Servants and Followers (The Legends of Arria, Volume 2)

by Courtney Bowen

  “How do you know that?” Sisila asked with a gasp.

  “Never mind, just go on home.” Iibala said. “I have some business to take care of here.”

  As soon as Sisila left, Iibala turned to her father. “Why did you have to be so stupid? You’re the only one I have left.” She whispered.

  Chapter 9: Night Encounters

  The strangest things happen at night, the most

  Puzzling, inexplicable, and sensational things.

  We are left scratching our heads and wondering,

  What has just happened? Where did the clarity of day go?

  --Clarity of Day, Kiwata

  “Habala! Can you go fetch a cask or two of ale from the back?” Geda shouted at his wife as he filled up another drink, “We’re about to run out here.”

  “All right,” Habala said, and left the common room for the storeroom, not returning for several minutes. It seemed like a long time, and although he wasn’t really paying attention to what was going on, filling up drinks and listening to Hermer blather on and on, Geda did wonder what she was doing back there.

  Suddenly, the door to the private quarters was flung open, and Smidge stormed out of there instead of Habala. “Smidge, what are you doing here?” Geda asked, surprised by his younger brother’s presence when he was supposed to be off-duty, and also by the fact that Smidge’s hair seemed to be slightly singed and smoking still.

  “I’m coming to tell you that I quit, I’ve had enough of this rat-infested flea hole, and I’m getting out of here.” Smidge muttered to his older brother as he patted his hair to make sure that the fire was out. Meanwhile, people started scouring the floor, wondering if he was serious.

  “There aren’t any rats, The Smiling Stallion inn is the cleanest place in town.” Geda loudly said to reassure his customers. “Quitting? Are you sure? What’s the matter?” Geda asked Smidge in a low voice, even more surprised than ever before when Smidge had always done part-time work here, when he wasn’t involved with the town militia.

  It didn’t make much sense for him to quit right now, after all these years of labor and the effort he had put into helping take care of The Smiling Stallion inn, not to mention the fact that he was going to inherit the inn after Geda died, with the boys gone. However, Geda’s heart started pounding, with hope or dread he didn’t know, at the prospect of Smidge’s departure. It would be a blessing to put his mind at rest about Smidge and Habala being involved with each other if Smidge wasn’t here on a regular basis, although it seemed ominous that this should be happening right now. He wondered if Habala and Smidge had been meeting in the private quarters while Habala went into the storeroom, and where was she now?

  “Of course I’m sure. I haven’t been surer of anything in my life, Geda!” Smidge cried, throwing his hands up as ashes tumbled down from his head. “I’m happy to be leaving the inn, Geda, happy! In fact I’ve been miserable here for so long that it has become a way of life for me, miserable and bitter. I’m happy to be leaving you three here alone.” Smidge muttered.

  “Three?” Geda asked, not knowing what he was talking about.

  “Three, and tell Habala that I went, Geda. Tell her that I was happy to leave and that she doesn’t have to say anything to you.” Smidge said, pausing a moment to turn to his brother. “Watch out for that woman of yours, Geda. She is a fiend in disguise and she will burn you like she burned me if you are not careful.” Smidge muttered, turning away and leaving with smoke trailing after him.

  “A fiend? Burn me? What was she going to tell me?” Geda asked, worried, but it was too late, as Smidge was gone. Geda asked Hermer to watch the bar (there goes the ale) as he went back to the private quarters. Smidge must have run into Habala somehow back there, and although he had no idea what might have happened between them in the interval, he knew that it couldn’t be anything good with the way Smidge was talking.

  “Habala? Habala, are you all right?” Geda asked, knocking on the storeroom door. “What is going on in there?” He asked when he didn’t get a reply from her, and then he opened the storeroom door, stumbling inside as he worried about what he might see.

  “It is nothing, Geda,” Habala said, turning around to face him in an attempt to block his view of what was behind her, but Geda could still see Brigga retreating back into the casks, slightly disrobed. Three. Brigga was here, too, he had forgotten about that. She wasn’t supposed to be working here tonight, was she?

