Bellica

by Katje van Loon

  That depended on finding her in the first place. She could be on her way back to Voco already, for all Anala knew -- and if that was the case she was out of their sphere of influence until Yarrow took the Sceptre from her sister. She wondered if Miranda's childhood had been better or worse than hers. Monster or no, Lord Exsil Vis had said he liked to dote on his daughter. Perhaps she got some small happiness in return for the abuses she no doubt suffered. She certainly had had Hope to guard her back, at least until recently. If Miranda hadn't left Athering yet, she probably didn't know her mother was dead. Anala wondered how she would take the news. Not well, in all likelihood.

  Anala herself had taken the news...well, without much emotion. She felt sorrow for the woman she'd not had a chance to know, and now never would, but there had not been a great deal of grief. Nothing, compared to what Jules was no doubt going through over his father's death. She supposed when Tenea's time came, she would feel that pain. because Tenea was the closest thing to a mother she had. Her foster mother had shown her little to no motherly affection when she had been a child; her foster father had used harsh words and blows and slaps to get his point across. Adem had always been their favourite, and when he died they blamed her for it. The truth, as she knew it now, did not excuse anything her foster parents had done -- but it had clarified many mysteries in her life.

  Her high tolerance for alcohol, for one. According to Ghia, full Magi couldn't get intoxicated from it at all, and there were, apparently, differing tolerances in human-Magi. Her fast healing capacity, for another. She had always recovered from scrapes and wounds with amazing speed, and the wound she'd received in Voco should have killed her, even with the healing store Ghia had given her. Then, her immense charisma, that made men and women pledge and give their lives for her. She'd had no idea what possessed the frenzied, passionate devotion that her regiment and her Honour Guard had for her, or what had driven Trent and Merrik to give their lives for her in her flight from Voco.

  Tears stung her eyes, and she knew they shone gold, as they always had during peak emotions. Now she knew why.

  She wanted the whole story, dammit!

  Not even Magea Rosa had been able to give them that. Upon her return from Aeril, Ghia had introduced her to her Magi mentor, and while the old Anala would have screamed, run the tree-being through with her sword, and set it on fire, the new Anala had just made a small "o" shape with her mouth and nodded, as if it was a normal, everyday occurrence to talk to trees. Perhaps for the devotees of the Meliae, it was, but she was not a priestess sworn to tree nymphs. She was a bellica whose most religious experiences consisted of praying for victory, blessing her sword, and occasionally blacking out during battle only to wake and find that she'd fought like the goddess Bellona Herself, which she could only assume was an instance of being possessed by a goddess or demi-goddess, unbelievable as that seemed. For the most part she did not talk to things that usually didn't talk back. Like trees. Or swords.

  There was a first time for everything, and this tree did talk back. With quite a lot of intelligence and a flair for conversation. Rosa was full of good advice for Anala's newly found Magi self, so the bellica had started going with Ghia to her training sessions and, more recently, to a few one-on-one sessions with Rosa. She wasn't getting the full gamut of magekal training that Ghia was receiving, for Rosa said her powers were not fully awakened, and most likely not the same as Ghia's, although they were as yet untested and unknown. Her Magi self was something Rosa had never seen before. Anala didn't know whether she should feel flattered or scared. She settled for a middle ground between the two.

  Presently the water in the shower shut off, and she heard footsteps as Aro got out. She didn't move, though she knew she should get up and shower herself. Aro stepped out of the bathroom then, wearing nothing more than a towel and some droplets of water on his skin. Seeing her still in bed, he laughed softly. "Wake up, you," he said, teasing.

  "I'd be awake," she said.

  "Then get up, lazybones," he said and ducked the pillows she flung at him. Then, before she could get up of her own volition, he picked her up and flung her over his shoulder. She flailed wildly, hitting his back with her hands and kicking her feet, trying to get him to let her go.

  "Put me down, Aro," she said, trying to keep the laughter from her voice. "Ye'd do it if ye'd know what was good fer ye."

