Purla nodded in agreement. “Yes, you’re right.” She put a hand on Frath’s while the serving girl set a plate of eggs, meat and fruits down in front of him. “Grief is only useful for a day or two. After a week, it damages you and can send you into the gutter, which you know better than most is a terrible place to find people.” She patted his hand and sat down next to him. “Eat,” she commanded, pointing at the food.
His mouth was already watering from the aroma wafting up. It had been a while since he had eaten more than a few bites, but suddenly his stomach made its emptiness known. Frath dug into the meal with fervor, making amends to his belly.
“There now, that’s what I like to see,” Albert said with a nod. “My wife is correct in what she told you. Life will be terrible at times, I know that for certain.” He held up the stump where his arm had once been. “I tried drinking myself to death when this happened, but Purla set me straight. You get yourself straight now. You’re young yet and there’s a lot of life ahead of you.” He pushed up from the table with his other arm. “I have business to take care of. Eat until you’re full.”
Purla wordlessly patted Frath on the shoulder and also went back to her work. When he finished the plate, she made certain another was put in front of him with even more variety. It felt good to eat something decent again and he realized that he really had been neglecting himself badly.
Frath stretched his arms and legs, feeling the weakness from not eating or exercising. The next time he went to the practice grounds, he would have to be careful to warm up and not get foolishly beat down.
Albert came back to look in on him. “How are you? Did the food help?”
“Yes. Thank you, friend,” Frath replied, standing and putting a hand on the innkeeper’s solid shoulder. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me and let me know if there’s anything I can do for you in the future.”
“You saved my life,” he responded, returning the gesture. “And you’ve been a good friend to me. Come by any time you need to talk or just need a good meal.”
“And bring that child by now and then. Everyone wants to see her,” Purla added, coming up behind Albert. She gave Frath a huge, warm hug.
“I will,” he replied as they parted. “I’ll have to get her away from everyone in the squad first though.” He almost smiled at the thought.
“How is that going? Are they really going to let you raise her there?” Albert asked in curiosity.
“They are, but I can’t give you the details and we’re not making a big deal about it,” he said.
“Of course. It’s all very mysterious and interesting,” Albert agreed. He smacked Frath on the shoulder. “Back to work for me. Take care of yourself and that baby.”
“I will. Thank you.”
Purla gave him one more hug. “Go on your way now and clear your head. Come to the kitchen whenever you need a meal.”
“Thank you, Purla.” He exited the kitchen’s delivery door to the side street and said hello to the guard there, a huge scar-faced man named Damen who had a wooden leg and wielded a wicked double-bladed scythe. The weapon and the man were so intimidating that no one ever messed with him. Frath knew Damen had an amazing sense of humor and was very friendly though. Sheela had really liked him and always brought him treats she snuck from the kitchen.
As he turned back down the street, Frath felt the agony of loss again. His jaw clenched as he tried to control it. How he was supposed to continue was beyond him. Once he was out of sight of the inn, he leaned against a wall and tried to decide what to do next.
The thought of going to Carnival and watching merriment brought anguish to his mind, so did the thought of going to the market and not having anyone to buy for. Frath decided to go to Lady Pallon’s Estate to talk to her and to visit where Sheela’s ashes had been scattered.
The squirrel let him in right away, not even asking his business. Frath wondered how long it could live considering it had been there since the first time he visited. Of course it was a talking squirrel, so normal rules probably didn’t apply.
Lady Pallon met him at the door, not even waiting for him to knock. She was wearing a cream-colored dress with pearled beads sewn throughout the top. As always, she had a hat to match it with fresh flowers sewn into it. “Come with me, Frath. You need to see this.” She led him through the house, not waiting for an answer. Frath closed the front door behind him and quickly followed.
A moment later, they were in the grounds behind the house. Frath had chosen a back corner to spread the ashes, near some of the willows by an old fountain with a small statue of a woman pouring water in the center. The fountain didn’t work and the woman’s jug was empty of water. It was to that spot that Lady Pallon took him.
