Woman of Silk and Stone

by Mattie Dunman

  I frowned at Damki's cheerful declaration, thinking that my future of being the shiny new toy would pall swiftly. "I see. Well, thank you for everything, Mistress Damki. You've been so kind," I finally said, thinking that I might as well wait to form my own impressions rather than continue to listen to Edin's one-woman tourist bureau.

  She just nodded and hustled me into a plush chair resembling the one at the dentist's office a little too closely for my taste. Another flock of short, plump women fluttered around me, exclaiming over my hair, my skin, the color of my eyes. Their agile fingers darted all over my head, brushing out my hair, dusting my face with a shimmery mineral powder, painting my lips with something that looked like blackberry juice.

  At long last, Damki reappeared with a long, diaphanous green gown draped across her outstretched arms, a smug expression on her face. The other women backed away from me, clearly pleased with their efforts, and I began to long for a mirror, wondering what on earth they had wrought with their deft but lengthy attentions.

  With Damki's motherly encouragement ringing in my ears, I soon found myself clad in the gauzy gown, my feet encased in soft suede slippers the shade of an early morning mist.

  "Honey, you are...exquisite!" Damki breathed, her voice full of awe.

  At long last, one of the women brought in a tall looking glass and propped it up in front of me.

  My heart stopped.

  It wasn't the gown, or the tastefully executed cosmetics, or the way my red hair seemed to glow like a multi-faceted ruby against the pearl-like tone of my skin.

  For the first time in my life, I was beautiful.

  I'm not saying that I was a hideous hag my whole life or anything; I've always been tall and curvy, if at times just on the edge of being rubenesque. I got my fair share of attention from men, but I was usually the girl they were friends with first. I'd never thought of myself as either gorgeous or plain, just a happy medium somewhere in between.

  The woman in the mirror was an enhanced version of the old me, without all the imperfections and unsightly extra tummy fat. I was smooth and perfect, my eyes bright and crystalline green, features chiseled from alabaster in unspoiled symmetry. Unreal. A lovely, flawless doll.

  Unsettled, I forced a weak smile so as not to appear ungrateful and turned my eyes away. I wasn't sure how this change had happened, but I figured that some of the strange healing that had gone on since I landed on this strange world had gone a step further than strictly necessary. I remembered the incredible pain I suffered in the void, the sense of being unmade and smashed back together again, the petrified wooden plank that had somehow melted into my body, and all the other physical changes I'd noted and dismissed for the sake of my sanity. On a very basic level, I was no longer the same woman as the one who wandered aimlessly on the streets of D.C.

  Probably sometime very soon I would get used to my new appearance, and maybe even be glad of it, but for now it was simply one more thing too unfamiliar.

  When I didn't comment any further, Damki dismissed the other ladies and led me back down the long hall of pastels, finally emerging back in the foyer where Sandu was slouched on the pillowed couches, looking bored.

  When I shuffled into the room, Sandu blinked and then dropped his jaw. While I chewed nervously on my lower lip, he got himself under control and began mumbling compliments at me, never quite loud enough for me to fully discern.

  "Very well, very well. You'd best get her off to the castle before the king starts wondering where she is," Damki admonished, her earlier prim attitude resurfacing in the presence of the guard.

  "Of course," Sandu mumbled, opening the door and gesturing for me to proceed.

  I turned around and gave a very surprised Damki a quick hug, whispering my thanks before hurrying out the door. Despite her assurances that I was here for good, I was still holding out some hope that someone in the palace might have more information. Surely at least one Halqu had made it back home at some point, and if not, then I intended to be the first.

  I wanted my freckles back.

  Chapter VI

  That Kind of Luxe Just Ain't For Us

  By the time we reached the palace, I was on sensory overload. All the beautiful details of the city that had at first enchanted me now left me feeling weary and slightly queasy. Everything was too bright, too loud, the colors too bold, the people too excitable. Sandu's steady onslaught of meaningless chatter turned into a painful buzz that bounced around my head unceasingly.

