Eyes in the Water

by Monica Lee Kennedy

  If I tell her what the hos is… If I give it to her… Wouldn’t she love me then?

  Brenol’s lips parted as if to begin, but he paused, feeling suddenly uneasy. An image of Preifest arose in his mind, and a bitter flavor filled his mouth.

  “Bren, what is it?” Colette again demanded.

  The strange flicker across her features further deterred him.

  It was more than just revealing the code glittering upon the hos. The girl, the story, destiny, and Massada were all intertwined in this breath, this instance. His intuit flushed awake with power, and he knew the truth: it would be perilous to reveal anything in this moment. Trusting the knowledge of the hos to Colette here, even in the land’s weakened state, was foolish. If she somehow were to have a moment of connection, she could wield enough power to overtake him.

  He sighed and scolded himself. There’s an entire world at risk here. I cannot. No, I won’t. Not even for Colette. Not like this…

  Brenol opened his stance as if bracing for impact. His voice rumbled low and strong. “I cannot talk about it before we reach the lugazzi.”

  “Why?” Colette countered.

  Brenol frowned, shaking his head. “Just wait, Colette. Please.”

  Impressed, Darse nodded in understanding, and Isvelle shrouded her own features with stoicism. But Colette sagged in despair, and her fierce eyes flashed in harsh suspicion. She defiantly raised the hos to her face as if to ascertain the mystery herself, but discovering no clue, set the glass piece down with a clatter.

  Brenol drew in a sharp breath but did not speak.

  Just a few hours later, Colette, Brenol, and Darse made ready, shouldering rucksacks full of gear. Darse waited until Colette had stepped out to retrieve a last-minute article before he placed a palm on Brenol. The young man was as much a son as his own blood could have ever been. He hoped the gesture would convey what words could not, for Darse had glimpsed in that daggered moment what it had cost Brenol to remain silent before Colette.

  The red head nodded quietly but without real acknowledgment. He was immersed in the fearful mystery of the hos, forgetting even Colette’s wintry glance. The others had missed it, but her exhale had not drawn light from the piece. And she had certainly laid her sweet breath upon it, with lips supple and close.

  Brenol trembled at its implications.

  This woman is not who I thought I would find.

  CHAPTER 6

  Cartess drive them all.

  -Genesifin

  They began the trek conservatively, with Brenol hoping to stretch into greater distance and speed as they progressed. Colette was unaccustomed to traveling long distances, but the lunitata had been adamant about leaving her pony, not wishing to be the only party saddleback. The castle owned but two of the small beasts, and there was no way that grown men could mount the animals, whose frames were far smaller than the normal stock animals of Alatrice. So the trio eased into walking, and, despite the circumstances, Brenol and Darse strode alongside each other with a measure of contentedness; it had been so long since the old friends had been together. Colette, although occasionally glancing at the two men, appeared to not attend their conversation. She merely swept beside them in silence, rapt in thought and emotion. They allowed her her privacy as they returned to their long-held friendship.

  “How’re things back on Alatrice?” Darse asked, looking from the road to Brenol.

  Brenol shrugged. “Much the same. There have been rising conflicts on Trest, so even though Paraff is removed from it, the king is still tense. And making the whole kingdom feel it… The price of conscription passes raised this last orbit. It was nearly double the usual rate. I had to sell four chickens after all the harvest just to earn enough.” Brenol’s face screwed up in irritation, but then he met the older man’s gaze with glittering eyes. “Your door has never been so clean, though.”

  Laugher spilled from Darse’s lips. “Yes, I hadn’t thought about that. It must feel good to have the town free of traitors.” He narrowed his eyes at the young man. “You probably drank all my coffee to celebrate the victory.”

  Brenol mimed guilt. “I cannot confirm a thing.”

  “Next you will tell me you sold my pallet.”

  “No,” the man began. His mouth spread into a wide, handsome smile. “I did give my milkers to Mager, though.”

  Darse gave an exaggerated groan. “Mager?” he asked incredulously. “Mager? The little thief? You gave your dairy cows to her?”

