Medieval Rain

by J. D. Sonne

  Nothing, she decided. She would do nothing, for now. She brushed the mud and dirt from her buckskins and shook out her hair. Using her sleeves to wipe her face, she took some water from her skinpouch and splashed it on her cheeks and rubbed them free of tears and grime. No viruls would ever know how confused and ambivalent her feelings were toward them. And until she understood those feelings herself, there was nothing to be done.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rane’s culinary choices had improved since she befriended Shad. Now, instead of a grudging piece of bread every few meals of gruel, she had bread every meal and even meat of every kind, delicately roasted over the open hearth under Shad’s direction. Not only that, but Rane discovered that Shad had an uncanny knack for figuring, and all in her head. It involved camp domestics, but she could, in an instant, recite whatever was in the stores of provender, food, salt, spices, medicinal herbs, pumice and sand for cleaning, and any number of sundries needed for running the camp. She even had set up a tally system, having stolen some parchment from the building site, and used it as an indicator for when stocks of her supplies became low.

  For a long time, Rane was so busy with her own concerns on the construction site that she all but ignored Shad’s gift for figures, but one day she was eating the evening meal, savoring a wonderful sop that Shad had poured over an exquisite cut of needlebeast and a hearty piece of grainy bread. Between bites, she watched the female scratch and etch on the parchment and mouth figures in a breathless flurry, and Rane got an idea.

  “Shad, tomorrow I want you to come to the building site with me.”

  The surprise on Shad’s face was as if Rane had suggested she ride a scuprat, quills and all. “I—I can’t,” Shad murmured. “I have things to do here.”

  For the first time, Rane studied the female. These women did not wear their hair loose like Rane and the Leads she had known all her life. Of course, Rane’s hair was not a flowing cascade like most of the other females’ and Leads back at her sector for that matter, its wiry and wild texture often a source of jocularity in this camp. No, the females here clotted their hair in mattes that resembled long tendrils of rope, or even “snakes,” as Rane had thought of them at first. But, now, she was so used to the style that she employed a little more equanimity in her observation. Rane continually tied her hair back, and it just as continually escaped, driving her mad with it strands assaulting her face as she worked. In fact, she was considering having Shad put her hair in “fuzz lanks” or just “lanks” as the females liked to call them, and escape the discomfort of her own shaggy scalp.

  “I think I can use you at the site,” Rane said easily, not wanting to scare the female off. She decided that Shad’s gift of calculation would be of value at the waterwork. And they needed a new counter with Murman’s “disappearance.” They were always short on supplies, often running out at critical times. Gadrick as counter was less than adequate, and unless she kept a sharp eye on the materials herself, work was often stalled due to the lack of any number of items.

  She looked at Shad’s face. It was almost incurably filthy, as were most of the females’ in this camp. In fact, all of the females often voiced their amazement at Rane’s incessant and, as they thought it, needless “self-washing.” Until this moment, Rane realized she had equated the dirt with ugliness, but a closer inspection of the female’s face belied that observation. Shad had an earthy and hale beauty shared by most of the females in camp and a keen intelligence in her eyes that Rane had not bothered to notice before.

  “At the site? What for? And what are you looking at?” Shad asked, gazing at Rane warily. “Did I do something wrong? Is the dish bad?”

  “No, no,” said Rane. “I am just thinking! Just come to the site with me tomorrow. Assign another female to attend to your duties here at the hearth—just for a day!” Rane added, again trying to assuage Shad’s look of suspicion. “I promise that if you don’t like it, you can return to your duties here.”

  At this, Shad relaxed a little, even looking rather intrigued at the prospect of visiting the site. Rane breathed a little easier and said, “And, as for the dish! I have never tasted anything better! Well done!”

  Shad squirmed, returning to her persona of cowering female and Rane shuddered. That would stop, she vowed. For the rest of her time in this camp, she would make sure that these females would come to know that they were Leads, and not just female viruls.

  Steam rose from the mud field of the construction site and Rane had removed her jerkin, flapping the tunic against her chest to get some air to her sweaty skin. The heat of work was manageable most days, but today was not one of those days. Everyone moved at half-speed, the fetid moisture of the hot forest sapping the workers’ efficiency, causing all of them to make mistakes that were beginning to result in injuries.

  Rane cursed when another virul was led away to the infirm tent and threw down her stylus in frustration. She did not want to call off work for the day, but if she lost any more workers to injury, she wouldn’t be able to finish this sector on schedule. The wet season was nearly upon them, and she would ordinarily bless the warmer days if it were not for these stupid accidents.

  It was only when an entire trough section nearly collapsed that she decided to call work off for the day. Shrono, for all his troll-like and plodding demeanor, was usually quite deft in his work, simply because he was so strong, inducing the other viruls to fight over who would partner with him. The partnership did not work out so well today when Shrono dropped one of the immense support poles on Modral’s ankle. If it were not for the viruls working on the next sector over rushing to hold up the remaining supports, the entire sector would have had to be rebuilt, delaying the schedule further.

  “All right! That’s enough, you—“she so wanted to finish the imperative with “idiots” or “clots,” but work had been so smooth lately with her having abandoned invective for encouragement, that she opted to drop the epithet. “—you may go early. The way you are working, we’re not making any progress anyway.”

