by SL Figuhr
“Good evening, Dascis. Thank you for taking the time to see me.” As she spoke, she removed the cloak, handing it to the covered person, and started to work off her black leather, rabbit fur-lined gloves.
He bowed. “Er, yes, of course. The pleasure is all mine,” he could only mumble as he shut the door and relocked it before turning to face the advisor.
She wore a tailored, knee-length in front, long-tailed red coat with silver buckles that crisscrossed and a stiff standing silver lace collar with three points that curved outward. The cuffs had two inches of intricate black embroidery on them. The layered red and black bustle skirt swept the floor in back and came down to mid-thigh in front. She wore thick red tights, and shiny black knee-high leather boots with a tall, thick heel. Her hair was in an elaborate updo, and she wore a half crown along with jewels of rubies and black gemstones.
“Er, congratulations on your new position, Your Grace. How may I be of service to you tonight?” He gave a servile bow, something in the way her eyes blazed with a honey gold fire warning him to proceed carefully.
“Thank you. I am hoping your reticence to gossip and questioning nature will be able to help me. Is there a spot we may sit and talk?”
Damn it all! “Of course. I am afraid only my office has warmth and light.”
“If there are chairs we may sit on and room for us all, then please show us the way,” she graciously replied.
Double damn! He gave a weak smile, and turning, led them to his space. Once they were seated, the slaves on chairs just outside the door, he at his desk and the duchess next to it on a high stool, the room seemed cramped.
He placed his feet on the stone, which had gone cold. Grumpily he rolled up the scroll he had been working on and placed it in a reed basket for a clerk to scrape clean and reuse. He should have gone home hours ago, despite the bleakness of his small rooms.
“Dascis, I am given to understand you hold all records for everything which happens within the kingdom. Not just of personal exploits, but of financial as well.”
“Of course.” What the Death Lands is she up to?
“I am trusting my request of you will remain within these walls, and go no further.”
His brows raised in inquiry. “Naturally.”
“I need an accounting of each royal office: who is in charge, the number of slaves and paid workers, and their yearly expenses during the previous advisor's term. I shall also need the same for the royal army, the palace, and copies of all taxes paid to the crown.”
The record keeper's mouth dropped open in shock. Impossible! He had to clear his throat several times before he could speak. “And you would want this when?”
“A week.”
“Right. Shall I hand deliver it with a bow as well?” The sarcasm slipped out before he could stop it. He was angry she thought she could waltz into his office as easily as she had the position she now occupied, and think he would jump to her tune.
“The bow is not needed, but I would be most appreciative if you brought it to me in person.” The calm manner in which she ignored his colossal rudeness had him rethinking his next words.
“I can supply what you need; however, I cannot do so alone in the time frame you give. I would need to use some of my clerks and copyists.”
“How many?”
Dascis sat and made rapid calculations in his head of who he thought he could trust, for surely if word leaked out, she would take actions against his office. What those might entail, he had a feeling he didn't want to experience.
“Two clerks, to fetch and replace the material, and at least four copyists.”
“I will want to meet those you deem responsible and trustworthy enough for the job before you begin,” she replied.
He bristled in outrage, “There is no need. I would stake my life upon my choices!”
She tilted her head to the right, reminding him of a bird of prey before it struck. “Are you certain you wish to stake your life? For I shall ask for it if you are wrong.”
A tremor of fear wormed down his spine, and despite the growing cold in the room as the fire burned down, sweat popped out on his brow and trickled down the back of his neck. She did not rave and rant as the old advisor was wont to do, or spew a torrent of threats. That, along with her simple statement, made him believe she was in earnest.
They stared at each other, only the rustles of the shifting slaves breaking the silence.
“I . . .” He had to blot his forehead and back of his neck with a handkerchief and moisten his lips with his tongue. “If you will consent to stop by tomorrow evening, after the bulk of the workers have left for the day except for the ones I need, you may inspect them.”
A small smile flashed across her placid features. “Very good. When your task is completed, you may ask a favor of me. I trust our terms will be acceptable?”
He automatically nodded, wanting nothing more than to lock up and go home. The duchess made a gesture to one of the men. The slave exited the room at a trot as she stood. Dascis took this to mean she would be leaving. He escorted her to the receiving room, unlocking the door as she wrapped up in her cloak and tugged the gloves on.
“Until tomorrow night.” She inclined her head in good-bye.
He opened the door, bowing from the waist up as he did. In a swirl of snow and a blast of cold wind, she left. Dascis closed, locked the door, and leaned his back against it a moment. He was not looking forward to the next day.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Snow fell thickly, adding to the layers already coating everything. A week had passed since the king had made his demands for information. Everyone wanted to be the person to collect what for many was the equivalent of three years’ income. The young woman shivered, pulling her cloak tighter about her. His Majesty, in another fit of paranoia, had relegated all non-palace slaves and personnel to the streets.
The cold seeped into nooks, crannies, and bodies. Each morning brought another few corpses claimed by winter or murderous, desperate townspeople. Raina had managed to secure a room for her and her brother to share at an inn.
