by Jackie Dana
After a long, drawn out bath in which the women insisted on scrubbing every inch of her with stiff brushes until she cried out, she was finally allowed to dress, and then they led her to Rynar’s quarters. While it felt good to be clean for the first time in a week, she would have preferred to handle her own grooming, and she certainly wished she could be alone in her own quarters now. Since the choice had not been left to her, she wasn’t in a particularly charitable mood.
“Where did you go, precisely? I understand you didn’t make it to Terralin, as I had instructed.” His voice was accusatory, as if she had done something terribly wrong by not going where he sent her. He was leaning against the fireplace, his arms crossed in front of him, and his eyes bore down on her. “I feared you had been killed.”
Kate kept her head down, not wanting to look at him. When she didn’t respond, Rynar continued. “Were you injured?”
Slowly she tipped her head back to look at him. “No, I’m fine,” she snapped. She was annoyed with him, and indeed with the whole situation as it had unfolded, and wasn’t in the mood to hide it. Then she dropped her gaze back to the fire. “I don’t see why it matters to you, anyway.”
“Perhaps you misunderstand the seriousness of the situation. You returned just now with the Dosedra, your gown covered in dried blood and torn beyond recognition, and your feet cut to ribbons. The Vosira will demand an explanation.”
“Well, if he asks, I’ll give him one,” she replied sharply. She was exhausted, her body ached all over, and she could hardly think straight. The last thing she needed was an interrogation from someone she barely knew, to whom she had no obligations. Whatever fondness she might have felt for the handsome stranger had disappeared over the past few days. Arric had been honest and forthright; Rynar was clearly playing at something, and acted as if he held most of the cards.
Her response caused him to clench his fists. It wasn’t clear why he cared about her whereabouts so much, but her refusal to offer any answers seemed to enrage him, and he could barely keep his emotions under control. What was obvious was that he was used to getting what he wanted, and wasn’t pleased by her lack of cooperation. “Is that all you have to say?”
“Yeah, I really don’t want to talk about this now. I’d like go back to my room.”
“Aye, of course you would.” He taunted her now. “However, before that can happen, you must account for yourself. Two points that must be addressed: first, why it is that you returned in the Dosedra’s company, and second, whose blood was on your clothing? You know that the Vosira will want to know what happened.”
She lifted her head again and shot him an angry glance. “You mean, you want to know.”
“Aye, that I do.” He crossed his arms, and circled around her. “And is that so unreasonable? I did everything to look after you when you arrived, and tried to ensure your safety. Yet, even though you knew about the Dosedra’s past, and everything he’s done, you still chose to be in his company, and you now refuse to explain how that happened, or where you went.” He shook his head, disappointed. “That fact alone could mean trouble for you, and I need you to explain yourself before things get any worse.”
“I didn’t plan any of this,” she countered. “You’re the one who sent me away. I just happened to run into him on my way back to the city, and he offered to escort me to the keep.”
“You expect me to believe you randomly met him just outside the city gates—twice?”
“I don’t expect anything.” She wanted to fight him back, but instead she found herself starting to drift off, and had to close her eyes and take a deep breath before she could continue. She didn’t think she had been this exhausted in her entire life. Riding Trill back to Loraden had sapped every bit of strength, and it was all she could do to walk into the keep and get cleaned up without passing out. Even as she was feeling queasy from exhaustion, she added, “you’re free to believe whatever you like.”
He exhaled sharply, and watched her for a moment without responding. He must have finally realized that in her current state, she was unlikely to cooperate further. “Very well. As long as you promise that he didn’t hurt you, we will discuss it in the morning.”
“Of course he didn’t hurt me. I’m fine.” She was surprised that he had relented so quickly. “I’m just,” she yawned again, and leaned her head against the back of the chair, “really tired.” She closed her eyes and within seconds had fallen fast asleep.
