by Marian Gray
“No. Well…” I struggled with my act. “I don’t think so. None of them came after me.”
“Whose horse did you steal?” His words remained paced and inquisitive.
My lungs froze in my chest. I didn’t know the answer. “A drunkard’s.”
“A drunkard’s,” he repeated as his eyes stared at me. The room grew still and quiet. All I could hear was the air pulling and pushing from his nostrils. “So, you are a foreign slave that has managed to elude her master. Interesting.” He nodded. “Whether you are lying or telling the truth, I cannot be sure at this moment. However, due to my position and practice, I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. It is through our generosity and benevolence that we find Him within ourselves. The worn bracelet on your wrist is a symbol of the barbaric practices of the northerners as well as the toil and trouble they have put you through.” His hands folded in front of him. “Essony is a forgiving and helping land. The Mont will take you in, cloth you, and feed you. In return, you will be expected to clean, cook, garden, and study with your sisters.”
“Thank you.” My heart dropped. It seemed I was to be a slave yet again in this ‘Mont’.
“And I want her bathed immediately.” His nose scrunched into a scowl, giving the room a few choice sniffs. “She smells like shit.”
XXI
Heartstrings
I stared out the small panes of glass, watching as the storm blew through and painted the village in thick layers of white. Large flakes dropped from the clouds in such a frenzy that I could barely make out the trees from the sky.
“Are you sure you want to pass the winter here?” Brungen asked as he brought the large mug to his lips.
“It’s a bit too late to go back on that decision now,” I said, motioning toward the raging blizzard.
“But aren’t you worried about losing your seat?” The joints of his chair creaked as he leaned back.
I shook my head. “The coins and wares were dispatched yesterday. They should have made it to Arus before the storm hit. I doubt the Elders will allow anyone to usurp. They probably think the villages are backing me.”
Brungen laughed. “I bet a few of the thanes would knife you in your sleep if they could.”
“I know.” I sighed.
The demand for tribute and duel with Mathias had broken any good relations I had fostered when we arrived. But given our plan of action, we all assumed this would be the outcome. Demands backed by force were always the death knell of diplomacy.
“Why the boy though?” Brungen huffed. He didn’t want to take Lars with us, and the more time drew on, the more the idea soured in his belly. “Why exert more power and control? You already had them beaten, and this will only demoralize them more.”
“I’m betting on him mending the region for me. When he returns to Lungdal as thane, I want him to see me as a friend and ally. His favor will lessen the others’ hate.”
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Iver.” Brungen shook his head. “You have killed the boy’s lover and broken his father’s heart by taking him. Lars hates you, and Ristof will come to resent you.”
I shrugged. “Time heals all wounds.” It didn’t matter what Brungen said; I wasn’t going to change my mind.
“Even if it does, who’s to say the other thanes will even embrace Lars as one of their own? What if they believe you’ve messed with his head, and that he’s untrustworthy. They’ll reject him.”
“And what if they don’t?” I leaned back in my chair, relaxing as the alcohol began to lighten my mind.
“The odds are not in your favor on this, and you’re naive to believe you can take him under your wing and befriend him.”
“You’re probably right, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take. I don’t want to live in a place where everyone hates me.”
“You’re a foreigner sitting on their throne. Of course there are going to be people that hate you. What did you think was going to happen?”
“The Codex. It’s in very plain Norrender that this is the path of things. I killed Godromar. I get his seat. Why is there such animosity and push back? Some act as though I stole Arus or something.”
“Iver, they are following the codes. They’ve put you in the hall and everyone hailed you as Ark. No, they aren’t particularly happy about it, but it’s not written in the Codex that they have to be. Gods be good, there are plenty of laws and practices in Varund that I think are horse shit. And you do too. But I still follow them, begrudgingly.”
He was talking out of his rear. “What do you know of my views on Varundian laws?”
“Plenty. You voted to save Derethe and Cirithe from death, even though it was quite plain that they were guilty.”
“So did you!”
Brungen rolled his eyes. “Of course I did. I didn’t want to lose my slave. What did you have to gain in voting ‘not guilty’?”
I sipped my miode. “It doesn’t matter.” I had more on the line than I cared to admit.
Brungen didn’t let that slow him down. “Point is, you knew they were guilty. If you thought all laws were just and fair and meant to be followed, you would have voted ‘guilty’.”
My tongue begged to retort, but I kept it sealed behind my lips. I had acted in bad faith not because of the law but because of the person. Yes, she broke a law, but spades were above most laws—this was one of them. If they would have known about her potential, she would have never been on trial.
“Have you thought at all about what your next move will be once you’re back in Arus and this garnering favor quest is over?”
“Yes,” I answered, thankful he was changing the subject of conversation. “Trade routes and linking the region with proper roads. Arus and her region don’t have a high demand for imports, but there are plenty of cities and villages that would buy our exports—miode being one of them.”
He drained his cup. “It’s good you’re focused and dedicated to your new position, but I was hoping for a different answer.”
“Like what?”
He shrugged. “Don’t you think you need to spend some time patching your personal life?”