  Brenol laughed heartily; he had expected as much from Darse. “She finally did admit to nipping from your stores.”

  Darse raised an eyebrow. “Was this before or after you gave her more than she could ever earn in her lifetime?”

  Brenol pinched his lips together to stifle his laughter. “Well, she’s going to look after your place. And ma.” His features clouded momentarily.

  “Mager was always able to sniff out a good deal,” Darse huffed, but then he asked quietly, “How is your mother?” His eyes were both concerned and curious.

  “Ever the same,” the man replied. “She…” Brenol thought back to their last encounter, how for a brief moment he had connected with her. But it had ended just as everything always ended with her: bitterly. “Ever the same,” he repeated blandly.

  Darse, without slowing his easy gait, settled his firm hand on Brenol’s shoulder. The warm pressure was solid, good. It stirred a sorrow loose in Brenol while simultaneously settling his heart. Darse knew and understood. He had perceived the truth about his mother before Brenol ever had. The older man had always been like a father—yet somehow now also his peer—and his support seemed to make everything bearable, even the deepest, most untouchable wounds.

  Brenol gave Darse a quick dip of the head, Darse recalled his hand, and the two continued on. Their relationship, if changed at all, had only matured in their orbits apart.

  ~

  The journey to the lugazzi dragged on and on. By the fourth day, they were left trudging through mud and muck left from the previous evening’s showers. While none of them harbored joy at the terrain and weather, Colette in particular matched the dismal skies with her clouded mood and step. Her initial pleasure in seeing Brenol after so long seemed to Brenol as fleeting as a dream. She was completely lost in herself.

  Brenol and Darse communicated with their eyes, but there was only so much that could be relayed in silence. The young man noted to himself that he must insist that Darse learn Arman’s aural code at the earliest opportunity.

  As they rested that night, still a day’s journey from the border, Colette’s voice woke Brenol. “Bren? Are you asleep?”

  He elbowed to a sit and stared at the woman. She had barely spoken since Sleockna, and he was loath to pass up the opportunity to hear her voice, no matter how exhausted he was.

  “Are you okay?” he asked with concern. Her face was yellow in the light of the jumping flames, and her features were wracked with tension. Brenol glanced to Darse. The man did not stir.

  Colette’s lips parted as if to speak but then shut again. Finally, she pointed. “Your hair is a mess.”

  Brenol granted her a small smile and ran his fingers through the tangled crop. “My ma couldn’t understand why I grew it out. She all but snuck into my room at night to chop it off.”

  “What happened with your mother?”

  Brenol felt his stomach harden. While he did not want to talk about her, he was willing to do practically anything to feel connected to Colette again. He sighed. “When I left? Or in general?”

  “Both.”

  Brenol inhaled heavily and met her gaze. “She let me go.” He rubbed his tired features. “But as for the other? She’s… she’s not well.” Brenol shifted his feet closer to the fire and tugged the blankets around his shoulders. “I didn’t understand it for so long. And really, I still don’t entirely. She…she’s so nervous and jumpy. She doesn’t think the way that other people do.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She s
ays things that are all wrong. And does things all wrong too.” Brenol’s eyes narrowed in memory.

  “What’s something she did?” Colette persisted.

  “You really want to know?”

  Colette gazed back solemnly.

  Brenol sighed. The scene was burned into his mind as though branded there with a scarlet hot poker. “Well…you know how we eat differently on Alatrice? Abstaining from meat isn’t a mark of being civilized. Kings and queens eat meat. The educated, the poor. And really, the rich can afford it more often. So, on Alatrice, we eat all. But there are still taboos.”

  “I see,” Colette replied cautiously.

  “Well, when I was a boy, eight orbits old, a stray in the area had a litter of puppies. I knew we didn’t have enough food for ourselves, but when that pup’s ma left him behind after a few septspan, I wanted to keep him like I wanted to breathe. So I hid him out by Darse’s place and gave him any scraps I could come by.

  “He grew and was the best pup in town. Black and white, with this patch of brown over his snout, so I called him Muzzie. I loved that dog. The other kids loved him too. Not a mean muscle on his furry frame. When school started up again, Muzz’d follow me and wait in the play yard just to follow me back to Darse’s. I had to tie him up there at night or else he’d follow me home, but he seemed to understand that I’d always come back.

