Love and Sacrifice: Book Two of the Prophecy Series

by Tove Foss Ford

  “At this time, I need to keep myself distant so that I can concentrate on what I have to do. You need to learn when to hold yourself separate, Katrin.”

  “Is there more going on than I know about?” she asked.

  “No – not at the moment. But Katrin, a secret is only a secret when one person knows it. How many people saw that bomb go off?”

  He looked at her, his bright blue eyes, so like hers, serious.

  She nodded.

  “Rest assured news of this bomb has reached Artreya,” he went on. “Menders would have been telling you this sooner or later, but as usual, you’ve precipitated him. Bear and I are going there to see how things stand. At this point, there is no more than the usual danger from Artreya. Leave it at that and trust us to let you know when that changes. That’s also important to a Queen – knowing who and when to trust. And no cutting yourself – you can’t risk infection. If it wasn’t the only way I stay out of an asylum, I wouldn’t do it.”

  Katrin was silent, stunned by his blunt revelation. They had only spoken of his injuring himself once before in all the years they’d known each other. It had always been part of him, just as the scars it left behind were.

  Kaymar seemed to be arguing with himself again.

  “I’m going to tell you something that my father told me when I was fourteen, and that I’ve told Borsen since. I want you to remember it and keep it by you. No matter what happens, no matter what you do, Kaymar loves you. Now, I must go. Have your party, my dear and don’t fret. This is what we do – all of us, Menders’ Men. We won’t fail you. And we’ll be at your next celebration.”

  He turned away, went to Menders and spoke softly to him for a moment, then picked up his hat from the table and went to the door.

  Before he went through it, he looked around at Katrin, nodded and winked.

  ***

  Menders looked over the simmering pots and pans in Katrin’s kitchen. She had insisted on preparing the dinner party entirely by herself. From the wonderful aromas, she had done a very good job.

  “You have outdone yourself,” he smiled, very tempted to do some tasting. Katrin, however, had already driven Hemmett from the suite with the broom when he daringly sampled the appetizers despite her forbidding it.

  “Would you be a dear and pick some bottles of wine that would go well with this?” Katrin asked, collecting silverware to finish setting the table.

  Menders froze for a moment, looking at her – feeling his heart sink.

  “Couldn’t that cause a problem?” he ventured.

  “No, I don’t really like wine and I’m not having melancholia,” she answered, busily putting out the silverware. “I’m not going to have any, but other people might like a glass or two.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry, Katrin.”

  “Don’t be. I understand,” she smiled.

  Menders returned with the wine in time to intercept Varnia, who was puffing up the Tower Staircase with a basket of bread. He relieved her of it as well and put an arm around her to help her with the final flight. Katrin heard them coming and had the door open for them.

  “About your stairs,” Varnia gasped.

  “The elevator construction begins next week,” Katrin answered, taking the bread basket from Menders and guiding Varnia to a chair.

  “Here, hold the door, Menders!” Villison’s voice floated up the Staircase and then he and Petra came into view as they came around the last curve of the great spiral and began scaling the final flight. No sooner had they gotten into the suite but Stevahn came climbing up in their wake.

  Varnia looked around in alarm, but Stevahn anticipated her reaction.

  “Now dear, His Majesty himself sent me,” he explained. “Germaine is there with him for the evening, more than content to drink tea and eat cookies while he sketches and sleeps. He sent this along, Katrin.”

  He produced a box from his inner coat pocket. Katrin fluttered a bit as she opened it and took out a lovely miniature ceramic sculpture of The Shadows.

  “He says now you have your old home in your new home,” Stevahn smiled.

  “Look everyone – isn’t it perfect?” Katrin said happily, showing it around before she placed it out of harm’s way on the mantelpiece.

  “I’m for a cigar,” Villison said abruptly, letting himself out into the Tower garden, Sunny alongside him. Menders watched with amusement as Villison lit up, took only two puffs, waved the cigar about and then dropped it on the ground, extinguishing it under his foot. He came in immediately.

  “Too cold out there,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “When do we eat?”

  “We’re just waiting for Hemmett and Flori,” Katrin explained, standing with Menders and looking at the exquisitely detailed sculpture. “I haven’t found any errors yet,” she said happily.

  “We should go out to The Shadows soon – everyone would be very happy to see you,” Menders replied, turning the sculpture around again. “Look, it even has the cracked window!”