  The thought of doing anything other than simply lying down and going to sleep for a week had me near tears. Knowing that I still had to meet a king, not to mention all the other hangers-on I was sure would be in attendance, sent me into a waking coma; I walked, I talked, but nothing really made it through.

  The palace hovered over the city like a golden cloud; a winding, paved road led a circuitous path up the side of a rounded hill, each level beautifully landscaped with flowers in full bloom, some in shades and hues I didn't know existed. The blur of color burned into the backs of my eyes until everything I looked at seemed to be made up of that eccentric rainbow, a nauseating whirlpool of images and scents sucking me down into a Dali nightmare.

  After a while, I just closed my eyes and let Sandu lead my sisu, trying to block out the fact that I was riding a horse that looked like a leopard up a hill to a golden castle.

  There's only so much surrealism a girl can take in one day.

  "Honey Sullivan, we are here," Sandu's voice took on a more urgent tone and I reluctantly opened my eyes.

  I'm sure had I been in a better state of mind, I would have been awed by my first sight of the Royal House of Solis, but at that moment, all I could see were more golden walls and yet another set of sky-high gates. A cacophony of voices greeted us as the gates swung soundlessly open, and I was dismayed to see the longest receiving line in recorded history stretching far along the path to the ornate entrance doors.

  Deferent voices murmured "Welcome Halqu Beleti," as we passed. The faces all blended together, but even in the haze surrounding my thought processes, I registered that every expression held hope.

  Now dread settled into my bones, the realization that something great was expected of me. The girl who just got fired from a thankless job, the girl who couldn't make her own dreams come true.

  I was so screwed.

  I waved as cheerfully as I could manage, considering the uncomfortable churning in my stomach, and the people seemed to respond well, hands reaching out to brush my leg or touch my hand. After a while, some of the raw terror began to fade; it was hard to believe that these friendly people would demand my head if I failed to perform.

  Of course, Marie Antoinette probably felt the same way about the French peasants.

  At long last we reached the doors, which in my detached state, I imagined looked like the doors to the afterlife; heavy and gleaming with that same golden hue as everything else in the city, they opened slowly into a cool, dark hall with no end in sight.

  Sandu paused at the door and leaped off of his mount to help me with my own descent. I wobbled on my feet for a moment, my legs still believing they were wrapped around the sisu, but once I got my bearing, I waved off his attentions. For a girl who'd never ridden a horse before, I felt like I'd mastered travel by sisu.

  "Honey, may I introduce you to Sukkall Efrim, the king's head advisor. He will prepare you for what is to come," Sandu said, his voice shaking a bit with the weight of his duty. Clearly this was not an everyday introduction for the young city guard.

  Pushing aside my weariness, I pasted on a smile and turned to the man waiting at the doors. I had to choke back an inappropriate giggle when I saw him.

  He looked like Jafar from Disney's Aladdin.

  Tall and weedy, he undulated and twisted like a reed caught in the wind, his movements oddly graceful and yet off-putting. His face was long and full of sharp edges, bright purple eyes gleaming with keen intelligence. I could clearly see him measuring me, calculating my wort
h to him and determining how I could best be used. That disembodied voice to which I was beginning to be accustomed whispered, "Do not trust," and I listened. No one who looked this much like a Disney villain could be good news.

  "Halqu beleti, we are honored to welcome you to the Golden City, the jewel of Solis. Please come inside and be refreshed. We will see to your needs and then you will be embraced by our king." His voice was low and musical, pleasing to the ear, and still I was on edge around him. The formal speech seemed to mark a different language or dialect, the way I noticed the difference between the casual way Temuk and Khenti spoke and how Sandu addressed me. I could only guess that my hidden translator, or whatever was done to me in the void, made no clear distinction between languages, simply allowing me to understand and respond in the appropriate one.

  I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

  "Thank you, and please, call me Honey," I offered, reminding myself that I needed to make a good impression.

