by A K Fedeau
Every now and then, Livia wondered if she had a Shurka ancestor. Sometimes she saw herself in a jeweler or trader’s tawny skin and light blue eyes, the way she saw herself in Kadithan shepherds and Histrian palace guards.
In the late afternoon, the map led her onto a winding, wooded path, and uncertainty stewed in her gut as the shadows grew long and the horse slowed down. The brush grew thicker. The leaves grew bigger. The horse snorted as it stepped on sticks and rocks. Before long, the trees became so dense, they blotted out the sun - and when she tried to guide the horse through a thicket, it stopped dead in its tracks.
“Nrgh,” Livia grunted. “Come on.”
The horse whinnied and shook its head.
Livia bashed some of the foliage aside with her bow. “Seriously?”
The horse snorted again, then climbed over a fallen trunk.
Finally, Livia reached a moss-covered marking stone, so old that the writing on its face had worn away. Livia reined the horse, slid out of the saddle, and kicked some branches out of the way - and she spied a patch of manicured grass in a clearing up ahead.
Mira’s blood. Livia’s eyes widened. Am I onto something after all?
“Shh.” She tied the reins to the stone. “Don’t go anywhere. I won’t be long.”
•••
Livia found the convent nestled in the edge of a small, green field, with a round portico and shady eaves and ivy on the walls.
She crept down the dirt path that led to a fruit grove and fishpond, and kept her hand tight on her bow as she approached the double doors. Without lowering her hood, she stood still, and listened for signs of life - but she heard nothing. No movement. No voices. Just a gentle breeze.
This is too well-kept. Livia frowned. Someone has to be here.
So she raised her fist and banged three times on the old, dark door.
The thunk-thunk-thunk of the wood resonated through the portico, and when no one answered, Livia sighed and shuffled away. But just as she stepped onto the grass, the iron handles groaned, and she turned around to find two sisters in starched white cornettes.
Livia blinked at them. They blinked back. None of the three said a word. So finally, Livia stepped closer, like approaching a pair of deer.
“Hello?”
The tall sister whispered to the short one with her hand over her mouth.
“Is this the Convent of Mira’s Wisdom?” Livia asked.
The tall sister asked, “Who are you?”
“That’s not important.” Livia crossed her arms. “I’m here to speak to Mother Clementia.”
The sisters murmured to each other again.
“I don’t mean her any harm,” Livia said. “I just want to talk to her.”
The short sister’s eyes widened. “Then why do you have a bow?”
“I’m an agent of Queen Delphinia. I’m here to tell Mother Clementia she’s dead.”
The sisters took a timid step back. “Oh.”
“Now, you can either let me in, or you can give her the message yourselves. But I didn’t ride all the way here to…”
A sagely voice echoed from inside. “Let her in.”
The sisters froze, then glanced at each other, straightened their backs, and stepped aside. A tall, stately old woman emerged, with a smooth, dark face under her cornette. The gold trim on her cuffs and shoulder cape glinted in the sun, and gold tassels dangled from the red sash around her waist.
“Now,” she said, “what’s this about Queen Delphinia?”
•••
Mother Clementia led Livia down a long, marble hallway, and soft patches of sun fell on them from the skylights over their heads.
“How long has this place been here?” Livia asked.
“It’s as old as the hills, I’m sure.”
“You don’t know exactly?”
“No.” Clementia’s hem swished along the floor. “It was here before I was born, and it’ll be here after me, too. When you live in a place like this long enough, you tend to lose track of time.”
As they passed an open doorway, Livia peeked inside, and saw a circle of sisters in debate with books in their laps. They passed another, and Livia found a choir practicing a song - a repetitive minor strain that echoed through the walls.
“How did you know Delphinia?” Clementia asked.
“That’s my business.”
“You don’t need to be evasive, dear.” Clementia folded her hands behind her back. “I know she had spies. Every ruler does. It comes with the job.”
Livia said nothing.
“So how long did you work for her?” Clementia gently pressed again.
Livia’s shoulders tensed. “Twelve years.”
“Goodness. No wonder she sent you.”
“That, and I know how to find a place that’s not on a map.”
“Noticed that, did you?” Clementia paused in front of an arched wooden door. “After the coup, we thought it was best for the convent to disappear. Hector had eyes and ears everywhere. We weren’t sure how thorough his search would be.” She searched for a key on the gold chatelaine on her waist. “So yes, we’re safe out here, for now. Though I admit, it does get lonely sometimes. The last time we had a visitor was a young man eight years ago.”
“You mean the dead Syndicate lieutenant.”
“Oh, he’s alive.” Clementia smiled to herself. “But trust me, he’s not going to say anything.”
“You seem awfully sure of that.”
“When I entered this order, I had to take a set of vows. Sobriety. Austerity. To do all things in the image of Titus and Mira.” Clementia finally found the right key and stuck it in the lock. “To not threaten poor criminals who’ve seen something they shouldn’t have, and not blackmail them into keeping the secret.” She smirked. “Delphinia did not.”
Livia stifled a snicker and kept her thoughts to herself.
