Mother Tora gave me a shrug. “I’ll tell him about the invitations later,” she said.
I nodded and finished my cup. A meeting. I wondered what it could be for. Did it have to do with Bersi?
I had to know. I excused myself and headed for my room, but left the door open a crack so I could watch the hall. Sveinn soon came with a tray and left directly. Had Reister’s guest arrived already? Reister emerged from the study and went down the hall, then returned with Snúa in tow. They went into the study and shut the door. Snúa. What would he have to do with Bersi? Probably nothing. But I couldn’t be sure. I couldn’t just ignore this meeting. If I could learn anything at all, it would be worth it.
I crept down the hall and studied the door. It had a keyhole. I never thought I would lower myself to listen at keyholes, but I was desperate. I crouched and tried to peer through, but I could only see the edge of a seat. I pressed my ear to it instead.
“Quite right,” Snúa said.
“It wasn’t easy,” said Reister. “But I’ve paid for the shipment and I’ve got a warehouse to store it when it comes.”
“Most excellent,” Snúa said with a chuckle. “You’ve quite a mind for this, Sölbói.”
“We’ll make ten times the profit.”
“And the warehouse is…?”
“In the Torc, of course. Shipping district.”
“The one by the customs house? You’re bold.”
“It’s perfect,” Reister said. “It’s always best to hide things in plain sight.”
“Under their noses, you mean.”
Reister made no answer, and Snúa chuckled again.
“I’ll need to know when you’ve arranged the delivery,” Reister said. “You’ve got to have all the details sorted by tomorrow. The earlier the better.”
“Of course. I’ll send word as soon as it’s done.”
“Have some tea,” Reister said. “Then get to it. We haven’t any time to waste.”
“Oh, I’ll leave the tea, if you don’t mind. I’d as soon have a drink of something stronger, you know.” Another chuckle. “So I’ll be on my way.”
I stood up quickly and stumbled as my legs, numbed from the crouching, started to give way. I caught myself against the frame of the door with a low thump. The sound made my stomach twist and I hurried back to my room, limping a bit and steadying myself against the wall. I just closed my door as the study’s door opened.
I rushed to my bathroom and opened the bath’s tap, running the hot water. I did the same with the sink. I wanted steam to build so if Reister came all the way into my bathroom he’d see it. Pulling off the dress I wore, I splashed hot water on my face and through my hair. Someone knocked on my bedroom door. I cut the water in the sink and bath and found my dressing gown, slipping it on. The knock got louder, so I left the bathroom and opened my bedroom door, hoping he wouldn’t notice I still wore stockings. Sure enough, it was Reister.
“Yes?” I said, raising my eyebrows. Reister took in my robe, my wet hair.
“You were bathing?” he asked.
Frowning, I nodded. “I’d like to get back to it, if you don’t mind.”
He made a scoffing noise and headed away down the hall.
I closed the door and leaned against it. He hadn’t looked down. He hadn’t noticed my stockings. Maybe he would dismiss the noise I’d made at his study’s door. Maybe he wouldn’t guess I had been listening.
Not that it mattered—what had I found out? Nothing. Except that Reister was doing some sort of business with Snúa.
And that Reister liked to hide things in plain sight. I wondered if he’d hidden the name of Bersi’s school somewhere obvious.
Or maybe he never documented sending Bersi away at all.
A wave of despair rolled over me, sapping my strength. I dragged myself into the bathroom. Gazing at myself in the mirror, I tried to shake off the lethargy that spread through my body. I couldn’t give in to hopelessness. I had to believe Reister had some document that would tell me where my son was. I just had to find it.
I emptied the tub, which had a few inches of water in it and tidied the bathroom. Finishing up, I decided I might as well ready myself for this evening’s party at the Fastulfs. At least I would see Liut again.
~~~
I wore a beaded dress the color of tea to the dinner that night, with a lightweight coat made of rough chocolate silk. In my hair a headband sported a spray of brown and tan feathers that matched nicely. I caught Liut’s eye as I arrived—unaccompanied this time. Mother Tora had been disappointed when Reister showed little enthusiasm for my new popularity, and she’d pouted when he left in the late afternoon saying not to wait for him to dine. She tried to tell him we were invited and he snapped that I would just have to attend alone. It was a relief to me. The less time I had to spend on Reister’s arm, the happier I was.
