by Edun, Terah
Ciardis smiled bitterly. “I’m not so certain everyone believes that.” She looked over at Corporal SaBarnaren, who was riding at the front of their party, conversing with the healer on his left side the general’s counsel from Sandrin on his right.
Damias said, “Not to worry, my dear. We’ll get this settled—and don’t forget, your first Hunt ball is tonight!”
Joy, thought Ciardis with trepidation.
When they reached the city and their company parted ways, Damias urged his horse into a canter up the racing thoroughfare with Ciardis following closely behind. Damias never let her ride on this street. The thoroughfare was known for fast traffic and lots of accidents involving the galloping messengers and nobility looking to show off. She knew he was worried then – the only reason he would use it would be to speed their travel back to the Companions Guild. This street was set aside for fast-moving horses only; no carriages, wagons, or pedestrians were allowed. It was the ideal way to get through the city quickly.
When they reached their turnoff point near the Companions Guild, they slowed their lathered horses to a sedate walk, and proceeded to move quietly through the crowds. It didn’t take them long to reach their destination, though by then it was early evening and Lady Serena was pacing in the main hallway. Maybe she already knows? thought Ciardis with some relief. At least I won’t have to tell her.
That hope was dashed in the next moment when Serena threw up her hands screaming, “You’re late! We have only two hours. Two hours to get you ready for the ball! You were supposed to be here hours ago.”
Today just went from bad to worse.
Beside her, Damias sighed and. “There’s something you need to know, my dear Serena.”
“Whatever it is can wait,” snapped Serena. Her arms were crossed in front of her angrily, her delicate foot tapping impatiently on the flagstones.
Serena summoned a legion of hammam girls and started issuing orders. “Five of you are to go with Ciardis and prepare her for tonight. Use scented water. Her hair is to be combed and styled, her skin lotioned, and her face made up.” Serena turned to face the one hamman girl whose name she could remember because of her bright red hair – Rose. “You are aware of the desired hair style?” Rose gave a swift nod. “Then get to work,” said Serena with a dismissive wave.
Immediately, the women descended upon Ciardis and urged her towards the stairs leading down to the hammam. As she looked over her shoulder, Ciardis caught Damias’s eye. With her eyes she pleaded with him. He gently took Serena’s arm, directing her attention away from Ciardis, and began to explain in earnest what had happened at the Hunt and the delay that had almost cost them the general’s life.
As Ciardis descended into the gloom, the heat of the steam bath rose to greet her. She was stripped of every article of clothing she wore. Huddling in the center of a pile of dirty clothes, she struggled to cover her private areas, mortified. The girls couldn’t have cared less, of course. One stood behind her and untwisted her bun until her hair fell in a cluster of loose braids. Unweaving the strands, the girl set about combing it.
Another girl hustled her over to a large standing tub as the hairdresser scurried along behind her, still combing. Ciardis was urged into the tub, and after maneuvering her to their liking, the girls scrubbed and brushed until Ciardis’s skin felt raw. Then, without warning, they pushed Ciardis under the water once, and then a second time. She came up spluttering, trying to get wet curls out of her face and the water out of her eyes.
As she stepped out of the tub a moment later, a girl with ginger hair began to rub a mixture of chestnut oil and lotion into her skin, making sure to knead it into every crease as if she were preparing bread for baking.
An hour later, Ciardis emerged from the baths primped and clean as she was handed off to the dressmaker and her minions.
She was soon standing in her bathrobe in the center of a large room, the center of a flurry of activity. When she’d arrived, Lady Serena had eyed her from head to toe, but hadn’t acknowledged her otherwise. Serena now stood in the corner discussing something with the dressmaker.
Ciardis huddled miserably in the middle of the room while a girl applied the final touches to her hair, which was elaborately done in a beautiful mix of curls and thick, twisted braids on top of her head. The hairdresser had a difficult time with Ciardis’s bouncing chestnut curls, but had managed to tame them for the evening. Ciardis eyed her reflection with happiness in the glass mirrors set on the wall.
On a pedestal before her was an orchid-purple dress, similar in make to those that the female Companions wore to court functions, with gossamer sleeves and pearls knitted into the fabric. The skirt was loose enough for full, fast strides. Beside the dress stood two pairs of orchid-purple shoes; one set of proper heels with a high arch and slender clasps, the second more curious in design. The set that stood beside the heels were leather boots with a simple pattern stitched into the material.
Ciardis knelt down to look at both shoes as the dressmaker’s assistant came up behind her. Smiling proudly, the girl—who couldn’t have been more than fourteen—said, “The boots are for your Hunt.”
“And the dress shoes?”
“For the dances, of course,” was the dressmaker’s assistant’s amused reply.
Next the dressmaker came over with Serena walking behind her. They showed Ciardis a nook with a privacy screen in front for her to change. When she emerged she wore the radiant purple dress and the surprisingly comfortable purple heels. She was given drop pearl and amethyst earrings to match her dress, and allowed to keep the moonstone and sapphire anklet as long as it stayed hidden beneath her dress.