  "Alright," he said, but they were already in the bathroom by that point. Gently he let her down, holding her close as he slid her naked body down against his damper one. When her feet hit the ground he kissed her fervently and held her tight. Anala wrapped her arms around his neck and surrendered to the embrace, wishing she'd awakened earlier, so they'd have more time alone.

  As if reading her thoughts, he broke off the kiss and spoke. "We have a few hours before the Ceremony," he whispered, nibbling her ear gently.

  "Aye, but ye've just showered."

  "I could shower again." He paused as he moved to nibble her other ear. "With you."

  She kissed his neck tenderly and shook her head. "As temptin as it'd be, today'd be a friend's birthday, and I'd only have this time ta spend with her." She looked at him pointedly.

  He sighed and nodded, letting her go so she could shower. "I hear and obey, Bellica," he said, only a little teasing in his tone.

  "Good," she said, and grabbed his towel from his waist. He protested and moved to grab it from her but she held it out of reach with one arm and held him back with the other, hand pressed flat against his bare chest. "Ye need ta get dressed, Major, and I'd be out o' clean ones besides," she said sweetly.

  He growled, pulled her close and kissed her again. "Have you know that towel was the only thing keeping me from ravishing you right here," he said against her lips.

  "Well, now it ken be me orders. Go. Get dressed." She gave his arm a light swat and Aro laughed.

  "Yes Ma'am," he said, saluting smartly and about-facing from her. "Foul temptress," he muttered, though not soft enough for her to miss it.

  "Aye," she said good-naturedly and, after admiring the view as he left the bathroom, climbed into the shower for a good, hot wash.

  ~

  Anala was well received by Yarrow once the other bellica stopped growling about being waked up so early and saw her gift.

  "It'd be eleven ante-meridian a'ready, Yarrow. Hardly early."

  Yarrow snarled at her and sat down at her desk, head in hands. "It is, when you're this hungover." Blearily she stared at her empty bed, a lack of comprehension on her face. "I could have sworn Caelum was in that bed last night," she said. "Or was I just that drunk?"

  "I'd not know," Anala said practically, kicking the door closed behind her. "Ye left the party far after we did."

  Yarrow snorted, an expression that took her entire body to make. "If you can call that a party. More like a bitch-fest for my family and me."

  "Aye, that it was." She grinned in the face of Yarrow's glare. "But I dinnae care much, fer it was a time when no one cared sa much about Anala the Harbourtown Cretin and her major -- or what her major may be ta her behind closed doors."

  Yarrow gave her the most sardonic look she'd ever given anyone, and then sighed and relaxed back in her chair. "Well, I'm glad someone had a good time. But your happiness is not helping my hangover nor my mood, so I hope you have something like a puppy, or -- better yet -- porn behind your back, because I need some cheering up."

  Anala shook her head, bringing the cloth-wrapped gift around from where she'd held it behind her. "Nothin' sa good as that -- but it'd be summat a hangover cure, ye ken."

  Yarrow took it from her hands, stared at it a moment, then ripped off the string and cloth as quickly as possible. Underneath was a bottle filled with a golden-brown drink that sparkled like liquid fire. "Pyra's Breath, aged 15 years," she read the label out loud. "From the Smoke River Distillery. Anala, this is...this is really nice," she said, looking up at the other bellica.

  "Happy Birthday," Anala said.

  Yar
row smiled and carefully placed the bottle on her desk before getting up and embracing her friend. "Thank you," she said, nothing but sincerity and real gratitude in her voice. "This is the best gift I've gotten in years." She let go of Anala and gripped the younger woman by the shoulders. "Let me shower and put your gift somewhere safe, and then we can go out for a late break fast."

  "Best idea I'd've heard all day."

  "Oh?" Yarrow tilted her head and raised her eyebrows, looking fairly impish. "Somehow I doubt that, if you waked up next to Aro this morning."

  "Well, if ye'd rather eat alone, I ken just get back to that other idea," Anala replied without missing a beat, and turned to go.

  "Not so fast, Bellica," Yarrow said, holding Anala back from the door and laughing. "It's my birthday and I order you to break fast with me."