“Jarldis Sölbói!” Liut exclaimed as I entered. He stepped to meet me taking both my hands. “You look divine, as usual.”
“And you’re very charming, as usual, Jarl Krigr,” I responded. Liut led me around, introducing me. When Jarl Fastulf poured glasses of mead, Liut took two and handed me one.
I sipped the sweet honey-alcohol and let myself imagine, for just a moment, that Liut was my husband. Bersi was safe at home, asleep in his bed, and when this night was over, Liut and I would return to the estate in Söllund, where we lived happily as man and wife.
“You seem to be studying me rather intently, Myadar,” Liut whispered.
“Was I?” I blushed. “I was just thinking about how kind you’ve been.”
He smiled.
“Do you always show newcomers to the court such attentiveness?” I asked lightly.
“Only when they are as beautiful as you are,” he said into my ear. A thrill spread from my neck down my back and across my breasts. I caught my breath, bowing my head to hide my expression. I didn’t know how to respond and I didn’t trust my voice.
Ever since I’d arrived in the capital my body would betray me—I felt like I no longer knew myself. I allowed myself a glimpse of Liut. He sat near me, but laughed at some other guest’s joke. He found me beautiful? He was the beautiful one—even features, smooth skin, those strange honey-colored eyes. I wanted to touch his hair, free it of the tonic that tried in vain to slick it straight back. These thoughts couldn’t be my own. I hadn’t thought of anyone that way since I was a girl in Asterlund, and even then, my body hadn’t responded like it did now.
I finished my glass of mead and Liut rose to get me another. The drink was not as strong as Snúa’s brandy, but it made me feel warm and relaxed. I wouldn’t have minded if it was stronger, however. I remembered how I’d let go of my worries the day before. Perhaps I had been too drunk, but at least I’d been happy for a little while.
“After dinner, I propose we all go to Alheidir’s Dance Hall,” Jarl Fastulf said.
“Oh, yes, let’s,” his wife agreed. There were murmurs of agreement.
Liut looked at me. “Would you like that, Myadar?”
“I’m not sure—I don’t know the dances I saw at the coronation ball—”
He smiled. “I would be happy to teach you.”
“Very well then,” I said, and it felt as though the mead had made me dizzy, at last.
I have no memory of what we ate, but not because of the mead. I paid no attention to the food I tasted. Watching Liut speak and laugh, imagining dancing in his arms, I could think of nothing else. Once, when the robots came with plates of dessert, it occurred to me that I hadn’t thought of Bersi in hours, and guilt stabbed my heart. I couldn’t believe I had forgotten my boy for so long, but I drank some more mead, and the guilt faded. Bersi faded. Had I ever truly had a son? Had he ever been real, or just a dream? Surely anything as beautiful as Bersi could not exist. And since I had no way of proving to myself that he was real, wasn’t it better to forget him, for now? It hurt so much to think I’d had him once, and lost him. Couldn’t I allow him to disappear from
my mind, and try to enjoy this night?
The guilt returned and I extended my glass to Jarl Fastulf, who refilled it.
“Come along, then, everyone! I’ll order the cars,” he said after a few moments, and everyone rose from the table. My balance was off, but I managed to compensate. It made me proud that I could walk as though nothing hampered me.
Liut took my elbow and leaned in to my ear. “You’ll ride with me, won’t you, Myadar?”
I smiled at him. “Of course.”
I leaned my forehead against the window in the sedan, Liut sitting close beside me. Outside the night and the streetlamps tinted everything blue. Snow drifts against the sides of buildings glowed in the dark. Chrome flashed as we passed decorative panels and trim, and neon signs cast red, pink, green and yellow light in contrast.