A few minutes later, Ciardis, Lady Serena, and Damias stepped into a large carriage on their way to the Duke of Carne’s villa. “Well, Damias has told me about what happened on your blood hunt. I’m quite disappointed. To almost have the General die…we’ll never hear the end of this. The gossip will be the talk of the imperial court for the whole season!” said Lady Serena sharply,
“But I—”
“No buts, no excuses. I had to ask Lady Vana to help me do a memory recall so that I could see exactly what happened. Do you know how much it cost me magically to draw up those ghostly images from so far away?”
“No, I—”
“No, you don’t. You would not believe the bowing and scraping I’ve had to do before the Companions Council in the last hour! They wanted to end your prospective contract on the spot. Really, Ciardis, almost murdering a General, one of the brightest military minds of this era? And to top this horrible day off I’ve received word that Lord Kinsight has taken grave ill and will be withdrawing his petition entirely.”
Ciardis shrunk in her seat, “I’m sorry about Lord Kinsight Serena but I could not have anticipated that or General Barnaren’s actions. What did you want me to do? We went on the blood Hunt at your request. Whitehart elks are dangerous—surely you know that.”
“What I do or do not know does not concern you,” said Lady Serena. “What I expected was a small display of enhanced sportsmanship. An increase in the general’s fire abilities or his inner strength would have been sufficient to make a good impression as a potential companion.”
Ciardis pursed her lips, but didn’t argue the subject further. Even Serena has no idea what my powers are capable of. I couldn’t just enhance a particular facet of his physical being; it had to be his inherent magical capability—fire is a major component of his battle strategy but his natural abilities lie in producing lightning strikes.
“What’s done is done,” said Serena, looking out the carriage window, anger still clearly etched on her face in the thin line of her mouth and the unhappy glint in her eyes. “We still haven’t figured out if this will damage your reputation, but we can’t turn back now. I have no idea if General Barnaren will even attend upon you for the Pa
tron Hunt now.”
By this time, Ciardis was rapidly blinking her eyes to keep the moisture from slipping down her cheeks.
“Enough,” said Damias. “She saved his life, and there’s nothing that can be done to change what happened.” Reaching over, he dabbed at Ciardis’s eyes with a handkerchief and said, “No tears, dear—your makeup will run.”
Nodding as she fought for control, Ciardis looked out the window to gather composure. On the hillside before them stood a magnificent mansion blazing with lights, carriages streaming in through the gated entrance. They had arrived at the Duke of Carne’s villa. Ciardis schooled her face into an impassive mask and prepared to step out of the carriage into the cool night air.
She gathered her courage and left Serena and Damias. They would enter separately and wait for her inside the main ballroom. The fabric of her dress swept around her with a gentle glide as she approached the doors. The moment she entered the Great Hall, which overlooked the actual ballroom, Ciardis’s stomach went aflutter. Young women and men, all potential companions or debutantes from noble families, milled about in the entrance hallway. Ciardis strode toward the center of the room. She knew no one in the room, and it was painfully obvious.
Where is Teachene? she wondered.
Towards the front doors that led into the main ballroom villa servants began call out attendee names. As each person’s name was called, they stepped forward and walked past her with fluid grace through the grand doors that led into the ballroom.
A butler called her name, and as she stepped forward, he informed her to prepare to be announced to the ballroom. As she moved toward the doors, the floor helpfully lit up beneath her feet. Her every step glowed momentarily before the light dissipated behind her. She halted in the entrance of the doorway, dress gleaming and every hair in place. The Master of Ceremonies announced her to the crowd gathered below.
“Ciardis Weathervane, daughter of the late Lady Amelia Weathervane, and companion trainee of Lady Serena Projectoris.”
Shoulders straight, Ciardis strode forward, passing through the door and descending the grand staircase. All eyes were on her.
Ciardis kept her eyes locked on Damias, who stood at the bottom of the long staircase, waiting to escort her through the main ballroom. As she reached him, he eased her left hand into the crook of his arm and proceeded to guide her to the steps of the raised dais where the Duke of Carne sat. When she reached the dais, she dipped into a curtsy, her dress pooling around her, her eyes on the floor.
“Rise,” came the order from the man on the dais. “Lady Weathervane, it has been decades since I’ve had the pleasure of hosting a member of your family under my roof. In fact, the last was your beautiful mother.”
Ciardis’s breath caught in her throat. “You knew my mother, milord?”
“I did, indeed. Old age has its benefits. I can safely say that I was one of the few to have known your mother fairly well. She left court early on, as you know,” he said with a laugh.
“No, milord, I was not aware.”
The Duke grunted, “Well then, I have some stories to tell you. But I’ll save that for another time.”
As Ciardis stood, he looked over her head and gestured at the gathered courtiers. “But now is not the time. I must not neglect my other guests. You understand, of course?”
“Of course, milord,” she murmured politely and dropped into a shallow curtsy. She turned to Damias and they walked away from the raised dais to join the gathered nobility and companions who stood on either side of the carpet.