  Efrim smiled widely and with apparent warmth. "How appropriate. You are as lovely as the melammu, and no doubt sweet as its honey."

  Okay, I officially hated this guy.

  "How charming," I mumbled and reluctantly accepted the hand he extended. The fingers he wrapped around me were cold and bony, and squeezed just a bit too tightly. As he led me inside the doors of doom, I shuddered, knowing that I had just crossed some great divide, a chasm with no bridge by which to return.

  The hall was lined with people, looking both curious and avid. They were all dressed differently, and I could guess their station by the sumptuousness of their garments, clearly picking out the servants from what I assumed were nobles. Even amongst the clearly privileged, I could see the differences indicating higher rank or wealth. Oddly enough, this gave me some comfort, and I began to think that my freshman history courses and brief love affair with historical romances might come in handy.

  "As you can see Honey, we are most pleased to welcome you. I'm not sure what you have been told thus far, but it has been nigh on ten years since the last Halqu came to Solis, and he stayed only a short while." Efrim's mouth twisted for a moment with displeasure before he regained his good humor. "We must hope that you remain with us much longer."

  Why did that feel like a threat?

  "That's very kind of you," I said, well versed in being polite to stuffy morons thanks to my PR training. And my parents told me my degree was useless. Ha.

  "Perhaps you could clear something up for me," I said, hesitantly, not really wanting to ask this man for anything, but too curious to wait. He looked at me expectantly, so I continued. "Temuk, who found me, told me I was the third, uh, Halqu he had found. How is that possible if it has been so long since the last one?"

  Efrim nodded and gave me a calculating look. "I'm sorry my dear, but I haven't been told from which realm you come?"

  I wondered if there was anything dangerous about giving him my answer, but couldn't come up with a good reason not to. "I come from Earth. I lived in a country called America, in the capitol city." Thinking it might not hurt to flesh out my resume a bit, I embellished. "I was an advisor to our leaders in public matters."

  An evil gleam flashed in Efrim's eyes before he regained his composure. "How wonderful. The king will be pleased. And may I ask how long your people live in this Amer-ca?"

  Somehow I knew he was mispronouncing the name on purpose, but I was an old hand at ignoring subtle insults, so I continued as if I hadn't noticed. "On average, around eighty to ninety years. Some lucky few make it past a hundred, but that's pretty unusual."

  He smiled. "I see. It's rather different here, I'm afraid. For instance, Temuk of the Horde is approaching his two-hundredth year. I am fortunate enough to have celebrated my two-hundred and fiftieth year this past month."

  Even the smug tone in his answer couldn't have penetrated my utter shock. Two hundred and fifty years old? Dread clung to the back of my neck with clammy hands as I considered what this might mean for me.

  "My father, may the Ilati embrace him, passed on when he was four hundred and eighty. That is fairly typical for our people. Other races have different expectations, but all live for several hundred years at least."

  I swallowed my unease and gave a hesitant smile. "You are a very fortunate people then, Sukkall Efrim. People from my world would pay a great deal to live so long." I paused, allowing Efrim his moment of superiority. He was so obviously enjoying it. "Might I ask about the other races?"

  At long freaking last we reached the end of the hall and entered into a large, round chamber resembling a beehive; doors covered the stucco walls, much like in the spa. I couldn't help but feel dumbfounded by the sheer vastness of the place, sure that if I were separated from my guide I would wander the palace endlessly. Efrim led me to one of the many doors on the left and ushered me through it into what was probably a sitting room. Couches and body sized pillows were scattered through the space; the wooden floors were covered in thick rugs in bright, bold colors, giving the room a middle-eastern feel. A roaring fire called to me from beneath an intricately carved mantelpiece, promising me warmth and security. I felt as though I had walked into a Moroccan fantasy living room, but the clear dedication to comfort made some of my disquiet fade. All I could think about was lying down on one of those plush couches and going to sleep for a week.