Chapter 29
When she awoke, she was back in her own room. The shutter was half-open, and from the look of the sun she guessed it was nearly noon. She jumped out of bed, her heart racing. In Sarducia she had already come to understand that there was no such thing as ‘sleeping late.’ In a land without electricity, it was foolish to sleep during the day, when there was natural light. Regardless of how late you stayed up, when dawn came, you were expected to already be awake and ready to start the day.
As her feet hit the stone floor, she expected to feel the sharp pain from the blisters that covered the soles of her feet, but felt nothing. Hobbling on her right leg, she lifted up her left foot.
“What in the world?” She exclaimed as she wiggled her toes. The blisters were entirely gone. Confused, she pushed up the sleeves of her gown—the random briar scratches were gone as well. Even childhood scars seemed a bit fainter, if such a thing were possible. “What the hell happened?”
The last thing she recalled was falling asleep in a chair in the Aldrish’s room, but now she was back in her own. As she looked around, everything seemed just as she had remembered it. To her eyes, the only things new to the room were the meat pie and wine sitting on a tray near the fire, and a pair of new gowns in the wardrobe. One was a woolen gown of rust with yellow and green embroidery; the other was a formal gown of dark blue.
She decided on the rust gown, as the simpler of the two garments, and after she slipped it over her head and worked to lace up the bodice, she realized it fit much better than the other dresses she had worn here in the keep, though it was less comfortable than the one from the Sarnoc. However, it was also more flattering, as it had full sleeves that reached to the edge of her palm, and the fullness of the skirt started just below her hips. It was lightly scented with roses, and was as soft as flannel against her skin. Someone had gone to considerable trouble to have this dress made specifically for her. Was this Rynar’s doing?
Her mind went back to their confrontation the night before. She had thought him angry then—but perhaps he had simply been worried? After all, he had been looking after her, even if his reasons for doing so were unknown. Despite his efforts, she had for all intents and purposes vanished into thin air. The idea made her laugh, since for once that description wasn’t far from the truth.
Back to the more mundane issues at hand, however. As she nibbled on the meat pie, she reflected on her current situation. Without any explanation forthcoming, she was still in Sarducia, a land with expectations that she couldn’t begin to fathom. She still wasn’t entirely sure what was going on and why people were so interested in her, but perhaps the Sarnoc were right: maybe she could do some good. But to do that, she needed to stop passively floating along, waiting for something to happen to her.
And now was as good a time as any to start figuring things out.
Since Rynar hadn’t yet arrived to pounce on her for another round of interrogations, she sought out a pair of slippers stashed in the corner of the chest, splashed some water on her face, and headed out into the hallway before he could catch up to her.
She saw a few charnok gathered at the corner, but otherwise it was remarkably quiet. She circled the hallway, running into no one she knew. There were servants and Senvosra, but not a single member of the Bhagali. In her idle wandering, she went down the stairs to the main level of the keep, and noticing the gate to the gardens was open, slipped inside.
Roses were blooming, bright yellow and red antique blossoms lending their sweet fragrance to each corner of the courtyard ga
rden. A stand of sunflowers sprung up by a small reflecting pool favored by a pair of cardinals. Tall spikes of rosemary cordoned off a small herb garden, with a stone path leading to pale green sage, sprawling tufts of thyme with specks of white flowers, and a great patch of peppermint. In one corner lemongrass whispered in the caress of the light breeze, dancing with the lavender flowers of a clump of skullcap, and dangling from the branches of a pomegranate bush hung small fruits like upside-down jesters’ caps.
There were two women working in the garden, both bent down in newly-turned soil the color of rich chocolate. When she approached, they looked over their shoulders at the newcomer.
“Interested in helping us, Bhara?” one of the women asked. She had dark brown hair loosely pulled into a knot high on her head, and her woolen gown was streaked with bits of dirt and dead leaves despite the long apron she wore.
Kate recognized her immediately, and was at a loss for words. Lacking anything coherent to say, she attempted to drop into a curtsy that ended up turning out all wrong, and she lost her balance. “Bhavosa,” she finally murmured as she regained her footing.