  “What is going on here? What did Smidge do?” Geda asked, staring at them in horror. Had Smidge molested Brigga? And Habala, had she just stumbled upon them? Oh, what a relief, Habala wasn’t involved with Smidge, but…oh. Poor Brigga. She shouldn’t be treated this way, no person should. He should have known something terrible like this might happen with Smidge around. Smidge couldn’t control himself sometimes, and he was a crude man as well, but molesting Brigga? In a way, it wasn’t like him, how could Smidge go so far?

  Habala sighed. “It is nothing, Geda, Smidge is gone now, he did quit, right?” Geda slowly nodded in reply, not wanting to say a word about anything else. How did she know? Did she convince him to quit? “I am just talking to Brigga here,” Habala continued, patting Brigga on the shoulder. Brigga looked a little nervous, understandable considering what had just happened to her. “And we would like some privacy, please. I will bring the casks once I am done here, so please just leave us alone for a bit.” Habala shooed away her husband.

  Geda slowly retreated with another nod, and closed the storeroom door behind him. Right, they needed their privacy, Brigga needed some comfort from someone she could trust, and perhaps they should go to the constable to talk about this, but he didn’t know what had just happened, if Smidge had actually molested Brigga.

  It looked that way, but he hoped it wasn’t true, that there might be some other kind of explanation for the scene he had just stumbled across. Brigga was the one who would ultimately have to make the choice of accusing Smidge of such a crime, and he wondered if Habala was trying to talk her out of…no, she wouldn’t do that, would she? Smidge’s behavior was an embarrassment to the inn, certainly, but that was no excuse to cover it up, right? He worried that Habala might be trying to protect Smidge instead of…great. He was back to thinking Habala and Smidge might be involved with each other again, that Habala was protecting him.

  This was terrible; he couldn’t think that, he just couldn’t. He had to stick by Habala from now on. Though he doubted her, and he had some reason to tonight with her odd behavior, and Smidge’s burned hair, he had to trust that she had some good reason for her behavior, and that she was worth believing in, being his wife of twenty years or so. That had to count for something, in the end.

  Geda returned to the bar, and eventually Habala came back out with the casks. He asked her if Brigga was all right, and Habala told him, in a low whisper, what Smidge had done. He had pestered Brigga, but he had not physically harmed her, especially when Habala had stepped in to stop him. Brigga was fine for the most part, just a little disturbed, and she had gone back home for the night. She would come back to work in the morning, now that Smidge had quit his job at the Smiling Stallion inn, and they would talk things out some more. It did not appear that Brigga would have Smidge arrested, at least not yet. Habala did not tell him what had burned Smidge, but Geda could guess, and he didn’t say anything.

  Geda thought it rather odd that Brigga would basically just let Smidge go, and not have him arrested if he tried to harm her, but he did not question Habala right now, after his decision to stand by his wife. He would rather have Smidge go for now, to give them all some peace of mind, although Geda knew that, eventually, Smidge would return. Smidge was a part of their family and he couldn’t stay away from the inn forever, and they all would have to reconcile and settle their differences with Smidge either apologizing or paying for his crime to Brigga. Brigga certainly might have good reason to be upset with Smidge if he had harmed her, but if she did not press charges and accuse him of a crime, the
n she might have little recourse in this regard except to accept his apology. Smidge belonged here more than she did, he would take precedence over an employee.

  As for Geda’s concern about Habala and Smidge…like Smidge, that would not go away forever, but at least for now, it was settled. So long as Smidge stayed away, he and everyone else would have some relief, however small it may be. The only truly good thing to come out of all this, he thought, was the possibility that Brigga and Habala might be friends again, when they had been friends as children, he thought. Habala wouldn’t obsess anymore over Brigga’s secrets, and Brigga could work here without any more aggravations until Smidge returned. The night wore on, until Geda sent the townspeople home, and the guests back upstairs. Geda and Habala cleaned up the common room, and then went to bed. Stiff and formal, nothing happened between them, and Geda lied awake for a while that night, still worrying about his wife, brother, and Brigga as Habala slept fitfully beside him.

