I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling cold. Would there be others? Other people in the provinces with aeroplanes, fighting in the skies above their towns? Facing the konunger’s pilots, armed with guns attached to their aeroplanes?
“Tell me, Harja, when will you let me come on one of your missions?” Jöfurdis Svida asked, her dark eyes narrowed.
Örn raised his eyebrows high. “Jöfurdis, you are welcome as a passenger in my aeroplane any day this week, but after that, I’m afraid I will be off to the provinces again.”
Jöfurdis Svida snapped open her purse and retrieve a clove and her holder. “I don’t want to be a passenger, Harja. I want to pilot. It’s been almost a year since the last time I flew. I miss it.”
The crowd muttered and some moved away. I felt Liut tense at my side.
Örn smiled, however. “My dearest, most lovely jöfurdis,” he said smoothly, “were it my choice, I would hand you the controls of my aeroplane at your whim.”
Svida grimaced. “What a pity it’s not your choice.”
“Alas,” Örn said with a bow. He turned away and took the hand of a young jarldis who had been hanging on his every word. “Do show me the way to the mead, my dear,” he said to her. She giggled and obliged him.
Svida’s coffee eyes flashed as she glanced around at the guests who were all moving away from her now rather quickly. I lingered, although Liut seemed to be leaning away as well.
“You really flew an aeroplane?” I asked her as she turned her attention to lighting her clove.
As Liut took the lighter from her and held it to the tip of the clove, Svida’s eyes darted to meet mine. After inhaling and releasing the smoke, her holder resting easily between two fingers, she gazed at me. “Hadn’t you heard? I’m the konungdis’s ‘unnatural’ sister. I suppose I should be grateful that Örn and his fellow pilots consider me a ‘muse.’” She all but spat the word.
“Why can’t you be a pilot?” I asked.
She stared at me and barked a short laugh. “The things they say about her really are true,” she said to Liut. “How is it you’ve been in the capital—how many weeks now? And you’ve still remained so na�ve about so much?”
I frowned. “I’m not na�ve. I just don’t know very much about piloting or aeroplanes. I haven’t had any reason to learn about them.”
Jöfurdis Svida rolled her eyes and smoothed the jeweled hair piece with one hand as she held the clove with the other. “Well, like so many things, piloting aeroplanes is not something women are allowed to do anymore, Jarldis. And, you see, I am a woman.”
“But you are the konungdis’s sister,” I blurted. “Surely if you wish to go flying, you may.”
“As a passenger, as Örn suggested, yes,” Svida said with an impatient sigh. She waved her hand at me as if to dismiss me. “I’ll never pilot a plane again. High Vigja Galmr has seen many things, and I think most of them demand that all power be taken from women. Oh, I suppose we’re freer than we’ve ever been to attend parties and cut our hair and take lovers. But the things that really matter—the things that make us strong and real and brave—those will all be taken from us, one by one.”
Liut clutched my arm. “Jarldis, I see someone I don’t think you’ve met. Perhaps we should go and introduce you.”
“What’s the matter, Krigr? Am I blaspheming? Afraid the palace guards will come and sweep us all to a work camp?”
Liut went pale. “I beg you, Jöfurdis, watch what you say.”
I looked from him to the jöfurdis, my stomach twisting. “…Work camp?” I murmured.
“Where all the bad little blasphemers go,” Svida said. She closed her mouth tightly, a muscle jumping in her cheek. With a final glare at Liut, she turned on her heel and marched away.
“There are work camps?” I whispered to him.
“Well, there isn’t room in the city prison for all the enemies of the new konunger and the high vigja,” Liut whispered back, eyeing Svida’s retreating back. “And she’d do well to be more cautious, or she’ll be seeing the inside of a camp before too long.”
I shuddered and he rubbed my arms.
“There now,” he whispered. “Let’s have some of that dill brandy they just unstopped.” He led me in the direction of the robots pouring drinks. “We don’t need to dwell on such unpleasantness, after all. It’s a soirée. Let’s enjoy ourselves.”
