Valverna

by A Clarkson

  The boy continued to quietly watch Ira as she cleaned herself up and strapped her leg. He appeared relaxed and at ease as he moved through the fields, as if they were out for a leisurely stroll in the park.

  Ira couldn't understand what a boy his age was doing out here alone in these wretched fields filled with rancid mud puddles and giant slugs. He responded with a vague "just walking around" when she asked him as much after her pain relief started kicking in and she felt clear-headed enough to notice. There didn't appear to be any others nearby, so perhaps he was lost and too embarrassed to say so. She didn't push him, simply let him accompany her back towards the city. It was, after all, the only civilization for miles, aside from the small farmer communes at the edge of the valley, so it seemed a safe bet home was that way for him too.

  Perhaps he belonged to one of the families who owned some of the land and followed his father or elder brother out for an inspection of some kind. The plants weren't far from flowering which always caused the merchants with sticky fingers to spend more time out here keeping an eye on their investment.

  When they eventually reached the fourth ring where Ira lived, it was well and truly dark. They stopped off at the field office to return her bent spear and received much mockery for the trouble. Jerks.

  "Can I walk you somewhere? It's late."

  Ira had a feeling he would refuse the escort. This kid seemed too comfortable walking around unattended for this to be his first time off alone. And wouldn't be surprised if he didn’t want anyone seeing him walking around with a slugger. She had the impression he only lingered with her for the company on the long trek home..

  "No, I know the way."

  She nodded at him as he turned off and disappeared down a dark street. She was grateful he'd rejected her offer, her leg was still killing her, and she knew she needed to get the weight off it. And she still needed that damn bath.

  Argh. She was a terrible person. Who ditches a kid in the middle of the night? Especially one who was so pretty. And rich looking. Her mind filled with all the terrible things that could happen to him.

  Goddammit.

  She turned around to go after him. She wasn't in much shape to play bodyguard, but maybe she'd be able to talk him out of following the fox to Pleasure Island.

  They were apart barely a few minutes, and yet the kid disappeared. Ira knew this neighborhood well. She had spent years running messages on these streets, and she knew where he should've been based on the direction he'd headed. Maybe she was getting slow, but it seemed impossible he would’ve been able to disappear that quickly, and yet the only person on the streets was some big man with bright red hair.

  She looked for the boy until the pounding in her knee became unbearable. Guess Twinkle-Toes wouldn’t be getting that escort after all. Ira decided she could continue to feel guilty over abandoning him from the comfort of a warm bath.

  Turning onto her street she spotted a shadow waiting on her doorstep. So fixated on looking for the kid her brain immediately put two and two together and came up with eight, thinking the boy had somehow beaten her home.

  It was only as she started wondering how the boy knew where she lived that she realised the shadow was Clarisse. That made more sense.

  Clarisse was a short woman with dark hair that curled tightly to her forehead and accentuated her plump round face. Ira noticed that the licorice skin she always envied in it’s ageless perfection had started to change. Wrinkles were beginning to show on her brow, and crows feet forming at her eyes. Had it really been so long since they had seen each other? Ira wondered when her guardian had gotten so old.

  Giving Clarisse a tired smile, she invited her in.

  Ira's home wasn't much to look at. She lived alone and preferred to spent her nights at the local bar getting stupid drunk. She barely cooked and left the kitchen in a constant state of chaos, a selection of dirty dishes liberally dispersed across every available flat surface. Her lounge wasn't much better, housing a similar number of plates and glassware as the kitchen, in addition to the papers, weapons and leather hunting gear scattered across the floors and chairs.

  When Ira first moved out of the servants quarters in the Citadel, she had barely been able to afford a room in one of the lodging houses near the docks. This apartment had represented success in Ira’s eyes when she first purchased it after only three years of working in the fields. She had been so proud of it. So proud of how far she had come from being that starving street urchin.

  Unfortunately those feelings faded almost as quickly as they came. Ira grew to resent this house. It became a reminder that Ira had bought into the Valvernan bullshit of always needing more. Needing to prove your worth to this stupid city by the value of the place you laid your head at night.

  Ira had made it from street kid to third-ring resident, yet seemed to be happier laying her head in the prison more often than here these days.

  "You look like shit. Not to mention you reek."

  She'd always liked that Clarisse was never one to mince words, you always knew she called it like she saw it.

  "Let me get you some tea while you go take a bath."

  Looking down at the small woman with a soft round face and eyes that twinkled, Ira wondered what would bring her here so late. She didn't usually visit Ira at night, and she couldn't remember the last time she waited for her to come home. Clarisse looked nervous, something was bothering her, and it looked like she was doing her best to hide her awkward feelings.

  Deciding that today was definitely a day to treat herself to an hour of electricity, she started the meter and turned on the water tank to heat her bath water.

  Clarisse gave her a slightly disapproving look. She didn’t like it when Ira was frivolous with electricity. But Ira felt she deserved the luxury tonight.

  "What's going on Aunt C? Is Bill ok?" Ira wasn't getting too worried just yet, whatever the problem was, it clearly wasn't urgent if it could wait for a bath. But Ira wanted to be alone, and certainly didn't have the energy to endure a well-meaning lecture. Whatever the issue was could be dealt with now, or wait until tomorrow.

