A whimper escaped my mouth.
“I imagine she’s in a fair bit of pain,” the man said. “We must stabilize her.”
As the shaking in my muscles worsened, a ringing grew in my ears. Nausea washed through me again, and tried to turn my head. The movement shot pain from my skull through my back. I lost all sense of myself.
~~~
Later—how long, I could not know, I became aware of noises and the pain I felt all over my body again.
“Where am I?” I murmured.
“She’s waking,” said the man.
The air felt different. We were not in the same place as before.
“You fell very far,” Svida said to me. “It’s a wonder you didn’t break your neck.”
“What happened?” I muttered.
“You were fleeing those Officers of Tyr, remember? Wearing that ridiculous costume. Although I suppose the leather did help prevent your injuries from being too severe.”
“You were there?”
Silence. Then I heard the jöfurdis sigh. “Yes, I was. I was spying on you.”
“What?” I breathed.
“Well, I didn’t know it was you. I can’t tell you how strange it was to spot Raud Gríma prowling the city the other night. So when I spotted ‘him’ again, I followed.”
“The noise in the alley. That was you?” I tried to open my eyes again and in my efforts I felt the muscles of my shoulders and neck bunch. This sent a wave of pain through my whole body, and I cringed.
“Myadar, do be still. If you can’t converse with me without shifting about so, I’ll have to leave you alone to recover.”
I focused on breathing and tried to will my muscles to relax, but the pain made that very difficult indeed.
“To answer your question, yes, that was me.”
I kept trying to steady my breathing, but my mind raced. The jöfurdis spied on me? But why had she been out in the city to begin with?
“Were you alone?” I asked.
Another silence. Then she said, “No. Liten here was with me. And a lucky thing, too. When you fell he helped me carry you, and with his skill as a physician—”
“I’m no physician,” the man interrupted. Liten. I had heard the name before, but where? “More of an apothecary, really.”
“Close enough,” Svida said. “I might have slung her over my shoulder like a sack of grain had you not intervened.”
Liten didn’t answer.
Had Svida met Liten somewhere in the city for an assignation? But why? She could use any room in the palace; she was the konungdis’s sister.
Reading my thoughts, Svida said, “I’m sure you’re wondering what I was doing out at night in the city with Liten.”
“That I am, Jöfurdis.”
“Oh, Myadar, I think now that I know you’ve taken to running about the city in a red mask setting fires, and you’re now in possession of information that could equally harm me, we can dispense with the honorifics. Call me Kolorma.”
I made no response. I had brought my breathing into a steady rhythm, and I found that the pain had abated somewhat.
“I am right, am I not? It wasn’t the first fire you set?”
My breath caught and I sucked on my lips, pain blossoming again in the skin of my face as it pulled.
“I knew it. But why burn some rotting warehouse in the Torc?”
What good would it do to lie? She knew about my disguise. She no doubt knew I’d robbed those courtiers. If she wanted me punished she could turn me over to the Officers of Tyr at her leisure, and I was in no shape to resist. But what had she meant, that I possessed information that could harm her? Perhaps if I answered her question, she would tell me.
“Reister was using it,” I said. “He had a shipment of wine.”
I heard a gasp from Liten. “That’s what happened to it! You damned nuisance. I was counting on that shipment.”
I didn’t know how to answer that.
“Why destroy Reister’s shipment? Trouble in your marriage?” Kolorma asked.
I felt my throat close on the grief I had not let myself think of yet. I had failed. All these risks, all the subterfuge, and I had failed in my task to secure passage for Bersi and my escape, after all. How broken I was, I did not know, but there was no way I would be able to go and fetch him any time soon. What would I say when Reister saw me next—how long before my eyes weren’t swollen shut, and I could move without anguish? He would know, then, that I had done something bad. He might not know what, unless others witnessed my fall and the rumor had spread that Raud Gríma had taken a plunge from a roof. If it had, Reister would be a fool not to connect it to me. What would he do? Would he finally kill me? It seemed the most likely outcome.