But the conversation had set a chill in my bones that even brandy couldn’t burn away. I sipped and looked around the room. The jöfurdis was gone—it seemed she’d lost her appetite for parties too. For the first time in weeks the images of the Undergrunnsby came back to me—the starving child with blue eyes like Bersi, mainly. And then of course, memories of Bersi rushed to me. They overwhelmed me—I had to sit. I told Liut I was feeling dizzy, that I’d had too much to drink and must sit until dinner, but it wasn’t true. I saw Bersi running in the orchard, one of the dogs nipping at his calves. I saw him laughing as a baby as I kissed his belly. He was too beautiful to be real. But he was real, and what had I been doing to find him? Nothing. I was letting him rot in some horrid school somewhere. I was letting him grieve for me, abandoned—I was no better than those who let that poor boy die of starvation in the sewers.
Fear. Fear lay at the heart of my paralysis. With soldiers and pilots penetrating the provinces, would Asterlund even be a haven for us? And how would I ever get us there?
I clutched my black silk gloves, twisting them. It didn’t matter. I had to try. I could just stay here, while the high vigja and the konunger made women into chattel and enslaved or exterminated the poor who lived under Helésey. While they sent forces out into the provinces to bomb towns and shoot down those who would defend them, I could dance at soirées and drink until I forget everything that mattered. No. Maybe they would invade Asterlund eventually. Maybe we would be there when they did. But at least we would be among family. Among people who loved us. Who here loved me, except for Liut?
Liut. Could I leave him behind? I looked for him—he was chatting with a jarl. He stood with a hand gripping his lapel, his body relaxed, a smile on his face. His hair, ever rebellious of the tonic, escaped the strict style of his peers in several curls around his forehead. I loved him. I loved him more than I had ever loved anyone, except for Bersi. Except for Bersi. Bersi was more important than Liut, than anyone. I had to rescue him and take him far from this place. But perhaps I could convince Liut to come with us, somehow.
Liut never walked me all the way back to the door of the Sölbói apartments, but he often took me part of the way. Tonight was one of those times, and when we came to a secluded corridor, I stopped and put my hand on his arm. I had thought of nothing but the need to escape Helésey throughout the entire dinner. I had barely said a word to the guests who sat near me. I knew Liut had noticed this.
“Dear Myadar, are you unwell?” he asked gently.
I shook my head, meeting his eyes. I tried to summon the words I wanted to say to him, but fear gripped me and I looked away.
“What is it?” he asked.
With a deep breath, I plunged ahead. “Run away with me,” I said.
His eyebrows shot up. “What?”
“You heard me, Liut. Run away with me. Help me find my son, and the three of us can run away.”
“Run away? Where would we go?”
“To Asterlund,” I said. Hearing the words out loud made my heart leap. It sounded possible! To be free of this place—to be with Bersi again—
“Myadar, I don’t think you’ve any idea of what you’re suggesting. How would we ever do such a thing?”
“We only need to hire a car,” I said. “I have jewels. We could sell them, raise the money for a car. We could do it at night.”
“There are checkpoints on every road,” he said.
“We could bribe the guards. I have rubies, Liut. They’d fetch a nice sum, I’m sure of it. I don’t know who to sell them to, but I was hoping you might.”
He sighed and put his h
ands on my cheeks. “I know you miss your son, dearest, but I thought you were adjusting…”
“How can I adjust to this place?” I demanded. “We go to party after party—soirées, operas, gambling—it’s all so empty! And while we dance and drink, people are dying underneath us! And my son—where is he? He needs me! I have to find him, Liut. I can’t go on like this.”
Liut pressed his lips together, still holding my face in his hands. His eyebrows drew together and he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to mine. We stood like that for a moment, and then he dropped his hands and drew away. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll try to find a buyer. You’ll have to bring the jewels to me tomorrow—”
“Really?” I gasped. “Oh, Liut, really? You’ll sell them? And we’ll use the money—?”
“Yes, to find your son and flee the city,” he said with a grin.
I threw my arms around his neck and held him tight. Tears welled in my eyes and I thought for a moment that the joy of it would break me into a million pieces.
