by Jackie Dana
That made him nod, with a quick grin. “It depends. As the Bhagali go, he is one of the most able men on the Council, though we don’t always see eye-to-eye on political matters. As a dinner companion, however…” He didn’t finish the comment, instead using that moment to sip his quinsa. “You deserve better, and I apologize for leaving you with him.”
“So do you make it your job to rescue women from boring conversations?” she teased.
“Only the most interesting ones, my dear Kate.” He tipped his head in the direction of the head table. “I see my Vosira continues to enjoy himself,” he said sarcastically, referring to the way the man was lurching to one side, with a goblet in one hand and a pastry in the other. His dancing, she realized, had ended after the second tune, though his wife was still out on the floor. “I do not understand why he allows drink to cloud his mind and make him appear so foolish.” He scanned the crowd, and added, almost too casually, “I wonder if his brother takes after him?”
“You don’t know?”
“Ah, no, I know little about his habits, as I wasn’t acquainted with him prior to his departure for Froida all those years ago.” He finished his goblet and set it on the table behind him. “There will be plenty of opportunities to talk about this later. For now, how about another dance?”
***
“You’re not welcome here.”
The man’s voice was loud and carried over the musicians and all of the conversations in the room, causing most people to stop and stare.
Kate and Rynar both craned their necks to see what was happening, though the rapidly gathering crowd blocked their view.
Apparently someone responded, for the first man continued. “I will not. I have every right to speak my mind.”
There were more indiscernible accusations and responses, muffled by the numerous conversations of those in the crowd. Another man raised his voice above the din of the crowd, calling someone a coward, and everyone fell silent.
“Oh gods,” Rynar mumbled under his breath. “Koldren, of all men. I do not believe it. Stay here,” he cautioned her and then headed towards the disturbance.
Kate glanced to the head table, where, like everyone else, the Vosira was standing, trying to see what was happening. As she watched, he raised his hand towards the group of Senvosra soldiers at the door, suggesting they should not interfere.
Even so, the argument was escalating rapidly, as several others joined in, though she could only catch bits and pieces. One man shouted, “Everyone else sees it that way!” though there was no reference to what he referred to. By now the musicians had stopped playing, and nearly everyone in the hall had gathered around to witness the incident.
“That’s a lie!” another man replied, though not as loudly. “That’s not what happened. If you—”
That comment, whatever it meant, simply set off more shouting, now from a number of men in rapid succession. “When we go to war with Hansar, it will be on your shoulders!”
“Other men would have destroyed the rebels.”
“Why are you here, and not any of your men?”
The accusations flew fast, and by now no one in the room—not even Kate—had any remaining doubts about the nature of the argument, or who was the object of the hostility. A group of Bhagali, clearly having had too much quinsa, had decided to speak their minds to the Dosedra. From what she had learned, the accusations seemed justified, though it seemed inappropriate to air their grievances at the very party celebrating the man’s return. Then a thought occurred to her. What if Rynar, or the Vosira, expected this to happen? Had this been the plan all along?
There was no time to contemplate a conspiracy, as the argument continued to build.
“You live only because you abandoned your own men to the Froidans.” It was a new voice. “You had no right to return here.”
“And I swear to you that none of that’s true!”
“Liar!” There was a sudden movement, and it looked as though someone swung a punch, which was met with an equal reaction. Only the swift movements of other men in the crowd were able to stop a full-fledged fight from erupting.
Rynar had been standing beyond the edge of the crowd observing, but now he slapped his hands together. “Men, stop this immediately!” He now worked his way to the middle of the crowd, and climbed up onto a bench. “The Dosedra had every right to return home. After the Council has had time to meet and discuss matters further, we will decide if any action needs to be taken. For now, we are celebrating his safe return, as the son of Vosira Parmon and brother to Vosira Bedoric. That is all that any of you need concern yourselves with tonight.”
A woman called out from one of the tables. “Ask him if he’ll accept the words of the Prophet.”
“Aye. Aldrish,” a man nearby agreed. “He must agree to follow the Prophet’s teachings.”
The crowd had dispersed slightly, perhaps because of Rynar’s statement, or perhaps because they realized the Aldrish would not allow the argument to end in bloodshed. Turning to the man demanding his religious conversion, the Dosedra shook his head. “Nay, Bhagal Avir, I will do no such thing. I still believe in our gods, and the work of the Sarnoc, who strive to protect this land.”
“Bah,” Avir replied explosively. Pointing his finger at the Dosedra, he was undeterred. “What will you say about your gods and the Sarnoc when the Hansar navy lands on our shores and lays siege to Loraden?”
“Enough.” Rynar had stepped down from the bench and now was pushing the men apart. “This is not the time or place for such a conversation. Avir, please return to your wife,” he suggested, waving his hand to the rear of the room. “And Koldren? I know you’re not fond of quinsa. Why don’t you join me for some ale, at my table?”
Chapter 7
At the end of the evening, Kate was grateful for Rynar’s offer to escort her to her room. Arwyn had been right—the quinsa was deceptively strong, and she felt rather dizzy. Walking down the hall was simple enough, but she stumbled a few times on the stairs. Why did the women have to wear these long dresses, anyway? They just made things more complicated. She expected she could revolutionize this world with a few pairs of blue jeans.