  "Oh, well, when ye put it that way, how can I refuse? Go on, get yerself showered. I'll sit in yer chair and pretend I'm ye."

  Yarrow clapped Anala on the shoulder and headed to her bathroom, and soon Anala heard the water turn on from her perch in the chair that looked comfier than it was. "Oh, and can you contact Ghia too?" Yarrow yelled over the roar of the water. "I want her to break fast with us."

  "Sure thing!" Anala leaned back in the chair, trying to get comfortable for the first practical testing of her newfound Magi communication powers.

  Ghia, she sent, finding the thought pattern of the healer.

  Anala? I can barely hear you. What's going on? Ghia's voice was clear and strong in Anala's head, and she had to keep from jumping. It sounded like Ghia was in the room with her, speaking in a normal voice.

  Yarrow wants ye ta break fast with us. Are ye free?

  I will be soon. See you at her room in about 30.

  Aye, that'll do.

  The contact faded away.

  "Well, that was a mite easier than I'd thought it'd be," Anala said out loud and to no one in particular.

  The shower shut off sooner rather than later, and Yarrow was a sight to behold as she tore about her room in a towel, searching for clothes and shoes to put on. Still in her towel, she grabbed the bottle of Pyra's Breath and got down on all fours in front of her bed, where she proceeded to lift up a floor panel. Inside was a quarter full bottle of the same drink; Yarrow put the new bottle beside the old one and closed up the hidden compartment.

  "Ye know," Anala said, unable to resist, "it's not that I dinnae appreciate a nice view of a nude arse, but I dinnae ken it'd be yer intention to give me a private show."

  Yarrow got up and straightened her towel before going back to tearing through her clothing. "Nothing you haven't seen before, you old lech," she said with a wink at Anala. The other bellica snorted.

  Yarrow sifted through a pile of clothing on the floor, sniffing at each piece and throwing most of them into the laundry chute. Finding what Anala assumed was a clean shirt, Yarrow flung it onto her messy, unmade bed, before heading to her closet and dresser in search of something to put on her bottom. A flurry of curse words left her mouth as she flung out each piece of clothing onto the floor, none apparently suiting her.

  "So, ye think now that ye're thirty ye might actually grow up a bit?" Anala asked drolly, watching Yarrow's juvenile antics.

  "You should talk, Bellica 'Nice Arse, Yarrow'," Yarrow flung back, in good humor. "Be helpful if I knew how nicely I should dress."

  "How formal could it possibly be, Yarrow? We'd be going ta a tavern. I'm no exactly dressed fer fancy dining meself," she added, gesturing to her outfit, which she generally wore for traveling, hacking, and killing.

  "Yeah," Yarrow said, stopping her searching and grabbing a pair of pants, "you're right. Besides, I'll look good no matter what next to what you're wearing."

  "Another birthday present for ye."

  Yarrow started getting dressed in breeches and linen top. She was sitting on her bed, pulling on her boots, when there was a knock on the door. Anala opened it to reveal Ghia.

  "Happy Birthday, Yarrow," she said, stepping in to the now very messy room. "You wanted to see me?"

  Yarrow grunted as she pulled on her second boot and laced it, standing up and stamping her feet to get them to fit properly. "Damn right. It's my birthday and I want to spend it with my two closest girlfriends," she said, buckling on her sword belt and checking her boot knife.

  Ghia's eyes flickered from Yarrow's arsenal to Anala's, noting both bellicas carried at least one visible and one hidden sharp and pointy object. "I feel a little out of place," she commented with a small smile. "You both look as if you're dressed for war, and I'm just in a peplos and soft shoes."

  Yarrow shrugged. "Force of habit. You'll need a cloak, though -- here," and she shoved her spare wool cloak at the healer, whose arms were bare in her working peplos.

  "A'sides," Anala added to further ease Ghia's mind, "yer weapons'd be up here." She tapped the side of her head and smiled at her cousin.

  "I suppose," Ghia said as they headed out of the room and Yarrow closed and locked her door. "You really consider me one of your closest friends, Yarrow?"