We entered a poor district. I had no way of knowing if it was one of those I’d crossed on my drive from the dock when I’d first arrived in Helésey, but it resembled them. Tattered, dirty awnings of various colors flapped in the wind. Trash blew along the street. Here the neon signs flickered, often partly dead. Down an alley I glimpsed a barrel on fire, surrounded by huddled forms.
To my surprise, the sedan came to stop in front of one of the larger awnings. Perhaps at one time it had been grand, a long red rounded entrance canopy with a domed front, leading in to what used to be a hotel, from the look of the old sign above the awning. Fixed now over the sign were large glowing letters spelling “Dance Hall.”
As we exited the car and joined the other guests it struck me that everyone was laughing or at least smiling. And yet they all seemed nervous. They looked around and tittered at the sight of two shabby characters sitting in a doorway across the street. Why come here, when we were so out of place? Were they enjoying this as some sort of adventure?
The glow of the mead was dying and I wanted very much to reignite it, for I could feel the dread of knowing I had lost Bersi creeping around the edges of my mind. I took Liut’s arm and tried to lose myself in his eyes. Maybe it was the darkness and the smell of refuse on the street, but I couldn’t do it.
“You look cold, Myadar,” he said.
I nodded. I hadn’t noticed, but it was true. The cold made my fingers stiff and my jaw chatter.
“Let’s get inside, everyone,” he said to the others, and they obliged. In a moment we passed through the doors into the lobby of the once-hotel-now-dancehall. It was a wide, open room with a long mahogany desk across the way and a huge, heavy chandelier hanging with yellowed crystals. The old red carpet’s golden designs had faded and stains interrupted the pattern. The red wallpaper had a brown cast to it, and peeled away in the corners.
“Come along,” Liut said, leading me across the lobby to a pair of large doors—large, yes, but they would have been dwarfed by the giant doors of the palace or the Temple. This building came from another time.
“Liut, is the palace new, like the Temple?” I asked.
“Fairly. They completed it three years ago,” he said.
I nodded, and we entered the ballroom.
We stood at the top of an entresol, looking down two elegantly winding staircases that plunged to the dance floor below. The ballroom had the same old-fashioned, grandiose but worn quality of the lobby. The wood-paneled walls were adorned by huge, heavily framed portraits. The women in them wore the kinds of gowns I’d brought with me from Söllund.
Below us couples danced and on a low stage on the other side of the room played a large band. They had trumpets, other brass instruments, cellos, drums, and a grand piano. The music they played was unfamiliar to me—it went all sorts of places I wouldn’t expect music to go. I had only heard its like at the coronation ball.
“Shall I give you a lesson?” Liut asked.
“I’d like a drink first.”
He bowed his head and left me standing at the rail of the entresol, looking down. I recognized Jöfurdis Svida’s auburn hair as her head whirled by. She danced with the foreigner I’d met at the gambling hall. I tried to remember his name, but my mind was a blank. He held her close to his chest, his left hand grasping her right up high, and they shuffled and rocked to the music, whirling in tight circles, somehow never hitting the other couples who did the same.
Jöfurdis Svida looked up just as Liut returned carrying glasses. She met my eyes and held them until her partner swept her away.
“There now,” Liut said. “It’s cherry brandy. I thought you might like it.”
“No wine here, then?” I asked as I took the glass from him. He chuckled and shook his head.
“This dancehall is no secret, and the owner does not have the connections the Perle’s owner has.”
I tasted my drink. The rich flavor of cherry delighted me. I drank and closed my eyes, enjoying the burning sensation in my throat and belly. “It’s very good,” I told Liut.
“Excellent,” he said. “Now, you can’t put it off any longer. I’m going to teach you to dance ‘the buzz.’”
I allowed him to lead me down the stairs. I finished my drink and set the glass down on a table against the wall, and Liut whirled me into his arms, holding me close as I’d seen the foreigner do with Jöfurdis Svida. He brought my right hand up and smiled.
“You just move your right foot, slide your left up to meet it, then switch,” he said.
I tried to do as he said but he had to steady me as I stumbled.
“You’ll master it, don’t worry!”