The Baroness Rothsbury had approached the young girl when she’d showed for work, and told her she was being reassigned. The woman scowled; clearly the noblewoman had been confronted by the duchess about the accounts Raina found, and the baroness was taking out her ire on Raina.
She supposed she should be grateful she still had a job, given the circumstances. Raina put another log into the fire pit near her, trying to ration the small pile of wood she was given to keep warm, and nudged the ink bottle closer to her oil lamp in a futile effort to keep it from freezing.
“I don't know what to do! We're starving!” the mother before her wailed. Her brood of children crowded around her, huddling for what warmth they could manage.
Raina's fingers were stiff with cold, her feet and nose numb with it. It was a month into the winter season, but already mutters flowed about the brutality of it. She tried to write down the names and ages of the children and their mother, the ink a thick sludge.
“The brothels aren't hiring! And the slavers say they don't have enough buyers.” She broke down weeping.
Raina sighed, the story all too familiar. “I will put you on the list for food and shelter for today.”
“Today!” the mother shrilled. “What am I gonna do tomorrow? Stand in line again, hoping we survive another day?” She spat suddenly at the young woman, who moved enough for it to hit her shoulder and slide down the sleeve before freezing.
“I am sorry. His Majesty prevents me from doing more.” She apologized and held out a wooden chit.
The woman snatched it out of her hand and spat on the ground. It crackled as it hit. They were quickly jostled out of the way by the next group of people in line. Raina swallowed, trying to calm her racing heart. She had two guards nearby, but knew they would not be much help should matters turn ugly. At noon she had to take a break, unable to endure the cold anymore. Hateful words and curses followed her retrea
ting back. She hugged the satchel with her parchments, inks and quills to her chest. The walk up the hill took an especially long time due to her frozen feet.
Raina was glad when she could sit down by a fireplace in a corner of the palace and thaw herself out. She ate and drank what the slaves presented to her, nothing fancy: bread, stew, and hot, spiced wine. After her lunch, Raina was walking back outside to resume her post, head down, when she crashed into someone and they nearly fell.
“I'm sorry! It was my fault for not paying attention to where I was going,” the young woman gasped out.
“Pardon me, I should have been more careful.” The young man smiled at her, sapphire blue eyes crinkling at the corners.
His hands still had hold of her arms from when he caught them both. She stepped back, and he let her go. “Sorry.”
“Thank you for catching me, my lord; with your pardon, I must get back to my job,” Raina said with a little curtsey.
He bowed his thick head of glossy black hair. “Of course.” He stepped out of her way.
Her walk back to the little hut wasn't quite as dismal, but the line of shivering, angry townspeople queued up outside had her lips pressing together. Before her downfall, she wouldn't have cared much about those of lesser status, but now that she was one of them, she felt indignant over the injustices they had to suffer.
* * *
Dawn came with wails of distress, cries of rage. Raina left her brother huddled under the covers of their shared bed and descended to the inn's main floor.
“You should go back upstairs, barricade yourself inside,” one of the inn keep's sons informed her.
“Why? What is happening?” she asked.
“More deaths. A blizzard moved through overnight. A lot of people didn't make it, including some who had heat and shelter. Those who are without having begun to rampage. They're busting down doors, raiding for food. Some are even killing the owners and taking over their homes.”
Raina felt fear race through her as the noise became louder. The sons guarding the door tensed, and braced themselves. A moment later it shuddered under the weight of pounding fists and feet.
“Bastards! Let us in!”
“I've got children freezing and starving! I know you have food and fire!”
“Open the door!”
Shutters closed over the windows rattled violently, causing all inside to jump. “Da!” one of the boys called out.
His mother appeared, spotted Raina, and hissed. “Are you daft, girl? My family can't protect you and our inn! You’d better get your brother and get out! Hurry! They haven't come around back yet!”
Another forceful rattle of the shutters and door caused her to jump. Raina whirled around and fled up the stairs, eyes wide in terror.
“Hilel! Hilel! Get up!” she screamed, bursting into their room.
Her little brother mumbled and burrowed deeper underneath the covers. The woman could hear the insistent pounding, the voices of the mob. She was thrown into a flashback.
* * *
“Rose! Get the children to the safe room!” Lord Smirkin bellowed to his wife.
He and his knights formed up in the courtyard and on the walls of their castle, archers shooting at the attackers.
Raina stood frozen in a shadow on the upper walkway of the main keep, unable to answer her maid's or mother’s cries as they looked for her. The gates burst open under a battering ram, men in armor with blue- and white-checked surcoats poured through. A few fell to arrows, but the attackers answered in kind. The two sides met in a clash of blades and war cries. The opposing force kept pouring inside the ruined gates, with a group on horseback.
“Kill all who resist!” came the cry.
The young woman watched in horror as defenders she had known all her life fell. Her father and his closest men-at-arms were forced back toward the main keep. Some of the attackers broke off to grab fleeing women, throw them down and rape them. The fight was now being raged beneath her hiding spot. She didn't realize she was crying, clutching her elbows with opposite hands.
