had no idea I was such a dull orator.”

  I swallowed on a raw throat, feeling my heart settling again. “Sorry, Ma’am.”

  “I didn’t want to wake you. But later you... You were making a lot of noise. Screaming? Something like that. What was it?”

  “They were... dreams,” I said, looking down at my hands. All along my back muscles around the scars flinched and twitched.

  “Rotted sight more than that from the sounds of it,” she huffed. The cushions were strewn left and right. There’d been a blanket, now it was twisted and tangled. “Alarmed the staff. They won’t ask questions though.”

  “Sorry,” I rubbed at my face. “Those dreams...They’ve been... I thought they were done with.”