“Ah, Bhara, it is good to see you again.” Bryll smiled warmly at Kate as she wiped her hands on her apron and nodded to her companion. “It’s Bhara Kate, a guest of Aldrish Rynar,” she explained. Then she waved to indicate her friend, a woman about the same age as herself. Like Bryll, this woman had dark hair, though her features were much plainer. While the Bhavosa had a long, straight, elegant nose set between bright golden eyes, and flawless creamy skin with a hint of blush on her cheeks, this woman was sallow, her plump face showing a few creases at her mouth and eyes. However, her smile was wide, and her expression seemed genuine. “Bhara Kate, this Bhara Gysalia. She is wife to Bhagal Ulvicar.”
Kate smiled in return and nodded, though she had no idea who Bhagal Ulvicar was. “I’m pleased to meet you, Bhara.”
“And you, Bhara Kate. Welcome to our city. Tell me, have you been shown proper Loraden hospitality?”
Kate chose the gracious way out. “Yes, everyone has been very kind.”
Bhavosa Bryll smiled, nodding her head politely in appreciation. “That is good to hear. I would have to take the Aldrish to task if I were to learn he was anything but a proper host and gentleman.” She winked at Kate, and then waved her hand to the soil behind her. “We are planting new roses. A couple of the bushes succumbed to some terrible blight, and I hope these new ones will fare better. Are you interested in gardening, Bhara?”
She had always enjoyed working in the garden, her mother’s green thumb having rubbed off on her. Not wanting to dwell on sad thoughts of her mother, she forced her eyes to bounce around and take in the effect of the entire garden instead. “Are you responsible for all of this?”
Bryll laughed, a hearty woman’s laugh, not the giggle of a girl. “Ah, this represents the work of many. I am just a small link in a long tradition of women working in the gardens. Gysalia and I do oversee what is planted here, though, and I’d like to think I have made my share of improvements over the years. Many of the Bharani come here to assist us. You, Bhara, must consider joining us some morning.”
“Yeah, I’d like that. I’m just surprised. I would have thought servants would do all this work.”
“Servants?” Bryll said with her lips spread wide in a beautiful smile. “How could we ever trust them to do it all right? Nay, my lady. It is one of the tasks of the Bhavosa to ensure the gardens are maintained. Of course there are servants who help haul materials for us, but we care for the plants, and occasionally get to choose new roses for the trellises.”
From behind a hedge of rosemary, another woman stood and walked over to them. “Bhavosa, who is this lovely lady?” she asked, bowing her head politely to her. Like the queen, this woman wore no gloves, though a pair was tucked into the waistband of her apron. Her hair, dark and very curly, was pulled away from her face in a simple ponytail, though several curls had escaped and framed her face with their softness. While Bhavosa Bryll had an elegant beauty about her, this woman, a bit younger, was simply breathtaking. She was tall and slender, with skin as smooth and clear as porcelain. Even with a bit of perspiration dangling at her eyebrows and a smudge of dirt on her graceful nose, this was a woman whom others envied, for she needed no jewels or fancy clothing to outshine her companions.
“Bhara Merel, this is Bhara Kate.”
“Oh, the woman who just recently traveled with the Dosedra?” Merel said with surprise. “I have heard of you.”
“Really?” Kate replied, not trying to hide her surprise. “I didn’t really expect that anyone would know who I was.” So this was the woman Arric had been in love with, once, and perhaps still was.
In a second her eyes swept across Kate from head to toe, and she wrenched her mouth to the side. “My lady,” she asked, “would you walk with me for a moment?”
Kate nodded, suddenly feeling awkward. “Sure, I guess…”
Meanwhile, Merel tipped her head to the Bhavosa. “Would you mind?”
Bryll gave silent assent with a simple wave of her hand.
Leaving the other two women sitting on a nearby bench, Kate and Merel walked slowly to the rear of the garden, where late summer annuals bloomed profusely. Zinnias, asters, and cosmos, in shades of yellow, purple, pink, red and orange crowded together in a tiny plot along with varieties she did not recognize.
