Rook

by Robin Roseau

  “I told them to leave when we heard the girls next door,” I explained. I didn’t add that I hoped she would come to me like this. “Please promise you’ll watch over them.”

  “Of course I will, Yalla. You know that.” She paused, only a moment, and then said, “The queen hopes you’ll make it to dinner. Your Prestainamatta hopes you’ll wear that lovely teal gown.”

  “Not my vestments?”

  “The gown,” she said.

  I hadn’t intended to share dinner, but she was impossible to resist, so I said simply, “All right.”

  “Good, because I already put it out.” She offered a little laugh. “Resaírelteena was quite surprised by it.”

  She meant Féla. “What kind of high priestess am I? I can’t even properly pronounce their names.”

  “You are a very endearing high priestess,” she replied. “And deeply loved. Not all high priestesses are. Your mother was respected, but not widely loved. Your great-great grandmother, now.” She offered a trill of a laugh. “She was a little devil.”

  “She was?”

  “Oh, yes, in her younger years. But she inspired such loyalty.” She offered a little sigh then kissed my ear. “Yalla, you need to finish consolidating what you’ve done so far. And I want more weddings in my temple.”

  “We’ve had some requests.”

  “You’ve turned them away?”

  “A few,” I replied. “They’re treating it like a rental hall.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “To some people, it’s a quaint location, but they don’t hold your words close.”

  “Oh,” she said. “None of those. I’m glad Malta and Parmeed were the first.”

  “I am, too,” I agreed. I rolled to look at her. “It doesn’t feel like I’m doing enough. Yahamala, why did Juleena know to pick me?”

  “I may have had a little something to do with that. Oh, that was a trick.”

  “Should she have recognized my mother?”

  “Probably not. If someone had said, ‘Isn’t that the high priestess?’ maybe she would have looked more closely, but even then, she wouldn’t have been sure. Juleena was quite young the only time the two ever met.”

  “And that’s why Mother didn’t recognize her?”

  “Your mother probably wouldn’t have recognized her, but if she heard her name, she would have known this was the princess.”

  I tried to remember all the years ago, trying to remember if names had been exchanged. I couldn’t remember. It was so long ago now.

  “She could have said something,” I said. “She could have told Juleena who she was.”

  “I suppose she could have,” Yahamala said. “Perhaps she loved your father.”

  I didn’t have an answer to that. The Goddess smiled then kissed my nose. “Do you need help getting out of bed?”

  “No.”

  She helped me anyway.

  * * * *

  I loved the teal gown.

  * * * *

  We cut quite a swath through the heart of Lopéna, Yahamala directing us. It was winter in Alteara, and so we didn’t necessarily visit the same places we might visit in the summer. But we visited an artists’ quarter, four buildings surrounding an inner green, now white with winter, each of the buildings holding artists of every imaginable type.

  At first, I didn’t realize why we were here. I thought it was a simple shopping trip. But then Yahamala said, “This shop.”

  I let her lead me inside, a few of my extensive troop following behind. “Is there something you want?” I asked the Goddess.

  “Yes,” she said.

  She pulled me between the exhibits until a young woman of perhaps sixteen years old stepped up. “Welcome to our shop, Priestess.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “My name is Yallameenara.”

  “High Priestess!” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

  I smiled. “You also wouldn’t know I’m not alone.” I wrapped my arm around Yahamala and laid my head on her shoulder.

  “She’s here?” the girl asked, staring into the space where the Goddess stood. “Our Prestainamatta is here?”

  “She is,” I said.

  “She seems quite excitable,” said the Goddess. “Introduce us.”

  I held my hand out to the girl. “Do you have a name?”

  “Um. Yes.” She offered her hand. “I am Relásiterítia.” She smiled. “You could call me Terí, High Priestess.”

  “Well, Terí,” I said. “I am very pleased to meet you.” I switched languages. “This young girl is Terí, Yahamala.”

  “I’m sure you can say her name.”