  “But one day he escaped. I know it wasn’t Darse, but someone must have untied Muzz. I woke up in the morning to find him snuggled in my pallet with me. I nearly threw up right there.” Brenol shook his head sadly. “Little boy of eight and I nearly heaved up my stomach in fear because I loved that dog so much.”

  Colette listened, rapt.

  “I was so scared. I knew she’d beat me ragged if she found I’d been keeping him. So I dressed and crept out of my room with him in my arms…” He paused and winced. “I… I don’t know if I should tell you. I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to see her in any other way…”

  She waited silently.

  Finally, staring off into the darkness, he continued, his voice carrying unmistakable sadness. “She was awake. She took him out of my arms and drowned him in the washing tub. Right before my eyes. I begged her to stop, but she had this glassy look, like she wasn’t even there. She handed me his body and told me to skin him. Beat me when I didn’t listen. She beat me over and over, but I couldn’t do it. She finally did it herself and then roasted him and gorged herself sick on his flesh. I wept for days.”

  “And she knew?” Colette asked in wonder.

  “I told her, I screamed, I shook her. But she just has something missing inside her. You might think she is normal, but if you’re ever with her for long, you realize she isn’t. At least, that’s what I finally realized. I showed up at Darse’s lashed and choking on tears. It was then that he sat me down and explained about my ma.”

  “What did he say?”

  Brenol shrugged his shoulders. “At the time? Not much. He told me she wasn’t healthy inside, but it was the kind of sickness that didn’t really heal. Not that she’d let anyone come near her anyway. She barely let me touch her as I grew up. She just wasn’t…right inside.”

  Brenol exhaled, and his eyes closed briefly as he shook his head. “But later…later, Darse told me more.”

  “More?” Colette asked.

  “More.” Again Brenol shook his head. “Darse often traveled to sell his crops. Locals were not always so eager to do business with him, so he’d pack up a wagon and travel to the nearest city… Well, he was out bartering at a town over and, to skip through a bunch of unnecessary details, a woman he spoke with mentioned Ma.”

  “Yes?”

  “She was surprised Darse knew Ma, and she told him that they’d grown up in the same village.” Brenol gazed up to the skies, not actually taking in the heavenly lights. “She said Ma had been strange and different as a child. She really wasn’t well in her mind even then. But a blight hit the crops pretty significantly one summer. And her parents, without a drale or mark to their names, offered her up for the king’s service. For girls, this means a life of sewing, cooking, or some other castle service. So she left. They taught her to be a seamstress, but when they realized that she was…different, I guess the local physicians began experimenting on her. To try to fix her mind… Anyway, it only exaggerated her condition.”

  “I’m sorry,” Colette said quietly.

  “Me too,” Brenol replied. He sighed, thankful she did not question him further about all that the doctors had done. Some things did not need to be repeated.

  “And Muzzie…did you ever forgive her for that?” she asked.

  “I think so. I hope so, at least. I finally realized that her sickness sent me to Darse in a way nothing else would’ve. So even though sometimes that memory still sends my stomach hopping, I try to remember how the whole thing gave me my relationship with Darse. And now Massada.”

  Colette glanced over to the slumbering bundle. The man’s chest rose steadily, and his aging face lay serene and mild in repose. Without another word, the lunitata drew her own bedding up and curled her small frame into a huddled ball.

  Between the dark night and all that he had revealed, Brenol felt a sudden intense weariness. “Anything else bothering you?” he asked softly.

  She did not respond. She clamped her lips shut and feigned sleep.

  Brenol sighed and lowered himself back down into his blankets.

  ~

  Colette entered the lugazzi and paused, eyeing Brenol curiously. She, the nurest, had hardly blinked upon exiting Veronia, but the young man had stopped, stooped, and caressed the soil with a gentle hand, whispering both thanks and farewell. No answer came, but the clear eyes that rose and locked into hers revealed much; he did not expect one. She blushed and shied her face away.