She shook out of her paralyzing fear as the wooden walkway shuddered. Her father was forced up the stairs, fighting the entire way.
“Father!” she cried.
“Raina, run! Run now!” he yelled to her, redoubling his efforts against his attacker.
“Bitch! Don't go far! I claim you as my prize!” screamed the young nobleman attacking her father.
“Raina, run!” Smirkin yelled, which turned into a sound of pain as a sword found a weak spot in his armor.
“Father!” she cried again as he slammed back into the wall.
“Run, Raina, run!” He bellowed with what breath was left to him.
She finally did what he said, turning and fleeing along the walkway toward the main door. The baron's son laughed behind her, metal clinking as he gave chase.
* * *
Raina shuddered, realizing she was curled up in a ball on the inn floor, tears streaming down her face. The pounding had not let up from below, and now a cracking sound joined in. The door would soon give way.
“No! Not again! Never again!” The young woman didn't realize she had spoken out loud.
She forced herself off the floor and into motion. She grabbed the money pouch she had hidden with her earnings and shoved it into her satchel. She threw her new, thick wool cloak over her shoulders and secured it. Then she grabbed up her brother’s cloak and shoes, ripping the bed covers off him. He cried out in protest.
“Get up, Hilel! There's a mob at the door.”
“I'm tired. I wanna sle . . .” he trailed off, eyes widening in fear at the sounds coming up from below. He whimpered in shock.
His sister forcefully grabbed his legs and shoved his shoes on. She yanked him off the bed, tossing his cloak around his shoulders and quickly fastening the pin shut before scooping him up. Raina managed to stagger out the door with her brother before his weight was too much and she had to put him down.
“Run, Hilel, run!” Raina snatched his hand and yanked him after her.
They could hear the heavy thud of feet on the stairs, the cries from the fighting going on below. Sister and brother fled down the hall toward the rear stairs, a male bellow behind alerting them to the fact they were spotted. The two didn't recall how they made it down without tripping and falling. The kitchen door stood open, cold and snow swirling inside from the wind. The fire in the big fireplace flickered wildly, casting monstrous-looking shadows about the room. They ran outside, immediately blinded by the pelting ice and snow.
“Raina!” Hilel cried, words snatched away by the cruel wind.
She would not let go of his hand, no matter what. The young woman turned right, dragging her brother after her. If they could get to the bridge with its palace guard, maybe they would be safe.
* * *
Brother and sister sat shivering on a hard bench near the roaring fireplace. A silent slave had long since departed, after setting down a tray with hot, spiced wine, and meat pastries. If it hadn't been for Viscount Martin's intervention, the angry townspeople would have killed them both.
“Raina, I wanna go home,” Hilel whimpered. “I don't like it here. I'm always cold and hungry.”
She sighed, too tired and dejected to explain yet again why they couldn't do what he wanted. After a few more minutes of whining, her brother finally lay down and curled up into a tight ball and fell asleep. The young woman sipped at the wine, looking about the plain room, to her an oddity given this was an earl's mansion. Neither he nor the countess, or even the young ladies of the house, had come to speak with her. The rumors of upheaval in the family must be true. Eventually, Raina stood up and wandered about the space, peeked out the heavy drapes at the icy street and inspected the few religious-themed knickknacks.
A brief knock sounded on the door, the black-haired, sapphire-eyed viscount entered.
“I'm sorry to have left you alone for so long. I hope the slaves are accommodating to any needs you have?”
>
She inclined her head gracefully, “Yes, my lord. Thank you.” She paused. “And thank you again for saving my brother and me. It's a debt I shall owe you.”
He looked slightly ill at ease. “Yes, well. I would be a cad if I didn't help someone who needed it. There is nothing owed.” He coughed into his fist before continuing. “However, I am afraid you will be forced to find other lodgings. The mob, it seems, destroyed the inn you were staying at.”
A sinking feeling began in the pit of her stomach. “Of course.” Her words were curt, angry. Now what can I do? That was the only affordable inn that had room.
Viscount Martin picked up on her agitation. “Forgive me; if I may, have you another place to go? I don't recall seeing you around town before. I mean, you're not a local.”
“No, my lord, I am not. I am just a displaced merchant from another land who got caught up in events after I decided to permanently relocate here.”
“Ah. I'm sorry my homeland is giving you such a quick look at how troubled it is.”
She gave a strained smile. “If it is safe to venture outside, my brother and I shall be going.”
His brow wrinkled in worry. “I don't mean to be presumptuous, but as you already know, it isn't safe to stay in town. Might I suggest you try the palace first? If you are doing work for them, they should find a spot inside to house you.”
Raina remained silent, not quite concealing the quick shudder. She didn't trust the rumors of the king’s moods, which said he behaved more and more irrationally. The palace could be more dangerous than the townspeople. The young man picked up on her discomfort and stood thinking as she woke her brother and shushed his whining.