“Myadar, tell me what’s going on,” Kolorma said, her voice gentle.
I didn’t want to speak of it. Let her think what she would of me—let her think I was some silly courtier who took a fancy to setting fires while wearing a costume. Whatever she thought I knew about her, I couldn’t fathom, and it didn’t matter. As soon as I was well enough I would return to Reister, and if he didn’t kill me, I was certain he would punish me somehow. Perhaps he would turn me over to the Officers. In any case, I had failed Bersi once again, and I didn’t think I could live with the knowledge, much less explain it to the jöfurdis.
“Myadar, please,” Kolorma persisted.
“I think she’s had enough conversation for now,” Liten said. “Let her rest.”
I felt a touch on my hand, and then I heard a door quietly close. I was alone.
~~~
I must have slept, for I woke to the feeling of cold against my face. Without thinking, I opened my eyes.
Kolorma Svida sat at my side, holding a blue cloth and a bowl. She dipped the cloth in, wrung it out, and dabbed my face again.
“You’re looking much better,” she said. “The swelling is almost gone. Liten ought to sell this stuff, he’d become richer than the konunger.”
I shifted experimentally. I still felt sore, but the awful pain from before was gone. “How long has it been?”
“Two days. You must be starved, all I’ve managed to get down your throat is broth and water.”
I had no memory of this, but at the mention of broth, my stomach twisted with hunger. “I’m famished,” I agreed. “But how could I sleep so long?”
“Ah, another of Liten’s miracle drugs.”
“No miracle,” Liten said, “just laudanum.” I turned to see him, a middle-aged man with wavy, brown hair and mustache curled at the ends, sitting at a writing desk on the other side of my bed. For the first time, I also took in the room. It had wood paneled walls and heavy curtains with an ornate grey and blue design closed over a window. In addition to the desk and the bed, which had four carved wooden posts but was otherwise quite simple, a plain bookshelf stood against the far wall with a chest of drawers next to it. Nothing looked like palace furnishings—everything was far too ordinary. No fashionable chevrons or other designs carved into the wood. No white scones on the walls, but instead two floor lamps with plain canvas shades.
Looking down at myself for the first time, I saw that I was dressed in a lightweight nightgown made of white eyelet. What had happened to my disguise?
I looked back at Liten. I noted that his hair was free of tonic. He wore a simple quilted waistcoat over an unadorned white shirt, and brown trousers. I might have met him in town in Söllund, and not thought twice about it, but after so many weeks surrounded by the palace dandies, he looked quite foreign to me.
As I took in Liten and the room, Kolorma had risen and exited. Now she returned carrying a tray with sandwiches and tea. She sat down again and put the tray on a small bedside table.
“We’ll have to prop you up,” she said, slipping her hands under my shoulders.
I squeezed my eyes shut as she lifted me and my muscles contracted in pain. My skin felt bruised and tender where her fingers pressed. A moment later I felt soft pillows behind my back and I
relaxed, opening my eyes again. Kolorma set the tray on my lap.
As I devoured the sandwiches I took in her attire. No sparkling, loose-fitting gown, but a pair of trousers and a plain white buttoned blouse. She wore a small, blue silk scarf knotted at her throat, but no jewelry, and nothing in her hair.
“Where are we?” I asked. “This isn’t the palace.”
“No, it isn’t,” she agreed. “We’re in Liten’s holiday house.”
“His holiday house?” I echoed.
“Many miles from the coast,” Liten said. He was writing something and he didn’t look up.
I took in his words, trying to make sense of them. “Many miles…? We aren’t in the capital?”
Kolorma shook her head.
“But how?” I asked. So great was my shock that I stopped eating, ignoring the pangs in my belly.
She sighed. “It’s a long story, Myadar. You are not the only one with a secret.” She smiled at me, and it struck me that I had never seen her smile—at least not genuinely—before. “But I can offer you something I think you might be pleased to hear. You need never return to Helésey. We can help you escape it, and you need never return.”