Clementia turned the key and pushed the door open, and ushered Livia through a garden with a long, winding stone path. Livia admired the bougainvillea and yellow crocuses, and when she passed the fountain, rosemary and basil tickled her nose.
“I realize I don’t know your name,” Clementia said, as she escorted Livia inside.
“I didn’t give it.”
“Could you?”
“Livia.”
“Oh.” Clementia’s face softened. “Of course. That makes perfect sense.”
“Does it?”
“You saved her life during the coup.” Clementia strolled past a laundry room full of white robes. “You don’t think she’d trust you with something important?”
Livia bowed her head. “I think she would’ve trusted me more if I’d saved them all.”
“Hector descended on that family with a fury Histria’s never seen before. The fact that you saved anyone was a miracle.” Clementia turned into the next corridor. “I know Titus and Mira don’t involve themselves in people’s lives, but sometimes they still wink at us.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
Clementia kept walking. “You’re a skeptic?”
“I don’t know what I am.”
“Seems to me like the sort of thing a woman should know about herself.”
“I raised myself on what I could steal. When I was ten, I joined the Syndicate. I got more from other slum rats than I ever did from the Church.”
“Tsk. So many children like that, and so little help to go around.” Clementia stopped in front of a narrow, winding staircase. “Now. What do you say we dispense with the pleasantries?”
“What?”
“You didn’t come all this way just to tell me my friend is dead.”
“You’re right.” Livia stood up as straight as she could, and clenched her fists and swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m here for Artemisia.”
Mother Clementia stayed still and silent as she sized Livia up, and Livia braced herself for a lie, a letdown, or to be asked to go. But instead, Clementia beckoned for Livia to follow her upstairs, with the sa
me effortless wave and the same cool, unbothered smile.
“Very well.”
Livia blinked. “What?”
“You wanted to see her. This way.”
“But the lieutenant,” Livia began…
“That was different.”
“Why?”
“He wasn’t you.”
•••
When they reached the top of the stairs, Mother Clementia stopped, and Livia crept behind her, trying not to make any noise.
At the end of the dark hall in a sunny reading room, a sister paced back and forth around a teenage girl in a simple chair. The sister spoke. The girl answered. The sister paced again. The girl turned to the next page and read a line out loud. The two of them went about their lesson framed in the shadow of the doorway, and the first-floor choir practice drifted in through the window.
“So why did they riot?” The sister asked.
“Because their crops had failed. They barely had any grain to give, but the nobles still wanted their tax.”
“And what did the nobles do with what little grain they got?”
“They hoarded it,” the girl answered. “And sold it at a higher price.”
Livia listened and watched, and Clementia folded her hands.
“Could I ask you something?”
The sister stood by the girl’s side. “Of course.”
“Why didn’t the nobles just buy grain from Carpathia and lower the tax?”
“That’s a good question, dear. I don’t know.”
“I mean, it’s the sensible thing to do. You can’t ask starving peasants to give you something they don’t have.”
The girl turned the page and placed the book back in the sister’s hands, and as she turned her head, Livia studied her from head to toe. Seventeen years old. Maybe eighteen. Dark, curious eyes. Short bangs and light brown hair rolled up and pinned around her scalp. A pale blue dress with shoulder drapes and long white undersleeves, and a pair of white slippers peeking from under the hem. Between her cheeks and dainty nose, Livia felt an uncanny twinge - like she had seen the girl before, though she didn’t know where or when.
“That’s Artemisia?” Livia whispered.
“That’s who you’ve been looking for.”
“Why does she look so familiar?”
Clementia smiled. “Surely you remember Princess Sabina.”
Livia’s heart lurched so hard, she felt it thud against her ribs.
“What?”
“Oh.” Clementia’s face fell into something between pity and surprise. “Delphinia never told you.”
Livia murmured, “No.”
“I’m just saying,” Artemisia’s voice cut in, “I don’t see why the Giocondas didn’t do that.”
“The night of the coup, the crown prince and princess hid her in the servants’ rooms. They thought no one would look for her there, so soon, they followed. But they were wrong.” Clementia eyed the doorway. “Hector’s mercenaries cornered them, ran them through, and left them for dead. I assume that’s where you found them.”
“I only found Janus and Domitia.”
“When they heard the mercenaries coming, they put her in a drawer under the bed. They’d already told Delphinia where to find her, in case the worst came to pass.” Clementia averted her head to keep her voice from traveling down the hall. “They said, ‘Don’t come out for anyone, and don’t cry for help, no matter what.’ So she didn’t. She lay there and waited, not knowing what was to come.”
Livia averted her head, too, and hung on Clementia’s every word.
“By the time you found her parents, she and Delphinia were gone. Delphinia spirited her away, and rode all the way here in the dead of night.” Clementia studied the walls around them and the stucco ceiling above. “We changed her name, so if Hector found our letters, he wouldn’t know who she was. And here she’s been ever since.”
Livia gulped. “Mira’s grace.”
“What?”
“I don’t believe it.” Livia shook her head as her shoulders sank. “I thought I’d failed.”
“No. There was always Princess Sabina.”