“You’ll have to meet me somewhere tomorrow. Shall we say an hour before lunch? You know there’s the konungdis’s ball tomorrow night. We can’t have Reister catching you, he’s sure to be around. Where would be safe? Let’s think.”
I tried, but in my mind was freedom—the city and the coast far behind us—linden trees flashing past as we drove into Asterlund, Bersi curled on my lap. I let the images blossom, my heart filling with anticipation and hope.
“Just come back here,” Liut said at last. “Come exactly at eleven. If you can’t get away, we’ll just have to wait.”
“Alright,” I agreed, mentally tucking away the picture of Bersi on my lap as we drove far away from the capital. I would wait to take it out again until later, when I was alone in bed. It wouldn’t do to think of it now as I went home—Reister was sure to read it on my face if he saw me.
~~~
I met Liut the following day with no difficulty, giving him my necklace and earrings to sell. With a quick kiss he was off, promising to see me that night at the ball.
The rest of the day dragged. I watched every clock I passed, wishing time would move more quickly. When I saw him next, Liut might well have already sold the jewels, and we would be one step closer to finding Bersi. Now that I was doing something, I couldn’t bear to think of the time I had wasted. I had to make up for it somehow. Maybe we would find Bersi quickly; maybe he was nearby. I hardly dared hope—it was too bright a future to look upon.
A new dress waited for me when it came time to prepare for the ball: it shimmered silver, made of a fabric I had never seen before. I chose a hair piece with crystals to go with it and several strings of crystal beads. White silk gloves and the patent-leather shoes completed my ensemble.
Reister waited for me with Mother Tora at his side. She too wore a dress made of the metallic fabric, although hers was copper.
“Shall we have a drink before we go?” Reister asked. Mother Tora gave him a nod.
It had become my habit to have a brandy before leaving our apartments on the nights he would accompany me. I realized I hadn’t had a drink all day. The joy of my plan had sustained me instead. However, now I would have to act like nothing was going on. Reister was sure to suspect something, I was too wound up.
“Yes, of course,” I said. A drink would help me relax.
He exited and soon returned with a bottle of brandy. “Plum,” he said, pouring it into two glasses he had brought as well.
I sipped it. “Very nice,” I said.
“Oh yes,” agreed Mother Tora.
Reister pursed his lips. “Well, we mustn’t tarry.” He swallowed the liquid in his glass in one gulp. I had no interest in delaying, either. The sooner I could find a way to talk to Liut, the sooner I would know if he’d managed to sell the rubies yet. I finished my glass as well.
When we walked into the ballroom, we stopped for a moment to survey the crowd. A least a thousand guests moved about, many swaying on the dance floor. At least half the men wore uniforms, either army or air force. Many of the women’s gowns shimmered; the new fabric was everywhere.
“Mother Tora, what is this material?” I asked, fingering my loose, short sleeve.
“The dressmaker called it ‘lamé,’” she said. She wore a short fur wrap that she buried her fingers in as she spoke.
Trumpets rang out, and everyone turned to look at the dais on one side of the ballroom. Six trumpeters blew clarion notes, three on each side of the dais. High Vigja Galmr, dressed as before in a robe made of cloth of gold, stepped down the stage to its edge. He raised his arms, and brought them down sharply: the pose of an upward pointing arrow. To my surprise and dismay, I saw several people in the crowd echo his action.
“Royal subjects of blessèd Eiflar-Konunger,” Galmr began, “children of the all-mighty Tyr…”
I looked around. Everyone stood still as statues, watching and listening.
“…all hail to Tyr, and to the konunger, and may his forces ever know victory,” Galmr continued. “Praise be to his blessèd wife, Leika-Konungdis, our hostess this grand evening. Tyr has granted me a gift to show his grace and blessing upon this affair.”
At this, murmurs swept the crowd. High Vigja’s presence was startling—I had not seen him again since the coronation, myself—but for him to bestow a gift was highly unusual.
As he spoke the next words two vigjas dressed in black and purple robes brought a figure wrapped in a violet shroud from the back of the dais forward to stand at his side. “Behold, children of Tyr,” Galmr declaimed, sweeping an arm toward the figure. “She once was misled, a slave to the false gods that Tyr has ordered us to banish. But she has seen the error of her ways.”