After everyone had the chance to mingle properly, the sound of a bell rang out in the grand ballroom. Two butlers came forward and began to expeditiously roll up the carpet. Ciardis looked to the dais and saw the Duke of Carne standing. He spoke to a man at his side who was draped in the long robes of a mage – the insignia on his breast looked like a horn of some kind. After they finished speaking the mage gestured outwards and felt a wave of magic wash over the room.
When the Duke spoke to the crowd, his voice was amplified through the ballroom. The mage beside him must have auditory powers, she thought. “Welcome, ladies and gentleman, to my villa. My wife and I are pleased to welcome so many distinguished guests this evening. Tonight’s festivities will feature a debut dance and a Mordair maze challenge.”
At that announcement, the man nearest Ciardis turned to his partner and whispered, “This Hunt will be even better than the last.”
Ciardis wasn’t surprised at the palpable excitement; the Patron Hunt was one of the most highly anticipated events of the year. The nobles came not only for the opportunity to assess future companions and marriage partners, but also for the entertainment of watching young mages compete against each other in exciting tasks.
“This is the first night of the Hunt, which will be followed by one more night and two days,” the Duke said.
Ciardis’s hand was tense on Damias’s arm. “If you thought a blood hunt was bad, surely a Mordair maze is a worse idea,” she whispered.
As they headed to the wine table, Damias responded, “Serena and I anticipated this challenge. What we did not anticipate was the General taking on the whitehart elk with just you and absent his guards”
Ciardis, who was sipping on a glass of blueberry dessert wine, nearly choked at the censure. “Not unexpected? Are you saying you knew that I would face this maze challenge tonight? Why didn’t you inform me? I came here to dance not to race against my life.”
“The maze will not be difficult – you will have to use your cleverness rather than your magic.”
“I don’t suppose you plan on telling me about the activities for the next two days and tomorrow night, then?” she said, sarcasm dripping from her lips.
“I planned to do so tonight,” he responded. “The first night’s activities are required by Guild law to be kept secret from the trainees until formally announced. The following day’s activities can be explained upon the first night’s conclusion.”
Ciardis frowned unhappy with the decision.
“Don’t worry, my dear,” he said. “The Guild has well prepared you for the tasks you will come across. Just think clearly and be brave.”
Then the orchestra began a set, and the music filtered throughout the room with excellent clarity due to the help of the auditory mage.
Behind Ciardis and Damias a person cleared their throat.
Ciardis turned, sipping the dark wine, and was surprised to see a young woman with her hands clasped anxiously. She wore brilliant blue mage robes with golden scrollwork stitched into the fabric.
Damias excused himself to greet a friend he saw off to right.
Ciardis smiled and dipped into a gentle curtsy; her orchid dress spread out smoothly around her like flower petals.
The girl responded with a short bow and a shy smile. “My name is Mina.”
“Ciardis. A pleasure to meet you.”
“I had heard about your amazing powers, and wanted to come over to introduce myself.”
Ciardis smiled. “How sweet of you. It’s always a chore to find someone to chat with at a party. I’m happy I don’t have to go through those awkward introductions that no one likes. I can tell you’re a mage, but I’m at a loss as to what kind.”
“Oh,” said Mina, a hint of a blush on her cheeks. “I’m an auditory mage. I’m usually working with the orchestra during the evening dances, but my father—a sonorous mage—took my place so that I could attend the ball.”
Ciardis’s eyes widened in excitement. “He’s a sonorous mage? I’ve never met one of those.”
Mina turned to gaze at a dancing couple in the ballroom, then turned back to Ciardis. “It’s the second level for an auditory mage, which is what I am. There are different type of mage powers connected to sound and sight. As a first-level auditory mage I can am
plify sound in both closed and open settings, but I have a limited range. My father, who has advanced to the level of sonorous mage, can amplify a general’s orders across a battlefield, if needed.”
“That’s impressive.”
“Yes,” Mina said. “I hope to be as capable one day. You’re here to find a patron, yes?”
Ciardis nodded. “Yes, I’m pretty excited to meet with my prospective patrons – or at least the other ones.”
The girl nodded her head, “It must be so exciting to meet marriage partners like that. Hopefully you get a brilliant match.”
“Marriage partners,” corrected a familiar voice from behind them.
Mina and Ciardis turned in surprise. Prince Sebastian, in his role as Viscount Iskas of Marce, stood before them in his court robes Smiling, he stepped forward and took Mina’s hand in his and gave her hand a light kiss. “A pleasure to meet you, milady.”
She blushed profusely before returning his greeting. As Sebastian turned to Ciardis, she couldn’t help but note the mischief in his eyes. With a teasing smile, he said, “Debutantes come looking for marriage partners, while companions come for life partners. After all, no one ever said that marriage had to be forever.”
Mina stifled a giggle, but was otherwise unfazed. “He’s right, Ciardis. My father has been married four times, but has kept the same mistress for twenty years.”
Ciardis raised an eyebrow at Mina.
“Not that I’m saying a Companion is anything like a mistress,” Mina hastily said while looking horrified.
Ciardis laughed. “I don’t mind. In Vaneis, we called a stork a stork and a dog a dog. The only difference between a companion and a mistress is that the Companions Guild tends to accept only magic users as opposed to marriage which looks for social and class compatibility.”