Adventures of a Merchant -1- A Start
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So Grandma was wrong about all Sorcerer's being evil wizards. That doesn't mean that they aren't dangerous people to be around. Imps and demons, pirates and bandits, you just never know what you are going to run into as an apprentice of a merchant slash Sorcerer. Nor the impact it will have on your life.
by Arcie Emm
Fair warning to you right from the start, I am no heroic figure like Igor the Wise or SanjI the Nose or even Alase the Sunderer. On the bright side, I am also not a black-hearted villain like Esther of Neruman or Darrel the Roamer. As a result, you may ask why you should read the saga of my life?
My answer, although I am not those figures, my path caused me to march in sync with their and other adventurer's paths. So while I caused little of the great history from our time, I did observe a fair share of it. So whether you asked the question or not, you could read this story to learn more about what you know. Or if you hope for some entertainment while visiting the little house out back, well I intend to provide that as well. However, even though it is about me, it’s a small story you should read only when you are without more pressing matters.
After all, that is the state in which I find myself while writing it.
That and because everyone says it would be cathartic to write of my life, which may make more sense if I felt the need to participate in such a cathartic exercise. Well, let us ignore that possibility for now, it requires deep thought, and I always struggle with deep questions. Instead we will deal with another less deep, but infinitely more important question for a writer. Where to start my story?
Many will think the answer is obvious, start at the beginning. However, some of you, specifically those who subscribe to the Asthelhorne Monthly Biography Journal will know the current approach is to define the end and walk back through time. A strategy that works well for someone near their end, but I personally hope for many more good years that will lead to additional chapters of my life, even if not my story.
With the end out of the way, we are back to the start. The problem, my start is too damned boring for the beginning of a saga, even about me. Do you really want to read about how the seven year old me stole apples from Nan Fickles’ orchard? Not bloody likely. Therefore, my editors and I decided to start with the beginning of the middle.
Don't worry, you will not miss much and my writings may wander further into the start at different points of my rambling. After all, the straight path rarely led me where I needed to go, which sometimes turned out back at a beginning. So why tell my story differently? And if this does not work, maybe my editors at the Greater Asthelhorne House of Publishing can survey a proper road for my story.
So on with the start of the middle, actually early-early-middle for those who value the precise.
"You’re what?" My shouted question to the Master rang louder than respectful, but he seemed not to notice as he calmly answered.
"I am a sorcerer. And you will learn this art as well, while apprenticed to me."
"Umm...I thought you were a merchant? For the last three months you’ve been teaching me how to be a merchant. And...and do my parents know you’re an evil wizard? They never would have apprenticed me to an evil wizard!"
"I'm not an evil wizard, Drake. I'm a sorcerer, and it’s my sorcery that is one of the secrets to my success as a merchant." Master Elladoo answered, rather primly for someone who just defined himself as a sorcerer or evil wizard or whatever.
"You are too. If you're a sorcerer, you’re an evil wizard. My Grandma told us stories about sorcerers and how they summon demons and imps and all sorts of nastiness to bring plague and plight and badness to all of us innocent types. I thought you were nice, but now you're not. You're an evil man!!"
By now my voice reached a level that could only be described as shrieking. Most parents would recognize this sound, but poor Master Elladoo and his wife never had the fortune of children, which caused his eyes to bug out in panic while trying to control a twelve year old going berserk. That response, in itself, should prove his unlikely candidacy for evil sorcery, as anyone with those abilities would smack me down without a second thought. But he just stood, completely flabbergasted, watching me rant incoherently. This continued for a short time until I felt a cuff to the back of my head, a cuff I recognized and one shut me up immediately.
"Hoy, what's all this bloomin' racket?" Turning to the grizzled and disgusted face of Sergeant-of-the-Guard Torin Hussel, a man scarier to me than any evil wizard, froze my vocal cords. "I asked you what your blasted caterwauling was about? Tell me!"
"Mas-master Elladoo said he is...he is a evil wizard." I said, stuttering and wilting under his glare.
"He's not an evil wizard you little twit. He's a sorcerer. Even more so he is a very good merchant. And you should thank your lucky stars he decided to offer your father an apprenticeship for you. After all, you either joined Master Elladoo or ended up with the life of a pig-herder."
Well that left me taken aback, both by the spittle flying out of the Sergeant's mouth and the concept of being a pig-herder. After all, if not for my apprenticeship, I would follow in my father's footsteps to become a baker. But my mother did not raise me dumb enough to say that to the raving lunatic berating me, just dumb enough to challenge a non-lunatic sorcerer. No, instinct kept me standing there with head bowed as he continued his rant. "Betcha your Granny told you that all sorcerers are evil wizards, crazy old bat! And don't give me that look Mr. Whiney pig-herder, I may not know your Granny, but every single one I’ve met is crazier than an outhouse dog after being locked in a closet full of bumble-bees for a fortnight with a some bitch in heat outside howling her desire the entire time. You shouldn't listen to no old wive's tales, boy. If you do your head will end up full of rotten crap, not just the regular manure that resides between your ears currently. Do you understand me?"
"Umm..."
"And another thing ya little tear-splattering turnip, this is the chance of a lifetime for you. Master Elladoo is a wise man who has offered you something amazing. Why if I had such an opportunity when I was a lad I would have dived in head first like a holy hermit coming into town after spending 30 years in the desert when he finds the local whore house. So I think you should take some time to consider your future and decide if you are going to stay as Master Elladoo's apprentice or leave and become your town's snot-pickin', village idiot!"
"Yes, sir."
"And boy, apologize to Master Elladoo."
More stunned than chastened, I nonetheless apologized, "Sorry Master Elladoo!"
"Apology accepted Drake. I am sure you felt quite a shock, I remember feeling so when my Master first informed me his sorcerous abilities. I am not sure I handled it much better than you. So run along and give some thought as to whether you want to stay as my apprentice. If not I will see that you get home to Corels safely. Give me your decision at supper."
With a quick, "Ok sir." I escaped as quickly as possible from the Sergeant's glare and headed to my favourite spot at the post, the docks. There, all alone, anyone could do some thinking about their life. Looking back, it is easy to come up with counter arguments for every thought that made me stay, but I am older now. And with age comes not necessarily wisdom, but an experienced eye. Now I would not be drawn in by Master Elladoo's niceness, after all evil often hides its true face from the innocent. Also, Elladoo Post did not provide a welcome rustic relief from fishy, dirty Corels, instead it served as a beacon for bandits and raiders and thieves. Furthermore, continuing my apprenticeship did not offer a great opportunity to learn reading, writing, trading, weapon skills, geography or even mystical arts, it actually offered an opportunity for an evil wizard to bend me to his will. And it wasn't an opportunity to travel and...well you get the picture.
The long and the short of it, Elladoo Post remained my home. And though my experienced self likely would not make the same decision, I would not be myself with a different choice.
And so my apprenticeship began anew, but actually very little changed. My days were spent brushing up on reading and math with Mistress Elladoo, the Master's pretty and pleasant wife upon whom I developed a major crush. Practice with a crossbow, sword, shield and spear under the insane eye of Sergeant-of-the-Guard Hussel and his corporals with the post's guard. Lessons in horseback riding and animal husbandry, for the oxen and mules we used to haul our wagons, fell to Gergen Bleke. And most importantly, the time spent reviewing the Annals of the Glanlies Trading Commission with Master Elladoo and his journeymen assistants, Clara Holnd and Durk Norset. The Annals, an ever growing set of books that encompassed topics such as geography, history, laws, tax and tariff information, supply and demand concepts, trading hints and lists of products, buyers and sellers. They proved fascinating and gave me a feeling of pride to realize that we on the Glanlies Peninsula forsook rule by nobility, instead we elected Commissioners to sit upon the Glanlies Trading Commission and run the affairs of the peninsula.
Outside of the training, I received multiple opportunities to take part in trade missions around the local area. Our outpost usually dealt in the purchase of commodities we transported to the one of the cities for use by tradesmen. In turn they produced goods from those commodities which we sold back to those who farmed/mined/hunted what we bought. Over the next year I went West across the Rillian to buy wool and grain. Went North East of the post to meet with some of the Northern Plains tribes to obtain skins and furs. Even a trip on river craft to the North to collect iron, silver and gold bars along with some gems from the Hanglish Mines. The people varied, but each daily proved their hardiness, able to take care of themselves, though always happy to see someone from outside their community. A great adventure for a young boy just into his teens.
