The Gift

by Bryan M. Litfin

  “Ach! Such defilement is like mold on bread. No prosperous society can allow such corruption in its midst. Who is this contaminated woman of which you speak?”

  “Her name is Anastasia of Chiveis,” Vanita answered.

  It’s done, she realized. No turning back.

  At the mention of Anastasia’s name, the Lord Necromancer rose without a word and exited the room. He was gone for a long time while Vanita fidgeted in her chair. At last the man returned and sat down again, his black robes blending with the burnished wood of his throne. He offered an oily smile and spoke a word of praise. “Vanita Labella of Ulmbartia, you dignify your realm with your commitment to social cleansing.”

  Ignoring the compliment, Vanita asked, “What happens next?”

  The Lord Necromancer shrugged. “We will send a letter at dawn, of course.”

  “What kind of letter?”

  “To the dohj. If he is in fact harboring the defective woman as you claim, he must hand her over for immediate removal.”

  Vanita licked her lips. “It is my understanding that your brotherhood takes the Defectives to a quiet valley where they can live peacefully among their kind for the rest of their lives. I assume this will be the case for Anastasia of Chiveis?”

  The Lord Necromancer laughed darkly as he rose from his throne and began to walk toward Vanita. She remained seated and kept her head still, watching him from the corners of her eyes until he slipped past her and was lost from view. Although she did not dare turn around, his ominous presence behind her chair was nearly unbearable. Vanita’s heart pounded as she waited for the Lord Necromancer to break the silence.

  Clothing rustled. Above and behind her, Vanita sensed two hands descending slowly on either side of her head. Her body trembled, but she gripped the skirt of her gown with clenched fists and forced herself to remain still.

  The Lord Necromancer’s hands passed in front of her. Something cool and ticklish touched Vanita’s neck. She screamed.

  “A gift,” said the Lord Necromancer, undisturbed by the outburst, “because you understand that some life is unworthy of life.”

  Vanita put her hand to her throat. A delicate silver necklace had been draped there, left unfastened. She snatched it away. “Tell me what will happen to Anastasia!”

  “Rest assured, Vanita Labella. The woman of whom you speak will receive everything she deserves.”

  A nauseous feeling rose in Vanita’s gut. The silver necklace shamed her; she hurled it to the ground. “Keep your gift!” she cried. Scrambling to her feet, Vanita dashed out of the room and ran from the shrine into the moonless Likurian night.

  It was raining. Everything was dark. Teo’s mind was shrouded in the dim twilight between sleeping and waking. He couldn’t tell if the mental images that flashed before him were dreams or actual memories. Maybe they were somehow both.

  Ana was there. Teo knew this because lightning suddenly illuminated a stone-vaulted chamber, and he could see her lying under blankets with her eyes closed. Her hair was wet, and her cheeks were pale. The chamber returned to shadow, then lightning flashed once more. This time Ana stared at Teo with large, round eyes. Was she pleading? Waiting? What?

  Teo reached out his hand to her, but nothing met his fingers.

  Ana spoke into the blackness. The sound of her voice was familiar and comforting, yet she seemed to speak from a great distance. “Thank you, Teofil,” she said.

  Thank you for what? Teo responded inside his dream.

  “I think you know.”

  No, I don’t.

  “Of course you do,” came the sweet reply.

  I don’t. Tell me!

  Ana paused before answering. “Thank you for coming to me, Captain.”

  Brilliant light flashed all around, and thunder exploded in Teo’s head like Astrebril’s Curse. The strike was so loud that Teo was yanked from sleep into instant awareness. He cried out and bolted upright, his heart racing. The thunderclap shattered his dream, but reality rushed to take its place.

  As Teo swayed in his hammock in the hold of Marco’s ship, a serene confidence flooded his heart. At last he knew what to do. He had known it all along. Tomorrow, when the day was fresh and new, he would go to the dohj’s palace. He would find a way inside its forbidding walls. He would come to Ana, reclaim her, cover her, and take her to where she should be.

  To Roma.

  At his side.

  And I will do this because I promised to.

  Always.