  “I can’t wait to go,” Katrin smiled.

  Conversation buzzed around as everyone chatted and the ladies fussed with the dinner things. Then definite and powerful footsteps approached on the Staircase. A moment later, Hemmett thumped the door resoundingly.

  Katrin was nearest and swung it open.

  “Yes, Old Toad?” she laughed at him. “Come in Flori – let me give that to Varnia and take your coat…”

  Hemmett put his hand on her arm.

  “I found someone we both know and brought them along,” he said. “I hope you have enough food for another guest.”

  “Of course, I cooked enough for an army,” Katrin laughed. She tried to look around him.

  Hemmett stepped aside.

  Katrin looked puzzled for a moment until Lorein removed her fur hat. Her hair caught the light from the Staircase lanterns.

  “Why it’s Lorein Spartz!” Katrin cried. “Oh, come in! Varnia, look! Lorein, I haven’t seen you in so long – how are you?”

  Hemmett stepped over and put an arm around Lorein.

  “This is Mistress Captain Greinholz,” he said resoundingly.

  Everyone was stunned to silence, except for Villison, who smirked with self-satisfaction. Of course, Menders thought. He was signaling Hemmett down in the Courtyard with that cigar, letting him know we were all here!

  “You didn’t! You did! Oh, how wonderful!” Katrin cried, throwing her arms around Lorein. “Oh, when did you do it? Why didn’t you let me know – I would have put on a wonderful wedding for you!”

  “We were married two weeks ago,” Hemmett said, looking tremendously proud of himself. “We didn’t want a great farfumboozala, so we did a runaway match. I hope there’s room in the planning of the New Mordania for two of us instead of one of us.”

  Katrin put her arms around him in answer. Hemmett held her close for a moment and then when she looked up at him, smiling for all she was worth, he started to laugh.

  ***

  Menders circulated around the room after dinner, pleased to be spending some time with people socially for a change, rather than giving orders or discussing strategy. Katrin’s meal had been delicious, the company delightful and the addition of newlyweds had led to all the old toasts and blessings being given.

  Katrin had done very well with her first party in her home. She was glowing with happiness, discussing orphanage reform and charitable endeavors with Varnia, Petra and Lorein while Flori listened intently. Hemmett was relating some humorous story to Stevahn with Villison leaning on the mantelpiece, only giving half an ear to the conversation. He’d probably heard the joke several times before.

  Menders finally found himself near a western facing window and looked outside. Clouds that had been driven across the sunset earlier in the evening had cleared, leaving the starry sky unshrouded. The Weaver hung high in the sky, the three brightest stars brilliant in the frosty air.

  He thought of Katrin, determinedly claiming her right to health and happiness as
well as discovering her power. She was brilliant tonight, full of ideas and plans. Hemmett was her match, his marriage giving him new confidence. He and Lorein seemed perfect together and very, very happy.

  His mind moved on to Borsen, as his gaze moved toward Borsen’s home. It was so like him to send Stevahn here tonight, complete with the perfect gift. It had to be a solitary evening for him, away from this vibrant group of young people.

  Menders saw Katrin rise to put on a second pot of coffee and followed her into the kitchen.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to walk up to see Borsen for a while,” he said as she measured coffee grounds and put the water kettle on to boil. “I’ll leave you younger folks to your planning. I won’t be very long.”

  “Of course, Menders,” Katrin replied. Suddenly things seemed awkward – the rift between them had made private moments awkward. At one time she would have called him Papa, particularly at a family event like this. Now it was invariably Menders.

  “I’m trying to think if I can send any of the food to him, but I’m not sure just what he can have at this point,” she said uncertainly.

  “That’s fine – best not to risk having Franz after us if you sent something he can’t tolerate yet,” Menders agreed. “I’ll let him know how much you liked his gift.”

  He made his goodbyes to everyone, picked up his hat and put on his coat before letting himself out of the suite.

  The Staircase was a perfect place to think, if only to break the monotony of climbing down and down and down. Menders’ mind was sorting over many things, but kept returning to the distance between Katrin and himself.

  Eiren said it was inevitable. After the events of the last six years and more, yes – but that made it no less tragic. His emotional reactions during Borsen’s illness and his frustration with Katrin’s abnormal mental state had erupted in more than one incident he would give anything to live over again, so he could choose a different path. At times, he could tell Katrin felt chagrin about her own behavior during those days, though her illness had made her unable to control her actions.