  The group had gotten themselves settled into their quarters located in the east wing; there were two bedrooms beside each other, one for the boys, including Fato, and one for Monika. Though the inner walls of the castle matched the outer walls in terms of ugliness and decay, the furnishings attempted to overshadow the loss of grandeur over the ages by being grandiose themselves, though they, too, had been affected by water damage a little bit. Basha thought that though these bedrooms might be the smallest bedrooms in the whole castle, still they were larger than the guest rooms and even the living quarters at The Smiling Stallion inn.

  “Can I take the bed?” Fato asked, staring down at the four-poster monstrosity.

  “I believe that’s for all of us.” Oaka said, rolling his eyes at the bird.

  “I claim the top then!” Fato declared, tapping his talons on the tester that covered the bed and posts.

  “All right, suit yourself,” Oaka said and noticed Basha rummaging frantically through his bag. “What’s the matter with you?” Oaka asked.

  “I can’t find my…” Basha hesitated, knowing what Oaka would think, but then he said, “I think I left my ‘other’ sword attached to the saddle,” because there was no other choice.

  “What, your Coe Anji sword?” Oaka said, practically mouthing the last words.

  “What are you two talking about?” Fato asked.

  Basha nodded. “I think so,” He mouthed, also in a low voice to annoy Fato. “I’ve been looking through all of my bags, and I even checked yours.”

  “Forget about it.” Oaka said, waving his hand as Fato fluttered down to see what the fuss was about. “We don’t need it here if Coe Aela is such a safe place, and besides, I think you should separate yourself from that thing. You’ve been…” He frowned, more in disgust than in trying to come up with the right word. “Moving it around, touching it…I think you’ve grown too attached to that thing.” He insisted.

  “I have not. And I might say the same thing about you and Sisila’s letter.” Basha said as Fato laughed.

  “That’s different.” Oaka said sharply before they heard a knock on their door. “Who is it?” Oaka sighed.

  “Gnat, the servant who led your horses to the stables. I am here to lead you all to the banquet hall now.” The voice on the other side of the door said.

  Fato stopped laughing then. “Gnat?” The falcon said, frowning to himself as he turned his head around to peer at the door. “What type of a name is that?”

  “We’ll be ready in a minute,” Oaka called out to the door before turning back to Basha and lowering his voice. “Gnat, you remember…was Gnat a boy or a girl?” He asked. “It was kind of hard to tell.”

  “Does it matter?” Basha asked, wondering if it was even appropriate to discuss this as Fato settled on his left shoulder.

  “I think Gnat was a girl.” Fato remarked.

  “It does to me. It’s annoying, and…makes me nervous not knowing?” Oaka shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I just want to know.”

  Basha shrugged. “You’re hopeless,” He told Oaka before turning and answering the door. “Hello, Gnat. My name is Basha.” He held out his hand.

  “And I’m Fato the royal messenger falcon, although everybody does seem to try and ignore me.” Fato said, glaring at Basha even as Basha tried not to look at him and laugh.

  Gnat giggled. “Hello, Basha, Fato, nice to meet you two,” She said, smiling as Basha assumed Gnat was a girl. It was automatic. She shook his hand before petting the falcon’s head. “Are you ready?” She asked.

  “Thanks for that.” Fato remarked, staring at Gnat.

  Basha nodded. “Ready as I can be. I don’t think I have anything to wear better than what I have on now.” He said, looking down at his clothes. “Oaka should be a moment.”

  “All right, all right, I’m ready,” Oaka sighed, coming out of the bedroom with just a shinier look upon his face, as he had cleaned himself off a little, and donned a fresher coat. “I hope I don’t smell.” He muttered.

  “Like a pig or a monkey?” Fato asked.

  “Don’t worry, you look fine,” Gnat told Basha before turning to Oaka. “I don’t think I can smell you from here, so you pass.” She said.

  “Can I get a pass too? I can smell him from here!” Fato exclaimed, waving a wing.

  Gnat frowned. “You should not…”

  The other door opened, and Monika emerged wearing a shirt, breeches, and boots much like what she had been wearing during the trip. “All right, let’s get this over with,” Monika said.

  “Should you not be wearing a dress?” Oaka asked.