  Twilight swept the skies with a hungry haste, and Darse and Brenol scrambled to make camp so they could eat and rest their fatigued legs. Colette, not even pretending to busy herself, sat with expectant eyes, watching Brenol. He completed his tasks but sensed her gaze as an uneasy tickle upon his neck.

  Brenol firmed his heart, recalling the fish-child he had shrouded in soil, and seated himself beside the princess. Her delicate lunitata glow was a faint golden amber, the only soft aspect of her hard face. The young man’s hand itched to grasp hers, to find some sense of the woman she had once been, but he knew the time was far from ripe. So he simply and plainly relayed the terrible facts of Jerem’s poison.

  Darse listened silently, soon wishing he could erase Brenol’s words. The hatred Colette already harbored for the villain kindled under the fury of this new trespass. Every word seemed to sour her heart further. Brenol, even though he had seen the untamable fierceness in her, was shocked. She seemed more animal than human.

  Colette began to pace and circle the campfire.

  Is this her fate? To live only through her rage? Brenol wondered. His face betrayed nothing, but his heart trembled for the lunitata.

  Darse gave Brenol a gentle prod. “What about the hos?”

  “Yes, the hos…” After rolling the code through his mind for many matroles of travel, he almost did not know where to start. But simplicity seemed best at this point. “It’s an antidote.”

  Colette halted with a gasp. Her trim figure leaned in, and her ravenous eyes scoured Brenol as if in pursuit of the hos’s location on his person.

  Brenol held up a hand to implore patience. “There’s much more. The story on the hos is twofold—written in two hands. Plus, some of it I have pieced together from Deniel’s memories… Anyway, orbits ago, a man, Jerem, began working on a poison.”

  “The fool who never relents,” muttered Darse.

  Colette hugged her arms around her slender body. Her eyes were haunted and wide.

  “He required a few rare supplies but was so immersed in trying to dissect the secret about the nuresti that he hired another to find them, concoct his creation, and test it. I can only imagine that Jerem had planned t
o kill this man from the beginning, for he knew too many of his secrets.”

  Darse sat nearby, quietly attentive.

  “So after the hireling made it, he tested the cocktail on a maralane child—”

  “How?” Darse interrupted. Confusion and horror etched his somber face.

  “I don’t know how the man stole her, but he did. She was very young, but smart enough to see beyond her own suffering. She wrote invisibly upon her hos, hoping the story would somehow find its way back to the maralane. She, Larest, was held in some tank in a house. The man poisoned her water daily to determine its results. She only briefly mentioned the intense pain.”

  “Three save us,” Darse muttered.

  Brenol quirked an eyebrow at Darse’s invocation—he wondered to what degree Darse had taken the gods of Massada as his own—but continued, “Larest could see that her end was coming. Her one hope was for the hos to tell her story so the maralane could prepare for whatever was going to happen. She knew very well that she would not be dumped back into Ziel even if she survived the poison…” Brenol lifted a hand to indicate time passing. “The hired man was later repaid for his efforts with a knife to his chest, and Jerem ran off with the cocktail. The hos then fell into Deniel’s hands.”

  His audience gaped, riveted.

  “Larest, then?” Colette whispered softly.

  Brenol just bobbed his head in assent. The abrupt ending of the child’s enchanted lettering revealed the obvious.

  “Deniel didn’t know immediately what it was about, and really, I don’t know if he ever did. But somehow, somewhere down the workings of fate, it returned to the waters, and maralane eyes saw it.”

  “Why didn’t you give Veronia the antidote while we were there?” Colette interjected. “Or tell me what it was?”

  Brenol’s chest hardened, awaiting the blow. “It isn’t that simple.”

  She seemed to work for the patience to endure the rest of the tale. “Please go on, then.” Her eyes were cold and untamable.

  He breathed and willed himself forward. “The other script is in a new hand, Preifest’s. They hadn’t found the hos ’til much later. Much later. The poison had already been dumped into Ziel and the maralane affected. I can only imagine the brutal suspicions they must have had toward the upper-world… At least finding the hos told them the truth.”