I looked from her to Liten, and caught him glancing at me from the corner of his eye.
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“You wouldn’t be the first we’ve helped escape,” Kolorma said. “Eat, and I’ll explain.”
My stomach churned and I resumed my meal.
“You’ve heard about the vigjas and vigjadises deemed heretics?” Kolorma asked.
I nodded.
“When the Officers of Tyr first began destroying the temples and arresting the vigjas, Liten and I did our best to rescue what sacred objects we could, as well as many vigjas themselves.”
Something clicked. The banners from the temple of Frigga. Radir Dihauti had spoken of how they had been saved from destruction by the owner of the Perle. Liten! He was the owner of the Perle. No wonder he’d been annoyed to lose Reister’s shipment of wine.
“We’ve brought over a dozen so-called heretics out of Helésey and helped them escape, most to Kemet.”
Kemet. That was Radir Dihauti’s homeland.
“So you… and Liten, and Radir Dihauti, are… rebels?” I said slowly. I felt my cheeks grow hot and feared she would take offense at my presumption. It seemed impossible for such a thing to be true.
Instead, at the mention of Dihauti’s name, Kolorma cast her eyes down on her hands. “We were, I suppose. We haven’t done anything for some weeks. Not since Dihauti…”
I frowned, remembering when she whispered in my ear. Be careful who you talk to about Hanif. Even then, I had feared he was arrested.
“What happened to him?” I asked, grasping the fabric of my shift at the neck.
“We aren’t sure,” Liten responded. “One day, he was just gone.”
I couldn’t eat after that.
“I still went out at night, to spy on the convoys and try to ascertain what Eiflar-Konunger and High Vigja Galmr’s next move is,” Kolorma said, her mouth twisting slightly over their names. “That’s when I saw you. Well, that’s when I saw Raud Gríma. I thought I was dreaming.”
I made no response.
“Conducting a bit of a rebellion of your own, eh, Jarldis?” Liten said.
I sighed and rocked my head to the side a bit by way of a shrug that avoided using sore muscles. “I suppose that’s the best way of putting it,” I admitted.
“Tell me, Myadar, why destroy Reister’s wine?” Kolorma asked.
I sucked on my lips, and this time it didn’t hurt my face so much to do so. “I was angry at him,” I said.
“Why?” Kolorma persisted.
I sighed again. “Because he took my son from me. And he conspired with Liut Krigr and Finnarún Vaenn in the most vile way. And he almost killed me,” I added as an afterthought.
“He took your son?” Kolorma said.
I nodded. “Yes. And as much as I would love to accept your offer, and never set foot in that despicable city again, I must return as soon as possible. You see, I’d finally found where Bersi’s been hidden, and I must free him. If there was some way, then, for you to help us—I don’t know how I could ever repay you, except to give you the money and jewels I stole from those poor young courtiers—you must have seen it.”
Kolorma frowned. “I’ve no need of money or jewels,” she said.
“No, of course not,” I said. Now that I had acknowledged my need, it burned within me and I reached for her hand. “If there is anything I could trade with, it would be yours. Only please, please help me save my son from that place. Please help us escape.”
Her frown deepening, Kolorma glanced at Liten and then back at me. With a gentle movement she turned my hand in hers, held it a moment longer, and then placed it in my lap.
“Let me think for a time,” she said. “Liten, if you would.” She nodded to the door and he rose and followed her out.
~~~
Two days passed, and my anxiety grew with every hour, especially since I had little to divert me other than looking out of the window at a hedge-maze below. As I tried to imagine how I could possibly return to Helésey without incurring Reister’s killing wrath, my mind seemed to follow the paths in the maze, only to hit dead-ends one by one. There would be so many questions. What lie could I possibly tell that would satisfy the court, and more importantly, Reister? The attack by Raud Gríma must be common knowledge now, and if I had learned anything of the ways of the court, it would be the hottest topic for at least a week, with fantastical speculations and any new clue burning through the gossip-tree like wild fire. The fact that I had disappeared on the same night—surely some courtier would suggest my involvement. I was still new to the court, and the new were the first suspected, were they not?
