But let’s be honest. You like everything she does. She shoved you around and hit you, and you liked it. You must be a fucking idiot to think she walks and talks and exists just to burn you up. He shook his head again, in disgust. He had to admit there was truth there. More than he’d like to admit. Oh God . . . I’m like a stalker. A fucking psychopath.
He clenched his fists. He was a pathetic wimp, though. Don’t forget that part. Too much of one to be a true psycho-stalker. It had taken all his courage, and anger, to say those things which got her so angry. He’d really been asking to get hit. Because you like that, sicko. He bit his lip. No, not really. He’d liked the kiss a lot more. It was just so much easier to get hit. He was almost surprised that this was the first time she’d actually done it. She was good at it, though. A good, cracking, whiplash causing slap. She could teach lessons.
There was a knock at the door. He didn’t get a chance to say “come in” or “get the hell away” before the door opened and in stepped a servant. “The family is expecting you for dinner, sir,” the man said impassively, standing stiffly by the door.
“I’ll be down,” Russ said, making no move to get up.
“Do you know which dining room they are in, sir?” The servant raised an eyebrow.
“No,” he had to admit. Damn.
The man bowed slightly at the waist. “Then I will show you.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Russ stood up. He was hungry. He’d have to be some kind of pansy to let fear of Liseli make him miss dinner. Yeah.
He followed the man down the stairs and through hallways, to a vast room at the western end of the house. The evening sun shone through the tall multi-paned windows, illuminating the long polished table in gold light. There were lamps on the walls, lit but not yet necessary. Everyone was seated at the table already — Arlic, Pillari, Currun, Halla, Martilia, Oan, Ivira, Eliasha and Liseli. She sat with her back to a window, and the sun made the soft golden red of her hair glow like a halo. You wouldn’t think she’s a temperamental bitch to look at her, would you? Half of him was ashamed and wanted to take it back; the other half reveled in thinking such a thought. He could be angry with her if he wanted to be.
The servant led him around the table and made him sit next to Liseli. The table was huge — there were lots of empty chairs. But the last place that was set was next to Liseli. She looked at him, nearly expressionless, and he stared at the food on the table. There was a lot of that. All different types of meats, vegetables, and dishes that smelled and looked good even if he didn’t know exactly what they were.
“Thank you, Larzai.” Arlic nodded, and the servant bowed before moving to take his post by the door, staring ahead as if someone had turned his switch to off. “Welcome to dinner. I’m glad you saw fit to join us,” Arlic said, smiling acerbically at Russ.
Russ squirmed. “My, uh, pleasure.”
“Oh, Daddy,” Eliasha laughed. “Don’t be so drab. It’s all my fault, I kept them out in the garden showing them all my favorite little walkways and pets, forgetting all about dinner.”
Russ stared at her, wondering why she was lying for him.
Arlic smiled at her, his face transforming instantly into one of affection. “Well, I’m glad that you and our guests have become friends.” He clicked a silver fork and knife together. “I’m afraid my granddaughter is often forced to forego relationships with people her own age. I forget her youth and make her entertain parades of old geezers like myself,” he laughed.
“You’re too hard on yourself,” Eliasha said, before sipping her wine. “I fit very well into old geezer society.” She grinned impishly.
“That you do. And is why I forget.” Arlic forked a piece of dark meat into his mouth, and the table fell silent as he chewed.
Russ helped himself to the smorgasbord, noticing that Liseli had barely touched the food on her plate, and was just nursing her own goblet of wine. He looked around at the silent Erykumyn and thought about the things he’d learned that Liseli didn’t know. The fact that there was a shrine in the garden to Aysha, who had been married to the King, and was Arlic, Pillari and Currun’s dead sister. That this King had been alive nearly a hundred years ago, and had somehow closed off the “gates” to other worlds so no more otherworlders could get in. Otherworlders like them, and the Erykumyn . . . who were from a world called Adayzjia. He had promised to tell Liseli anything “interesting” he found out, but he didn’t think he would, now. He wasn’t her private detective. If she wanted to know she could figure it out herself. In the meantime he would know more about these people than she did. It was an exciting, dangerous feeling.
