by B J Hanlon
The guard posted at the gate glared at him. Inside he could see dainty men and overly dressed women with grand dresses, wide and colorful hats, and fans. They stopped every few minutes and fanned themselves.
He guessed telling them to take off a layer would earn him a slap and another duel.
Across from the wall stood another tall stone building. The only gray stone he’d seen. A large stained-glass window depicting the god Losilin meeting with a man for the first time. Vestor.
It was the Alestow Cathedral and was twice as long as it was tall.
Planters out front held roses, petunias, and other flowers that reminded him of summer in the hills. A priest in a traditional green robe stood out front with a watering can slowly moving from left to right.
It’d been a long time since he’d visited a holy sanctuary, at least months before he was dubbed an abomination.
Edin stared at the building. There were hundreds of carvings on the outer walls, men, beasts, gods, and demonic-looking entities. Dematians and many others and up top were gargoyles.
A huge arch with an open wooden door proclaimed anyone could enter. The Vestion only ever closed its doors at night to keep the beasts, demons, and abominations out.
How easy it’d be to just walk in.
“Hello lad, looking for the gods?” the priest asked. He was about middle age with short cropped hair. Hanging above the sacred robes was the acquiesce chain. Small images attached told of the decades the man had been in service. A rose for one decade, it symbolized being pruned of previous notions, desires, and hopes of the life before the church. The single-story house meant the growth in the spiritual world building like an engineer would build the tallest tower, the ground floor had to be laid first.
“Not today priest.”
“If not today, then when?” he said with the cadence of a practiced preacher. “All searching starts at a single point. A decision to look for that which escapes you.” The man moved closer to Edin, his loose sandals slapping the cobblestone.
“What I’m searching for is not in there,” Edin stated.
“How do you know?” The man was a half a yard away before his face scrunched. The hair on Edin’s neck rose as a hand slowly moved toward his weapon. Could the man sense he was a magus… an abomination?
“If what you’re searching for is another ale, you are correct. If you are searching for the reason you desire such a beverage, you may find it in there.”
“Is there a list of reason’s men drink in there?”
“You look inside yourself to find the reason.”
Edin shrugged, “I enjoy the taste.” The old man said nothing. “It calms me,” Edin said.
“As can meditation.”
“I cannot taste meditation.”
“You can taste the freedom when you decide you need no more ale.”
“What does that taste like, coffee?”
The old man smiled, “to some, to others it tastes like tea. Would you like a cup?”
Edin shook his head. “I think I’ll be going.”
“Remember, the gods are here for us all. Everyone was created by the gods, if you are looking for help, for solace, for freedom… see the gods.”
“Not magi,” Edin said as evenly as he could.
“That is what the Vestion says.” The man looked sadly off toward the docks.
Edin smiled, “have a good day priest.”
“If the will of the gods were to have all magi destroyed, then why continue bringing them into this world?” The priest turned his gaze back to Edin. “There are far worse people in this world then the so-called abominations.” They locked eyes for a few moments. “Alas, back to the garden. Have faith young man that all will be well.”
He heard the bell chime. Four rings. That tailor must think the whole of the city were heathens for not having sixteen rings.
Edin stopped at a small stand quickly as he made his way back, he purchased cloaks and clothes for them… new stuff and he hoped hers matched…
He reached the inn just as the tailor was returning. The portly man carried a black garment bag like a mother would her baby. When he saw it, he was sure they should’ve just skipped town.
“The desk clerk was gracious enough to offer a room to change.” He said and nodded for Edin follow. He did, ignoring Heldren.
Arianne’s two guards were gone as well.
He was about to knock on Arianne’s door just as it opened. The handmaiden opened the door and stopped.
“Master Berka, the lady is still changing.”
“She is no lady. Do not call her that,” the tailor spat.
“My mistake.”
“They may be guests of the Marquees tonight, tomorrow, they will be commoners again.”
Edin clenched his teeth as he followed the little bald man into the next room. Edin thought about laying him out with a punch. The tailor was soft, his hands like a noblewoman. He probably never spent a day holding a sword or doing any real work.
“She’s more majestic than you’ll ever be,” Edin said to the man as he laid the garment bag on the bed.
“Doubtful… but I understand,” he sniggered. “It doesn’t last. Now, off with your clothes, let’s make you a noble tonight.”
Edin had a quick wash in the basin. His outfit was completely black except for a yellow vest with the bird and fish crest. Beyond that, it was hard to move as the trousers and tunic were much tighter than he was comfortable with. A second skin that crushed the lads between his legs. He felt like he was peeling the fabric away from his skin.
“Do not forget your weapon. A fine one at that,” the tailor said.
Edin was buckling the belt and had not slipped the sheath on. They would let an armed stranger into a room with the heir to the duchy?
As if he knew the question on Edin’s mind, the tailor said. “All noblemen take weapons to dine. It keeps fights and the subsequent maiming or death to a minimum. Knowing everyone is armed, or at least the majority of the guests are, keeps nobles on their toes. There’s a lot of backstabbing, treachery… though I did not tell you that.”
“What if everyone was forced to surrender their arms?”
