The City Darkens (Raud Grima Book 1)

by Martin, Sophia

  What could I do? I was afraid to insist that she explain what they wanted, for fear of offending Liten further. Without his support, would Kolorma still help me? And yet, my heartbeat sped faster to think they anticipated some miracle from me. I had only set fire to a warehouse and robbed some silly courtiers, and the latter had nearly ended in my death or imprisonment. Kolorma and Liten must know that. But were they so desperate that they would hope for a miracle from me despite this?

  ~~~

  The following day Kolorma entered my room as I was washing my face in the porcelain basin. She carried a basket of linens topped with a cake of soap. I straightened and eyed the basket, not daring to hope what it meant—a bath? It had been too long. Someone had cleaned the grime and soot from my body when I was still unconscious in the first hours of my arrival to Liten’s estate, but since then I had only the basin to wash with.

  “I trust you slept well.”

  “Well enough,” I said, although in truth I had spent many hours awake and worrying—about the cryptic remark Kolorma had made the night before, about how I would reenter the court without arousing a storm of suspicion (and Reister’s ire) if I did agree to carry out whatever mad plan she and Liten had concocted, and, as always, about Bersi.

  “Excellent,” Kolorma said. “Follow me.”

  I did as I was bid, wrapping the green dressing gown around me as I trailed after her. She led me down the hall—my first foray out of the room. No one had forbidden me from exploring, but until the night before the pain in my ribs and one hip had lingered from my fall despite the rapid healing of my other injuries. These discomforts had acted like no prohibition could to keep me abed. But yesterday I had found the aches more manageable, and today I felt even better.

  Kolorma stopped by the side of a door, moved the basket to her hip, and turned the knob with her free hand. As I stepped in behind her, my heart leapt to see a steaming tub. The scent of lemon permeated the air. Setting down the basket on a table by a window covered in sheer white curtains, Kolorma turned and gestured to the tub. “I thought you might like a bath, now that you’ve got some of your strength back.”

  I gave her a genuine smile by way of answer. But after a moment, my eyebrows drew together. I contemplated the tub. It stood on brass feet, and would be no trouble to enter if one had no sore hip or bruised ribs. I, however, was uncertain I could manage it.

  Reading my expression, Kolorma said, “Perhaps you would care to have a maid come and aid you?”

  I glanced at her face, illuminated by the light filtering through the sheer curtains of the window, and noted that she flushed. I remembered, suddenly, the first time I saw her, outside the opera house, and how she had looked at me then. A shiver spread over my skin under the shift and dressing gown, and in confusion, I lowered my eyes. I did not understand my body, for once again it responded when I could not possibly feel such yearning for a woman.

  My desire—and hers, I knew, although I hardly admitted it to myself—lay heavy in the air between us. All at once my body was of lead, and I could not move. Kolorma had no such difficulty, however. She stepped silently, closing the space between us, until she paused, inches from me. My breasts tightened and I shuddered, eyes still downcast.

  From the corner of my eyes I saw her raise her hand, fingers floating in the air, first at the level of my breast—oh, how I ached for her to reach through that air, thick as water, and touch me—then she raised her fingers further, and after hesitating, brought them to touch my cheek. Her touch was light, uncertain.

  I dared to bring my eyes to hers then. Her dark brown eyes were wide, filled with longing. Her full lips parted and she breathed in a shallow, rapid rhythm. I wanted her mouth—wanted to kiss it, crush it against mine, and feel her lips on my throat, on my breasts. Heat flared in my cheeks.

  What a wanton whore Liut had made me.

  The thought twisted my heart and I cast my eyes back down again, turning my face away. I felt powerless to move anymore, and if Kolorma had touched me then, I would have yielded to anything she wished. Instead, she dropped her hand.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered so softly I wasn’t sure I had truly heard her, and in the next moment the door closed behind her.

  I gasped as if the sound of it struck me. Clutching the silk of the dressing gown at my belly, I tried to regain some order in my thoughts, but I was hopelessly confused. The strongest emotion of the myriad that assailed me was disappointment.