But one thing remained on the back burner, Master Elladoo's aspect as a sorcerer. Likely a result of my initial reaction, combined with the numerous other tasks and lessons that deluged an apprentice, but for a year and a half nobody mentioned it. Then one night, when the moon turned full, well actually one sunny afternoon, Master Elladoo approached and asked, "So Drake, are you ready to begin learning about sorcery?"
By this time I quite liked Master Elladoo and thought him a very nice man, but my Granny's warning still rung, so there remained a bit hesitation when I answered, "Ok."
Smiling at this response, likely one he expected, Master Elladoo said, "Well I planned on doing some sorcery this afternoon, so how about you watch me and hopefully you will see it is not all that evil."
This offer seemed fairly honest so I nodded my head and followed as he went into teacher mode. "Honestly, my skills in sorcery are minor. In fact I can only perform the first and second level spells. The first level spell is one that allows communication with others. While the second level spell is used to gather information. It is not perfect but it helps me scout our territory and determine who is ready to sell or buy. In fact both spells are considered so helpful in the art of trade that the Commission will not fully support a postmaster unable to perform them. And the communication spell is vital in the protection of our peninsula."
By this time we approached one of the stone bins where we stored grain before milling and transportation South. At least I always assumed we used it like all other bins, but Master Elladoo unlocked and opened the door, then with a welcoming gesture he said, "Welcome to my workshop."
If you are like me at that point in my life, then you expect a Sorcerer's workshop to contain jars full of bizarre things, walls and walls of books, strange candles and flames, bizarre symbols all over and just a general sense of strangeness. It is true this strangeness can be found in the workshops of high-level sorcerers, but Master Elladoo's place rather let me down. When lit, the normal looking wall sconces showed a plain round room with 5 pieces of furniture; a desk with a large comfortable chair against the wall just to the left of the entrance, right in the middle of the room stood a smaller version of the chair with a little table beside it, and the last piece, not part of the set, a regular kitchen chair about a quarter of the way around the room, to the right of the entrance. Outside of the furniture, what the floorboards stood out the most. Some craftsman having place the boards at the middle of the room into a diamond shaped pattern, with each width of board in the pattern showing a darker wood. All in all, the room under whelmed.
Gesturing me to sit in the plain chair, my Master took the chair at the desk and said, "The first and second level spells may not appear that spectacular, but only a limited number of people in the world can perform even the most minor of spells. First off, you must be left-handed. Secondly, you must be born under a Waxing Crescent Moon. And lastly, you must be the 4th child born to your parents. When Master Chenester in Corels learned you met those conditions he informed the Commission in Glanlies he found a potential apprentice. And since I sought someone to fulfill this role and with my post’s proximity, they informed me of your existence. This led to my initial offer to your parents to take you as an apprenticeship. And I am happy to report that, even without your stepping upon this new path, I would be more than happy to keep you on as an apprentice Merchant. But if you choose to follow me down this path it will open many more potential paths of success."
Above all else, the Master never forgot that the heart of a merchant belonged to a salesman. Feeding me a double handful of praise and promise wore away most of my last defenses and led to me listening more attentively, even nodding my head now and then.
He said, "Success, because these spells provide the ability to gather and exchange information. And as Sigger Dulles wrote in Book 3 of The Annals, 'A forewarned merchant is a successful merchant.' The first level spell keeps the Commission forewarned about everything that happens at their posts. As it is a spell we use to pass messages back and forth to Commission Headquarters in Glanlies."
Well this did not seem evil to me, in fact it made perfect sense. "Is that how you know when the crafters are running low on wool or skins or ore or wood? And when to purchase and forward a shipment?"
"Exactly. But it also helps with security. I can be informed of scouting reports about bandits or make a request for support."
"Wow, how does it work Master Elladoo?"
Smiling the smile of a successful fisherman he opened the top drawer of his desk and took out a bowl and a water jug. The bowl, glazed blue ceramic, held three handles, one in the shape of a mouth, one in the shape of an ear and the last in the shape of a bell. While the matching jug showed no distinguishing marks. After I ran out to fill the jug with water, Master Elladoo poured that water into the bowl before he placed the jug back in its drawer and led me to guess it did not serve a magical purpose. A good guess, as the Master gestured at the bowl and explained.
"This bowl has a twin in Glanlies, through it I can talk and listen to one of the Warders on duty at the Hall of Bowls in Glanlies."
"But how does it work?"
A rather bizarre explanation involving spirals and invocations, gestures and hand placements and general magical mystical type of things followed. I am sorry I cannot go into further details, but rules state, and the penalties are quite harsh, that a student of the sorcerous arts cannot pass them on to a non-practitioner.
However, you can be assured I finished that day impressed and interested in learning more. So during the next seven month period, in addition to the various tasks and learning already described, my afternoons now involved a short, half-hour trying to replicate the spell using a set of practice bowls. That is until the day I talked with a Warder myself. A big day for me and in celebration I pulled out one of my Father's favourite recipes and baked a celebratory Apple-Pecan Bunt Cake.
Being a first level sorcerer brought pride to my heart. And the cake brought goodness to my stomach. Yum-Yummy!
Excitement at this new skill completely washed away all childhood fears of magic and replaced it with teenage confidence. It caused me to approach Master Elladoo and ask about taking the next step to learn the second level spell. But he put me off, saying he wanted me to practice the first spell until would offered no further learning. For, despite believing my skill with the spell, he disagreed. So for the next few months I practiced, until I handled the majority of the Post’s communication with the Commission in Glanlies. Finally he decided to teach me the next spell, though my excitement dimmed when he uttered the following words.
"Although the first spell is harmless, the second spell is the one that can start a sorcerer down the path of evil if he is not careful. For it is this spell which allows us to communicate with the demon world." Seeing the old doubts return to my face he moved to smooth the fear. "But I am wise enough to know my strength is not enough to walk too far down this path, so I only summon and talk to the lowest demon, the imp. Why don't you observe such an encounter tonight?"
"Umm...ok if you think it’s safe?"
"Aye Drake, it is safe."
That night after supper, and well before the summer sun came close to setting, Master Elladoo collected me and went to the kitchen where Cook Winset prepared him a tray including a kettle of tea, accompanied by a pot of honey, and a plate of sugar cookies. When I looked curiously at this tray he just smiled and shook his head as if to say, not now, before we headed out to the non-bin bin. After I lit the candles in the wall sconces, he took and set the tray on the table in the middle of the room, beside the small chair. Soon afterwards we sat in our respective chairs and he entered explanation land.
"It is not widely known but the world of demons is unlike our world of rock and earth. Instead their world is one without substance, one which encompasses the world in which we live, yet is not part of it. In fact, if we are to believe the imps, many worlds exist like ours, all encompassed by their own. This means they can observe things within our world, but are unable to partake in these events. That is unless we, the residents, invite them into our world. Therefore, we must take care, because they are powerful and capricious, and so we use protection such as the rhombus."
"The rhombus?"
"Aye the rhombus. It is the pattern on the floor, within which we are able to create a portal into the demons' world that allows us to see and talk to them, yet serves as a barrier they cannot cross over from their world in order to wreak havoc."
"Oh you mean the diamond? But I thought you need a pentagram as protection from summoned demons?"
Frowning at my questions, Master Elladoo answered, "No it is not a diamond. That is a poor description of the shape, since it connotes a gemstone that is not naturally shaped as a rhombus. Best to call it a rhombus. And its simplicity of form provides a much better barrier than the overly complex pentagram. It reflects the four directions that define the world and is much easier to draw or make. All in all it is safer and better than a pentagram, though some do take the more elaborate approach. No the rhombus is the answer for the smart sorcerer. But enough of the fine rhombus, let me explain what I plan for tonight.
"I am going to summon an imp named Parfalamew. A treacherous little weasel, but also extremely curious and so is full of information. And fortunately for us, I learned his weakness. That is key, remember to always learn their secret. Parfalamew loves tea with honey and sugar cookies. So while munching and slurping away he will happily tell us, poor pathetic humans that we are, everything he knows. For tonight, I ask you just observe and do not talk. There are certain things I wish to learn and if you send Parfalamew in a tangential direction, I may not be able to get him back in line. Understood?"