“Revolt first off… even if it worked, there’s always someone who hides a stiletto or hunting knife somewhere on their persons. If you’re unarmed you’re vulnerable”
“Can you not trust that everyone will get along?”
The tailor gave a deep stomach laugh, “how often in life have you seen everyone get along?” He waived his hands to the side of his head in a gesture that made him seem… stupid. “I bet even the tiny village you grew up in had a fair bit of violence. Probably even deaths.”
Edin nodded reluctantly. Even at his birthday there were fights. “How’d you know I was from a village?”
“I dress nobles of all types… all lands. You sound like a northerner; those are all small villages.” The man winked at Edin and shot him a knowing grin. “They’re more likely to overpay… fools.”
Finally, they were done and Edin felt like that fool. A frilly black hat was placed on his head before they moved down to the great room for an ale.
He felt nervous and drank while seated with the tailor. At least having him there kept Heldren at a distance. He didn’t want another scene with Arianne.
Eventually, the seamstress came sidling down the stairs. The tailor kicked Edin in the shin with his pointed hard leather boots.
“Ow,” Edin exclaimed. Then he saw a yellow open-toed shoe. Edin saw her feet first then the hem of a yellow dress. Another step, there was a slit in it that rose to her knees showing off her toned calves. He swallowed. The slit continued to mid-thigh where the dress began to cling to her like a sheen of water upon leaving the pool.
“That is not what the fashionable ladies wear these days,” the tailor said.
“You said she wasn’t one,” Edin shot back. He could feel the man’s eyes on him as the seamstress waived him over, but Edin barely noticed the motion. It
was like staring into the sun and not seeing a leaf floating on the breeze right in front of his eyes. He felt a nudge in his back.
“Go on,” the tailor said from behind him. “Take your lady young man…”
Her hips appeared, the dress clinging just as tight. The dress had intricate designs, soft white swirls that crossed and seemed to flow with Arianne’s body. For the life of him, he had no idea what the heck they were nor did he care.
Edin nearly stumbled over the leg of the chair as he stood. He caught himself and slid over toward her. He ran his gaze over every part of her, every contour.
He caught her eyes. Edin almost had to check his pulse as he reached for her hand. His heart thumped louder than when he faced the crillio beast. It was liable to explode.
“Hello,” Arianne said, she wasn’t smiling, but she wasn’t frowning at him either. Her blonde hair was braided and held up by shiny white clips exposing her soft neck and thin shoulders.
She wasn’t wearing the sling, though she held her arm gingerly.
“Tell her she’s beautiful.” It was a whisper in his ear from the old pointy nosed tailor with the penchant for saying whatever comes to mind.
Edin swallowed and opened his mouth. No sounds would leave.
Suddenly, he was aware of the whole room staring at him… her… them. Edin’s face felt flushed and he did the only thing he could think of and bowed his head. “My princess,” Edin said. The words just came out.
The two women said “aww” in unison and he vaguely heard a shriek from behind him.
Arianne smiled at the last bit. “Are you ready?”
Edin nodded.
“There’s a carriage out front, it is but a twenty-minute ride to the townhouse,” the tailor said.
The tailor gestured toward the front door. Edin looked around for a moment at the gaping diners. To him, they looked plain, like a gravel path while Arianne was a diamond road. She slipped her arm through his and raised her chin. With the high heeled shoes, she was barely an inch shorter than him.
“Walk like a noble.”
He saw the desk woman waiving to him, but for some reason her name was a blank.
They followed the tailor out the door and into a large black carriage with purple padded benches. The driver helped Arianne in, then Edin.
“We’ll take the long way,” the tailor said. “Enjoy dinner…”
A solemn look came over his face as he gently closed the door. The fabric was soft, more than that… Edin could’ve considered it creamy.
“The Marquees isn’t a good man,” Arianne whispered gripping his hand. “A girl… not going to say who, told me that he does not have his… dinners at the castle for a reason. Commoners who go in rarely come out… and if they do, they’re not the same.”
Edin saw an unopened bottle of wine in a small chest on the opposite seat. “Outstanding.” He popped it open and grabbed a few glasses. “Here’s to another enemy.”
11
Another Enemy
Arianne squeezed his hand while Edin watched the streets trying to memorize the turns and buildings. He should’ve tried to do that earlier and tried to figure out how best to leave the city. The memory of Frestils rang in his mind like a bell chiming for far too long.
They passed through the guarded gate to the enchanted land of the nobles, Edin caught the eye of one of the guards before the man quickly looked away. He spotted the castle looming to the right, its white towers looked black in the shadows.
Edin sipped some of the red wine and leaned back. Nerves were playing in his body like a musician plucking chords. Still looking out the window he said, “you do look very beautiful tonight.”
Arianne didn’t say anything, and he couldn’t look at her. His chest thumped, there were things he wanted to say… feelings. But how?
“There was nothing between me and the bar girl. I…”
“You let her draw you a bath. That is like saying please take me to bed.”
“Maybe in your time… I think. I mean she drew me a bath yesterday.”
Arianne gasped.
“Nothing happened. I was in and out in less than ten minutes. You have no idea how much scrubbing I had to do to get the muck out of my skin.”