“What do you mean?”
Brungen’s brow lifted. The lines in his forehead multiplied as he peered at me with open, unbelieving eyes. “After the duel the other day, I approached Irska to find out what you two were squabbling over and she…” He sighed as a newfound determination washed over his face. “She told me that you’re not having sex with her anymore?”
I spat. “Oh, Othun have mercy—”
“Hear me out.”
“No.” I didn’t want to talk about this with anyone. I wasn’t ready to, especially not with the town gossip. It was embarrassing, shameful even.
“Iver, what’s going on?”
I shook my head, keeping my lips sealed.
“Are you having problems down below?”
My eyes drew into slits. “No, I’m not having problems down below. Nothing is wrong. I’m just not having sex—with any woman.” I didn’t want it to appear as though Irska was singled out.
“Any woman?”
I guided my gaze back out the panes of glass, searching for my escape like a trapped animal.
“Why? What’s going on?”
We were lucky the hall was right beside the tavern, otherwise this blizzard would have made for a hard, cold walk back.
“I’m not going to let this go,” he said.
Heat built in my cheeks and frustration flooded me. “What do you want me to say?”
“The truth. You owe it to me.”
“I don’t owe it to you.”
“Well, you should feel like you do, given our many years of friendship. I would hope you would understand how much it pains me to see two of my best friends suffering with no explanation given.”
I melted in my seat. He was worse than my mother.
“I can’t have sex with her,” I blurted out between my teeth. “She keeps approaching me, and I keep turning her awa
y. I’m simply losing my passion for the woman. I don’t feel it with her anymore. Not like I used to. I still care though. We’ve shared many years together.” I swallowed hard. My mouth dried with each word I spoke. “And I don’t know what to do.”
He stared at me long and hard, processing what had just gushed out of my mouth. “Is this really how you feel?”
“Yes.” I nodded.
“Then why haven’t you parted ways?”
“I don’t know. When my thoughts find their way to her, they’re focused on dissecting the unbearable situation I now find myself in, not cutting and running. I want to know why I feel like this and how I can change it.” I glanced down at the table, observing each notch and stain on the wood. “I used to believe we would conquer the world. And now…” I didn’t know the words to finish.
“And now you’ve outpaced her?”
My gaze rose to him. It hurt to acknowledge it aloud. “Yes. When she turned down Ulfur’s offer, I lost so much respect for her.”
Brungen rubbed his forehead. “But she did that for you.”
“That’s not what I wanted though. I even told her that. She came chasing a marriage, and I think deep down inside I had no intentions of marrying her. She’s not the one for me.” I didn’t want to marry someone who was going to stake their claim for glory based solely on their partner or familial ties. Other than being born rich and pretty, Irska hadn’t really done much to better herself.
I continued. “But on the other hand, I can’t damage ties with Ark Ulfur and Varund. I think he found favor with me quickly and early on because his niece was after me.”
“No, he found favor with you early and quickly because you’re damn good at what you do. Don’t ever mistake that as Irska’s doing.”
“Then what do you recommend I do?”
Brungen’s cheeks inflated before a long breath of air blew from his mouth. “Do you want my honest thoughts?”
“Yes.”
“They can never be repeated.”
He sparked my curiosity. “Alright.”
“I agree with what you’re saying. You don’t love her anymore. I see it as well. You two are always bickering.” He took a hard swallow of his drink. “But you’re also afraid to leave her—as you just said. I don’t think that’s wholly due to her family ties. I think there’s some emotion at play there as well, but that will ebb with time. As far as Ark Ulfur and Varund are concerned, don’t be afraid. Ulfur gave you Arus not to reward you for your combat and leadership but to appease you. He doesn’t have the strength nor the cunning to strike you down or keep you from rising. He’s trying to put himself in a position to be your ally, not your enemy. He won’t sever that for Irska’s broken heart.”
XXII
The Mont
The next day, a pair of guards entered my cell and severed the bindings around both my wrists and my ankles. I hadn’t realized how raw the skin had become until the flesh stung once it met air. Dark, dried blood peppered around the wound. I doubted they would heal without leaving some sort of scar.
The two guards didn’t utter a single word as they escorted me from the small stone room. One kept a tight grasp on my emaciated arm, while the other led the way with torch in hand. We passed through several small doors and tight tunnels before meeting a door with a gold and silver circle surrounded by five groups of lines pointing in different directions. The center line in each group was longer than the rest, and the length descended with each subsequent line. The shape resembled that of a sun, but the five points mimicked that of a star pattern.
The lead guard knocked on the decorated door, and a boy in simple white robes and short dark hair answered. The three of them exchanged words before the boy let them pass.
We skirted through one more narrow hall before we met a long set of spiral stairs. With each stone I climbed, the air grew drier and the temperature warmed. When we reached the top of the long ascension, we entered another set of halls. These ones were different than the ones below. These halls were free of dirt and grime and brightened from the sun pouring through the glass. There was a sense of peace and tranquility that lingered behind the sheer floral scent within the structure. Even with two armed guards, being there calmed me.