  ~~~

  I had simply assumed that Kolorma and Liten were lovers, so intimate they seemed with each other, often communicating only with a gesture or an expression. As I soaked in the bath I had finally managed to enter after a careful, agonizing climb using an overturned basin from the table where Kolorma had left the basket, I considered that perhaps I had not been wrong. From what I had experienced at court, there was little expectation in Helésey of fidelity to one lover or spouse. Liten and Kolorma were both Heléseyans, even if we were abroad from the capital.

  Kolorma hoped to entertain herself with me as Vaenn had, I thought, yet even as I did, I knew I was wrong. Vaenn’s seduction bore no hesitation—she took what she wanted despite my protests, weak though they might have been. Kolorma had not. And although I would have liked to deny it, a part of me still wished she had. My mind persisted in returning to her full mouth, and her rapid breathing, and I moaned and submerged my head in the bath, wishing I could wash the images away as easily as I did the days’ dust.

  I found, once I managed to exit the bath without slipping or otherwise reinjuring myself, that Kolorma had left clothing in the basket under the large bath sheet that lay folded on top. Delight at discovering a pair of sturdy canvas britches and a light cotton blouse like those Kolorma wore here eclipsed, for a moment, all of my concerns over what had almost transpired between us. How I hated the short dresses of the court, I realized anew. At least I would not feel so vulnerable physically when I saw Kolorma again—I would almost feel like myself, like Myadar of Söllund, mistress of the estate, sure of who she was and what her role must be.

  As my fingers lifted the undergarments she had also laid in the basket, under everything else, however, I felt the bewildering flush spread across my flesh once more. Light silk knickers—did Kolorma wear these? Her hands had held them, put them in the basket, for me.

  I closed my eyes and told myself to breathe and stop thinking such thoughts. What had Liut done to me—what had Vaenn! That I should have such ideas in my head.

  I dressed as quickly as my sore body would allow, trying without success to clear my mind. Once garbed in the blouse and britches, however, a steadiness came to me, just as I had hoped. I was not some plaything for courtiers to use as they desired. I was not at the mercy of these wild thoughts.

  My back straight, my shoulders squared, I left the bath and made my way back to my room. Let Kolorma seek me there, if she still wished to “show me something” as she had mentioned the night before. Could she have meant…? No, I believed not. And yet, I wondered.

  The wait was not long. A knock came just as I was beginning to feel restless—it was the first time since my rescue that I had felt thus, and although I knew not how to feel about Kolorma now, I welcomed the interruption.

  “Come in,” I said.

  She entered, and to look at her face one might never guess that we had shared that strange moment only two hours before.

  “Ah, good,” she said with a smile. “I hoped those things would fit you. How do you feel?”

  I stared at her, trying to catch sight of any hint of her earlier arousal or even just her hesitation. There was no sign—had I invented the entire incident? I could not have imagined it. She touched my cheek. But perhaps—only to check the bruising, as she had done when I was still abed? Had the desire all been mine, and her actions completely innocent? I felt heat coloring my cheeks and I pressed hands to them in a futile effort to hide my embarrassment.

  “Are you unwell?” she asked.

  D
ropping my hands, I shook my head, willing myself to forget the whole scene. I must have misinterpreted what happened. And after all, that was most likely. When I saw Kolorma on the opera house steps, looking at me, no doubt she merely assessed me as she would any new courtier—I had, after all, just escaped from Vaenn’s unwanted attentions in the car, and had no doubt projected my discomfort onto Kolorma when I saw her. And that morning, as she took me to my bath, it was the corruption Vaenn and Liut had wrought in me that made me feel the way I did, nothing Kolorma had said or done. I must accept that those two villains had twisted something inside of me. I would never be the same again—I would carry their taint, always.

  I forced a smile at her. Kolorma had rescued me from capture and most likely from death, and I must remember to be grateful. It was shameful to endow her with such motives, when the one who carried the taint was me.

  “I’m sorry, my behavior must seem odd,” I said. “Please forgive me. What a pleasure it is to wear real clothing again! Please, tell me, do you still intend to show me something today?”