“You were bathing, getting a shave too, obviously and probably drinking wine…” She punched him. “All while I was stuck in that fiend’s captivity… they were going to sell me to the Por Fen.”
“I did not touch wine.” Edin turned to her and looked into her deep eyes like the first frost on grass. “I did nothing but worry… I…” How could he explain himself? It was difficult seeing the exasperated look on her face.
Breaks squealed and the driver slammed his hand on the roof twice in a very un-noble way.
“You what, Edin?” Arianne asked, her mouth partially open.
He heard feet dropping to stone and clapping footsteps moving toward the door. Edin moved in and brought his lips to hers as the door opened.
“Ahem,” the driver said and they separated.
“You’re my princess.” Edin said.
“I’m nobody’s princess.” She leaned back but there was a smile to her now. “I am grateful though.”
The driver offered Arianne his hand as they stepped to the quiet street. He felt almost abandoned in that moment as did the street when they exited. Soft lights glowed in few windows, the air wafted with the sweat perfume of roses.
Across the large cobblestone road, the enormous castle rose beyond the thick white walls.
“Alestow castle,” Arianne whispered, “where the revolution started.”
Edin stared up at it. There were large trellises with vines rising up, gaping windows and three open-air verandas appearing in concentric circles as they ascended. Trees rose from them.
“This way,” the chauffer said offering his hand toward the door of a large townhouse directly across the street. “The Marquees takes tardiness badly… worse than not appearing.”
Arianne slipped her arm back through Edin’s and as they climbed grand stone stairs toward an ornate wooden door with the Duke’s crest on it.
It took him a moment to notice the black oval in the falcon’s head, the eye was like the gemstone from the Bestavienne crest. But this was a wan stone.
This line was of Duke Restican.
The townhouse was as tall as the inn, though half as wide. More white stone with large windows at each floor covered with open black shutters that didn’t look wide enough to cover the windows.
Curtains blocked the view inside. They climbed the narrowing staircase as the door opened silently.
Asmov stood beyond the threshold, his eyes were squinty with only the hint of black eyebrows so thin they could’ve been drawn on with a pencil. His pupils were black or a dark purple and his mustache was as thin as the eyebrows.
“Welcome, Mistress Aria and Master Berka. The guests are in the sitting room.” There was a lisp to the man’s voice and an odd pulse that only added to the nervousness growing in Edin’s mind. Edin got the impression he wasn’t always a servant.
He led them through the grand foyer with a crystal chandelier. At the center, almost camouflaged between the lighted crystals sat an animal’s skull. A bull.
“Here we are,” Asmov said opening a thick oak door.
“Thank you,” Edin said meeting that cold stare. Asmov’s lip twitched. Another feeling came over Edin, whatever the man’s job was, servant was only a part of it.
“Ah, the guest of the evening. The man who bested Polus the Unbroken.” Sandon strutted over to them from a small group of men huddling in a corner. They all wore silken clothes and had gold and silver jewelry. To the other side, in the opposite corner was a group of ladies. It reminded Edin of the schoolyard when it was outdoor playtime.
A hearth in the center seemed to separate the packs like a great wall.
The Marquees stopped before him and bowed his head slightly, “Master Berka and Mistress Arianne. So good of you to join us.”
“The Unbroken?” He chuckled, “the mongrel wet the bed till he was seven. Like mutts, it took forever for him to be house broken.”
“Still thinks of himself as a noble though,” the other lord from the street said.
“Correct you are, Lenter. Asmov, get these two some of our finest wine.”
A couple of the women across the way gave them sidelong glances as Asmov appeared with a pair of crystal glasses filled with a red wine.
Edin looked at Arianne, her jaw was set as she watched the two glasses approach like a criminal does a headsman.
“My lady has an allergy to the reds,” Edin said in his most highborn tone. “If she drinks any, she will undoubtedly need to cut the evening short.”
Sandon shrugged, “more for us then.” He took one of the glasses and Edin the other. He raised it and clinked it on Edin’s. “To new friends and merry times.”
They drank at the same time, Edin’s heart was racing as the young lord tilted the bottom of his glass skyward and brought it down empty.
“Tasty.” He smacked his lips. “Maybe we can find her a white,” Sandon offered. “Now please, you must regale my other companions with how you defeated the arrogant little braggart.”
He glanced at Arianne before telling them the story. Some laughed, one of the women wanted to see the cut on Edin’s arm. He rolled up the sleeve and peeled away the small cloth bandage he’d put on it.
“You did not treat it with a salve?” Arianne asked.
“I washed it.”
“Men,” a woman named Corta said, “The fools will rub dirt on scrapes and bruises as if that would help them heal.”
“Works for me,” Lenter said.
“You’ve only ever drawn blood with your needles.” She mimed some sort of sewing maneuver.
“I’ll give you the needle.”
“Please do, it’s so small a mouse couldn’t feel it.”
Everyone laughed even Lenter.
“Top class my dear,” Sandon said slapping his friend on his back and looking up. Edin noticed a servant in a sliding doorway. The servant nodded. “Now, let us dine.” Sandon continued.