His heart skipped a beat when he saw the transformation. The fountain was working again. The statue’s clothing was yellow with gold lacework. Her hair was black and she leaned over, pouring water from the jug that had become blue. The water within glistened with the radiance of the sun.
The area around the fountain had originally been dried grass, but rosebushes now grew wild and the grass was green and fresh. The roses had three times as many thorns as normal and the blossoms were all dark violet.
“Frath . . .” Lady Pallon began, trying to form the words. “The Knight of Reanna’s blessing may have been responsible for the fountain and grass, but the roses . . .”
“That’s . . . unusual,” Frath responded lamely.
“I like them, but I’ve never seen that color in roses before.” She crossed her arms. “They seem to be getting along well enough with the fountain . . . That sounds odd, but . . .”
“They’re pretty. Do you really think this is all because of Sheela?” he asked thoughtfully.
“Yes, I do. There was something special about that girl, but I can’t put a finger on it.” She turned and dusted off her dress, although there wasn’t a speck on it. “Now . . . what about you? You look terrible, even more unhappy than you did before you met her. You have got to be the gloomiest young man I’ve ever met.” She slapped his upper arm, ignoring the fact that the chain shirt absorbed the blow.
“I’m . . . I am more miserable and I don’t know how to deal with how much my heart hurts, even though I know I need to get on with life.”
“No you don’t,” Lady Pallon replied. “Let’s have tea.”
Frath frowned in puzzlement. “I don’t?” She didn’t answer, so he followed her into the conservatory.
They sat down at their normal table and Frath stared at the vacant seat Sheela normally took. Next to the table was a white wicker crib with a sleeping baby in it. A nanny curtseyed to Lady Pallon who told her to get tea.
“It’s nice when Ebudae is asleep instead of crying about some tooth, a bottle or a silly diaper,” Lady Fallon declared with a dramatic sigh. “I didn’t enjoy raising her mother and I’m certainly too old to raise her.” Lady Pallon was furious at her daughter for leaving Ebudae on the doorstep and then disappearing. She paid two nannies to do most of the raising, but insisted on suffering visibly every once in a while.
“I’d take her and raise her with Pelya, but I don’t think they’d let me,” Frath said sadly.
“No, no. Of course not,” she replied with a dismissive wave. “Don’t be silly. I’m just happy that you didn’t dump your daughter off on me too,” she told him, resting her chin on the backs of her hands.
Her words irritated Frath. He knew her feelings on raising children and never even asked to bring Pelya. The casual disregard for another life made him angry though. Frath respected Lady Pallon except for this one trait.
He must have been glaring, because Lady Pallon raised an eyebrow. “My, my. Such a fierce look. Whatever is it for?”
“I have never asked you to care for Pelya, never. And I certainly wouldn’t dump her off on you.” Frath said in livid tones. “You invited me and Sheela into your home and we only came if we felt it wouldn’t be a burden. If my friendship is unwanted because I
now have a child, I’ll leave.”
“My, my. You are in a foul mood.” Lady Pallon was completely unfazed by the reaction. “Of course I want you around. You are my best friend, even if you do have a child.” She leaned forward and winked. “I’ve decided not to hold that against you.”
Frath stared at her, and then laughed in spite of himself. It only lasted a second, but that was enough to defuse the anger. “What do you mean when you say I don’t have to get on with my life?” he asked, going back to the statement from the garden.
“I mean you can lie down and die if you wish,” she answered with a flip of a hand. “You don’t have to get on with your life. Many people don’t.”
He rolled his eyes, stood and looked into the crib. Ebudae had brown hair a little thinner than Pelya’s but her eyes were pink like her mother and grandmother. They were closed at the moment, but Frath knew there was just as much attitude in them as in Pelya’s. Both girls were going to be spitfires.
“When they grow older, I’d like them to become playmates, if you’re willing,” Lady Pallon said.