  "What? Oh yes, he's fine dear." She’d already moved into the lounge and started stacking papers and folding the clothing Ira left strewn across the floor. Clarisse never liked to have her hands empty. Even less so when something was bothering her.

  "Just spit it out whatever it is,” Ira grumbled around a yawn. “I'm exhausted and wounded and would like to crash."

  Clarisse seemed to consider what to say. She was clearly eager to speak with Ira, but her plans were derailed by the sorry state Ira was in. She must look even worse than she felt. No, on second thought she probably looked exactly how she felt.

  "Can you come by the house tomorrow? There is something we must discuss, but it can keep a day longer."

  Ira sensed that whatever it was maybe shouldn't wait the extra day, and nearly changed her mind about sending Clarisse home. But her body made the decision for her when her knee gave out and she barely caught herself before face planting on the carpet.

  "Honestly Ira, how do you get so injured hunting slugs? Those creatures barely move."

  Ira would have argued the point if Clarisse hadn't started helping her climb the stairs toward her bath, you shouldn’t argue with the person dragging you up the stairs when you're fighting a losing battle with gravity. Clearly the small stash of pain medication she took in the field had worn off.

  In the end Clarisse helped her strip and settle in the tub, brought her a small sandwich she miraculously scrounged together from the kitchen downstairs - who knew Ira had ham? - before departing with a promise that they would speak tomorrow.

  Chapter 3

  The Cottage

  Two men stood in the doorway of the cabin, their faces shadowed in the flickering light as they watched the dark night and listened to the moans from the next room. There was very little to do but wait as the women worked to bring the child into the world. The cabin was small and dark, with the dying
embers in the hearth providing the only soft glow of light. Even the women had kept the lights out as they worked. The risk of discovery was too great, and the men were even now considering how to dampen the last of the dying embers without wasting what little water they had. They knew there wasn’t much time, the next raider attack would be upon them soon, but the babe was coming and could not be rushed, so all they could do was wait, and hope the child arrived before they were discovered.

  A scream ripped through the air from one of the neighbouring cottages, hidden from sight only by the thick trees surrounding the cabin. The two men looked at each other, a mixture of fear, despair, and acceptance in their eyes.

  They had run out of time.

  They ran through the woods, a small bundle in the younger man’s arms, the older man helping a young maid keep up behind them. The child’s mother had been unable to move quickly enough to escape, and they decided that she could hide more easily without the mewling sounds of a newborn babe. The men offered to take the child and run, drawing attention away from the women now hiding deep in the woods.

  They moved at a quick pace, only slowing to climb over a fallen tree or large boulder, the maid managing to keep up, in spite of the soft slippers she wore on her feet.

  They arrived at a fork in the road, the men knew their odds of escaping were slim as the sound of the hooves thundered from the trees behind them.

  The older man turned to look at the younger, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “William, you must take them and go. I will draw them north.”

  Without a backward glance the older man dashed to the path on the right, leaving the younger man with no choice but to follow his final order and head south, the young woman following on his heels.

  Ira awoke with a gasp, rubbing her eyes tiredly. She hated that dream. It was one that plagued her since childhood. Ira remembered waking up screaming as a child, certain she could hear the sound of horses bearing down upon her. She was always convinced the young man and woman were Bill and Clarisse, and would wake up terrified that they were in trouble. Bill spent many nights easing her mind as she drifted back to sleep.

  It had been a few months since she was visited by that dream, but she knew it so well by now, it could have been years and she would still be able to recount every detail. The dream never changed. And Ira never knew if her imagined Bill and Clarisse made it away from their pursuers. She hoped so.

  Looking at the clock Ira realized she overslept, thanks to the second dose of pain relief she swallowed before passing out last night. No wonder the dreams plagued her last night.

  The one good side of having endured her manager’s mockery yesterday after he saw her injuries was that she was given a few days off to recover. It wouldn't be long enough to heal completely, but at least she would have time for her swelling to go down a bit.

  Having long missed breakfast, she stopped at the Flor’s to pick up something for lunch, and collected the gold from her winnings a few nights prior. Flor said she hadn't missed much last night.

  “The red haired mountain had returned. My guess is they were itching for a rematch,” Flor said with a sly grin.

  Flor was a few years older than Ira, and looked the way you imagined a barmaid from some old Wild West story would look. She had copper red hair that she kept pulled back in a thick braid the size of her wrist and a smattering of freckles splashed across her nose. She had a curvy figure that she accentuated with low cut dresses and a thick belt cinched around the waist. Flor discovered that patrons tended to become distracted by her looks when she dressed this way. Distracted patrons led to loose lips and higher tips. Things any good pub owner took advantage of. And Flor was a good pub owner. Barman, boss, and bouncer, Flor was strong enough to kick most full grown men out the door should they start trouble in her bar. She was also smart as a whip, having studied business at The View, Valverna’s university before buying this place from the previous owners ten years ago.

  The name was technically Valverna University, or V.U., but everyone called it Vu, until it became known as The View.

  “He cleared out when some uniformed guys showed up. Serious looking guys in burgundy kit.”