  Several times during the evening Menders felt that they were close to restoring their father-daughter bond – but each time it had slipped elusively away. It would take time, if the estrangement could ever be entirely healed.

  The blast of winter cold greeting him at ground level turned his thoughts to more immediate matters – such as the fact that he’d forgotten his gloves and scarf in the suite.

  He swore softly to himself and turned up his collar, then thrust his hands into his pockets. If something got left behind at the top of the Tower, you did without or went out and bought another one. Making a trip up and back down the Staircase now was something he simply wouldn’t consider. That elevator could not be built soon enough.

  As he walked through the archway into the Courtyard, the sentry on duty began swinging open the heavy, iron gate leading to the Promenade.

  That’s odd, Menders thought. This is the archway I walked through all those years ago on the night Katrin was born, carrying her. I’ve never considered it, but this bitter cold brings it all right back. It was so cold that the stars seemed very bright and close enough to touch – just like tonight.

  “Papa? Papa!”

  Menders stood stock still for a moment. Katrin’s voice had rung out high above him. He turned and looked up, shielding his eyes from the light of the lanterns on the Palace walls.

  “You forgot your gloves and scarf!” she called. He could just see her, leaning over the edge of the garden wall. “Catch!”

  She dropped a small bundle toward him. Two steps, a slight jump and he caught it in midair.

  His gloves and scarf were bundled and tied around a little packet, paper wrapped around something light and crisp. He opened it to find two fragrant spice cookies, the kind Cook made at The Shadows – his favorite and Katrin’s. She had prepared the recipe earlier in the day, to go with the evening coffee.

  Something was inscribed on the paper - a heart and a note,

  I love you, Papa.

  Katrin

  He looked up.

  “Everything is all right,” he called softly. “Sleep well, little princess.”

  Katrin kissed her hand to him and was gone.

  Menders drew on his gloves, wrapped the scarf around his neck and walked through the open gate, nodding to the sentry’s salute and greeting. Then he was on his way down the Promenade on what had turned out to be a beautiful night, walking toward his son’s house, the fragrance and flavor of home safe in the packet in his hand.

  UNTIL THE CIRCLE TURNS AGAIN

  Chetigré’s Samorsan Seven Spice Soup

  Using Earth Ingredients

  Ingredients

  Soup Base

  ½ medium onion

  1 garlic clove

  4 – 5 boneless chicken breasts, diced

  6 cups chicken stock/broth

  2 T olive oil

  The Seven Spices

  1 t thyme

  1 bay leaf

  ½ t cinnamon

  Dash of cloves

  1 t coriander

  ¼ - ½ t cayenne

  1 tsp cumin

  Lagniappe

  Salt and pepper to taste (salt and pepper are a given!)

  2 t lime or lemon juice.

  Cream Sauce for Thickening

  2 T butter

  ¼ cup flour

  1 ½ cup milk

  The Original Decadent Cream Thickening (optional)

  1 ½ cup cream (heavy cream or whipping cream – Mexican table cream is also excellent for thickening.)

  Directions

  Chop your onion and garlic finely. Dice chicken in 1 inch cubes.

  Heat your olive oil in the bottom of a heavy pot. Add the onion and garlic and sautée until soft. Add diced chicken and sautée until lightly browned.

  Add chicken stock and bring to a boil, then lower to a simmer.

  Add the seven spices, salt and pepper and lime or lemon juice.

  Let your soup simmer covered for ½ hour or until chicken is tender.

  You may thicken your soup by adding 1 ½ cup of heavy or whipping cream. Bring soup to a hard simmer before serving.

  If you prefer to use a cream sauce to thicken your soup, this is the way to do it:

  Melt the butter in a saucepan. When it bubbles, add the ¼ cup of flour. Stir until the flour has absorbed all the butter and is a very light golden color. Stir in the 1 ½ cup of milk gradually, using a whisk so there are no lumps. Stir the cream sauce into the soup, bring to a hard simmer before serving.

  Please visit Tove Foss Ford’s blog at http://theeirdonbooksandme.blogspot.com/ for updates on upcoming volumes of the Prophecy Series.

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  Email Tove Foss Ford at theeirdonbooks@yahoo.com