  As he gestured for me to sit on the couch nearest the fireplace, he finally answered me. "There are ten different races on Edin. Most have similar life-spans, but a few have been blessed with longer." He paused and an ugly expression crossed his face. "One has been granted immortality, but they are few."

  Well here was something familiar; a man envious of immortality.

  "Immortality? Well that's...nice," I muttered, wondering how I was really going to cope with the vast differences I was experiencing in this new world. I just hoped the existence of immortal beings didn't mean there were vampires too. That might be one step too far.

  Efrim twisted his lips in a sad attempt at a smile. "Yes, well, the Darisam are not known for being nice, so I would caution you against them." He glanced past me at the fire and paled, his eyes darting away quickly before returning to me. "But they are an honorable race," he added, a tremor in his voice. "They are the guardians of Edin, and do not generally mix with the rest of the population; but there is always one that shows up at court periodically to observe and at times mediate. They are not to be crossed."

  Distracted by his odd behavior and little speech, I glanced over at the fire, wondering if there was something there he had seen, but though the flames seemed to flare and burn brighter for a moment, there was nothing to make my companion nervous. Returning my attention to him, I nodded and waved my hand in dismissal. "I get the picture. So what else do I need to know for now?" Once again I could feel the rising swell of dread, the sense that my breaking point was rapidly advancing.

  Efrim gave me a measuring look, clearly trying to determine my worth and what good I could do him. Oddly enough, I found it comforting. I was a woman who worked in crisis management, which, for a low-ranking employee such as me, meant I primarily dealt with panicky corporate drones that misused company funds or patted the secretary's ass. In my time at Marduk, I had only ever worked with another woman once, and her public relations needs had actually been pretty simple. She was a newly appointed replacement for a lobbyist who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and she simply wanted to spread the good news. It was the best two weeks of my entire career.

  Mostly, I worked with men who were already troublesome, or they wouldn't have needed my department's aid, and all but a few of them were incredibly misogynistic; assuming that because I was young and a woman that I couldn't possibly be of any use to them. Once they got a look at my press releases and social media campaigns on their behalf, opinions usually adjusted slightly, but not enough to ever allow me to believe for a moment that I would have the upper hand with my clients. It was part of why I hated my job at Marduk so much; I was
working to save the reputations of people who didn't deserve it, and no matter how good I was, I was never going to be truly appreciated.

  Efrim's expression now mirrored the last year of my professional life, so for the first time, I almost felt at ease since waking up in a world with purple skies.

  "I believe the king will want to explain what will be expected of you himself, but I can assure you that you will want for nothing as long as you remain in Solis. Halqu are valued here, treasured, and we will endeavor to make you comfortable as you fulfill your purpose."

  Well, there were a whole lot of warnings couched in that pleasant little bundle of assurances. Clearly, if I tried to ditch the Golden City, my safety would be in question, and I could only count on being "treasured" as long as I was benefiting the kingdom in some way. Good to know.

  "I am sure that my purpose is to bring greater glory to Solis, so I don't doubt that I will be well looked after," I returned, pasting a falsely sincere smile on my face. Probably it would be too much to flutter my eyelashes as well.

  Efrim's smile was thoughtful and for a moment, I thought I glimpsed admiration in his dark, shielded eyes. The corner of his mouth twitched before he bowed over my hand, touching the knuckles with his forehead, a gesture I assumed meant respect or genuflecting.

  "I believe you will bring glory to Solis, Honey Sullivan. I imagine you and I will have many enlightening discussions. But for now, I will depart and allow you time to rest before you meet with the king." He glanced over me, taking in my dress and pale skin, my long red tresses. "Please do not concern yourself with proper etiquette at this time. You will be assigned an advisor in due course who will educate you in the ways of the court, but for now the king will know that you are not familiar with our customs. I take my leave," he murmured, backing away from me, a Cheshire grin widening his cheeks. "We will meet again soon, Honey Sullivan."