We stayed on the periphery as I attempted the steps. After two songs, I began to feel more comfortable, and Liut slid us into the crowd of dancers. The music bounced and wobbled cheerfully in quite unusual ways, and I had to laugh as we swung and spun around.
After another song Liut released me and gave me a bow.
“I must catch my breath,” he said with a chuckle. “Shall I get some drinks?”
“Oh yes,” I agreed, and slipped back against the wall, leaning there to wait.
Liut disappeared up the stairs, and I watched the dancers.
“Jarldis Sölbói, what a pleasure to see you.” It was the foreigner.
My cheeks grew hot. “I’m sorry,” I said, giving him my most apologetic smile. “I’ve forgotten your name.”
He took my hand and bowed over it as he had the first time we met. “Hanif Dihauti, at your service,” he said, raising his eyes to meet mine.
I felt my blush deepen. “Of course. It’s a pleasure to see you again, too.”
I wasn’t lying. I’d found him charming at our first meeting, and it had been a relief for someone to explain something of the rise of Tyr. Although seeing him again reminded me of what he’d said about the vigjadises of Frigga languishing in Grumflein Prison. I shivered. How quick my mind was to forget unpleasant things. And yet, what could I do? Could I free the vigjadises? Wasn’t it better to forget?
“May I ask you for the next dance?” Dihauti said.
I wanted the drink Liut was bringing me, and I almost refused, when the jöfurdis appeared and saved me the trouble.
“Hanif, are you throwing me over for Jarldis Sölbói?” she asked, and she looked serious about it.
Dihauti turned to her and gave her a warm smile. “Jöfurdis, no man in his right mind would throw you over, no matter how enchanting the temptation.” He glanced at me, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
“Oh, I was just taking a breather anyway,” I said.
Jöfurdis Svida eyed me, her brow furrowed. “You mean that if you weren’t you’d snatch him up, then?”
I didn’t know how to respond.
Her mouth twitched, her dark eyes watching me, and after a moment she allowed a small smile to form. “I see why Jarldis Vaenn and Jarl Krigr have made you their new plaything, Jarldis. You are amusing to toy with.”
I didn’t like the way she put that, and I straightened up, crossing my arms in front of me. Where was that drink?
“Dear, dear, and now I’ve offended you,” she said, still smiling. She leaned in close to my
ear, and the spicy scent of cloves filled my nose. “Be careful, Jarldis,” she whispered. “Those two are not what they seem.”
I jerked away from her, trying to see her face, but she turned her back to me and grabbed Dihauti’s arm.
“I’m ready for another dance,” she told him.
He gave me a nod over her shoulder, and led her off.
I watched them go. What could she possibly have meant by that? She was so strange. Still, the fragrance of cloves lingered long after she was gone.
~~~
Many dances and drinks later, Jöfurdis Svida and Dihauti had not returned, and Liut remained my only partner. Try as I might to puzzle out what the jöfurdis had meant about him, I could see nothing suspicious in his actions, and I soon tired of worrying about it. Perhaps he was married, and kept his wife hidden away, as Reister had done with me. Or perhaps he was in terrible debt, not the rich courtier he appeared to be. Whatever he might be hiding, I decided it didn’t matter. I was trapped in my own marriage and Liut’s personal circumstances didn’t make any difference to me.
Thinking about being trapped made me lose the rhythm of the dance, and I hated the way it made me feel. Another drink pushed the feeling away, and I was loose and happy once more, sliding around the ballroom in Liut’s arms.
“Would you like to go for a walk, Myadar?” he asked.
I looked around, spotting several of the guests we’d come here with. “What about the others? Won’t they wonder where we’ve gone?”
He shook his head. “They all have their own plans for the evening, I’ll wager. Let me take you somewhere. I want to show you something.”
“Alright. But let’s bring a bottle of that cherry brandy with us.”
Liut obliged me, and he led me out of the dancehall, into the night streets of the poor district.
“What is this part of the city called?”
“The Lavsektor,” he said.
“‘Low sector’?” I echoed.
“Yes. Because it’s lowest in altitude on the island.”
The City Darkens (Raud Grima Book 1) Page 11