  “I don’t think it matters very much.” Monika said, turning to Gnat. “Besides, I don’t wear one when I’m traveling. Do you think it matters very much?” She asked Gnat.

  “Oh, no,” Fato said, shaking his head.

  “I don’t think so, though usually I don’t wear a dress,” Gnat said, turning away. “This way, please,” She said, walking down the hallway.

  “Trying to figure it out?” Basha whispered to Monika.

  “Quiet,” She said, shaking her head even though Basha knew it was true. He wondered if Gnat knew what sort of speculation was going on here. Fato softly laughed.

  “The grand banquet hall is where you will usually go to eat all your meals, so no need to seek out the kitchens,” Gnat told them. “Although it is usually not so finely decorated as it is tonight. There will be fine entertainment as well while you eat—jugglers, acrobats, a clown, a bard, musicians and a fellow who has trained dogs to walk around in skirts.”

  “The dogs had better know how to dance, that’s all I’m saying.” Fato remarked.

  Gnat glanced back at Fato and sighed. “Rude bird.” She said.

  “I’m just honest, not rude!” Fato gasped, slightly offended.

  Gnat continued talking, “The bard will probably be leaving here tomorrow, as he has already stayed here a few days,” overmuch about the feast and what they might expect on the way over there, although Basha wondered what made her so talkative.

  They entered the banquet hall through a large doorway, emerging from the screens passage into a huge space full of long tables and benches that stretched to a far wall. The aisles between the benches were narrow, but already crowded with guests and entertainers alike, the entertainers cavorting about trying to elicit a smile or a laugh from the guests going to their seats. Servants stood off to the side in the arcade, ready to be called when dinner would be dispersed. Gnat wandered off from the group to join the servants, as the group stared up at the vaulted wood-beamed ceiling strewn with metal chandeliers, plaster-covered and painted masonry walls, with tiled floors strewn with rushes.

  Fato yelped when a passing clown swiped at his tail feathers playfully. “That is an insult!” He cried, turning around towards the clown.

  “Let it go, Fato.” Basha insisted as a gong sounded, startling them all before they hurried to take their seats with the rest of the guests.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, let the feasting begin!” Lord Fobata sh
outed after a few minutes, arising from his seat at the far end of the hall and bowing his head before the servants stepped forward from the arcade and spread throughout the hall, dispensing the first course already in their hands. The jugglers came first, followed by the musicians, and then the acrobats walked about the hall on stilt pants before jumping down, leaping and tumbling on the floor. They built themselves up into a pyramid as course after course was served.

  “I’m full,” Basha whispered, patting his stomach in contentment.

  “Well, you should not have tried the quiche, then,” Fato muttered, chomping down on swan meat.

  “For such a small bird, you sure have a large stomach.” Oaka remarked on the other side.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Fato asked, glaring up at Oaka.

  Basha glanced up as well, and noticed a woman walking through the arcade. He gulped. “I thought I saw…” He said, turning his head as he tried to follow her passage through the passageway.

  “What?” Monika asked, looking up at him as well.

  “That woman was Nisa.” He said, standing up. “She was a woman who was slightly older than me in town, not really extraordinary, though I have thought I saw her…” The night the rats had chased him through Mila Forest, he wanted to say.

  “Helllooo!” said a voice Basha did not recognize, though as he turned to face the white-haired man, with traces of red and black in his hair, standing before him, a bard holding a guitar, he recognized him. “I have seen you somewhere before, have I not?” The bard asked.

  “Have I seen you somewhere before?” Fato parroted back, causing the bard to laugh.

  “‘The wise fool, best among men, He walked along the road and sang, Til-dee-um-bum...’” Basha heard the song playing in his head. “Paracleus?” Basha asked.

  “Paracleus, what a strange name.” Fato said, shaking his head.

  “That’s it!” Paracleus cried, turning around to strum his guitar and face the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, I stand before you all here today to introduce to you a sweet young man I first met several months ago in the sleepy village of Coe Baba. He sat before me, all forlorn and lonesome, ‘woe is me’-ing over a pretty young girl (one assumes) who had not come to see him on his birthday, which should have been a most joyful occasion.” The bard said, as every eyeball in the hall turned on Basha and started laughing.