"Yes sir,." I murmured, more than a little perplexed about what would happen. But though perplexed, my curiosity kept me there, fully intent on learning about imps and their summoning.
Soon his actions quenched my curiosity about imps, well at least about the imp Parfalamew. A small, incredibly thin, grey, mannish shaped figure, who, despite his size, Parfalamew spoke in a deep voice and loved to hear himself speak. Master Elladoo only needed to form a question about an area of curiousity and the imp would go on and on, always in a condescending tone, describing what he, The Great and Wise Parfalamew, knew.
By the time the tea and cookies disappeared, I felt ready to drop the smith’s anvil on Parfalamew. But not Master Elladoo, who skillfully prompted the imp to learn that the sheep in Favern Valley would soon be sheared, that the Northern Tribes traveled South hauling travois loaded with winter skins, that the Semplel Forrest Marauders imploded when their leader died of food poisoning and a myriad of other interesting facts about what occurred within a couple hundred miles of Elladoo Post.
And so began another part of my apprenticeship, sitting in and observing my Master converse with Parfalamew, or Dingledrol the happy lover of roast beef sandwiches, or Serrasellie who remained entranced by the smell of flowers, or a variety of others who may or may not know some information that would help our trading efforts in the region. We knew when communities harvested or mined commodities and learned when villages ran low on goods. We learned of river pirates or bandits that crossed through the post’s territory and passed this information on to the garrisons at North Fort or Corels. No wonder Master Elladoo's post proved so successful, for he definitely fit the category of forewarned.
About four months after my introduction to imps and only a couple weeks after my fifteenth birthday, Master Elladoo planned another session with Parfalamew, who served as both the most obnoxious and most well informed imp amongst those with whom we dealt. He sought information about rumours of crofts, North West of the Rillian, being raided and burned out. Worrisome enough for the Master to attempt learning the truth.
So once more, with a tray of tea and cookies prepared, the Master began his summoning. Meanwhile, I settled into my chair, now equipped with a cushion, to watch. But we both sprung to our feet when Parfalamew appeared not on the ground as normal, but floating five feet in the air.
Actually floating is not an accurate description, instead a tall, blonde demoness held him by the scruff of his neck. Though not sure what Master Elladoo thought when he saw her, my fifteen year old brain immediately found itself distracted by her overwhelming femaleness and minimal amount of clothing. With a sneer on her face she looked around the room and shook Parfalamew questioningly.
"Yes, Mistress. These are the nasty humans who made me poke my unworthy nose into your business," said our sniveling friend Parfalamew.
"Are they, my sweet? Well how kind of you to point them out to me. Still, the next time I find you sneaking around in my business I will bake you over a fire with a nice honey marinade and serve you to my friends Ido and Odi. Now begone." Suddenly, with Parfalamew disappearing, she turned towards Master Elladoo and said, "Hello there, lovely man, I bet you want to be Sandrelessa's friend, don't you?"
In a nonchalant tone, one worthy of much admiration, Master Elladoo replied, "If you are Sandrelessa, my dear lady, then I don't think I do?"
"Not only inquisitive but rude as well, this really won't do. Why do I feel this is going to turn ugly?"
"Because both you and I know the Carthanan are capricious, vicious and untrustworthy? And since you are a Carthanan anything you say only delays the inevitable struggle which cannot help but end badly for one of us?"
"Oh poo, so you know about us do you?" Giggling like a schoolgirl, she spun to point at me and ask, "How about instead of the two of us fighting, you give me the young one? Heck, just to show you how nice I am, I won't even tell Darrel the Roamer about your spying on him and his fun."
"Ahh so that is who you work for? I should have known one such as he would keep one such as you in his service. I warn you to leave now or meet your doom." With those words my normally mild Master took a deep breath and almost appeared to grow larger.
"Do I take the young one, then?"
"No, foul demoness, you don't take the young one. Drake, get out of here, now!"
Hearing his command I moved towards the door, except that my feet remained planted where I stood. Instead my gaze locked on the Carthanan, who smiled at me as she tittered and cooed. "Hello, Drakey-poo. Don't you want to come and play with Sandrelessa, sweetheart?"
I really didn't. In fact the happy thoughts in my brain, once so enthused to see so much of her, found themselves chased away by the creepy-crawly feeling brought forth by her sickly tone. Yet she held me with her gaze. Then my feet unconsciously moved me in her direction and, not even, the Master's shouted invocation stopped my forward momentum. Nor the suddenly glowing rhombus, which shrank inwards. Nor the action of Master Elladoo ducking behind his heavy, oaken desk. But Sandrelessa found them distracting, for she glanced in his direction and lost part of her hold over me. However, she quickly returned her gaze, a gaze that now held something close to fear and shouted, "Come to me, Drake!"
Like a stone out of a catapult, I suddenly found myself leaping towards her. But just before reaching her the rhombus finished its rapid shrinking into nothingness. This resulted in an explosion of light from where Sandrelessa stood, an explosion of light that hit my leaping body full on.
I remember no more.
Of course, you probably know the result of my first encounter with Sandrelessa, if for no other reason than the cover the publishing house plans to use when including my biography in their monthly journal, but please forgive me if I do not jump to the obvious. Instead let me relate my next memories in the manner in which I remember them. The first of which involved me waking sore and exhausted. The second memory consists of the realization I did not want to wake and caused me to mumble. "Leave 'lone. Wan' sleep."
"Drake sweetie, we need you awake for a few minutes."
"Don' wanna. Sleepy."
"I just want you to drink something before you go back to sleep, honey."
The voice finally penetrated as Midwife Nerise's, who looked after the care and well being of the citizens of the post. And with recognition came a grudging, reluctant realization she would win the battle, since Midwife Nerise, polite and sweet as she always appeared, never lost an argument with someone in her care. Opening my eyes proved a chore and a half, and success resulted in the agonizing light from her candle making me slam my lids shut once more. But she saw the blink and said, "That's a dearie."
Some sort of broth, but she did not get much into me before I fell back to sleep.
Upon my next awakening, I felt much better. In fact, I did not require any prompting to do so; though, when I did, I immediately remembered the disastrous encounter with the demoness. Another difference at this awakening, the scent of lavender filled the air to inform me someone shared the room with me. Based on the scent, I knew, that instead of Midwife Nerise, it Mistress Elladoo waited for me to wake.
As previously mentioned, the lovely Mistress Elladoo held my heart in thrall. Furthermore, despite the respect the post felt for Master Elladoo, none felt he would ever make a better deal than the one that resulted in winning her as his wife. As a Deglace, one of the premier families of the peninsula, she could pick her suitors, but none of them realized she did not seek the soft life of a merchant princess, tucked away in a pristine townhouse within the City of Glanlies or a manor outside the capital. No, the Gods made Esselde Deglace of sterner stuff and she craved adventure. She wanted to see the borderlands, learn of the wild tribesmen, test herself and not be coddled. So when somewhat gawky, yet visionary, Hiram Elladoo came calling upon the Deglace for financial backing to open a post in the North, he fortunately found Esselde acting as her father's assistant. She decided they were kindred souls. Before he knew it, a thoroughly bedazzled and ecstatic Hiram Elladoo found himself heading North with the means to build a first rate post but also a beautiful, new wife.
But I digress, which is an easy thing to do when on the topic is Mistress Elladoo. No it is not time in my tale to dwell overlong on that fine lady, though as time passes I will find opportunities to tell you more of her. For now, let me say that one did not normally find her in my quarters, which I shared with the post’s bachelor. In fact it proved downright shocking.
In surprise, I found myself scrambling out of bed and hurrying to say, "My apologies Mistress Elladoo, I should not be abed at this hour..."
At this point, the thought that something might be drastically wrong barged its way to the front of my mind. Not waking in the bachelor’s quarters the least of these surprises. Everything felt different, from the way my body moved as I jumped out of bed to an unusual presence under my nightshirt. The strangeness I felt resulted in a muttered question, "What?"
Lowering my gaze left me struck dumb, or awed, or something unexplainable at the sight before my eyes. A sight, that when combined with the blood that rushed to my head at jumping out of bed, caused me to plop right back down in dizziness and ask, "Is this a dream?"
