by C. M. Lind
“The next day, the woman he met before did not show for their wedding. He was heartbroken. The woman had sworn to him she would be there. Instead, a man came to him and told him that Verda could never marry him—that the moon could never show herself while the sun was out. Hoggorm knew he was tricked, and was ashamed. That night he confronted the moon. He pulled and pushed the mountains into forming the tallest peak so that he could speak with her.
“Verda did not apologize. She is the moon after all, and the moon makes no apologies. She said that she adored Hoggorm and desired him, and that he should not be angry with her—that she carried his child and that he would be as glorious as his mother and as strong as his father. Hoggorm was terrified by the idea. The child of the mountain and the trickster moon was asking for fate to be cruel. He told her that their child could have the mountains, and that she should name him Cragmar, and that he himself would live underneath, never to return to the surface again. He was too afraid to be tricked again, and decided it was better to live alone with his gold and jewels.
“It wasn’t long until their child was born, but fate is a fickle thing, and the child looked nothing like his mother or father. Cragmar was born when the moon was full in the dead of winter. He was strong and glorious after all: a fully formed serpent was what sprung forth from Verda. It was a beast longer than any galley, wider than any river, and heavier than any stone. Cragmar took his place in the mountains. He crafted tall peaks to visit his mother, who he so adored. But he was curious about his father, and he would dig into the mountain to look for him, creating vast caverns, but to no avail. Hoggorm had disowned his only child—a creature conceived in treachery.
“Cragmar never stops though. And when he digs the mountains shudder, splitting the earth, and toppling the rocks.” Soli flicked the pile of sugar that was still uncovered, and the cubes tumbled down onto the table.
“Splendid. How fascinating! Your gods sound so much more fun than ours. No wonder he likes you.” Jae gestured to Etienne and raised his eyebrow. “You tell such scandalous stories.”
“Thank you,” Soli said, lowering her head in gratitude. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Marguerite was still in the room. She was standing near the doorway to the kitchen, eyes towards the door and an ear towards Soli.
“Etienne.” Jae turned to his cousin for the first time during the breakfast. “Bring her to the Jubilee. You’ve never brought a guest before, and it’s weird. But her? I like her.”
“Jae,” Etienne stuttered on the J of his name briefly. “Please! Do not impose on the woman!”
There was a quiet thud as the kitchen door closed, and Soli noticed Marguerite was gone.
“Cousin, you’re so dramatic! Most ladies enjoy an invitation to a festive night of food and music. I promise—and trust me because, I, unlike you, know a few things about women.”
Soli looked to Etienne. He looked furious. “It would be a pleasure, but I am afraid I have nothing appropriate to wear to the occasion. Anyway, I doubt I would put so many of the local nobility at ease with my presence-“
“Forget them! It’s my party!” Jae laughed. “I don’t care if your salacious stories prompt any gossip. I like them! Go ahead and tell more! And so what if they don’t want a Northerner there? We are not at war with Osterlock last I heard, so they can deal with it. Plus, even if we were, I doubt you would start a battle over the brie.” Jae looked Soli up and down. “But you are right, this sort of clothing won’t do. Irene!” he shouted.
From around the corner came Irene, looking as garish as Soli recalled her being. “Yes, my lord?” She had a ledger in her right hand and a small, leather bag in the other.
“See to it that Soli gets fund for whatever she needs for the Jubilee. Anything. Clothes, shoes, perfume, soaps—a canary if she needs it. She needs to be perfect!”
If Irene had any hard feelings towards Soli because of her connections to Randolph, she didn’t show it. Her face was overtaken by the largest smile Soli had ever seen, and Soli couldn’t help but be reminded of a grinning Varberg. “Of course, my lord. I will personally recommend some places for her, and see to it that she is extended credit at the establishments.” Irene set the bag onto a nearby chair, opened her ledger, and began hastily scribbling.