  “Please don’t make me. You know what happens when I try.”

  “Ask her about the art.” She gestured to the nearest painting. “Is this hers?”

  I eyed the Goddess but then asked about the art. The girl talked for a minute, and then I asked, “Who is the artist?”

  “My master,” she said.

  “This is not your family’s shop?”

  “No. I’m an apprentice in the artist’s guild.”

  “Ask her if she has any pieces on display,” the Goddess prompted.

  I did that, and the girl said, “No. My work isn’t ready for sale. Now this is a lovely painting.”

  Yahamala didn’t even glance at it. “Tell her I would like to see a piece called, hmm. Lady in Green, perhaps.”

  “Perhaps?” I echoed.

  “Perhaps that isn’t quite the name, but I’m sure she’ll know what I mean.”

  I eyed Yahamala but then asked Terí, “Is there a piece here called The Lady in Green? Perhaps that isn’t the exact name.”

  Her eyes widened. Seeing her reaction, I said, “Prestainamatta, what are you doing?”

  “Tell her I’d like to see it.”

  I turned to the girl, who was looking at me nervously. Once she realized she had my attention, she said, “There is much better work here. That’s really only a study.”

  “Terí,” I said gently. “Are you really telling her ‘no, she can’t see it’?”

  “Um.” She bit her lip. “No. Of course not.”

  “Is it here?”

  “It’s in my room.”

  “And where is your room?”

  “Upstairs,” she said with a gesture. “But I’m alone here. I have to watch the shop.”

  I gestured with my thumb. “Do you recognize those people?”

  She gulped. “Is that the queen?”

  “Why, I believe it just might be, and she has several of her loyal guards with her. Perhaps they could ensure the integrity of the shop while you show Our Prestainamatta the piece she would like to see?”

  * * * *

  Her quarters were small, and she looked embarrassed to let us in. It was cozy, very cozy, and hardly room for the three of us. Larien and Terél waited in the hall. “I’m sorry it’s a mess.”

  “It’s not a mess,” I said. But there was no misunderstanding; this was the home of an artist, and there were signs of her craft everywhere.

  “I must be mistaken. I’m sure this isn’t what She wants to see.” But she gestured to the wall beside the door. Yahamala pushed me into place, finding a small open area in the middle of the room, and we both turned to the wall.

  It was a painting of a woman in a forest green gown. She had long hair of black and white, and she was stunning. I stared.

  “I am fairly certain the title is not The Lady in Green,” I said, first in one language, then the other.

  “This can’t be the one she wants to see,” said Terí.

  “I’m fairly sure it is,” I said, then turned to look at Yahamala. The love in her expression was clear. “Terí, who modeled for you?”

  “No one,” she said. “There’s a portrait at the guildhall. That’s how I did the face. The rest is from my imagination. Is it wrong? She’s a priestess, but I didn’t paint her in vestments.”

  “I wore a teal gown to dinner last night,” I said, “
and rarely wear my vestments unless I am in attendance for my official duties.” I gestured. “As you can see, today I am in leather. No, Terí, there is no reason you couldn’t paint her like this. Do you know who she is?”

  “No. I just thought she was very striking.” She moved closer. “The hair is stark, and she looks severe, but beautiful, too. The gown changes her entirely.”

  “It’s beautiful.” I didn’t ask why it wasn’t on display downstairs.

  “How did she know?”

  When I translated, Yahamala simply said, “I am a goddess. Sometimes I know things.” She still hadn’t looked away. “Ask Larien to retrieve Mesenorié.”

  That took a few minutes. In the meantime, Yahamala answered my questions only in the most enigmatic forms. The girl bit her lip, watching me and the space beside me, but she had stopped making apologies for her art.

  And then the queen was there, and we made room for her. Terí’s eyes bugged out a little further, but she said nothing. At my gesture, Mesenorié turned and saw the painting. She moved closer then said, “Oh.” She repeated that a few times, then even lifted her hand towards the painting, stopping just short of touching. “Young lady, is this your work?”