  Kolorma raised her eyebrows—my tone must sound stilted to her ears. It couldn’t be helped. “Yes,” she said. “If you’re ready, I’d like to do so directly.”

  I inclined my head by way of agreement, and followed her out.

  She walked briskly, a step or two ahead of me, although I tried to stay to the side of her, as if we could walk abreast. I didn’t want to follow her like some obedient dog—it was all too confusing. The time had come to remember who I was. Even if I couldn’t rid myself of Liut’s taint, and the way it twisted my emotions, I could certainly control it. No longer would I allow myself to succumb to desire like I had that morning, and no longer would I allow others to dominate me as I had let Reister for so many weeks. I would take back my life. The decisions I made would serve me, and Bersi. Let Kolorma show me whatever it was she wished. I would wait to hear what she and Liten expected of me, and then decide what to do. If their wishes were too dangerous, I would refuse. I would find my own way back to the city—I would find my son, and escape Helésey, with or without their help.

  We passed through corridors, a charming sitting room adjoining a library, and a wide hall with a high ceiling and polished wood paneled walls. We exited through a corridor with a marble floor to grounds of trim grass and a milky-white pebbled drive. A car awaited us—it looked more like my old automobile back in Söllund than the sleek vehicles of Helésey. Kolorma sat behind the wheel and I let myself into the passenger side. There was no robot chauffeur to hold the door for me here. In fact, I had seen no robots since I arrived. From what I knew of Liten’s family, the expense of maintaining a staff of robots would surely not have been too high; they must choose not to have them for other reasons.

  Soon trees flew by and we passed through a stone lined tunnel, exiting into an area of open fields. Only one, fenced and off to the right, held cattle. Up ahead on the left I say a low structure. Kolorma drove steadily towards it, turning down a dirt road that brought us right up to it. No other cars were there.

  I followed as she exited the vehicle and walked to a set of large doors in the side of the strange building. It was only one story, yet tall, with a rounded roof. The walls were brick, and the doors were made of some sort of gray metal. Kolorma opened them and I walked into the building after her.

  Above us, scaffolding crisscrossed by way of a ceiling, and beyond it, rectangles of glass let light into the huge open space. Lined along one side of this interior were aeroplanes. At the other end, what would have been the fourth wall of the building was open.

  “This is a hangar. What are we doing here?” I asked, although I already knew the answer.

  Kolorma glanced over her shoulder at me with a slight smile.

  She strode down the row of aeroplanes, her pace indicating she had an exact idea of where she was going. I hurried behind her, eyeing the planes as we passed. Many had two sets of wings, one stacked on top of the other. Most were small, with only one or two seats. However, I quickly understood that the one we were headed for was larger. I saw it up ahead. It was newer than the rest, as well—it was different from the biplanes the way the cars in Helésey were different from my old auto. Sure enough, Kolorma came to a stop in front of it. She put her hands on her hips and gazed up at it, her face full of light—from a skylight above, true, but also from some emotion. Joy, pride, love… Kolorma loved this aeroplane.

  “What kind of plane is it?” I asked, because I liked the light in her face, and I wanted to prolong it.

  “The Svala II. She’s a three-seater with retractable wheels,” Kolorma answered without looking at me. Stepping forward, she rested a hand on the side of the plane, her gesture filled with reverence and affection. “She has hydraulically controlled float pontoons that can be adjusted to the best angle for take-off or level flight. She can land on water or the ground.” Kolorma turned to me at last, her face glowing, the usual lines of cynicism washed away. Her smile broke like the dawn and conveyed pure joy. “Doesn’t she have the most beautiful elliptical wing design?”

  I tore my eyes from her face long enough to give the wings an appreciative look. “Very graceful,” I said.

  She laughed. I could hardly connect the sound of it to the jöfurdis I knew, who perhaps might sometimes chuckle bitterly, but never laugh like this—with such freedom, as if it was as easy as breathing.

  “Are you ready to go up?” Kolorma asked, rolling a step-ladder on wheels away from the wall.

  “You don’t really mean to fly this aeroplane, do you?” I asked, watching her.

  “And why not? It’s mine.”