“Good. Also, see about her hands. They look like she’s been farming or something equally depressing. I need my Northern jewel to shine.” Jae set down his cup of coffee, only half empty, and stood. He turned to Soli and put his hand on her shoulder. “It was an absolute pleasure to meet you, my dear.” With his other hand he took hers. He pressed his lips lightly on her hand. He furrowed his brow and then leaned in close to her ear. “Also, if Etienne has failed to suggest it yet, allow me. The baths here are to die for; please indulge in them. They don’t get used enough, especially by such extraordinary women.” He leaned in a little closer, and she could feel his breath on her ear. “And you smell like dust and sweat, my dear.” Jae pulled away from her and turned his attention to Etienne. “Have a splendid day, cousin,” he said with a smirk.
Jae swaggered from the room, and Irene scampered behind him with her ledger and bag. Soli turned towards Etienne who was quietly eating his pastry with a fork. His cheeks were flushed, and he looked ridiculous to her.
“I must apologize for my cousin; he has a particular way with people.” His voice was stiff and proper. His words were once again carefully selected and slowly spoken.
So they were back to boring and proper, thought Soli. She would have been disappointed if it wasn’t for the fact that his intimate attitude before was so strange to her—and his questions were entirely too personal. She welcomed the comfortable, usual stiffness. She could do stiff and polite—it was friendly and warm that she couldn’t.
“I take it I selected the right story for Lord Jae, then?” she asked with a slight smile.
“It was sensual yet blunt—so I do believe you did. Not really my kind of thing, but you seemed to have caught his eye, if that was your intention.” He peppered his words with the bites of pastry, and by the end the bites were gone. He lifted the napkin to his lips and dabbed them twice, even though no food was upon them.
Soli was shocked, and it took her a few moments to form her response. “As always, it is my intention to entertain. I apologize if I have upset you. I thought you would want your cousin to be happy.”
“Yes, you’re right. It’s important that he is happy.” Etienne gave her a small smile and placed the napkin on the table “From all this excitement, I believe I forgot how much I have to do today. If you would please excuse me, Mistress, I think I should get a head start on my affairs—and it seems that you have a bit of shopping to get started on.” Etienne stood.
Soli stood, forgetting the napkin on her lap, but catching it before it fell to the ground. She didn’t appear the most graceful, but she found herself not really caring. “Of course, I understand. You are a very important man, and I apologize for taking up so much of your time.” She bowed her head slightly towards him. “Just one last question and I shall leave you to your work. When is the Jubilee that your cousin spoke of, so that I may plan?”
“Yes, of course. Four weeks, mistress. It should be plenty of time for you to prepare yourself.” Etienne did not look her in the eyes. Instead, he went for another pastry covered in blueberries.
“Thank you,” Soli said before he left the dining room. So she had forty days. The way that Jae was speaking about it, she thought it would have been sooner.
She made her way out of the dining room with a regal pace. Inside she wanted to run away from that room. The whole breakfast seemed odd to her. She couldn’t seem to read anyone’s intentions at the Reinout manor—or their emotions. Even the servant, Marguerite, made her uncomfortable. Soli hated being served as if she couldn’t even do simple things for herself, and the girl’s behavior over being thanked upset her even further. Soli’s mother had told her to always thank everyone who helps her—that all men and women’s blood is as
red as hers.
She tried to shake the queer feeling, but it weighed on her like a heavy sack. Perhaps it was because she was so tired, perhaps it was because of her recollections that wouldn’t stop breaking through to her thoughts, perhaps it was the soulless manor—perhaps it was all those things and more that affected her so. It didn’t matter. She was free for the day and she wanted nothing more than a bath and a nap. Shopping could wait. It could wait a long while as far as she was concerned.
She veered towards the bath that Etienne had given her a key to. It was indeed splendid. The place was tiled in ceramic. The artwork adorning the tiles was hand painted in the Venari fashion—bright colors with stark, defined lines and exquisite borders created breathtaking profiles of nearly nude women. But, they were Venari women. Foreigners, she heard her mother say. The largest of the women, the one overlooking the large bath (that could easily fit three people), reminded Soli of someone.