Frath stood and nodded. “I’d like that too, although I have a feeling they’ll get into all sorts of trouble.”
“Of course they will. But at least they’ll do it together. It’s much better than getting into trouble alone,” she pointed out.
“Yeah. Good point,” he agreed. Turning back to her, he said, “I have someplace to go. Thank you again for showing me the fountain and roses. I’ll stop by now and then. When the girls are older they can get into all kinds of trouble and then get each other out of it.”
“Take care of you, Frath,” she told him as they hugged. “You’re my favorite person and I worry about you.”
“I will.” He saw himself out and walked to the street. From there he went through the Orphan District to the tunnel. Soon he was standing in front of the doors to the church.
The flowers growing where Sheela’s ashes had been spread were Distra’s, of that he was certain. What Frath didn’t understand was why the goddess had given him the ring and then let them be happy, only to take Sheela away from him.
He pushed through the doors and marched down the aisle toward the statue. It made no movement. Frath debated what to say, but the words just weren’t coming. He paced back and forth in front of it, pounding his fists into his thighs. Tears of frustration welled up.
Finally, he stopped and faced the statue. “Why, Distra?” Frath pleaded. “Why did you take her from me? Why couldn’t you let her live?” It remained silent and motionless.
Frath screamed. “Why?! Why couldn’t she live?!” When there was no answer, he screamed wordlessly toward the ceiling. From deep in his legs, up through his gut and chest, an angry roar burst from his throat.
He fell to his knees and sobbed heavily. The loss didn’t just hurt, it ripped open his chest and poured agonizing fire into it. He couldn’t sleep at night because whenever he closed his eyes, he remembered the feel of her and the smile on her face. His muscles were tense all the time with no way to relax.
“You gave me the ring to give to her,” Frath accused hoarsely out of frustration and bewilderment, looking up at the cowled head. “I thought you liked her. I thought you would save her. I thought she could live a life of happiness after having a life of despair.” He hung his head again. His shoulders slumped in defeat while a new batch of tears began to flow. “Why Distra? Why couldn’t she be happy?”
The voice moved through the church like a whisper on the breeze. “She knew more happiness in her time with you than most experience in their entire lives.” There was an edge to it like a blade that had just drawn blood.
Frath looked up at the piercing, violet eyes. They were the only thing he could see from that point on. The statue and everything else faded into shadows.
“She wasn’t fated to be happy at all. Had she not met you, her remaining life would have been short and filled with terror.” Distra’s voice ruthlessly filled his skull. It hurt and felt good all at the same time. Blood began to trickle from his nose and ears.
“You saved her. You gave her a level of joy few in this world ever know.” The purple eyes flared. “I do not like joy. It is not my friend, Frath Jornin. However, I like you and I like her, therefore I tolerated joy in my church. I even caused flowers to grow next to that accursed fountain of the Sun Goddess because of it.”
Frath took a deep, shuddering breath as the force of his goddess pushed him back along the floor. It was uncommon for a deity to speak directly to a person. Most mortals could not endure the contact.
“She was not able to survive in this world, this lifetime. You gave her happiness and received a daughter in return. Be miserable if you wish, but do not whine and wail at me!” The last words blasted him across the church to slam into the doors.
As he crumpled to the ground, Frath saw the eyes fading back into the darkness of the statue’s cowl.
Chapter 9
Frath’s head felt like an anvil. As his mind began to focus, he realized the miserable groaning sound he was hearing came from his throat. Every fiber of his body hurt and his own odor assaulted his senses. Between groans, the silence around him pounded against his ears.
The first clear thought he had was that it was dangerous to be in a weakened state. His training kicked in at that point and he began a mental checklist drilled into all members of the guard. He took a slow, deep breath. It was ragged and his throat hurt, but he could breathe. His mouth was dry, scummy and cracked. Next, he listened carefully for any sounds. There was nothing but the heavy silence. Then he sniffed the air for anything dangerous like smoke or the acrid stench of polluted magic. All he smelled was his own urine and feces, which let him know he had been unconscious deeply enough to lose control of his bodily functions. Next, he focused on his bones, muscles and skin to determine whether anything was broken, torn or bleeding. It was an excruciating experience, but for all the pain, he was still whole.