  Ana was sitting in a lovely courtyard reading a book and listening to birdsong when she heard footsteps behind her. A deep masculine voice asked, “May I speak to you, Anastasia?”

  Ana smiled as she turned. “Of course, Cristof.”

  She scooted over on the stone bench and made a place for the dohj. He circled around some masons’ tools from the repair work being done on the walls, joining Ana on the bench.

  They made small talk for a while, until Cristof’s expression became more serious. “Anastasia, there’s, uh—there’s something I want to talk to you about.” He gazed at his feet and ran his fingers through his blond hair, making it shimmer in the afternoon sun. Ana had never seen the dohj nervous like this. He was usually so confident and suave.

  “Okay,” she said, unsure of the situation.

  “You see, it’s like this. I received a letter this morning that changes everything. Well, not everything. I had already decided what I have to do.” He shook his head. “Not that I ‘have to’! I want to, of course. You have no idea how bad I want to—” He sighed in frustration.

  “Cristof, slow down. What are you trying to say?”

  The dohj raised his eyes and stared at Ana. The expression on his face was one she had seen before in men—a wild, primal urge that made her uncomfortable. She recoiled from the man seated next to her. He noticed it and moved toward her, gripping her by the forearm.

  “Anastasia, you’re in danger! Deadly danger! They’re after you!”

  Ana wriggled out of Cristof’s grasp and sat at the far end of the bench. “Who’s after me? What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

  “Those cursed shamans! They’ve put a removal order on you!”

  “On me? Why?” Ana was shocked.

  “Because of your stupid god! You blabbed about him too much, and the shamans have caught wind of it.”

  “Since when is it a crime to talk about my God?”

  “It’s not a crime to talk about a god, but your god is a problem. You keep saying he’s the only true one.”

  “That’s what I believe. Is it wrong to say so?”

  “The Exterminati don’t want to hear that! Most people don’t know what religious fanatics they are, but I’ve seen them up close. Before all else, they’re a cult. Now they’re after you, Anastasia, and they’re not going to stop until they take you down. You were such a fool to talk about your god. I should have known better. I never should have allowed it.”

  “Allowed it?” Ana felt anger rise within her. “How would you have stopped me, Cristof?”

  “That’s beside the point now.”

  Cristof moved toward Ana on the bench, exuding the same randy mixture of desperation and desire he’d displayed before. Ana had originally been flattered by the way the handsome dohj had treated her, but now she was frightened by the fierceness of his attraction.

  Attraction? Who am I kidding? Let’s call it what it really is: lust of the most bestial kind!

  Ana stood up from the bench and backed away. She felt an urge to flee from the courtyard, but before she could move, Cristof lunged at her and snatched her into his arms.

  “Anastasia, I want you!” He pressed his body close, rubbing against her. “Don’t you feel the same? Tell me you do!”

  “Let go of me!”

  The dohj knelt in front of Ana, gripping her by the hips. His fingers were not where she wanted them to be. Cristof looked up at her, and she met his eyes.

  “Marry me,” he said. “I want you as m
y wife.”

  Marry him?

  Ana’s head spun. He’s asking me to marry him! What’s going on here?

  She wrenched herself from his grasp and dodged around a ladder resting against the wall. He circled toward her, holding up his palms in a placating gesture.

  “Just listen to me,” he implored. “Listen to the voice of reason. I received a letter today from the Lord Necromancer. The shamans say you have a disfigurement on your leg. They want to declare you a Defective and remove you from the land.”

  “Me, a Defective? That’s wrong! I do have a scar, but it’s not so bad. It’s not even visible! They can’t take me away for that!”

  “They certainly can. The people of Likuria hate anything imperfect. We chase deformity from our midst. Several years ago I granted the shamans the authority to remove disfigured people from the realm. They’re legally allowed to remove you.”

  “Then cancel the law! You’re the dohj!”

  Cristof approached Ana, pleading with his eyes. “I can’t cancel it, Anastasia. The law is binding. That’s why I want you to marry me. The royal family is exempt from extermination.”