  “Did I do something wrong, Your Majesty?”

  “You most certainly did not. Is this your work?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “Is it a commission?”

  “No, Your Majesty.”

  The queen turned. “Is it for sale?”

  “It is not worthy…” the girl said, trailing off. She dropped her head.

  “If you had a buyer, would you part with it? Do I need to hold this conversation with your master?”

  “Your Majesty,” replied Terí. “I-” She bit her lip again. “Who would want it?”

  Mesenorié glanced at me then asked, “Has she stopped looking at it?” I looked over at the Goddess then shook my head. “I believe, young lady, that you are about to see what a bidding war looks like.”

  “I don’t understand,” said the girl.

  “If I am not mistaken, Our Prestainamatta is going to ask us to buy this for her. Thus, she is one bidder. I am the second. Yallameenara, do you know who this is?”

  “No, but I suspect you do.”

  “She hasn’t told you yet?”

  “She’s playing some game, and I haven’t learned the rules yet.”

  Mesenorié snorted. “Well, when High Priestess the Princess Yallameenara discovers who this is, I believe you will have three bidders. And so I will make my offer. I will match the price from any similarly sized and detailed piece downstairs, but I want it reframed more appropriately.”

  “I’m only an apprentice!” the girl said.

  “I am not buying you,” said Mesenorié. “I wish to buy this painting. Will you sell it, or do you wish to keep it? Perhaps you intend it as a gift for someone.”

  “I don’t even know who it is,” said Terí.

  I glanced at the Goddess, who was now watching me. “Are we here for the painting or the girl?” She’d barely looked at Terí, but that could be part of her game today.

  She didn’t answer, not directly. Instead she said, “Relásiterítia is still coming into her own as an artist. Still, there is no mistaking the subject.”

  “Mesenorié, is that my grandmother? I’m fairly certain you wouldn’t have known her when she was this age.”

  “I didn’t,” replied the queen. “Yalla, this is your mother.”

  “Mama?” I said, reverting to the language of my birth. I moved closer. “Mama?” I stared at the painting. The woman in the painting was beautiful. Mama had been worn down and tired, and it was difficult to place this face to the woman I had known.

  Yahamala stepped back to my side and set her hand on my shoulder. “You asked why Juleena wouldn’t have recognized her.”

  I turned to look at her, and she brushed a tear from my cheek.

  “This is your mother?” Terí said. “You didn’t recognize her.”

  “My memories of her are from The Hippa,” I said. “She no longer looked like this.” I gestured. “Mesenorié, are you sure?”

  “Am I sure? Do you think Our Prestainamatta brought us here to look at a painting of just any priestess?”

  “There are portraits of Mother?”

  “Only one that I know of,” Mesenorié replied. “I would have thought you had seen it. Yalla, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. Unless the one she saw is a copy, or a portrait I don’t know about, the one she saw is probably mine.”

  “What would it have been doing in the guild hall?”

  “I don’t oversee this directly, but I have someone who loans my art. Actually, I had long forgotten about that.” She offered a smile. “I don’t imagine you would have been impressed with me during our first visit if I’d shown you such a portrait and said, ‘This is your mother’.”

  “I would have been even more convinced you were a lunatic,” I replied. “Assuming this is a good likeness.”

  “A very good likeness,” Mesenorié replied. “Yalla, if you want this painting, I will step aside.” But then it was her turn to bite her lip, which wasn’t something I’d ever seen her do before. I managed not to laugh.

  “What is it?”

  “I bet you want to take this to Marport.”

  “My mother was Altearan,” I said. The queen’s entire body language changed, and I knew this was important to her. “This will be a treat to see when I visit.” I turned to Yahamala. “Are we here for you, or for me?”

  “For you, Yalla,” she said gently.

  I turned to the girl. “Will you allow me to purchase this painting?”