Frath was mostly certain he was alive, so he concentrated on the last thing he remembered before losing consciousness. The memory of Distra’s purple eyes filled his skull and stabbing pain shot through his head. Everything came flooding back: the words of Distra, the promise that Pelya and Ebudae would become playmates, the meal at the Shining Shield Inn, the birth of his daughter, and the death of his betrothed. The stabbing pains in his skull were joined by more in his heart.
His body refused to cooperate when he decided to stand up. Focusing his willpower, he forced his arms underneath him. Frath pushed to his hands and knees with a mighty yell. He stayed there for a few moments, trembling from the effort.
It took effort to open his crusty eyes. Frath wondered how long he had been unconscious. As if on cue, his stomach squeezed in hunger to inform him that it had been much too long. He looked around and saw movement in the dim candlelight.
Alarm seized him and the trembling in his body froze. Then he realized that the movement was just shadows dancing sadly wherever light cast them. Frath blinked his eyes a few times and managed to bring up one of his arms to wipe some of the crust away.
Expecting to see normal shadows, he looked around again. The scene didn’t change. Shadows were, in fact, dancing sadly throughout the church. He could see the mournful movements of each one. They weren’t human shadows, but they felt grief nonetheless.
He took a hand that was being held out to help him up. As he reached his feet and stumbled, realization dawned that the hand had been offered by his own shadow. A flickering candle caused it to jump away then leap back against the doors before it waved at him with an insincere motion.
Frath smacked himself in the face, startling the shadow. It was the only thing he could think of to make his sanity come back. All it did was make his head hurt worse.
It was more than Frath could take, so he made a run for it, only to bump into the door when his hand didn’t open it quickly enough. He barely managed to stay on his feet while he refocused. The next thing he knew, his
shadow was opening it for him. Goosebumps danced on his skin, but Frath had a personal policy to be polite when the situation called for it. “Thank you,” he told the shadow in a voice that was more of a croak. The shadow bowed and let him walk through the door before following and closing it behind them.
The ground in front of Frath shifted back and forth, swaying like one of those ships he had heard about but hadn’t seen, never having been out of Dralin. It was early morning judging by the glow to his left. The entrance was on the south side of the church, so he knew left was east. Frath concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, staggering to the gate and into the dark street.
Piohray and Siahray, the two moons of Ryallon, were both partially full in the early dawn sky. When the red light of Piohray mixed with the bluish-green light of Siahray, it made the world glow lavender in most places. In Dralin, it just looked dirty. It was bright enough to cast shadows everywhere. He had hoped things would become normal once outside, but even these shadows were swaying sadly. They didn’t move nearly as much as the shadows cast by the flickering candles though.
Why are they sad? Does Distra have something to do with it? Thinking about it made his head ache, so he focused on where he was going instead.
Nightmarish figures were shuffling nearby along a side street. They noticed him. Normally he would jog away, but his legs told him that wasn’t an option at that particular moment and he would have to think of something else.
Frath stopped and put a hand on the hilt of his sword, but the arm was in the same camp as the legs. His eyes confronted the danger alone.
His eyes couldn’t believe what they saw next. Shadows moved along the ground and rose up in front of the figures. The shuffling creatures turned and moved away as quickly as possible. Then the shadows flowed back to their proper spots.
Frath shook his head in disbelief, but instantly regretted it as pain nauseated him. He took a few deep breaths before lurching toward the tunnel out of the district. All his bones and muscles ached badly. Being thrown though the air to slam against a door was the least of what was causing the distress. The effects from having the goddess take hold of his mind made his eyes hurt and his skin feel warped.
Dralin Page 11