My stomach dropped. I narrowed my eyes, trying to see something more of the figure, but the dais was on the other side of the huge ballroom, and it seemed she was wrapped in some sort of cloak, her face obscured.
“Behold,” Galmr said again. “And harken to her words of Truth.”
The cloak dropped, and even from so far away I could see how emaciated she was. I could see how hollow were her eyes. I even noticed the bruising on her arms. Her head was shorn, hair no longer than a weeks’ growth of a man’s beard, and she stood like a willow-tree, bending as though a great wind blew against her middle.
“I declare before Tyr and all those in attendance,” the former vigjadis of Frigga called in a surprisingly clear voice, “that I have followed false gods. I renounce Alfódr. I renounce Baldr. I renounce Luka.”
The name startled me—Galmr certainly was being thorough if he required the converted to renounce even the god of chaos, for few would choose to worship him. He was known as the father of lies, and he was blamed for the mythic death of the god of light, Baldr. But my attention turned back to the vigjadis, for she was faltering.
“I renounce—I renounce—” her voice, as clear as the trumpets a moment before, became thick, and she fell silent, bowing her head. All eyes pierced her, and none so sharply as Galmr’s as he stood at her side.
Her head came up again, and though I could not read her expression at such a distance, I imagined the despair that must lay in the pools of her eyes.
“I renounce Frigga,” she said at last. “Tyr is the only god. All others are usurpers.”
The two vigjas who had brought her out closed around her again, wrapping her in the shroud. She shuffled away, and Galmr proceeded to deliver a sermon, but I heard none of it. I stared at the spot where the woman had been, and tried to imagine what extremity of suffering had brought her to that place.
“Come, Myadar, we must greet the Humlis,” Reister said.
Galmr was gone, I realized. People had all resumed talking to each other and moving about the room.
We descended the massive marble staircase, my hand on his arm. With an effort, I tried to regain some of the joy that had been coursing through me all day. I could not.
When we reached the bottom Reister approached a couple I vaguely remember
ed from some dinner or other and greeted them. I made a show of listening to them as they chatted, but my mind would not stop returning to the figure of the vigjadis. It was just as Radir Dihauti had foreseen. Galmr had a convert from among the most faithful, and so he had to show her off. What had he done to her, to break her spirit, I wondered?
I could ill afford to continue with such thoughts. I had my own troubles to think of, and my own prisoner to save: Bersi. I must turn my thoughts to him. I must set aside the horror of the woman’s declaration and locate Liut, to see if he had found a buyer for my jewels. I tried to scan the crowd without letting on that I was doing so. I chatted to Jarldis Humli about the new lamé fabric as I did. If Reister wondered what I was looking for, I would say I was looking at the dresses. Of course, I was searching for Liut. It wasn’t easy to spot anyone in the crowd. Women laughed and their dresses swished as they grabbed onto the arms of men in black uniforms. A rotund jarl smoking a cigar spoke with his nose in the air as two younger jarls listened. The konunger and his wife walked past, stopping to acknowledge courtiers on the way. I saw Jarldis Vaenn, and my heart rose, for Liut was often in her company still, but I soon realized he was not there.
“Mead or brandy?” Reister asked me. I started. He and Jarl Humli both watched me expectantly—they must have said something about getting drinks, but I hadn’t heard them.
“Mead,” I said.
Reister gave me a penetrating look but soon followed Jarl Humli as he disappeared into the crowd.
“I do wish they still served wine.” It was Jöfurdis Svida, who had appeared at my side as she seemed in the habit of doing lately. She looked stunning, as usual. She wore a silk gown in some different cut than the rest—instead of the boxy look so common in the short dresses, hers clung more closely to her figure. The fabric was not lamé, but fine, shiny blue silk; it hung loosely and gracefully, bunching a little at her cleavage and her hips. The color was a pale shade of azure, like a spring sky. “Jarldis Sölbói, are you admiring me or my dress?”
The City Darkens (Raud Grima Book 1) Page 14