  “I don’t see why I’d have to marry you to be protected. I’m deep inside your palace. They can’t get me in here. I’m safe.”

  Cristof’s face turned dark. He picked up a hammer and hurled it against a wall, its iron head clanging as it ricocheted in an explosion of stone chips and dust. The dohj glared at Ana with his fists clenched and his neck veins bulging. “You’re not safe at all, you foolish woman! You don’t know how dangerous these shamans are. The spirits empower them to do whatever they want. They tried to get you once already! While you were on my yacht last fall, one of their assassins entered your room. The only reason you’re still alive is because that bodyguard of yours fought him off!”

  Ana’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Teo. She shook her head, confused by what Cristof had just told her. I was targeted by the shamans? They got into my cabin in the yacht? And then Teofil stopped them? Her mind couldn’t take it all in. “I thought—I thought he was in Ulmbartia.”

  “Who? The bodyguard?” Cristof waved his hand. “No, he moved here last summer. Apparently he thinks his mission in life is to follow you around. He may have gotten lucky once, but don’t think you’ll be so fortunate next time. You can’t stop these people once they target you.” Cristof’s voice assumed a gentle tone. “Don’t you see, Anastasia? They have you under a double threat. If they can remove you by law as a Defective, they’ll do it. If that doesn’t work, they’ll send another assassin. Either way you’re doomed. There’s only one way out of this. If you marry me you’ll have legal immunity from removal, as well as full-time bodyguard service. It’s your only option.”

  “But, Cristof, I don’t—I can’t—”

  “You can’t what? Be a queen?” He smiled, lifting his hands as he glanced around the beautiful palace. “Think what it would mean for you. All this would be yours. All the wealth and status and luxury of Likuria. You’d be the toast of society. Everyone would love you, and you’d never have to worry about anything. Your future would be secure.”

  Ana stepped around the masonry tools and faced Cristof. She held her back straight and her head high. “Your Highness, your offer is gracious, but I decline.”

  Cristof recoiled as if he’d been slapped. He blinked his eyes and held his body stiff. Ana could see the dohj struggling to collect his thoughts. Her heart pounded at the gravity of the moment. The intense emotions swirling in the courtyard seemed more than she could bear.

  Licking his lips, the dohj moved forward a step. “I see,” he said formally. “May I know the reason for your refusal?”

  “Yes. It is because I am not in love with you.”

  The dohj didn’t move. Ana turned away and edged toward the courtyard door. Reaching it, she paused and looked back. Cristof remained motionless, a blank look on his face. He was standing in the exact position where Ana had left him. She entered the palace and ran to her bedroom, locking the door behind her.

  The two glass doors in Ana’s room opened onto a balcony facing the sea, but another window looked down on the courtyard. Ana peeked out, afraid the dohj would still be there, but he was gone. She collapsed onto her bed, emotionally drained by all that had transpired. Her tears came in great, heaving sobs. Ana had never felt so alone.

  She cried for what seemed like hours, until her bedcovers were wet and her nose ran and her eyes felt swollen and hot. Though she wanted to pray, she felt she had forgotten how, or even to whom. When was the last time I spoke to Deu? It had been far too long. I abandoned my God, and he is right to abandon me. I deserve no favors, no deliverance from him. She breathed in shuddery gasps as the torment of overwhelming grief raked her soul.

  Ana considered the stunning news that Teo had been in Likuria all this time. She thought back to that strange night when she had entered her cabin on the yacht and discovered it in disarray. To think that Teo had been so close, watching over her unseen, yet protecting her from a threat she couldn’t even discern. He always does that . . . he comes for me . . . but now . . .

  More tears erupted as Ana’s sadness swamped her in a sea of bitter regret. She clenched the bedcovers and curled into a ball with her knees at her chest. Spasms of despair wracked her body. Ana longed to speak to Teo once more—just once, just to tell him she was sorry for all she had done. Though she knew things could never be the same between them again, she wanted a chance to tell him how sorry she was. Everything had turned out wrong. If only I could go back to the way things were! How did I get here? How did it all come to this? Oh, Teofil, I miss you! I want to be back in our tent in the wilderness when you read Scripture to me at night! I want to be at dinner with you on Fisherman’s Isle when I was beautiful in your eyes! I want to ride with your arms around me as we gallop to safety! Oh Deu, my God, I cry out to you!