"No Drake, sadly it is not a dream. Hiram is not sure what went wrong, but he surmises that just before the rhombus' protection spell destroyed the demoness she realized her last tie to reality consisted of the spell she held over you. In her panic at approaching death, the spell overcame her control and drew much more from her than she intended. Thus when she died, the spell, including her very essence, flowed down the link towards you as would a rope to an anchor. It makes no sense to me, it seems so very impossible, but look at you!"
At this statement, she covered her mouth in embarrassment, but continued to stare at me with wide open eyes. I understood why she reacted in this way. The form that sat where I should sit would not make anyone think of the old Drake. What she said, bizarre as it sounded, could not be denied. I said, "I look like a girl."
"More of a young lady than a girl. An extremely pretty young lady at that."
"But I don't want to be a pretty young lady!" I said. And if that sounded like whining, don’t blame it on my new higher pitched voice. My state of mind, at that moment, would make anything I said, even with my old voice, sound like a whine.
"I know you don't, Drake."
"Everybody will think I am a freak!"
"No they won't. Hiram and I won't let that happen."
"How about my Mom and Dad, they won't recognize me!"
"Don't worry Drake, we will let them know what happened and that although changed, you are healthy. They are good people and nothing will stop their love for you."
"But I’m a boy."
By this point I found myself on the Good Ship Emotion after it has wrecked upon the Shore of Despair."
(Editors Note: I apologize for making you read one of the worst metaphor-like combinations of all time, but Drake refused to let me change it. He explained that when writing it, it felt like he road a canoe through a river's rapids, sucking him in and making him hold on for dear life until making it safely through to the end. And yes, that makes no sense.)
Seeing the tears run down my face, Mistress Elladoo rushed over to sit beside me and pulled me into a hug. And though only a day before I could only dream of such attention, on that day I needed the comfort to bolster the thin barrier of sanity keeping me from turning into a bawling babe.
"Don't cry, sweetie, Hiram and I will do everything we can to make sure you can be changed back. And if not, we will ensure you always have a place here."
Not wanting to think about her second statement, I found myself latching onto the first and asked, "Where is Master Elladoo? Can't he do something to fix me?"
"Well we thought with your condition, it would be better if you woke to Nerise or myself. Also, Hiram is very busy and..."
I would like to interject some context before explaining my reaction to this statement. So far my writing glosses over much of my life at Elladoo Post and focused upon the non-mundane, all of which included exciting events or times of high stress. Therefore, I may not come across at my best, appearing disrespectful to my elders and bordering on spoiled. Honestly, that’s not a fair picture. I usually acted the attentive kid, followed orders and rarely found myself in serious trouble. Ok on with the story.
Before Mistress Elladoo could continue with her explanation I shouted, "He's busy? I've been changed into a girl and he's too busy to see me? What is so important that it’s keeping Master Elladoo busy?"
"Well, Drake, we learned Darrel the Roamer and his band of cutthroats are in the region. Besides the demoness mentioning his name, one of the local hunters arrived two nights ago with the reports of a camp just west of the river. Where Darrel and his men gather for an attack on the post."
This got my attention and hijacked my thoughts into an entirely different direction, "But both Clara and Durk are out with caravans. We’re missing half the guard complement. We’re not ready for an attack."
"Aye, Drake. We definitely are not in shape for an attack; furthermore, we have been welcoming many of the farming families within a days walk, who are afraid of bandit raids, which leaves us crowded. Fortunately a number of them are capable with a bow and can augment our defense. But everybody is busy preparing defenses, particularly Hiram."
I could easily imagine how busy both Master Hiram and Sergeant-of-the-Guard Torin Hussel would find themselves. Plans existed for defending the post, but they relied on enough defenders to man the wooden wall surrounding the post. And even with our full complement of guardsmen, we still may not stave off an attack by Darrel the Roamer and his merry band of murderous thugs. They owned quite a reputation, not just for brutality, but also for skill.
Part of that could be explained by Darrel being a product of Glanlies, born into a gentry family and trained by the Commission Militia. A natural with the sword, a gifted leader who felt a voracious appetite when it came to tactics and military history. Only one problem, he proved himself batshit crazy.
Like all the top-notch psychos he kept the truth hidden for quite some time; however, about twelve years before he visited the post, the City of Glanlies experienced a rash of abductions, rapes, and murders. Until one night when a patrol of watchmen caught Darrel, red-handed, trying to bundle a struggling young lady into his carriage. Fortunately for the young lady she escaped, but Darrel killed the rescuing patrol and some others while escaping from the city. For a few years nobody on the peninsula heard anything more of him. Then, even though everybody hoped him dead, rumours told of him joining a mercenary band somewhere on the Simolean continent. Every once in awhile a new rumour would make its way north concerning his adventures, each bloodier than those before. Until eight years after he escaped Glanlies his mercenary band tried to commit a coup in the city state that hired them for protection. However, their employers actually engineered the plot in order not to pay the band and once more Darrel proved lucky to escape with his life. After that point he earned the eke-name "the Wanderer", deciding to give up all attempts at respectability and embracing the life of a maniac. From that point on he and his remaining band of now cutthroats found themselves linked to nearly every villainy about which you could think and the bounties offered for their heads spread across the nations and places they wandered.
Recently he started a brand new game, going after his old colleagues of the Glanlies Commission. He raided a couple of smaller outposts, a mining camp and a number of caravans. Apparently he now decided to target Elladoo Post and picked worse time, at least for the post’s inhabitants, to do so.
It is amazing, but the fear of death pushes lesser fears into the background. For instance, the knowledge of Darrel the Roamer's closeness took a more urgent place in my mind than the incomprehensible change of sex. Change pushed further into the recesses of my brain when the alarm bell started to ring and we heard a shouted, "Riders Approaching!"
Mistress Elladoo's glance jerked toward the sound, although she could not see anything through the walls, before returning to me with a look that seemed to ask permission to leave. Somewhat in a daze, I nodded approval and she hustled out of the room, leaving me unsure of what to do. However, no sooner did her footsteps disappear before I heard another set, which soon resolved themselves into Midwife Nerise. However, unlike Mistress Elladoo or myself, she did not focus on what happened outside, but upon her patient, me. Placing her hand upon my forehead, she said, "You look a lot better, Drake. How are you feeling?"
With less than my full attention I provided that old standby answer, "Good."
"Are you still feeling tired?"
Slowly she drew me back into the room and this time my answer involved thought, not just reaction. "Actually I am not feeling tired at all, I feel wide awake."
"Ahh...that is interesting. Master Elladoo was correct not to consider you sick, just exhausted from your transformation. How about hunger, are you feeling hungry?"
"I'm starving. And I'm really, really thirsty."
Smiling at this answer, she said. "Well Drake you are in luck, I brought a tray of food with me, but left it in the hall in case you did not want anything. Why don't you move over to the chair and table while I get it.”
Moving over to the chair caused certain things to come into focus. Of course, as a guy, the most noticeable thing were the breasts on my chest, they definitely seemed noticeable. Though not as large as I originally thought. Next I realized my hair now made me a towhead, although not quite the pure white of the demoness. Still, an unusual colour in an area of black and brown hair. Outside of the colour, there seemed quite a bit of it though tied in twin, thick braids hung most of the ways down my back. Realizing someone had taken the time to do the braiding made me ask, "Ma’am, how long did I asleep?"
"A dreadfully long time, dearie. It's almost 3 full days since you and the Master faced the demoness," she answered, more than a hint of disapproval in her face and voice. "Everybody felt awfully concerned. But you never experienced a fever, you just slept the sleep of the exhausted. I mostly worried you would dry out, which explains why you are as thirsty as you say. But enough of my nattering. Eat your meal."
Standing close to the Midwife I recognized the third thing about my change, I stood taller than before. I could see out of the high window with no difficulty and the top of Nerise's head now reached my chin. This both surprised and weirdly pleased me, since my previous height found me only a few inches taller than the midwife.
Taking Nerise’s advice to heart, I sat in the chair beside the table now bearing the tray. Sitting on the wooden chair brought about the next difference, one less noticeable on the bed's mattress. I now came equipped with more padding on the back side of my lap than in my prior incarnation. Gulping down a cup of fresh well water and beginning to eat my meal of tasty venison stew and fresh baked bread; I noticed the last few items possible to see without a mirror or a full disrobing (something I don't think I could handle on an empty stomach). The colour of my skin no longer matched the olive common on Glanlies peninsula, instead it now appeared a pale, peachy cream colour. Lastly I noted my wrists and hands. More finely boned, a narrow wrist attached to a slender hand with long fingers. The end of those fingers holding long finger-nails, strong and well shaped, but almost hornlike in consistency.