She was captivated by the style. She had never seen anything like it, but there, in that room, Soli had the lines and colors all to herself. She traced her fingers along the designs. Never before had she even seen such exotic women presented in such a provocative way. While her modesty told her she should not be excited by such imagery, she couldn’t take her eyes from the painted women.
With her hands she turned the copper handle above the bath, and steaming hot water poured out after a few clunks from the copper pipes. There was a grate covering the spout near the ceiling, making the water fall like a heavy, warm rain. While the water filled the bath, she undressed, throwing her clothing to the ground with pleasurable anticipation. So often she denied herself luxuries, but she told herself that she was going to take a hot bath for as long as she wanted—and that Randolph was probably asleep, that he wouldn’t even notice her cleansing sojourn.
As she slipped into the pooling water of the tub, her eyes locked with the woman overlooking her. The molten, golden eyes that had a fire smoldering in them felt alive to her. Again she thought that they looked so familiar to her, and a strange shiver ran through her body. It looked like Ravel’s woman. The woman he had loved. She felt something connect in her body, and she finally understood why her older brother would have wanted a foreigner for a lover, and she wondered if her parents really did know what was best.
Chapter 15
After leaving Soli to her breakfast with Ety, Randolph shuffled to his room. He was keeping up a jovial mood for Soli, but, inside, he was mortified. Fights always happened when he least expected them, which made him into one that always expected a fight. No matter where he would go, he would wear his armor, his sword, and a few knives for good measure. Wearing such things didn’t help if he wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings. Instead, in the alley, his thoughts were on Soli, and she could have been hurt over his incompetence.
Incompetence: a word that was thrown his way far too often when he was in the military.
He didn’t remove his boots or his armor. Instead, he collapsed onto his stiff cot, and it made a clunk as its height was suddenly reduced by a couple inches. Randolph paid no heed to the sound, or its new slanted angle. He pulled a pillow over his mouth and shouted a loud, exasperated curse into its fibers. This was followed up with a few minor curses, and his thoughts and voice slipped away as he fell asleep.
He was utterly exhausted. It had been a long time since he had days of marching followed by fighting. Instead, he was used to a leisurely schedule with lots of down time. Sure, he was active, but his activity was on his own schedule.
His sleep from the night before was tumultuous, and the walk to Soli’s apartment had been disappointing (to the say the least). Walking to his room, he was afraid that thoughts of her (and his own stupidity) would keep him awake, but he was pleasantly surprised when his sleep was sudden and without dreams. He awoke in the same position he fell asleep in, except his head had lolled to the side, the pillow was on the floor, and his mattress had a large blob of drool. His quarters were dark, and, for a moment, he planned on recovering the pillow and going back to sleep. There were no windows for which to guess the time of day, and the thought of not knowing how long he had been asleep for made his eyes bolt open.
Randolph pulled himself off the bed. It was very dark—which was no surprise to him since he hadn’t lit a lantern in his room earlier. He walked the two steps to his door and tore it open. Candles and lamps were lit outside his room in the common area that connected all the guard’s rooms. It was where guards whittled away their free time: playing games, gambling, and eating. Randolph had seen a guard reading once, but Randolph was still convinced the boy couldn’t read at all—that he was pretending he could read to impress the others. The room was empty except for two guards that Randolph’s bleary eyes couldn’t make out. They were playing cards at a rough, wooden, long table that was hopelessly stained from countless spilled cheap spirits and pungent, oniony soups.
Randolph wiped his damp lower lip with the back of his hand. The cool drool smeared from knuckle to sleeve. “Time!” shouted Randolph in a manner that was similar to his old drill sergeant.
The two men jumped. “Uh!” one squawked, and a card jumped from his hand onto the table. The other gave a slight squeak, but he didn’t pass on the opportunity to blatantly look at the rogue card. The first man quickly snatched it and returned it to his hand.