We didn’t stop until we entered a makeshift courtyard. In either of the four corners, dry, scraggly trees climbed to the sky. Their branches spread horizontally in layers before building higher, and their bark was a deep brown, almost black, shade. With the exception of small square patches around the base of the trees, the floor was paved with the land’s common pale stone. In the center was a metal grate to which the land sloped. The incline wasn’t noticeable to the eye, but I could feel it in my feet.
The guards released me and stood by the entrance. Seconds later, another entered, a woman. She wore a gray dress with a full white apron over top the linen fabric. Her hair was hidden behind a pristine white scarf that was fitted to her head and tied off at the end. In her hand, she clutched a pair of shears.
As she approached me, she uttered words in a soft and nurturing tone. I stood, unmoved. Her hand gripped the shoulder of my soiled shift and lifted the fabric. A putrid, nauseating odor rose from beneath the dress. My cheeks reddened, but she didn’t even flinch. She pretended as though she didn’t smell anything and hid her emotions. She used the shears to cut the garment from my body. When the cloth pooled at my feet, she began to chant. The sound was long and low with a methodical rhythm.
I stood naked in the open air with the three pairs of Esson eyes on me, but I felt too good to be ashamed of my nakedness. The sun was warm and bright. I bathed in the light as the women sponged my body clean. Filth, sweat, blood, and waste slipped from my skin and down the metal grate drain.
My body was patted dry and my skin brushed with a white powder. The scent was soft, with a hint of vanilla and some unknown flower. When I was covered from head to toe, she helped me dress.
The light linen dress covered me from neck to toe, and a gray apron sat atop the sheer fabric. Next, my hair was braided and pinned to my head before a gray scarf was tied around my head.
When the woman finished her song, she placed a pair of leather sandals before me. The brown straps crisscrossed my feet and were tied off above my calf.
I was dressed, cleaned, and ready for whatever may come, or at least I thought I was.
I took in the oval room with blue, gold, and white tapestries lining the walls. At the far end was a large table with papers, ink, and quills strewn about. Gold candlesticks stood at either end to provide light when night took over.
“I must admit, you look like a completely different woman cleaned and clothed,” the man said as he turned around. His white silk robes flowed with his movement. It was the same man who had questioned me in the dungeon. “Welcome home.” His hands folded behind his back as he stood beside his desk. “I am Patriarch Menaries, keeper of the Mont and servant to the Lord in the sky. Your selflessness and sacrifice will not go unanswered. For your servitude within these walls, the Lord of Light shall reward you handsomely in the afterlife.” He smiled wide, as though he had just delivered this reward himself. “In order to help you assimilate, you will be required to learn Esson. In the meantime, I have found a mentor that will suit you well.” He lifted a hand and beckoned someone behind me forward.
I turned. I hadn’t even heard someone enter the room. Only a few steps away from the entrance stood a woman no more than a year or two older than me. She was an odd mixture of features and colors that I struggled to place. A deep, dark brown colored her hair like all the other Essons, but her cold blue eyes were similar to the Norrender.
“I apologize for my delay, Your Blessedness.” She bowed her head.
He dashed the notion away with a wave of his hand. “Think nothing of it. The guard had warned me that you hadn’t returned yet and your note from the watchtower was dispatched a day late. Did you find anything?”
Her head remained bowed, keeping her gaze on the floor instead
of the patriarch. “No, Your Blessedness.”
Patriarch Menaries’s attention turned to me. “It appears you did come alone after all.” He nodded at the woman. “Rise, Astra, and join us.”
“As you wish, Your Blessedness.” She took her place, standing beside me.
“A prayer before we begin, if you will, Astra,” he said as he clasped his hands together and bowed his head.
“It would be an honor.” She mimicked his submissive stance.
I glanced at the two of them. Why were we praying and to whom?
“Bless us with your holy light, oh Lord,” Astra began. “Help me to guide your new faithful servant as she walks in the path of your shining rays.” Her words then broke from Rekke and entered what I assumed was the Esson tongue.
“Amine,” Patriarch Menaries whispered when Astra had finished, and she echoed the word. “Astra is to be your mentor while you are here. She’s a highly respected and very pious woman. Don’t disappoint her.”
Astra opened the square door, and a long slender room spilled out before me. Simple wooden beds lined both sides, with unassuming trunks stationed at their feet. A thin blue and white rug ran through the middle, touching from door to end. Tall, pointed-arch windows separated each bed and brought in all the sun’s light. The brightly illuminated room reminded me of a barracks with its pristine and plain dressing.
“This is where you’ll stay while you’re still an initiate,” Astra said as she took a step inside. She motioned with her hand for me to follow her. “Your assigned bed and trunk is that one.” She pointed to the room’s far corner.
It was the last bed in the row. Clean white sheets had been pulled taut and tucked beneath the stiff mattress. A single pillow rested at the top. The center was lumpy from use and in desperate need of a good fluffing. At the foot of the bed, sat a squat trunk. A large gash marred its tawny face, giving it a very distinct appearance. In the shallow crevice looked to be dried blood, but I dismissed the hunch as soon as it entered my head.