Trying to ignore the observations of my new self, I distracted myself both by eating and noting the worried way Nerise peaked out the window. Fighting the battle between my hunger and the desire to join her observation, I asked, "What is happening, Ma’am?"
Glancing quickly back at me, she replied, "Now, Drake, don't worry about it. Just eat your meal and then we will get you back into bed."
"Ma’am, Mistress Elladoo already informed me of the approach of Darrel the Roamer and his crew. Furthermore, I realize we are missing a large contingent of our guard. I also know both you and the Mistress are worried. Even ignoring what has happened to me, the situation seems bleak. How can I not be worried? Please, won't you tell me what is going on? Otherwise, I will quit eating and see for myself."
With a sigh, she nodded and said, "There is a great, bloody gaggle of the blood suckers, but they stopped a good ways away from the post. Maybe they are surprised to see the gate closed and men on the walls, as they likely are used to surprise on their side. Wait, one of them is coming forward with a white faced shield to speak to Master Elladoo on the wall. Oh, it doesn't appear a happy conversation, in fact they just exchanged rude gestures. Now the rider is returning to his friends and talking to someone in black, who I guess is that beast, Darrel. Oh my, here they come. Actually not all of them, just some with bows and others with shields to cover them are coming forward. And the men on the walls are shooting back. Someone is going to get hurt, I need to prepare in case it happens."
By this point I did not need her description of events. The last of my meal sat forgotten on the table and I used my new height to stare out the window to watch the arrows and bolts fly to and from the post. With a quick "get to the basement." in my direction, Midwife Nerise hurried out of the room. As she left to do her duty, I wondered about my own duty?
Those who did not fight would hided in the basement warehouse, but did I belong there? Before my change, I’d trained to to play my role in the defense of the post. I drilled regularly with the guards and most considered me a good shot with a crossbow. In fact, for my fifteenth birthday Master Elladoo gifted me with my own crossbow and sword.
Did my run-in with Sandrelessa change my duty? I knew nobody would feel surprised to see me down in the basement, but......it would make a statement. It would say I accepted this change, that I no longer considered myself Drake. This left me only one choice for me, which I put into action by running downstairs to the second floor and the bachelor quarters and my regular bunk. Meeting no one on the way or inside the large room, I threw open my chest and pulled out some trousers and a tunic, unconsciously pulling off my night shirt which struck me dumb.
Now I’d never seen a naked woman, outside of my dreams, and nothing prepared me for the sight that met my unclothing. Let me start by saying the obvious. Oh my gods. Just as my hair did not meet the norm for this part of the world, neither did my new body seem to conform. Whereas most of women stood shorter and more curvaceous, I stood tall and willowy. Not lacking in curves, just a less pronounced hourglass. Much of the height difference appeared due to my legs, which appeared disproportionately long, but very nicely formed. I fought the desire to explore, but...
...but I had no time. My friends needed my help. Shaking my head in denial, I pulled on the trousers, encountering slight resistance as I pulled them over my hips before finding myself unable to fully tighten them on my thinned waist . Hoping my hips would keep them up, I pulled on the tunic, finding it provided little support for my new attributes. Though pulling on my leather jerkin and wrapping my sword belt bout my waist did offer some of what the tunic missed. Thus covered, I pulled on my boots, now somewhat large but there seemed no danger I would step out of them. Lastly I place the now somewhat loose pot helm on top of my head. Thus clothed, I scooped up my crossbow plus two quivers of bolts and ran from the room.
In the gap between my running out of the bachelor quarters and arriving at the wall, let me describe what we were In the time between leaving the bachelor quarters and arriving at the wall, let me describe what we defended. Elladoo Post stood as a good sized frontier fort, but it still just a frontier fort. That meant a wooden wall, made by embedding logs, side by side, upright into the ground, surrounded three sides of the post. These logs stuck out of the ground to a height of around 10 feet, made higher on the outside by a stake filled ditch dug around the outside. The longest wall, of about 70 paces, held a gate at its center and wooden towers, 15 feet high, at either end. While the fourth side, the river side opposite the long wall, consisted of the main building of the fort, a combination of keep, hall, warehouse, inn, barracks and general all purpose building. In this impressive structure the residents of the outpost lived and worked. Three stories tall, four if you counted the basement warehouse, with all but the top floor and roof being stone. It made that side our most secure and pushed any attack towards the gate wall.
Another thing about the fight, it would not be a battle of great numbers. The post's population stood at 78 people, with 32 of those away in the two caravans. And of the remaining 46, only 26 of us would fight on the walls, although I did later learn the refugees augmented our defense with 10 hunters and farmers. Meanwhile, Darrel's bandits numbered 57 men.
You would think, with the wall, even though outnumbered we could easily defend ourselves. But Darrel and his men counted themselves veterans at this type of raid. Professional soldiers, who wore chain mail armour, making them hard to kill. If we could keep the fight at a distance, using our bows and crossbows, we stood a chance, but once it became hand to hand, only a few of the guardsman would not be at their mercy. We hoped to keep them away from the walls for a long enough period that reinforcements, requested by Master Elladoo, could arrive from North Fort.
Ok, back to me running out to help with the defense. I do not know what would happen if someone stopped me in my dash through the Main Hall. In fact, something deep in my soul wanted this to happen, for someone to send me to the basement, but then I exited into the yard and passed the point of no return. Running to a section in the wall with a gap between defenders I loaded my crossbow. Once complete, I looked through one of the vertical slits cut in the joint between logs to find a target. But before my eye found the slot, a hand grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me about.
"Hoy! Who in tarnation are you, girlie? And what in the Name of the Allfather are you doing out in this mess?"
Being confronted by Sergeant Hussel and his not knowing me felt bizarre. That combined with my general fear of the man resulted in a squeaky voiced answer, "I'm Drake, Sergeant. I’m here to do my duty."
Treating me to my first look of appreciation from a man, he replied, "By Sera's Sacred Womb, the Master told me you’d turned into a girlie. But he didn't mention you looked good enough to demand the little man in a gent's pants stand up and took notice."
Well didn't that hit me like a blackjack between the eyes. Trust the Sergeant's brutal honesty to take my mind in directions best left, particularly in the middle of a battle, unexplored. As I felt a blush spread across my face, he continued. "A beauty like you shouldn't be out here. You should head back to the big house and down into the basement with the rest of the women."
Thankfully this brought my mind back on a safe path, duty. "I can't. I know we are short handed on defense, every bow can help. I’m able to load my crossbow, so I don't see why I can't shoot it."
The Sergeant frowned at my answer, but could not deny the need. He said, "Ok girlie. You can stay, but if it appears they are going to make it into the yard you better hustle your cute little behind into the big house. You don't want to let those assholes get their hands on a pretty little morsel like you."
Then glancing past me, he yelled, "What in the name of Caling's Sword are you idiots looking at, the enemy’s on the other side of damned fence. Ya knuckleheads, think about it, you will get all types of opportunity to stare at our new chickie-poo in the future, but only if you survive."
With that last jab, he ran along the fence towards a tower. However, in this brief encounter he re established the basis of our relationship. One that left me feeling both; accepted despite and horrified by my change. In that particular instance, he left me blushing at the men nearby, many who knew me as Drake the boy, who returned looks that ranged from frowns to leers, nods of acceptance to head shakes of bewilderment. But the looks proved quick and fleeting, before they followed the Sergeant's orders and focused their attention on the outside of the post. To my surprise we spent much more time looking than shooting.
Looking through my chosen slit, I figured out why. The enemy did not make themselves ready targets. They held a position about thirty paces away, which put them within killing range, but mostly remained hidden behind the large shields carried by one member of each pair. In turn, the bow man would intermittently attempt shots at the slits through which we watched. I say try, because we met every such attempt with a number of bolts or arrows from our side. Basically a stalemate, though I could see two bodies laying on the ground amongst their ranks, showing where we found the mark.
This cat and mouse continued for a good hour with little changing, though we did get two more of them, but they lucked out and took out one of our men when he spent too much time looking out his slit. Personally I only took two shots the entire time and both of them embedded in a shield. For my first battle, it turned out less exciting than expected. Still everyone remained pessimistic enough to realize this calm would not last, despite how much we hoped and every moment of delay brought relief that much closer.