“What. Time. Is. It?” shouted Randolph, slowly and condescendingly.
“Two, sir!” the men shouted in unison.
Randolph groaned and slapped himself on the forehead. “Why didn’t anyone wake me?”
“Uh…” was all the first man replied.
“Sorry, sir! But we didn’t know you were in there, or that you wanted to be woken!”
He rubbed his eyes once he recognized their voices as Val and Guy. “Right, yeah. I know that. Look, you two find Soli. I want to know if she’s left yet. I’m going to check her room in a minute.”
“A minute, sir?” asked Val. The question was more along the lines of: is this something that could wait one round? His eyes were lamenting the cards in his hands.
“Yeah.” Randolph pointed to the row of curtained chamber pots at the side of the common room. “I’m going to need a minute. You two get to work. Now!”
Val gave his cards to Guy, who quickly stacked them and then shoved them into his pocket. The two took off through the door into the manor. Randolph cursed them under his breath while utilizing the chamber pot.
While the guard’s chambers weren’t as fancy as the rest of the manor, it did have one tap that pumped in clean, cold water. It was an afterthought that was jury-rigged into the manor many years after its construction, after disease became a concern for Jae’s grandfather. Randolph didn’t care that it was ugly or noisy—he was just happy to have it. He rinsed his hands and briefly cleaned under his nails. They didn’t look perfect, but he thought it was better than nothing. He splashed some of the water onto his face, and he noticed how much brighter his skin became as a fine layer of dust was washed away.
The dirt swirled down the copper sink and disappeared into the drain. He chastised himself: all it would have taken was him noticing Raulo, Arn, or Justino thirty seconds earlier. He chewed on his bottom lip. Both him and Soli were fine and uninjured, but he knew how quickly and mercilessly battle could go. In one second she could have died—eviscerated in front of his eyes. The thought made him feel ill. He was lucky she knew how to fight. If she wouldn’t have known how, there was no way he could have protected her—because he was distracted. He failed.
He tasted a bit of blood and touched his bottom lip, and was rewarded with a small dab of pink on his fingertip. He sighed. Way to go, he thought, and he felt like a six year old all over again being yelled at by his mother for his disgusting lip biting. He thought he was over such things. Can’t spot an ambush, and can’t even stop myself from this, he thought while looking at the blood on his finger. He turned to the door into the manor and sighed again.
There w
as no way that breakfast could have taken so long, and the sudden thought struck him that Soli might have tried to solve the situation on her own. In that case, she could have been anywhere. What if she told Ety about their misadventure? Randolph would have to deal with his annoying, prissy attitude on a whole new scale. He denied the possibility—that Soli would never unleash that level of passive aggressive hell on him. But then that small voice in the back of his mind began to chime in with different thoughts: perhaps Soli and Ety were still together, somewhere in the house, and she had blown Randolph off.
He squashed the thought. There was no way she would have blown him off. Her intensity from before assured him that she wouldn’t leave what had happened in the alleyway all for him to solve. He was sure she needed to have a hand in it herself.
He dried his hands and face on a nearby tabard that had been left on a table, and headed into the manor. He wasn’t sure where Val or Guy had looked for her, but he decided to start with her room. He walked straight to it. The door was closed and he knocked thrice. There was no sound from within. His hand went to the handle, which moved, but the keyhole underneath it was locked. He glanced left and then right before he went to his knee and peeked through.
Her clothes were scattered on the bed, and her bags were nearby, but there was no sign of Soli—it was as if she had never returned to her room since breakfast. He felt a lump in his throat as he gave a large, dry swallow. He looked over to Ety’s door, which was so close to hers, and he decided that he had to know. As quietly as he could, he walked towards the door. The chainmail clattered slightly, but he held his hands over the loudest parts. Once he was a few feet away he could hear voices within, which made him pause. But he had to know if she was in there, if she had ignored their plans, and what they were doing that would have taken hours in Ety’s quarters.