  Yarrow shrugged, on Ghia's right side while Anala fell in on the left. "Okay, so I want to spend the morning with my cousins." She glanced at Anala. "Well, my cousin and my cousin's cousin. Or whatever the relationships are here; I can't keep them straight at this point."

  Ghia giggled and flung on the cloak while Anala answered. "I'd think friends should work. Ta the Cauldron then?" It seemed the obvious choice.

  Yarrow was looking at the ground and took a moment to answer. "Yeah, let's go...hold on. Ghia, do you own any other shoes?" She stopped, looking at Ghia's feet, which were adorned with soft leather slippers with no discernible protection for the soles.

  Ghia stopped too and looked at her feet. "No," she said, sounding self-conscious. "These suit me for most things, though they are getting rather worn."

  Yarrow shook her head in disbelief. "I can't believe I didn't notice before. You wore those to Harbourtown?" she asked, an incredulous note in her voice. At Ghia's nod she took off down the hallway again and the other two women followed, but instead of turning right they turned left. Anala raised her eyebrows at her superior officer, and Yarrow pointed down the hall to the door to Requisitioning.

  "That'd be against the rules, ye ken," Anala said, but there was no censure in her voice. Just a statement of fact.

  "Like I fecking care. Ghia needs some proper boots and I don't trust anything below military grade."

  At this Ghia protested, but ineffectually. "Yarrow, you don't have to get me any boots -- my shoes are fine, really. It's your birthday today; what are you doing, getting me a gift?" she said when it seemed nothing else would get through to the bellica.

  Yarrow just smiled. "Then consider this your belated birthday gift, as I didn't get you anything before, and your gift to me can be just accepting the damned boots and saying thank you. Okay?"

  Ghia's protests stammered to a stop and she stood gaping for a moment before blushing furiously and looking down at the floor. "Thank you, cuz."

  "You're welcome. Now, let's get you some boots and then get me some food. I'm fecking hungry."

  ~

  Sixteen hundred was not an hour that Anala welcomed with open arms. It heralded the beginning of the five-hour-long ceremony that would end with the solidifying of everyone's worst nightmare. The only ray of hope was that Yarrow planned to challenge the next day. But of course only the small team of rebels knew about that, so there was no hope, so far as anyone else could see.

  The ceremony started with a large, lavish supper, a feast that was meant to see everyone through the next three hours of ritual. Zardria and Zanny were not present for the dinner, as tradition dictated. Zardria's last meal as heir had been the night before, and her first meal as Empress would be supper that evening. Between the two she was to fast, to show her discipline and devotion to her reiaume. Zanny was expected to do the same in support of her heir.

  The feast took two hours for everyone to complete
. It was a twenty-course meal and the biggest of any of the traditional banquets. That evening's meal would be much smaller, though no less rich.

  At eighteen hundred everyone started to file into the Receiving Room, where the ceremony would begin at about half-past. Anala had the schedule memorised so she could count the minutes until it was over. There was some confusion as to where people were to sit, with courtiers jostling for front seats and military officers jostling for the back. Eventually the housekeeper, who was in charge of all organising of this huge event, got it sorted out and the courtiers were seated by rank on the right, the military on the left, and the back filled up by everyone else. Anala took her seat at the front between Major Caelum and her own. CMO Fanchone and the other ranking officers of her regiment sat directly behind her. To her left, beside Aro, were Anita and Leala, and to her right Yarrow occupied the aisle seat. The seating stretched that way all the way to the edge of the hall, where the bellica and majora of the tenth regiment sat, and then it started again on the far right, behind the first regiment. Behind the twenty regiments were the professionals -- guild leaders, healers, and the like.

  Beyond the aisle on Yarrow's right were the courtiers. The Ladies of Athering and their entourages -- larger than most regiments -- and families sat in the front; behind them were the Duchesses, and behind them were the considerably fewer Eorls. Anala glanced back and caught the eye of Eorl Gray, and the two exchanged a nod. Beyond the Eorls were the rest of the professionals and a large gathering from the Temple, though the Mother Superior and a High Priestess would be doing the ceremony.