The bandits realized this as well, for in my quick looks through the slits,I saw a pair of men, likely Darrel and his lieutenant, in earnest discussion beyond the range of our bows. After their discussion, the lieutenant yelled something at the bandits who exchanged arrows with us. But though he spoke in a language I did not recognize, three quarters of their shield and bow pairs reversed towards their leaders told us what he yelled.
Corporal Deagel dashed my surge of hope as they retreated, when he yelled, "Sarge, looks like they're moving to stage two!"
Sergeant Hussel only gave me a moment to wonder what that meant before he started yelling instructions.
"Hoy, listen up! Damn it to Ardente's Antechamber, I said listen, not look. Keep an eye on the pricks who are looking to bugger you. That's better. Now the bastards know the post is not an easy place for them to get into; therefore, they are going to try and get rid of the walls. So heads up for grapnels overhead and try not to let them catch in the wall's cross-bracing. If one does, cut the damned rope before the assholes pull the wall down and jump on us like a horny dog on the mayor's wife. Also the candy-livered, turd-eaters will be easier to hit while throwing grapnels, so make them pay for attempting to pull down our lovely wall.
"But if the they do yank the horseshoe out of their ass and get a chunk of the wall down I want the civilians and the beautiful Miss Drake to high-tail it to the big house and get upstairs to the windows on the third floor. Bostly, when that happens I want you to take a couple of the lads, grab some pikes and hold the door. 'Cause when the rest of us cannot hold the walls any longer we will retreat to the house ourselves. And, Bostly, my boy, you better keep the door open for us or my shade will never give you a moment of peace. Everybody got that? Good. Let's kill us some bandit bastards."
So the next stage of the Battle for Elladoo Post began. Unlike before, the bandits grouped together as they moved towards the wall, except for four pairs who kept sniping at the wall. Unfortunately for me the big group ended up on the side of the gate where I watched. Understandably most of their throws did not make it to the wall. I say understandably because it takes a certain type of man to stand there long enough, leaving the cover of the shields, to really get away a good throw. After a few attempts, one of them became that sort of man. Maybe driven by bravery, impatience, anger or stupidity, but one big devil came closer than his brethren. One of his tosses even made it over the wall, though luckily it did not catch on anything when he pulled it back. Still sooner or later he would prove successful, so I decided to make him my target. Aiming to the spot from which he threw, II waited for him to show himself again. Waited and prayed that one of their shooters would not notice me and bring a sudden end to my plan.
As you likely deduced, fortune smiled on me while I waited. It seemed like minutes, but probably it took much less time before I spotted a spinning grapnel where my target would likely appear. Ready for it, I still felt surprise when a large figure appeared. But my surprise lasted barely a moment before I shifted my aim and let fly. I did not see what happened, focused on ducking away from the slit, but a yell did rise from the other side of the gate.
Later I learned I’d killed Duncan Smyte from Delos Village on the Isle of Curns. A murderer many times over, with combined bounties of 2300 gold on his head, and owning the dubious honour of the first person I ever killed. But at the time I could not know I’d hit him or if he just let out a bellow as my bolt whipped past his head.
However, it did seem to put fire in their belly. For more of them became the type of man who would stand and make a good throw. They paid for this bravery, but there arose the sound of steady thunks against the wall. Not just the outside, but inside, until finally one of them hooked on a cross-brace and with a heave of their desperate muscles they pulled down a seven foot section of wall.
At this break through, Sergeant Hussel’s orders went into effect and we scrambled back to the post building. Well I began the scramble, but only the others actually made it to their destination.
Me, well I fell victim to another indignity. When I turned to run, another grapnel, heaved over the wall, struck me square upon the melon. Sure I wore a helmet, but only of hardened leather and it did not provide enough protection for a half-stone of lead falling from the sky. Heavy enough to knock me unconscious to the ground. There I lay unnoticed, until everybody made it back to the big house.
If I wrote this story immediately after it happened, there is no way this embarrassing tidbit would be included. But in the time since it occurred, the incident became a watershed moment in the history of the post. Of all the strangeness that happened to me around this time, the grapnel to the head is the one that entered the post's folklore. Not unusual to hear something like, "not that long after Drake took the grapnel on the noggin" or "wasn't that around the time Drake got knocked out". Friends! Don't you just sometimes want to hold their head under water for an hour or two.
After a few years, even I saw the humour in the happening. But when it happened, I felt mortified by the whole thing and wished for a more heroic explanation as to why I slowly regained consciousness (dang, doesn't it seem like that happens a lot in this story) to the sound of a couple of unfamiliar voices talking.
The first voice spoke with an accent, the same voice that shouted orders earlier, "This better be worth it, Darrel. We already lost nine men and another twelve are injured. It’s pissed the men off."
"You better believe it's worth it, Gunther. The monthly shipment of from Hanglish Mines will pass through Elladoo Post in three days and by that time we will own it. When the barge docks for the night, we will catch them unaware. Its prize will provide more than enough loot to keep us in wine and women for years to come." This second voice answered.
Smoother and more cultured. Outside of its base tendencies, the rhythm matched Mistress Elladoo's cultured sound. This and the Gunther fellow calling him by name lead me to guess I lay in the presence of Darrel the Roamer. Not a good thing.
"Will we be able to take the post in time? It took us a whole day to gain the wall and push them back into their warehouse?"
"Today offered us the hard challenge, Gunther. The wall offered their archers more cover than our own, but now we are in their yard. All we need to do tonight is keep the fire banked at their door, so it’s ready to come down tomorrow. Then it’s time for hand to hand and the boys will slaughter them."
"Are you sure we aren't going to face any Glanlies' militia?"
"You really do worry like a Grandmother. Of course I am sure, my contact in Glanlies intercepted Elladoo's call for help. And I am sure of my contact in Glanlies, because I hold him by his short hairs and he knows that not even death will loosen my grasp." Darrel said, laughing as all civility disappeared away from his urbane voice.
Gunther joined in with a heartier laugh than his master, but still asked more questions, "Isn't that dangerous for your contact, what if someone finds out?"
"Who will know they sent a message? They’ll think we surprised the post, since these Commission fools are too confident in their communication system and would never send a physical message. So we’ll kill the only people who know about the message before tomorrow night is over"
"Kill them all?" The way the question ended all positive thoughts I may feel for Gunther. The toneless, indifferent manner in which he asked showed him no different than his leader.
Darrel's laughter grew colder as he replied, "We’ll let the boys have some toys. But save Elladoo's wife for me, I’ve heard the Deglace bitch is be quite the looker. Actually, only save her for me if she didn’t turn into some fat farmer's wife. And if we are lucky, we may find more tasty morsels like the blondie over on my cot."
By this time I found myself fully awake and trying to ignore a terrible headache, while keeping my composure and not moving. But hearing tasty morsel, almost the same descriptor used by the Sergeant earlier shook me to my core. It showed, because the awful laughter stopped and Darrel said, "But enough for now, Gunther. Leave me while I play."
Sensing someone approach I did not move, but it proved useless. Like a beast sensing his prey Darrel knew I no longer slept, "Really sweet meat. We both know you’re awake, so open your eyes and let's have some fun."
Ignoring him, I lay there trying to fall back into unconsciousness. But he slapped me on my thigh. Both the sound and the feel made me aware of my lack of clothing. No clothes and being in the presence of a rapist like Darrel caused my eyes to jerk open while I attempted to cover myself with my hands. The attempt only caused pain when my wrists came up short, held in place by ropes holding them to the cot. Staring into the soulless eyes and leering grin, my fear transformed into shudder.
"Hello, sweet meat, I did not realize Elladoo dealt in exotic goods until I saw you. If a curious man, I would want to hear your story, but alas...I am not a curious man. I am a simple fellow just interested in slaking my thirsts and you my dear are like a crystal pond in the middle of a desert. But before that happens, pretty girl, I must ask. Will you lie still for a moment and let me untie your arms without trying anything?"