  A key jiggled in the lock. Ana sat up on the rumpled bed, not wanting any attention from the servants right now. “Go away!” she cried. “I don’t need anything!”

  The door opened. Dohj Cristof was there, and the look in his eyes was evil. Behind him was a priest. He held a ribbon, an olive branch, and a bowl. Horrified, Ana recognized what it meant.

  “Leave me alone!” she screamed.

  Cristof locked the door behind him and advanced toward Ana on the bed. She darted away, trying to dodge around a table, but he was too fast. He snatched her and held her tight as she wrestled with him in front of the window. His fingers hurt as they dug into her shoulders.

  “You’ll do things my way from now on,” he snarled.

  “No! Let go of me!” Ana squirmed in Cristof’s grip, trying to break free.

  And then he hit her.

  Ana had been struck before, but never had she taken a blow like this one. It wasn’t an openhanded slap across the face but a rock-hard fist to the chin. Stars exploded in her head, and a gush of warm blood filled her mouth. She sagged in the dohj’s arms, her knees watery and weak. The pain of the smashing blow reverberated through her skull. Darkness threatened to engulf her. Ana was dizzy and disoriented.

  “Maybe now you’ll learn to submit to your new husband!” Cristof turned to the priest and motioned him forward. “Begin the hand-fasting.”

  As Ana struggled to keep herself upright, she watched the Likurian priest bind her hand to Cristof’s with a green silk ribbon. The dohj’s other hand curled around her waist, holding her against his side. Ana spat blood on the floor. “I won’t say any vows,” she said through swollen lips.

  Cristof laughed. “You don’t have to. The woman is only property. It’s the man’s vows that count in this ritual. Once my ring is on your finger, you’re mine for life.”

  Ana tried to move away, but her steps were unsteady, and her head throbbed. Cristof grabbed a handful of her hair and jerked her back to himself. Ana squealed. Nodding to the priest, Cristof yelled, “Get on with the ceremony! Hurry it up!”

  The priest be
gan to recite the words of the nuptial sacrament. Periodically he would dip the olive branch in his bowl and sprinkle the couple with holy water. Every time Ana fought to escape, Cristof would cruelly pull her back. Finally he drew a serrated knife and held it to her throat, warning her not to move.

  “Do you, Cristof di Sanjorjo, take Anastasia of Chiveis in her body and soul as your lawful possession, both in this life and the next?” the priest asked.

  “I do.”

  “What token of ownership do you supply?”

  “This ring.” Cristof held up a golden band with the insignia of the di Sanjorjo house.

  “May the gods bless you. Place the ring on the finger of the bride and seal the union.”

  A feeling of revulsion washed over Ana. The thought of being legally wed to Cristof made her sick. She knew it was a sham, yet the marriage was binding under Likurian law, and the dohj would indeed be her husband. Disgusted, Ana realized she was about to become the wife of a repulsive man—and there was nothing she could do about it.

  The priest untied the hand-fasting ribbon. Cristof tucked his giant knife into his belt and gripped Ana’s left hand, reaching toward her with the gold ring. “The consummation will be rough,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Never!”

  Ana slapped the ring away. It bounced off the windowpane and rolled across the floor. Cristof shoved Ana onto the bed and knelt to pick up the ring.

  “Get out!” he yelled to the priest. “Lock the door behind you! No matter how much she screams, don’t open it again!” The befuddled priest nodded and scurried out of the room. The latch clicked, and then Cristof turned his wicked grin on Ana.

  “Time for some love, my sweetheart.”

  He approached her with the ring in his hand. Ana lunged toward the door, but Cristof thrust her back to the bed and pinned her under his knees. He grabbed her left hand and isolated the third finger. Ana struggled fiercely, clawing at the dohj’s face with her free hand, but it was no use. The ring touched her fingertip.

  “I don’t want to marry you!” she cried.