  The viruls were so lethargic that rather than throw down their tools in triumph, they just let them fall from their flaccid hands and stumbled back to camp. As Rane watched them go, she imagined that they would probably all just fall into their beds of skins in their little domes. For herself, however, she had a different idea: she wanted to go swimming. On a day like this, there was no remedy for the gritty sweat running over every square inch of her body like a swim in some of the cool, clear waters that covered this planet. Then she had another idea. She would teach Landman how to swim. That goal had been at the back of her mind since she had found him. She had thought it odd that anyone on this water planet would shun swimming, but now that she thought of it, her virul had adopted a name that had shunned the greatest natural resource around them. Landman: what a strange name for someone of this planet! Yes, it was time he learned how to swim.

  Landman had not been at the construction site that day, but had headed into the western forest on a scouting survey for wood. Rane knew of a deep pool that was perfect for swimming, not only because of its clarity, but also because of a hot cauldron spring that fed it from its southern tip. Many on her planet relished cold water for swimming, and a good thing, too, for hot springs were a rarity. Rane had discovered this pond on an earlier survey and after dipping in its warmth doubted she would ever enjoy a cold plunge again. This pool would be perfect for a novice swimmer, especially an older one like Landman who had not been raised to it like most of the children, Lead and virul, on this world.

  Rane found Landman and his party rather quickly. They had already begun the felling process and all she had to do was follow the sounds of sawing and cracking and the shouts heralding the trees’ crash against the ground. A fine pile of creft had already accumulated in a nice high triangular formation; creft was a wood prized for its lovely tendency to mold to trough forms and its durable finish when it dried. It was a species of wood that did not require much pitch to keep it insulate
d from leaks, a desirable trait as pitching was a tedious and troublesome process, to say the least.

  Rane knew that Landman enjoyed her company, but the smile that appeared on his face when she walked into the clearing was a surprise. Its happy shine was quite gratifying, but confusing as well, as she didn’t think she quite deserved the camaraderie--as much as it did warm her.

  “So, it looks like this is enough creft for another five sectors of trough. Well done!”

  Landman mopped his face and looked up at the sky. “Blasted hot, though!”

  “Oh, yes,” Rane said, remembering. “I dismissed work a little early. The site got so hot that the mistakes alone were depleting our numbers. Shrono actually dropped a pole on Modral. It was then that I let them go back to camp.”

  Landman laughed. “Well, Modral probably had it coming. Whenever those two are paired, Shrono does about five times the work Modral does—”

  “Shrono does five times the work of anyone he is paired with,” Rane pointed out. “But, it isn’t as hot up here. Ah, yes--I feel the breeze. There must be a canyon up there.”

  She gestured up to the east and saw that Landman looked a little uneasy. Oh, that’s right, she said to herself. I am a prisoner, after all. He probably doesn’t want me thinking too much about the land features around here.

  She said, gesturing toward his crew, “Say, why don’t you have them knock off for the day, too? I can send someone to pick up these logs tomorrow. I’ve been driving everyone a little hard. And,” she hesitated a bit, “I think it’s time you learned—” Rane looked this way and that and went on quietly, “—how to swim.”

  The look on Landman’s face was a mixture of embarrassment and pique. “I have gotten along fine without swimming so far.”

  “So floating half-dead among the reeds is what you call “fine,” eh?” Rane said, smiling. “Look, that pond just up there—have you ever seen it? That pond would be a perfect place for you to learn. We can go alone so no one else can see your shame!” This last she whispered comically so that even he had to laugh.

  It took a few more pours for Rane to fully convince him. Very reluctantly, he finally agreed, admitting, “It is a little ridiculous that I have never learned all these years. Hey!” He yelled to his men. “We are done for the day. Go ahead and head back to camp. We’ll pick that stuff up tomorrow!”

  Chun came laboring up to them and said, “Rane! I did not see you! How is the work going back at the site?”

  After explaining again, Rane said, “But I will tell you a secret.” She looked at Landman for permission and found it in a resigned shrug. “I am going to teach Landman here how to swim! Do you want to help?”

  “What?” Chun exploded until Rane hushed him. “I have never met anyone who couldn’t swim! Of course, I want to help! This will be great!”

  “But shut up about it to the others, will you?” Rane said, dragging him away and lowering her voice. “We don’t want to spook him! I barely got him to agree as it is!”

  Chun brought apologetic fingers up to his mouth and said, “Oh, yes! We will definitely keep it quiet! Come on, Landman! Let’s get you wet!” Then he bounded off in the exact direction of the pond making her realize that it was not just her little secret.

  “So, he’s coming along?” Landman said, a skiff of disappointment in his tone.

  “Sure, why not?” Rane said. “He won’t say anything to the others.”

  He didn’t reply and just trudged behind her on the path, that the more she thought about it, was quite well traveled.

  Chun’s banshee yells led them to the grotto, surrounded by the sumptuous flora of their world. Gigantic crocus and ferns sprouted along the crags of the pool’s edge, and a wall of huge conifers rose behind them, their massive strength seeming to ward off any attempt to explore their depths.