After she tripped on her hem the second time, Rynar offered her his arm for support. When they reached the landing to the second floor, he hesitated. Taking a step away, he observed her for a moment, more out of amusement than concern, as if trying to decide how much quinsa she had consumed. “You seem to have enjoyed yourself quite a bit this evening.”
“Is that your way of saying I’m drunk?”
“Not at all. Still, I may be able to help with the dizziness, if you wish to accompany me back to my quarters for a moment.”
In her intoxicated state, she found herself reading ulterior motives into his request, and she hesitated. Was he hitting on her? With a quick grin, she wondered if maybe Arwyn was wrong about him. “I’m not sure. I mean, I don’t know you that well.”
“My dear, if I understand your meaning, I wish nothing of the sort from you,” he said, an amused look on his face. “Come, join me for a short while.”
When they arrived at his quarters, the room was dark, but Rynar coaxed a fire from the coals, which this time had not gone cold, and then lit a couple of candles. From her chair, she noticed that he had taken the time to tidy up the piles of parchment and books on the table, and now a tray with a thin ceramic bottle and two small wooden cups took up much of the cleared space. Before speaking, he filled the two cups and brought one to her, and then pulled up a stool and sat facing her.
“What do you think of Loraden so far?”
She opened her mouth as if to answer, but then leaned back without responding. The question seemed too difficult in her current state of mind. Instead, she took a sip from her small cup. She expected wine, but this was different, like a tonic. It was bitter, but not at all unpleasant.
“I imagine it is much different here from what you’re used to,” he said, filling in the silence.
&nb
sp; “Yeah, it is,” she agreed, her words slurring a bit. Before she could offer more details, she felt the room starting to spin, and she closed her eyes.
“Drink up,” he admonished her. “It will make you feel better.”
“Why, what is it?” she asked, as she cradled the cup between her hands and looked inside at the pale yellow liquid.
“It’s a tea made from the bark of arginon bushes,” he said. “It’s an old Sarnoc remedy for when you’ve had too much to drink.”
“Oh.” A magic potion? Whatever it was, her queasy stomach and achy head offered all the encouragement she needed. She tipped the cup back and drank the rest of it. Then she leaned her head back against the chair and took a deep breath.
Taking the cup from her, he set it on the stone hearth beside him. Then he got up and shuffled papers around, or at least that was what she heard, as she continued to sit quietly with her eyes closed. She was certain that if she opened her eyes she’d throw up.
A few minutes later she felt the warmth of his fingertips as he gently cradled her chin. “How do you feel now?”
She opened her eyes, and blinked a few times rapidly. The onset of a headache had been forestalled, and she realized she was no longer dizzy or queasy at all. “Wow, you know, I feel a lot better.” She tipped her head from side to side, and rolled her shoulders. The soreness in her neck she attributed to her recent stress had abated as well. “That stuff worked really fast.”
“Aye, it does.” He pulled the stool closer, and sat down again. “Now. I need to explain some things.” He leaned forward. “Tomorrow there will be a long Council meeting and I will not be available until late in the day. If I had a choice, I’d prefer to spend the day with you. But with the Dosedra’s return, and that incident at the quantrill in particular, I expect it will be a long day.”
“Why?”
He tilted his head forward slightly. “Why—what?”
Boldly, she asked, “I mean, why would you rather spend the day with me? You don’t know anything about me.”
He seemed taken aback by the question. “You’re my guest, and new to Loraden. Surely you’d like someone to show you around the city proper.”
“Of course I would, but why would you take the time, given your position and all? I guess what I’m asking is, why are you so interested in me?”
“Ah. My dear, you traveled from quite a different place to be here. I simply wish to learn more about you, and help you acclimate to our customs. Unfortunately, so much has happened all at once, with your arrival and now the Dosedra’s, and I cannot afford you the attention your visit deserves.” He leaned forward and stirred the fire. “I’m certain you have many more questions, but they will have to wait until I deal with the other matters.”
Although she was still a bit suspicious of his motives, on the surface his explanation made sense, so she decided not to press further. Instead, she asked, “do you really think the Dosedra is dangerous? From what I could see, he’s rather unpopular. It didn’t seem like he was looking for trouble as much as everyone else was. So maybe he’s not the threat you expected him to be?”
He leaned back and squared his shoulders. “Aye, it seemed much the same to me, but the sons of Parmon should never be underestimated. It will be interesting to hear his own version of what happened in Froida, and where he’s been all these years.”
She yawned. Rynar took that as a signal and stood up, dusting a bit of fireplace ash from his tights. “My dear Kate, it’s late, and you must be exhausted after such a busy day. It was selfish of me to keep you awake with this conversation.”
“I’m not that tired,” she said with a grin, though she had to admit to herself that it was becoming difficult to keep her eyes open.
“Aye, you are.” He stood up and offered her his hand. “Come with me.” He led her into the adjoining room, where a large bed took up the wall across from the fire. “Why don’t you sleep here tonight? It’s warm, and I’ll be close by in case you need anything.”