Artemisia rose from her seat and put the book back on the shelf, and when the sister pointed to another, she stood on her tiptoes and took it down.
“How much does she know?” Livia asked.
“Everything.”
“I meant about being a queen.”
“She’s smart. And untested.” Clementia turned up her eyebrows. “She has a strong sense of right and wrong, and I think she’d take to it. But she’s grown up in a convent, not with her people. We all need to remember that.”
Livia’s eyes shifted between Clementia and the doorway.
“You and I both know that absolutes don’t last in the real world,” Clementia went on. “I’m not sure what she’d do if someone put pressure on her.”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
“That’s true,” Clementia said. “Power does strange things to people. You can’t always predict who they’ll become.”
Livia mulled everything over, but didn’t respond.
“Something on your mind?” Clementia asked.
“What’s next?”
“I don’t know. I leave that up to you.” Clementia turned back to the staircase and put her hand on the iron rail. “I know what Delphinia wanted, but I’m just a cleric. I have no hand in that.”
Livia stole one last look at Artemisia.
“But I’ll tell you this much - Hector Portinari is the most dangerous man of our time. He’s fought hard, and he won’t give up lightly.” Clementia stared Livia down. “Something to think about.”
CHAPTER 5
A biting wind rustled the trees as Livia mounted her horse and left, and a fine mist fell on her cloak as she raced back to the city walls.
By the time she made it out of the forest, the hills had fallen into a deep blue dusk, and dark clouds swirled over the treetops as she spurred her horse down the rocky path. Why hadn’t she noticed that Sabina was missing after the night of the coup? Why hadn’t anyone else, either? How had Delphinia covered it up? Why had she never questioned Delphinia about her mysterious “friends” in the countryside, the ones she was always writing letters to despite being in exile?
She clenched the reins and put her head down. Too many questions, and none she could answer now. But as she rode over the bridge, she knew where to go next - and who she had to tell.
•••
Back at the palace, Livia yanked her trunk from under her bed, whipped her cloak off, and shed her riding clothes as fast as she could.
Her hands cramped and her feet ached and she hadn’t eaten since lunch, but she kept going, desperate to change before anyone burst in on her. She tugged her boots off, then shoved them in the trunk beside her jerkin and gloves, and as she wriggled out of her tunic, someone knocked on her door.
“Who is it?”
Hermia answered. “My lady?”
Livia pulled her turtleneck off her head. “What?”
“Do you need help in there?”
“No!” Livia peeled off her leggings, then dug in her wardrobe. “I’m fine.”
“May I come in?”
Livia climbed into the first set of petticoats she found. “Why?”
“I need to collect your laundry.”
“Uh…” Livia threw on an old black day dress - “all right!”
As the door opened, she slammed the trunk shut and kicked it under the bed, and Hermia came in with flushed cheeks and a scarf holding up her bun. Livia tried to catch her breath as Hermia scooted past the bed, and Hermia opened the wardrobe doors and sorted through the basket inside.
“Have you been out riding, my lady?”
Livia’s eyes darted back and forth. “Yes. Why?”
“Where did you go?”
“Just around town. I didn’t realize how late it was.” Livia jammed her feet into the pair of slippers by her dressing chair. “Where’s Marcu
s?”
Hermia frowned. “What’s the matter?”
“I need to talk to him. Right now.”
“I saw him in the chapel earlier this evening, but…”
“Thank you!”
Livia threw her cloak around her shoulders and dashed out.
•••
Livia ran down the long, polished hall, her feet skidding underneath her skirt, until she saw the golden light of the open chapel doorway.
She swept her hem from under her feet and took a cautious step inside, and she gazed at the wooden pews and limestone floor in front of her. A white plinth stood at the other end with a red and gold altar cloth, and Titus and Mira stood behind them, smiling through white marble eyes. The wall alcoves glowed with candles flickering in iron racks - and Marcus sat in the front pew, hunched over in his seat.
Livia waited for him to do something - anything - but he didn’t move. So she checked over her shoulder one more time, then inched closer to him.
“Marcus?”
Marcus flinched.
“I’m sorry. I startled you again, didn’t I?”
“It’s fine.”
“What are you doing in here?”
Marcus mumbled, “Shut the door.”
Livia shut the heavy bronze door, then paced up the pews, and found Marcus’ face pale and his hands pressed to his brow.
“Are you…” she hesitated - “praying?”
“No.” Marcus stared at his toes. “Just needed to be somewhere that wasn’t full of noble drunks.”
Livia’s chest twinged at the despair in Marcus’ voice, and when she peeked over his shoulder, she saw a letter at his side.
“What’s that?” She asked.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Livia sighed. “Come on.”
“High General Ciacco wrote to me. Hector signed his request for a troop increase.”
Livia cringed, drew back, and clapped her hand to her mouth. “What?”
“Fifteen thousand infantrymen to Fort Skellig at the end of this month.”
Livia turned up her eyebrows as the light went out of her eyes.
“I have to go with them,” Marcus muttered. “I need to assign their posts. Ciacco wants to push north into the highlands again.”