  Rane, amused by the splashing virul, eagerly stripped down to her ratty chamois and dove in, the water a steamy font of comfort, fed by the warm spring. She decided to explore the floor of the grotto and plunged under the surface, enjoying the buoyant weightless envelope of water around her. She felt her nose close, and the vestigial gills open at her jaw, the water oxygenating her body even more vigorously than the air would. Reveling in the swim, she almost forgot her purpose for being here and surfaced quickly.

  Chun was sitting on a little island of rock, taunting Landman. “Come on, you landman! On a water world—a non-swimmer! Jump in! It will come more naturally than you think!”

  “Shut up, Chun!” Rane said. “That is not helping—where is he? Landman? Landman! Where are you?”

  She searched the foliage along the pond’s edge and saw nothing. He must have gone back to camp, but no—there was movement behind one of the ferns. Then she saw him. He had stripped also, but he seemed embarrassed.

  “Come on in!” Rane called, the timbre of her voice heightened by the echo in the grotto. “Look, I’m right here. I won’t let you sink.”

  Then she sucked in a surprised breath, and before she could say a word, Chun said it for her, “What in the name of Surwold is that?” He clambered off his rock and propelled himself through the water to Landman who was standing ankle deep on a tongue of rocky ledge that protruded a few shallow trough lengths under the water.

  Rane stayed in the water, but held on to the ledge as Chun climbed up and inspected the strange striations on Landman’s legs and arms. “Is this why you never wanted to swim?” Chun asked in wonder. “Well, I don’t blame you. These look really scary!”

  “By the Gods, Chun,” Rane said, looking uneasily at Landman’s face, now becoming redder with every word that came out of Chun’s stupid mouth. Not only that, but he looked a little green. “Shut up! Have a little compassion.”

  “Oh,” Chun said in derision, “A lead urging compassion—now, that is rich!”

  “Well, apparently, I’ll never learn it from you. Now, Shut. Up!” Rane pulled herself out of the water and sat down, her legs still dangling in the warmth. She did not look at Landman, but stared out at the grotto, saying nothing, knowing that silence would likely coax Landman in sooner than any words would.

  Chun looked at her in a mixture of embarrassment and disgust for a moment, then plunged back into the pool, obviously opting for a continuation of the swim rather than the argument.

  She heard the splashes of Landman’s footfalls over the ledge toward her and she felt him standing just behind her. For quite a few moments, she heard no movement, then he eased down next to her, and he sat silently as they both watched Chun alternate between languid strokes on the surface and disappearing into submarine dives in the pool’s depths.

  “So.” Rane breathed. “Now I know why you did not want Chun to come along. Sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Landman said, “You couldn’t have known. As I grew up, it just seemed easier to avoid the water.”

  “. . .And, keep these covered.” Rane said, gesturing vaguely at his limbs. She looked out at the water to make sure Chun hadn’t surfaced, then turned to Landman, looking him full in the face. “What are they?” She looked closer at the arm and leg nearest her. “Oh my god! Are they scars?” She grabbed his arm and inspected the tiny rivulets of scar tissue that ran like serrations up and down the skin. She asked in horror, “Who did this to you?”

  He sighed, deep discomfort making the sound ragged. “In the house where I served as a virul, one of the leads became a little obsessed with me. The titleds in that house were very permissive and did not observe strict rules as to the separation of the sexes. That led to a lot of fraternization, and well. . .”

  Rane knew of some houses like that—not that she would ever have been exposed to that sort of behavior. Her mother knew the tenor of most of the houses in her sector, and would not let her go to “those confused houses” as she would have put it. Rane could think of nothing to say, and she didn’t want to interrupt his story anyway, so stayed silent, hoping he would go on.

  Chun surfaced, sputtering and blowing
water out of his gills. He glowered at them for a moment, then plunged into a deep dive once again.

  “Sondrae would often summon me—”

  “Sondrae? Titled Larad’s daughter?” Rane almost shouted the question. So, Landman was from her sector, and was a virul in a house she knew! She had always assumed that Landman was from another sector as she had never seen him. “But, I never saw you! I didn’t know you! Wait! Did—”

  “Yes. I knew who you were when I woke to you pumping water out of me.”

  “Then why didn’t you make yourself known? You led me to believe you were not of my sector!” Rane said, indignation filling her. “You should have told me who you were!”

  “And why,” Landman said, his face full of scorn and amusement, “would I do that?” So, you could drag me back to Larad’s? So Sondrae could have another go at me? Even if you put me in servitude on your estate, shackled as your sister wanted me out in the fields--that would have been infinitely better than being in thrall to Sondrae. Not only that, she would have killed me for being a fleer.”

  Rane was silent as she digested this information, and she found that she could not disagree. Sondrae would have indeed killed a fleer from her estate. And given what Rane knew about Sondrae, a security who was her brutal sister’s best friend, the death would not have been easy or quick.

  So, Titled Larad’s daughter, ” Landman went on, “would call me from the fields where I worked and let me spend time with her.” He huffed a little and went on, “I thought that we may couple—even produce children. She even promised that we would live together—”