Sleep… here? Was he propositioning her after all? “And you?”
“Don’t worry about me, my dear. I have a bit of work still to do, so go ahead and make yourself comfortable.” He reached inside a wardrobe. “I have extra blankets,” he said, and to demonstrate tossed a couple of blankets to the stone floor. “I’ll make myself comfortable out there.”
“You mean, on the floor? No, that’s silly. I don’t want to take your bed.” Confused, and perhaps a little disappointed, she half-heartedly offered, “I can return to my own room.”
“If you prefer. I shall be working either way.” He scooped up his blankets and returned to the other room, where he pulled out a chair at the table.
She turned in his direction, and then back to the bed, which, piled as it was with pillows, looked far more inviting than the simple mattress in her own room. She was absolutely exhausted from this long, confusing day, and she didn’t think she could manage a hike back to her own room, so she took him up on the offer.
Chapter 8
They could hear his voice a block away.
Standing atop a large wooden crate was a stick-figure of a man shouting out to the crowd. “We must root out the evil within our midst!” He bellowed in a surprisingly deep voice as he gestured with his arm around the square. “It is all around us, and we must learn to recognize it and banish it from our lives!”
***
That morning, she had awoken to an empty room. Wearing only her linen shift, she wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and stepped to the outer chamber. It didn’t take long to notice that not only had Rynar already left for the council meeting, there was no evidence that he had ever even slept in his quarters.
Uncertain what to do with herself, she had helped herself to some grapes on a tray and then stepped over to the scattered papers and books on the table. There was a wide sheet of parchment spread out in the center, with small handwriting covering the top half, and a broken goose quill caked with dried ink off to one side.
It looked as though he had been in the middle of writing something but then had left in a hurry.
The script was difficult to read, but remarkably, the words themselves were not foreign to her. From the few words she could make out, it appeared to be a brief recounting of the Dosedra’s return. Rubbing her chin absently, she wondered if the account was really worth staying up all night to compose.
It was then she noticed the first dress she had worn was laid out across a chair, and she quickly slipped it back on, grateful for the feel of the soft wool against her skin. Once properly attired, she turned back to the tray of food and procured a hunk of bread, scooping a dollop of the soft butter to spread on it.
Walking over to the window, she opened the shutter and gazed down into the courtyard, where a dozen soldiers engaged in training exercises. Even from the fourth floor she could easily hear the men shouting, the clang of metal against metal, and the thud as swords hit shields. The activity was more than likely a routine, mundane element of life here, but to her it was unexpected and exciting.
Even after all she had seen so far, Kate still hadn’t come to terms with where she was, or how she had arrived here. No longer did she think it was a pretend world created by her family, yet at the same time, how could it be real? She wasn’t enamored by the garderobes that served as toilets, with the wooden bench with a hole cut out offering a significant challenge to someone wearing a long dress. With the windows shuttered, most rooms were dark, smoky and a bit stuffy from all of the candles and torches, and she wondered why none had glass. If this was a dream, why invent such details? In many ways she felt trapped, and although the adventure was intriguing, with so many unanswered questions, it also remained rather intimidating.
She was occupied with these thoughts, and absent-mindedly nibbling on the bread, when Rynar charged into the room.
As he rushed past her to reach a large wooden chest, she had to jump backwards to avoid him knocking her over. “What’s going on?”
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br /> “We must go into the city,” he announced, and retrieved his scabbard and belt. He waved for her follow him as he went into the main room, hurriedly buckling the sword around his waist. “I need you to get ready as quickly as possible.”
Sensing the urgency of his request, she slipped her feet into her leather slippers. “Is something wrong?” she asked as she tied them at her ankles.
“Aye.” He glanced over to the table, and slid the document he had been writing under others. “The Dosedra left the city before daybreak, and has not returned to attend the Council meeting.”
“What does that mean?”
He stared down his nose at her, just as a teacher might do to a recalcitrant student. “Surely it is not that hard to understand?” he replied curtly, stepping already to the door and waving over his shoulder for her to follow him. “He’s up to something. Let’s go.”
***
Now they were in the city beyond the walls of the keep, and she was staring as the man standing atop the crate drew a crowd around him.
With silent determination, Rynar grabbed Kate’s hand slowly and led her through the press of the gathering crowd in the open-air marketplace. They passed rows of wooden stalls filled with various goods for sale: vegetables at one table, cheese and bread at others. There was a man who had metal trinkets spread out on blankets and hanging from crossed poles, and another who had burlap sacks filled with beans and grain. Waiting for an opening in the crowed, they were forced to pause momentarily beside a table with trays of glassy-eyed fish that stared blankly at the spectacle in the square, the blood of their predecessors creeping like rust across the wooden facades of the market stalls, and fish guts pooling in the street.
Meanwhile the man continued his preaching. He was dressed in old clothing with frayed edges, his shirt sewn from a roughly woven cloth, and hanging loosely from his shoulders. In this regard his attire was not dissimilar from many in the crowd, which was a mix of merchants, townspeople and farmers. Unlike the others in the square, the man’s head was shrouded in a heavy black hood that hid everything except his large roman nose that protruded from the hood like a shark fin.