Not believing my luck I could only nod at this bizarre request. Though doubting it would offer me the escape that immediately sprang to mind, it did seem to make escape more possible. However, Darrel remained wise in his evil ways, before he untied me, he first secured the entrance to his tent. Then making everything unabashedly real, he removed his clothes. I could describe what I saw, but that would humanize him and he does not deserved of that. A vicious, cruel beast feeding off of society like a rabid dog, worthy of nothing. Instead I will tell you that in his nakedness I saw a terrible fate, one that did not improve when he untied my wrists and stepped away from the cot.
Hesitantly getting to my feet, my glance bounced from him to the tent's entrance, then back to Darrel when he asked, "Do you know why I untied you sweet meat?" Not waiting for my head to shake, he answered, "Because I want you to fight. I want to hear you scream."
Those two statements solidified something within me beyond fear. From deep within me I felt something struggle to get out and it took me a moment to recognize it as rage. Rage at what happened to me. Rage at what was about to happen to me. Rage I did not want to hold in. And when the rage released, I no longer maintained control.
Darrel noticed something happening, as he stared and asked, "What?"
Finally I could respond to one of his questions, but someone other than I answered, "Don't you remember me, Darrel honey?"
"Who?"
"Darrel, you make a girl doubt herself. It's only been a few days, how could you forget?"
A switch went on in his mind as his eyes opened wide and he said, "Sandrelessa. I thought you left me? How are you...what are..."
With a giggle I heard myself answer, "Oh goodie! You do remember."
Before I realized what happened, or before Darrel could react, my body glided forward to snap his neck. As his body crumpled to the ground, my other self said, "Oh poo, I broke my toy. Well I guess I will go find another."
A horrific time followed, maybe even more horrific than what would happen if Sandrelessa did not lurk deep in my soul, ready to rescue me from Darrel. Even as a passenger, without any control over what occurred, I felt tarnished. Admittedly it left me alive and untouched, yet filled me with nightmares almost impossible to totally shake. This is one instance where writing could prove cathartic, but I don't want to remember what happened and am unwilling to write it down. Instead let me say the night rang with screams, all of them male. I remember moving fast, I remember talking in that little girl's, chirpy voice. And mostly I remember death, lots and lots of death.
Until nobody remained. All the bandits in the camp dead or fled, no one left for my rage to target. As quickly as she came, so she quickly departed. That other self, Sandrelessa, recognized her fate as it happened, but could only shout ‘No!’ before being sucked back into my soul.
She left me alone.
Naked, surrounded by death. Covered in the gore of that death and blood from cuts all over my body. Raising my hands to cover my face it appeared my earlier thoughts proved true. The long nails on my, claw like in appearance, served that purpose well.
Suddenly shock set in, combining physical exhaustion with pain and mental anguish. Falling to my knees, I tried to vomit. But the huge dry heaves could not expel any of the bile I felt. Not knowing what to do, the post beckoned me. Hardly noticing the mostly missing wall, I only could think, ‘I want to go home. I want my friends. They will help me.’
I tried to stand, but it required too much effort. So I crawled. It turned into miles and miles. And I just about made it. Almost at the tattered gate when...
...you guessed it, I passed out.
My promise to you dear readers, this is the last awakenings about which you will read, at least for the near future. I cannot say none will ever appear in my writing, at some point, after all I’ve experienced many awakenings for me since that point, but few are worth writing about. This awakening however is worthy of note.
It shares aspects with my prior two awakenings. It took some time for me to transition from slumber to awake, but something immediately told me I lay safe within the safety of the post. My guess, I slept once more in the bed in which I awoke before the fight. Similar to that time I could tell I wore my nightshirt. However, unlike that time, though similar to the awakening in Darrel's tent, my arms appeared tied to the bed frame. And again two men talked to each other, in the room with me, though this time I recognized the voices. Not that recognizing friendly voices made me less nervous with the binding. So once more I lay in place, letting no movement to betray my wakefulness, while I listened.
"Tell me how the shares work again, Stork?"
Based on Stork’s answering sigh, I suspected I missed the first, second, and maybe third attempt at answering this question from the less than sharp witted Jimi. "Ok, each man that took part in a defense will get a full share of the loot from the bandits and the bounties we can collect on their heads."
"The farmers too?"
"Aye the farmers too, they took the risk just as much as we did. And one of them bought it, just like Eddie and Mort. Speaking of the three of them, they will get a bonus share, both granted in their names to their families. So that adds up to 35 shares. When you add in the double shares for Deagel and Bostly, plus Hussel's 5 shares and we reach 44. Does that make sense so far, Jimi?"
The wheels likely turned, but Jimi sounded somewhat sure when he answered, "I got that part, Stork. I don't understand the next part."
"You mean the half shares? Well the guys out with the caravans get a half share. So since there are 22 guards and 2 corporals out with Clara and Durk, they’ll get 13 shares which takes us to 57."
"But why do they get anything, they weren't here?"
"I'm not sure of the exact reasons. It's just the way it's always been."
"Well I don't like it," Jimi said, almost in a pout.
"It does make sense when you think about it." Stork said, gathering his thoughts before continuing, "It could have just as easily been them here instead of us. I guess that implies that half the bounty we receive is the reward for just being ready, meanwhile the other half is the reward for the actual fight. And think how much it would suck to see all our buddies getting a reward and not get any ourselves."
"Yeeeah," Jimi begrudgingly agreed. "What about the rest of the shares, you only told me about fifty seven?"
"Well we will need to hire a factor to dispose of the goods in their camp. Armor, weapons, horses and so forth. The factor will also manage the gathering of bounties for the turds that we killed yesterday. I heard the Sergeant reading from a ledger he found Darrel's tent and it appears he kept track of the bounties on all their heads. He likely used it as a threat over his men, but if we can believe the ledger, they’re wanted all over the place. The factor will do a fair amount of traveling and will keep 10 shares for himself, which takes us to 67. That leaves 23 shares for the officers."
"Officers? What officers." Jimi stated categorically.
"Sure we do, Master Elladoo and Drake."
"Wow they sure get a lot, Stork. And I didn't know that Drake is an officer."
"Aye, and even if she wasn't an officer can you think of anybody who deserves the bounty more?" Stork stated. In the statement I gleaned a couple of things, both good and bad. Even though he’d known me for years, the use of 'she' proved the switch flipped in his mind that designated me a female. That I considered the bad, while the second item made me feel more positive. Even though tied down, he seemed happy with me and my actions. Hopefully in this he reflected the thoughts of the community. Much better than their thinking me some sort of monster, even if they might be right.
"Aye, I can't believe what she did. I went with the Sergeant when he scouted the camp after the screaming stopped. Remember that trapper who got attacked by a bear a few years back? It reminded me of that; as if someone let a bear loose in their camp. Nobody killed by weapons, just torn and broken. And not a single one of them injured, every one of them dead. However, the Sergeant hardly noticed as he frantically searched for something."
Stork broke in on the longest speech I’d ever heard spoken by Jimi, "Likely looking for Drake. You know how super pissed off he felt upon learning she did not make it inside with us. Blamed himself for letting her stay outside. And when the screaming started, you could see the anger on his face."
"Aye, he looked for Drake. We actually found her just outside of the gate. You should have seen her, Stork, all covered in blood and cuts. She scared me. Can you imagine? Scared of a pretty, little thing like her? But I knew she’d killed all those men in their camp. Of course, Sergeant Hussel felt worried about her, not scared. And he told me to carry her back into the post. She hardly weighs anything. How could she kill all those men?"
By the sounds of movement, one moved over to look at me. The closeness Stork’s voice when he spoke, confirmed by guess. "Are you still scared of her, Jimi?"
"No, Stork," he replied with conviction, which he explained with his next words. "I realized how she did it. It was the work of the Gods. Darrel and his men were terrible people, they needed to die. The Gods decided to use Drake to carry out the sentence."
Well that put a most positive spin on what happened. Stork agree with me, for he could not hide his disbelief when he asked, "Are you sure?"
"Course not. Who can know the Gods. But it makes sense. Why else would Drake turn into a girl before the attack? I bet Jiringel, the Goddess of Justice, possessed her. A Goddess could kill all those men, while a little girl couldn't, heck any single person couldn't."
"I don't know, Jimi. It seems like a stretch."
This time the footsteps that approached the bed sounded heavier, Jimi's footsteps. "Look at her Stork, she's beautiful. Not a mark on her. Yet three mornings ago, when I carried into this room she bore cuts and bruises all over her body. Where are they now, Stork?"
"They're gone Jimi."