Merel leaned over and snipped a cactus-flowered zinnia between her fingertips, twirling the bloom in her hand. “I have not had a chance to speak with Dosedra Arric since he returned from Froida. I was devastated to have missed the quantrill, but I was not in Loraden at the time.” She blinked, and then asked, “how does he fare these days?”
So she was planning to pump her for information? Knowing that, but not fully understanding the stakes, Kate was on her guard. “He’s well,” she replied honestly, but vaguely. “A bit tired, though, I suppose.”
“I understand you spent some time with him since his return. I hope you don’t think me too bold, but is there anything between the two of you?”
Kate laughed lightly, feeling a bit awkward to have the question asked of her. “No, not at all. He just escorted me back to Loraden.”
Merel hardly heard her words. “I wonder if he’s changed much. When I knew him, he was so charming and lively—and so strong.” There was a bit of a dreamy quality in her voice as she played out old memories. “You know we were promised to one another once, not long before he left for Hansar. We would have wed, but with his father’s death, and then his decision to leave, the timing was not in our favor. I consoled myself by thinking that he put off ceremony because the wanted to spare me the pain of his absence and the unknown dangers he would face. Now that he has returned, I wonder if he’s changed much.”
As Merel spoke, there was just the slightest twinge in Kate’s stomach, and it caught her by surprise. She smiled despite a bit of annoyance at herself. “Not knowing him before, it’s hard to say if he’s changed, but he seems quite nice. He has been through a lot, though, you know.”
“Aye, of course.” She had stopped twirling the flower. “He is still… handsome, though, is he not? Those despicable Froidans didn’t—”
Kate bit back a laugh. This woman was at least as old as her, possibly older, and yet there was still a trace of adolescent infatuation. “Well, he does have a few scars—you knew he had been wounded, of course—but he’s generally in good shape from what I can tell. I mean,” she added quickly, lest her words be misconstrued, “I don’t think there’s anything you’d need to worry about.”
She sighed, relieved. “I’m glad to hear it. I was worried, of course, because he had not sought me out since he returned. I thought perhaps he was ashamed.” She began to slowly walk again towards the other two women.
“No, I’m sure that’s not it at all, Merel.” Kate made a point of saying the woman’s name, as if it would create a bond between them. She liked this woman, and set aside her jealousy as misp
laced. She had no claim on the Dosedra, after all, and never would. The last thing she would want would be to interfere with his personal life. “Why wait for him to find you? Maybe you should look for him. I’m sure he’d be glad to see you, and know you still care about him.”
Merel, blushed slightly at the suggestion. “I couldn’t do that. You see, I married while he was gone.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Nay, it is not like that at all. My husband, Bhagal Chirval, died two years ago.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“I don’t know how Arric would think of me as a widow.”
Bhara Merel looked, and sounded, as little like a widow as Kate could imagine. “While I’d hardly consider myself an expert where he’s concerned, I’m sure he still cares for you, and I doubt what happened in his absence would matter now.”
“Why, what a kind thing to say, Bhara Kate.” She smiled with a new contentment. They had returned to the other women by this point, and they ceased their whispered conversation. Bhara Merel nodded to Bryll, and asked, “Bhavosa, you have invited this lovely lady to attend tonight, have you not?”
“A good point, Merel.” Bhavosa Bryll blinked her eyes once, and then asked Kate, “you will join us this evening, I hope?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she responded. “I haven’t really had a chance to talk to anyone since I returned. What’s happening this evening?”
Gysalia had been wearing a pair of tight leather gardening gloves, and she pulled them now from her fingers, allowing Kate to see the sparkle of a flawless ruby set in a glysar band. “You returned to Loraden at a good time, my dear. There will be a consort from Tralys here to perform for Vosira Bedoric, and the meal shall be quite splendid. Oh, and of course there will be dancing. You certainly don’t want to miss it!”