After a few moments of busily eating, he wondered why none of the Erykumyn were talking to one another. He glanced up and saw all of them quickly turn away, pretending to be absorbed in their dinner. They’d been staring at him and Liseli. What plans? he wondered again, remembering Eliasha’s hints. And why could the two of them drink from the river when it was supposedly poisonous to everyone else? He knew more than Liseli, but that wasn’t much.
She still wasn’t eating. She hadn’t put down her wine, instead cradling it in one hand as she sipped slowly. Russ wondered if she was going to eat at all. He couldn’t believe that she wasn’t hungry. He almost asked her about it, before remembering that they weren’t speaking. No one was speaking.
Finally Currun broke the silence. “So Arlic. Still living like a lonely bachelor?”
Halla’s knife screeched across her plate. Arlic looked across the table at Currun, with a composed expression. He put a spoonful of soup in his mouth and swallowed before answering, “Are you?”
Currun looked at his plate, smiling grimly. “Unfortunately, yes, brother. I’m afraid I still find the Alisiyan women lacking.” He glanced up. “You being the exception, dear sister,” he told Martilia insincerely.
“Currun,” Pillari’s voice reached its lowest, as he held his fork jabbed into a steak.
Currun smiled at Halla, who curled her lip at him and looked away.
“I was hoping we could have a happy family dinner this year,” Eliasha spoke up, pouting and twirling the wine in her goblet.
“Of course, dear,” Arlic said. “This is a momentous occasion,” he toasted his goblet toward Russ and Liseli, who looked at each other for a moment before turning away. Arlic continued on to Oan and Ivira; “And we have our youngest generation with us. We have special reason to be at our happiest tonight.”
“Indeed.” Halla studied a hunk of bread. “You are always happiest at such times.” She lent such a negative spin on the words that Russ eyed his own bread suspiciously.
“Let’s discuss pleasant things.” Eliasha was almost grinding her teeth in a smile.
“Pillari — how was the harvest last year?” Arlic straightened and nodded meaningfully to his brother.
Pillari took the cue. “Excellent,” he said after swallowing. “The vines are thriving, I predict an even better harvest this year. And the spring planting in general went particularly well, I would expect double of what we had just three years ago.”
“What do you plant?” Liseli asked from behind her cup.
“My village—” Pillari turned to her readily, “—produces the finest mountain grapes in Alisiya. We have various crops, and sheep herds, but our grapes are the well-being of my families.”
“This wine is from your grapes?”
He nodded.
“It’s good.”
“Thank you.”
“I had Larzai bring up a keg from thirty years ago.” Arlic nodded. “Very good year.”
Pillari and Arlic turned back to each other, and became engrossed in discussing the crops and livestock up in the Adayzjian Valley. No one interrupted, and the conversation went on. Pillari seemed to be less a farmer than a proud father of farmers, which seemed a little odd. But he kept referring to the people as his family, or families, and sometimes referred to specific people by name and also as his son, daughter, or grandchild. Russ peeked at Liseli to
see if she noticed, but her face was unreadable. She was staring at her goblet, which she had already refilled twice, without touching her food as far as he could tell.
He couldn’t take it anymore. He leaned in and said quietly, “Aren’t you gonna eat any of your food?”
“Why?” she responded, looking into her cup, “do you want it?”
“No. But you’re gonna be sick if you keep sucking down all that alcohol.”
She glanced at him with annoyance. “Thank you, Mother, but I think I can handle my drink.”
“I’ve been there. It’s not fun.”
“Do you want me to eat?”
He shrugged, gripping his fork. “I don’t care. Do what you want.”
“I’m not hungry, then.” She mimicked the shrug, and drank some more wine.
Russ glanced up and saw that the agricultural discussion had waned, and to his embarrassment the table had fallen silent, listening to them.
Halla leaned forward. “Do you feel well, Liseli?” she asked, pursing her lips in concern. “You look pale.”
“I feel fine.” Liseli sat up straight and smiled self-consciously.