  “Why? Did they start any trouble?” Ira couldn’t imagine the serious “traders” she saw the other morning picking a fight in the local bar. They just didn’t seem the type. Too disciplined.

  “No. They mostly kept to themselves, ate a meal, and left.”

  “They spooked Pete,” Ira said, taking a sip of her beer as the other woman cleaned the tables around her.

  Flor snorted. “Of course a band of mercenaries spooked Pete, The Kid is terrified of anyone that could physically hurt him.”

  “Mercenaires?” Ira hadn’t thought they looked much like normal traders.

  “Yes, oh delicate flower of Valverna. Even one such as you who has never ventured beyond these shiny walls should know what a group of mercs looks like,” Flor teased.

  Ira rolled her eyes at her friend’s mockery. “I’m sorry to not be as terribly worldly as you.” Apparently she was the butt of everyone’s jokes lately.

  Ira lifted her beer for another sip only to find it was already empty. Damn.

  “They were pretty looking though,” Ira said, giving her friend a wink. “There was a big fella with them I could see you liking.”

  “Ah, that explains Pete warning you off them.” Flor laughed, swiping the empty glass from Ira’s table. “That boy doesn’t like you looking at anyone.”

  “Not this again,” Ira flopped her head into her hands. Flor had been desperately trying to set Ira up with Pete for years.

  “I’m not the one wearing blinders here,” Flor said in her best matronly voice. “That boy has been mooning after you for over a decade.”

  “Sure, sure.” It wasn’t worth having this fight for the millionth time.

  Flor sobered slightly, “You’re lucky Ira. Valverna is a safe haven from a world full of people trying to kill each other. I know you are going through something,” this statement was accompanied by a pointed glance at the empty beer mug, “but it’s better here than out there. Don’t go looking for trouble in the bed of some mysterious merc. They won’t be here for anything good. You should listen to Pete, and stay away.”

  “Says you,” Ira said, picking up the flyer in front of her and waving it in the other woman’s direction.

  “POWER TO THE PEOPLE: DEPRIVATIZE THE FIELDS'' was scrawled in big red letters across the front, with a graphic of the rybrum plants beneath. On the reverse were a series of bullet points about the benefits of taking the fields out of the hands of private ownership, as well as a date for a meeting being held here in the bar a week from today.

  “Real subtle word choice here Flor. This kind of stuff could make you some powerful enemies.”

  The older woman simply shrugged as she continued to clean the tables surrounding Ira.

  “How would this even work? We live in a monarchy.”

  “I thought you of all people would support something like this.” Flor said, frustration coating her voice. “If the fields were deprivatized, you would be an employee of the people, wouldn’t that be better than being a guild slave with nothing more than a spear to protect you? You could be unionized. Have rights!”

  Ira couldn’t help the scoff that escaped her throat, “And be beholden to the awful people of this city? No thank you. I’ll take the private paycheck anyday.”

  Flor simply shook her head in dismay. “I would love it if you came next week all the same. It would be great to have the opinion of someone who works in the fields join the discussion.”

  With a refusal on the tip of her tongue, Ira’s words were stopped as Flor added with an evil glint in her eye “Your mystery merc seemed interested. I imagine he will be there.”

  “Are you giving these things to everyone now?” Ira asked in concern. She hadn’t been kidding about Flor making powerful enemies. The Guild wasn’t known for being forgiving to its opponents. Chelsea Brook
s made no effort to hide the various attacks she faced in the months she worked pushing for the expansion of the fields.

  “I believe in this Ira.” Flor said earnestly. “I believe we could really make a change. I’m willing to fight for it.”

  Seeing the fervent passion in her friend’s eyes, Ira couldn’t refuse. “Fine, fine. I’ll do my best to be here.”

  Flor beamed.

  “It’s not like I have anywhere else to be.” Ira added on a mumble.

  ***

  It was late afternoon by the time she finally dragged herself toward Bill and Clarisse's little cottage. After years of living in the Citadel barracks, the couple finally moved into their own home a few years ago.

  Ira knew Clarisse always dreamed of having her own kitchen where she could bake bread and dry herbs from the rafters. Ira was thrilled to help the couple find this little place on the fifth ring when Bill retired from regular guard duty. It hadn’t been much to look at, but with a bit of paint and a new garden for Clarisse's vegetable patch, the couple made this into their own little haven.

  Knowing that they would appreciate the gesture, Ira picked up a bottle of wine and a small basket of fruit from the market as she made her way over. Clarisse wasn't a big drinker, but would like to have a glass or two with Ira when they were having more serious discussions, and from her mood last night, Ira felt this would be a conversation deserving of wine.

  The fruit was a special treat. There was only so much space in the city’s temperature controlled green houses, and tropical fruit was a luxury most couldn’t afford. Ira knew that she was lucky to be able to regularly purchase the fresh produce from her local fruit vendor, a woman she struggled to communicate with due to a huge language barrier. Ira didn’t know the names of half of the exotic fruit the woman sold, let alone how to mime them to her. Ira was sure it was an entertaining exchange to watch, but she challenged anyone to come up with a good way to act out papaya.