Kolorma and Liten returned many times to my room, and while they both remained civil, neither broached the subject of my possible return, nor did they speak of any matters relating to their rebel activities or the court in general. I had no idea how they had secreted me out of the metropolis, or whether they planned to help me return. Instead, I learned that the house had belonged to Liten’s family for generations, and that while he was no noble, his family had long been wealthy enough to maintain their estate with the profits from their businesses in the capital. They were not limited to the Perle, in fact, but owned a large bank that had ever supplied the regents of Helésey, as well as their subjects, with financial services. Liten was the youngest of three children. The eldest, a brother, had embraced the Conversion so as to continue the bank’s business with the crown. The second sibling, a daughter, lived in Helésey with her husband, who managed the opera house, among other pursuits. Liten never said whether she had Converted, but I assumed she must at least have avoided openly resisting, or she would no longer be living in Helésey. Liten had made a show of Converting, as I already knew, pretending to close the Perle’s gambling hall for a time before reopening it in secret. I thought his display of Frigga’s hangings very daring.
“How can you be sure that no unhappy patron who lost more than he or she can afford will not go to the Officers of Tyr and report you?” I asked him during dinner on the fourth night of my convalescence.
Liten sat at a small table he and Kolorma had brought into my room. I, too, sat in one of the chairs, for the first time since I awoke in their care. Kolorma had given me a dressing gown to wrap around my shift. It was made of watery green silk, and the fabric felt cool along my arms.
At my question, Liten raised his eyebrows and cut his eyes to Kolorma, who returned his glance with a shrug. “I suppose it is a matter of faith, Jarldis,” Liten said. He refused to call me by my given name, although he sometimes did so with Kolorma. I suspected it was an indication that he did not trust me. I could hardly blame him for it, if that was true.
“But you can’t mean you believe that Frigga will protect you,” I said, and even as I did, uneasiness washed over me for
doubting the goddess. I had been raised not to question the gods, but under the circumstances, how could I not? I thought of the vigjadis at Leika-konungdis’s ball. Frigga had not prevented that poor woman’s enemies from torturing her until she broke.
Liten’s brow furrowed and his mouth became pinched. I had offended him.
“Why shouldn’t Frigga protect him?” Kolorma asked, leaning back. She retrieved a clove cigarette from the tin she carried in the pocket of the deep orange velvet vest she wore. Liten produced a lighter and leaned to touch the flame to the end of the clove.
Letting out a long breath, I ran my finger around the edge of my glass of water. “Forgive me for being so blunt, Liten. I do not wish to offend you,” I said. “You’ve been nothing but generous, kind—I would be dead or imprisoned without your hospitality.”
“Speak your mind,” Liten said, and I noted he had dropped the honorific.
I tilted my head to the side, attempting to assess his mood. Finally, I admitted, “Why trust Frigga to protect you from harm, when She has done nothing to protect her own vigjadises?”
“How do you know she’s done nothing?” Liten asked.
“Surely Kolorma told you of the High Vigja’s ‘gift’ to the konungdis at her ball. And the vigjadis we saw there was only one of many. They languish in prison. They suffer tortures. What has Frigga done to stop this?”
“She sent you,” Liten said.
I blinked at him. His face was stony—this was not some jest. “What can you mean?”
Kolorma patted his arm and gave him a meaningful look. “It means, dear Myadar, that we’ve come up with something you can do to earn our help in orchestrating your homecoming, and, after that, your escape with your son.”
My breath caught in my throat, and I pressed my hand to my mouth. What could she mean? They wanted me to render them a service—one that involved the vigjadises of Frigga? What could they possibly expect me to do?
“But let us not talk of such matters tonight,” Kolorma said with another pointed look at Liten, who met her eyes briefly and then looked away from both of us. “Tomorrow, I want to show you something. We’ll speak more of it then.”
The City Darkens (Raud Grima Book 1) Page 21