Halla didn’t seem convinced. “Are you sure? It is very important to tell us if you feel any pain.”
“Why?” Liseli asked.
Halla glanced at Arlic. “Well. The effect of the river might be delayed. If you begin to feel any dizziness, or spasms, or rigidity in your muscles . . . unusual nervousness and agitation . . . nausea . . . if your throat feels tight or your heart races. Any of those things. It is important. It could soon lead to any number of worse things; delirium, fever, lesions, suffocation—”
“Halla,” Pillari interrupted. He nodded his head toward the children.
She leaned back and looked at him coolly. “It’s important.”
“This is dinner,” said Arlic. Halla shot him a look that was downright cold, but said nothing and averted her gaze after a moment. She dropped her bread on her plate and put her hands in her lap.
“Okay . . . ” Liseli said slowly. “If I feel bad at all, I’ll . . . ” she tipped her cup toward Halla, “I’ll come to you before I fall apart.”
“For your own sake, I hope you do not mean that lightly,” Halla said, studying her plate.
Currun began to chuckle. “Hasn’t changed, has she, Arlic? Still fighting the inevitable. Oh—”
“Currun, please,” Arlic said quietly, but tautly. He hands tightened around his silverware.
“Look—” Currun turned to Russ and Liseli, “—if you begin to feel sick, you should pray to whatever god you believe in and prepare for death, because if the river does still get you, there’s nothing Halla or anyone else can do for you.”
Halla stood up suddenly. Her chair screeched on the floor. “Excuse me,” she said, throwing down her napkin.
“Halla,” Martilia said gently, but she was ignored. She stood up with an apologetic look and followed Halla out of the room. Eliasha sighed and put a hand to her forehead, silverware clinking as she rested her elbow on it.
“You may go, Currun,” Arlic said, setting his fork and knife down, crossing his arms.
“I’m sorry.” Currun shifted, looking unsettled for the first time. “I didn’t mean for Halla to—”
“Go.” Arlic’s hand came down on the table, and everyone jumped as the dishes rattled. Ivira began to whimper. Eliasha got up and went over by her, clucking and assuring her that everything was all right.
Currun pushed his chair back slowly and rose to his feet. “Very well.” He brushed some crumbs off of his shirt, watching them as they fell onto his unfinished plate. “But don’t think that you will make up for anything by playing the champ—”
“You can go back to the Valley, if you would like.” Arlic stared fixedly at a spot on the table.
“And miss the fun? Not when I’ve come this far.” Currun turned and walked toward the door. “Besides. One of us has to have a clear head around here.” No one replied, and he left the room, letting the door swing shut behind him. Larzai stood staring straight ahead the whole time.
Russ squirmed uneasily in his chair. Liseli was holding her goblet tightly, hiding behind it as she watched everyone, hawk-like. After a moment Arlic sighed and picked up his cup again. “Well. I think that went better than last year.” He downed the remainder of his wine in one gulp.
Pillari nearly smiled, shaking his head at the thinned out table. “That’s true,” he said, rubbing the side of his face with one hand. “I’m sorry,” he spoke to Russ and Liseli.
“I’m putting the children to bed,” said Eliasha, taking Ivira by the hand.
“I’m not tired,” Oan objected, seeming to be the only one not bothered by what had happened.
“You’re coming to bed, anyway,” Eliasha told him. “Come along. No complaints. Look at your sister.”
Oan shrugged. “She can go to bed.”
“Oan.”
He sighed, and slid out of his chair. As Eliasha herded them from the room she paused, turning to look back. “Good night. I hope you sleep well. Good night, Daddy.”
“Good night, Eliasha. Thank you,” Arlic said, looking at her from behind the hand he held to his temples.
“It’s all right. Good night.” She and the children left. Russ and Liseli found themselves staring back at Pillari and Arlic. Russ forced a smile, then decided to just return to eating. His food was getting cold.
Liseli slowly set down her cup, and picked up a fork. Russ noticed, but pretended not to. She picked at some vegetables for a little while, then looked up at Arlic. “Well. I’m afraid I’m bushed. Would you excuse me, too?”