  Glancing up at the smooth lines of the machine, dizziness almost made me take a step back. “It’s yours?” I murmured.

  “That’s right,” Kolorma said, climbing up onto the wing and sliding open the glass hood of the cockpit. “Let them ban me from flying. They can’t stop me.”

  “I—I just can’t imagine,” I said, numbness spreading from my fingers, up my arms, and across my face. “I couldn’t possibly, Kolorma—you must forgive me. I—I can wait here—”

  “Nonsense,” she answered, swinging a leg into the front seat. “It’s not as though you’d never flown before.”

  A nervous cackle escaped me. “Oh, but that’s precisely the case.”

  “Myadar, really. How do you think I got you out of Helésey? How do you think you came to be here?”

  The implications washed over me as my hand reached out to touch the wing. The metal was not as cold as I had anticipated. “You flew me out?”

  Kolorma arched her eyebrows at me. “Quite. And should you agree, I shall fly you back in. Well, actually, I will not—more’s the pity. Can’t have the jöfurdis profaning the laws of Tyr by landing an aeroplane in the capital.”

  “We’re not going now?”

  “To the capital? No. But soon, Myadar. You might as well have a go with me now, since you’ll more than likely have to do it again later.” Kolorma, now seated in the front, rummaged around her and produced a mechanical contraption a bit like a headband with bits that went over her ears and another part for her mouth. She put it on her head, and then a leather hat and goggles. “I’ve some for you,” she called. “Come along, Myadar, don’t doddle on the ground.”

  My legs felt so weak, I didn’t trust them to carry me up onto the wing, but I took a deep breath and forced myself to climb the step-ladder, onto the smooth metal. Clambering into the second seat was harder than it looked, and I was grateful that Kolorma showed more patience than I might have expected based on her words. Wincing at the pain in my ribs and hip, I managed to put my legs where they were intended to go and straighten myself, settling into the seat, I pulled the head piece on, then tugged the leather hat over my ears and dragged the goggles over the hat, covering my eyes. Everything took on a tint, and my peripheral vision was limited, but otherwise, I could see very well through them.

  A low drone vibrated the aeroplane and Kolorma slid her roo
f shut. I copied her and, before I was quite sure I had it secure, we were rolling out of the hangar. The moment we left the walls behind us, the aeroplane accelerated so much I grabbed the straps of the seat and yanked them over me as fast as I could. The drone became a thunder, and the next thing I knew, we were pulling up, the ground diminishing beneath us.

  “Myadar?” came a tinny voice through the ear pieces of the headband.

  “Yes?” I said.

  “Excellent, your headset is working. Myadar, I’m going to fly over some towns now. I want you to watch out of the window. I know you’re anxious, but can I rely on you to look?”

  I had, as yet, avoided looking out of the glass that covered the cockpit in which I sat. Steeling myself, I forced my eyes to the side, peering down as the plane banked. My stomach lurched, twisted, and turned to water, and my heart rose to my throat. My fingers dug into the dash in front of me.

  “Very well,” I said, forcing my voice to sound steady.

  The noises the aeroplane made unnerved me—a low scream as it pitched, turning to head to the right—was it east? South? I had no notion. I forced myself to watch the earth pass under us, and after a few moments, the vertigo I felt abated, although it returned with full vigor when the plane tilted still further. For a moment I was certain I would spill from my seat into the void, falling, falling, until my body crashed on the land below.

  A gasp and a cry tore from my mouth, and a minor twinge of embarrassment seasoned my misery at the thought that Kolorma had heard me. “Courage,” I breathed through clenched teeth. Telling myself not to think of what I saw below me as real, I willed my nerves to steady. Doing so was only moderately successful. However once again I felt the fear abate, and this time, wonder took its place. The trees, so far down, looked like children’s toys. The clouds we passed almost close enough to touch. Name of gods, I was in the sky!

  Fields passed beneath us in shades of yellow—it was late for harvest, and we must be far south of Helésey, I realized for the first time, since there was no snow. We might even be close to Söllund. My heart tightened at the thought. So be near home, and still no nearer to ever returning to it!