  She glanced between me and the queen, and I could tell she didn’t want to get between us. Mesenorié and I both smiled, and then she stepped to my side, opposite the Goddess, and slipped her arm around me. “May we make arrangements with your master, Relásiterítia? If it isn’t for sale, it isn’t for sale.”

  She nodded and looked a little stunned.

  “Very good,” said the queen. “I will make arrangements through my agent. Yallameenara and I will together decide where it will hang, but I wish you to deliver it yourself once it is reframed.”

  “Of course, Your Majesty.” The girl offered a curtsey.

  “Did you have more you wanted to do here?” I asked the Goddess.

  “Not here, no.”

  * * * *

  I was quiet. Yahamala kissed my cheek and then gathered the girls, holding their hands and urging them towards our next destination. I let Mandi and Nissi speak for her for a while, and then we were sitting for lunch.

  I was sure Yahamala was still playing some game, and I expected some sweet girl with long, black hair to serve us. Instead, it was a boy and girl, each with brown hair and freckles.

  From there, we did a little more shopping, and I wondered if there were no other games after all, but then Mesenorié stepped to my side. “Where is she taking us?”

  “She isn’t saying,” I replied. “Are we in a poor part of town.”

  “There are no poor parts of Lopéna,” Mesenorié replied. “However, there are portions that have very few public shops.”

  “I had noticed that.” I gestured. “And I believe the game is up. That looks like a school.”

  “It is,” she said.

  We caused quite a stir, and I believe the headmaster was quite shocked to discover he was suddenly host to his queen, the Goddess, and little old me. But we received a tour, disrupting everything for a few minutes, and then we were on our way with no lingering effects beyond slightly disrupted class schedules.

  I began wondering if we should have taken carriages, and I especially worried for the queen, although she seemed to be holding up. We were inside often enough that the winter air was tolerable, but I was ready to retreat when Yahamala gestured and asked, “Mesenorié, is that another school?”

  “No. I believe it is an orphanage.”

  I was glad it was Larien who was
translating for the Goddess, as that was a word I didn’t know in either language. It wasn’t until we were inside that I realized what it was, and then I wondered why we’d traipsed over half of Lopéna instead of coming straight here.

  “Because you needed a walk,” Yahamala said. I hadn’t asked. Then she turned. “I do not wish everyone to come inside. Perhaps Mesenorié and her guards would care to return home. We will be along shortly.”

  “What is she doing?” the queen asked.

  “I imagine she’s here to turn a few heads black and white,” I replied. I switched languages. “Seriously? All this is about finding a few playmates?”

  “Of course not,” Yahamala replied. “Talíahmarteen will be quite bored if she only has two students.”

  “Yalla, did she actually order me to leave?” Mesenorié asked.

  “I think she wants the guards to stay outside,” I said. “They’re a little intimidating.”

  * * * *

  If the school headmaster had been surprised to see us, the woman in charge of the orphanage was even more so. She recovered poorly and even a little sullenly, but then asked, “May I offer you anything?”

  “A tour,” I said. “Do the children also attend school here?”

  “No,” she replied. “So only the youngest children are here. The older children will return in perhaps another hour.”

  She gave us a tour, but she looked quite self-conscious about it. Finally I asked, “How much do you know about me?”

  “You are our high priestess,” she replied.

  “Yes, but do you know where I grew up?”

  “Everyone knows you were Framaran.”

  “Actually, I was born on The Hippa. You call it Garneer. I am a girl of the horse people. We are nomads, living in a tent we pack and take with us. Until I was ten and four years old, I had never heard of a real bed. I had never sat in a chair or seen a table. I had never seen a permanent structure of any sort.” I could tell she wasn’t sure if I was teasing. “Are the children happy here?”

  “We do the best we can preparing them to become adults,” the woman replied.

  We finished the tour, and Yahamala hadn’t done anything terribly shocking. The children we had seen had been engaged in a variety of activities and seemed well supervised. I didn’t comment that I thought some of the supervisors still belonged in school, but maybe they were older than they appeared.