“You still haven’t eaten hardly anything,” Russ said before he could stop himself.
“I’m not hungry.”
He shook his head, and shrugged. She would be starving in the middle of the night, no matter what she said.
Arlic smiled. “We usually don’t go to bed immediately after dinner. But this wonderful little family tradition always seems to do it.” He nodded. “Larzai, call Anya to lead Miss Liseli back to her room.”
Larzai bowed, and departed.
“Again, I apologize. It gets better though,” Arlic assured them. “The festival starts tomorrow with Aysha’s Day.”
“How long is the festival?” Liseli asked.
“Tomorrow through Saturday. It ends on Sunday with a day of reflection,” he folded his hands in front of him. He seemed older in the lamplight, as the sun finally disappeared. Not wrinkled or gray, but wearied. He looked like a man in his thirties who had lived too much. Or too little. Russ looked at his own plate. He felt exhausted, too, and thought back to his fever of the day before. It had only been yesterday . . . that morning, even. Yeah. He’d thought he was dying that morning; on the road to all of Halla’s horror symptoms. But instead of the river getting to him, like Currun said, he’d gotten to it. Funny. It still didn’t make any sense.
* * *
He was in his room later, looking in the bathroom mirror, checking the scab on his jaw and the faint bruise forming on his face. He could look in the mirror again; the whole argument on the bridge didn’t seem as bad after a little time went by. She’d hit him. Big whoopin’ deal. She hated him. He’d get over it. He’d told himself that so many times before that it had gone from mantra to subconscious knee-jerk reaction. She hates you. But you’ll get over it.
There was a knock at the door. Not another servant. He rolled his eyes. Then he realized that it was the balcony doors. He froze. “Who’s there?”
“Hist. It’s Eliasha,” said a low female voice.
He stared at the curtains.
This could be very bad. Or very good. Or one in the same.
“Russ?”
“I heard you. What, ah, what do you want?” He wondered if letting her in would be stupid or smart. Liseli hated him. He should get over that. Not tonight, though. That girl must be crazy . . . or desperate. Really desperate.
“Let me in and I’ll
show you.”
Whoa. “I don’t think that’s a . . . a good idea,” he said, imagining different ways Arlic and Liseli might murder him.
“Don’t be silly. I won’t be long. I have something for you.” She tapped the glass again.
Setting aside the debate, he walked over to the doors and drew the curtains aside a little to peek out at her.
“Yes. The doors, too.” She nodded impatiently. He let her in. The night was cool, and she was wrapped up in her cloak. She hastily covered the doors with the curtains, and he felt the room start to shrink.
“Eliasha—”
“Elly,” she smiled.
“ . . . Eliasha . . . ” he insisted. “I really don’t think—”
“Don’t be silly.” She shook her head, then lifted up her hand, and let something drop from it. A chain dangled from her fingers, and at the end hung a large teardrop shaped pendent. It looked like amber, but with veins of red swirling through it, like blood running into gold water.
“Uh . . . .”
“This is dogseye.” She nodded. “It’s a precious stone, mined from the mountains. You heard them talk a little about it at dinner.”
“Oh.” He had missed that part of the conversation. “It’s cool. It looks like . . . .” He paused, then stared at her.
She smiled, and finished his sentence: “Your Liseli’s hair.”
He shook his head. “Yes, but she’s not mine.”
“She seems to think so.” She offered it to him. “Take it.”
“What—”
“Tomorrow is Aysha’s Day,” she reminded him, as if he could forget. “Tomorrow is a day we exchange gifts with family and friends. This is a precious gift. Dogseye is considered a ward against evil and unhappiness, a protection for loved ones. To give someone dogseye is to say you love her. To accept it is to say you love the giver.”
He felt a mix of relief, disappointment, embarrassment, and shame wash over him. It wasn’t a strange feeling, he ran through the gambit often enough. You’re an idiot to imagine she came here for anything else. “I can’t give Liseli that,” he moaned. “She’ll just think I’m bribing her. It’s . . . really nice of you, but you don’t know Liseli, she’s touchy that way—”
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