"Exactly, they're gone. You and I both know cuts and bruises don't heal this fast. I expect the Goddess healed her in reward."
Well past the point of things getting a bit freaky, particularly since I knew the truth. And while his thoughts seemed so positive I wanted to believe, the direction of their conversation made me uncomfortable. I decided to awaken. So I let out a little cough.
This got the reaction, as Jimi blurted, "She's waking, Stork."
"You watch her, Jimi, I will get the Master and the Midwife."
I decided to draw out my awakening until the arrival of those two named worthies. However, it took some time, long enough that I realized even Jimi would wonder why it took me so long to awaken. Finally I opened my eyes to see Jimi looking at me with a gaze that held both worry and trust.
That might not seem like much to many people. But to someone possessed by a demon, it meant a lot. It made me smile, a smile he returned as those who Stork sought, along with the Mistress and Sergeant, came clamoring into my room. The room made only a bit larger with the dismissal of Jimi and Stork.
Jimi never convinced Stork of his beliefs. And in time Jimi I never served as Jiringel's instrument of justice. But from that day forward, both proved my friend and often my protectors.
With the guards gone, nobody for a few moments, until Master Elladoo stepped forward and asked, "Drake are you there?"
A simple question, yet full of hidden meanings.
"Aye Master Elladoo, it's me. Although, somewhere inside Sandrelessa still lurks. Which I am guessing is the reason I am tied up."
"Basically, but we didn't do it. No, you’re tied because Ensign Elfos Tillindal insists we tie you up." Based on the way he said that name, this Ensign did not exist as Master's favourite person.
It required me to ask, "Who is Ensign Elfos Tillindal?"
"He's a smarmy little git who is more impressed with himself than anyone else." Burst out Sergeant Hussel, showing he shared the Master's feelings. But then again, the Sergeant did not like many people.
Before he could get further into his rant, Mistress Elladoo interjected, although even she displayed a tinge of dislike in her voice when she said, "Ensign Tillindal is the commander of the militia detachment guarding the Hanglish Mine's barge. They arrived this morning and once he learned of the raid he decided to take control of the post. When he heard the stories, both of your change and what happened to the bandits, he immediately determined you a danger to everybody. He nearly clapped you in irons and placed a squad of his men to watch over you, but we convinced him we could secure our own. I am so very sorry, Drake."
"I understand, it’s not your fault. And it may be a good idea. I am possessed by a demon. I really don't know when she is going to push me aside, like she did in the camp, and take over. If it’s like in Darrel's camp, I couldn’t imaging. She took control and did terrible things."
Seeing tears in my eye, Mistress Elladoo reached down to grasp one of my hands, but Master Elladoo waved dismissively, "Bah none of that, Drake. I talked to one of the mages back in Glanlies and she guesses the protection spell, from the workshop, is still working upon you and will keep Sandrelessa at bay."
"But, Master Elladoo, she took over in the camp."
"Well the sage believes the spell released her since you faced greater danger than from the demoness. Were you in danger before she came out?"
Call me a wuss or a girl or whatever you want, but the question brought some fairly awful thoughts to the foreground of my mind. I did not know how to respond, did not even want to think about how close I came to being raped by that bastard, Darrel. I did not want my audience, even though friends, to know how close. In particular, I did not want the Master or Sergeant to know. Only days ago, I numbered one of them, but no longer. They would not understand, hell I didn't understand, but neither man would ever find themselves in the position in which I found myself in Darrel's tent. They could not even imagine themselves in that position, they could not understand the fear. I wanted to feel strong.
But I wasn't strong. I felt like a scared little boy and a scared little girl. Too much had happened to me. The past seemed horrific. The future appeared bleak. I could only cry.
My crying caused Mistress Elladoo to take control. Pointing at the Sergeant, she firmly stated, "You will untie this child right now, then go about your duties. Nerise, can you look after Drake while I talk to my husband."
She grabbed Master Elladoo by the arm and dragged him from of the room. As they left her voice scornfully mimicked, "Were you in danger before she came out? Hiram Elladoo, what kind of stupid question is that to ask? Of course Drake was in danger. You saw the poor thing when Jimi and Jimi brought her in. Naked, why do you think that...."
Meanwhile Sergeant Hussel, with the speed expected from one of the guards when he barked, untied my arms and stepped out of the way of Midwife Nerise who sat on the bed and pulled me into a warm, tender hug. He looked at us for a moment, then awkwardly patted me on the shoulder before apologizing, "Sorry Drake, we shouldn't have tied you up. I don't know why we listened to that fool Ensign; a wet behind the ears little twerp without an ounce of experience. I am embarrassed at myself. Call if you need anything, Nerise."
I really didn't notice much of this by-play, being wrapped in Midwife Nerise's arms and emotionally wrapped in my thoughts.
They say a good cry can do wonders for a person, but I am not sure that is true. Every time I find myself bawling, it seems more exhausting than helpful. Even when your stomach and lungs and throat want you to stop, your mind is not willing. Maybe it is different for other people, maybe it helps them. But for me it did not make me feel better, instead the crying became more painful than my memories. It forced me to compartmentalize those memories into a place to deal with later, which allowed me to focus on stopping crying.
It sounds easier in writing then it in real life. Still my control slowly returned and I could stop. Well either that or I just drained myself and could no longer continue. After stopping my bawling, I noticed the Mistress returned, watching me with worried eyes, and tried to smile at her.
Probably a horrible smile, yet she responded to the attempt by smiling back at me and asking, "Are you feeling better, sweetie?"
"Not really, Ma’am, but I don't feel like crying anymore."
No I didn't want cry anymore, nor did I want to sleep. I didn't want to stay in this room. And I really wanted a bath, I felt dirty. And like a normal fifteen year old boy, I wanted food to combat my starvation. I wanted creature comforts and did not want to think. I told them this and they obliged.
After I ate the meal delivered to the room, Mistress Elladoo offered a treat when she took me to her and the Master's quarters where a steaming bath waited my arrival. Confused she allowed me into previously forbidden territory, I looked questioningly at the lady.
She answered, "I suspected you are not ready to deal with the common bath house, so asked Mary to prepare my bath."
Curiosity about the quarters did not last, though larger and better appointed than most, they still belonged in an outpost. However, its inhabitant, Mary, the Mistress's maid, did not. An older lady, long in the employ of the Deglace family, she volunteered to join the Mistress after she lost her own husband. But everybody suspected she regretted that decision, as she never hid her disdain for us peasants. Once more she proved unable to hide her disbelief when Mistress Elladoo deigned to allow me to use her room, worse her tub. She made this crystal clear when she said, "The bath is ready, Milady. I will see she is bathed and sent to her room as soon as possible."
Luckily Mistress Elladoo consisted of sterner and kinder stuff. She said, "That is not required, Mary. I will look after Drake, but can you look through my things and find something for her to wear?"
Now that statement startled me. It maybe should not, but it caused the following thoughts to scramble around in my brain, 'Gack, what did she say? Everybody seemed much too sure about me being a her. Finding me something to wear from the Mistress' things could only mean, dresses. I'm not ready for that.'
"Milady, that is not appropriate. I will check amongst the post's women to find something for her to wear," Mary replied.
Pissed off, annoyed at the entire direction of my life, internal Drake decided to take this as the insult she meant and roared, within my mind, I am good enough to wear Esselde Deglace's dresses. Meanwhile rational, yet freaked out, Drake clamored agreement that guys don't wear dresses, even to prove themselves good enough to wear someone’s dress.
The Mistress, unaware of my inner debate, focused on the one with her maid. Pointing at me, she said, "Look at the girl, Mary. Is there anybody on the post with such a tall, slender figure? I know I don't, at least not no longer. But if you look in my old things you should find something that will almost fit Drake."
"Yes, Milady." Mary said. And with that surly response, she headed further into the Elladoo's suite.
With her exit, rational Drake took the opportunity to say, "Really, Mistress, Mary is right. It’s not appropriate for me to wear your things."
"Nonsense, Drake, what else are you going to wear. You can't really wear your old things, can you?"
I wanted to respond with a yes, after all Clara wore trousers and a shirt as often as she wore a dress. But I didn't, for I heard something in her voice, the same thing Mary heard, the voice of a Deglace. In this, Esselde Deglace would get her way, despite what we may think. Therefore, I sheepishly nodded my head in agreement.
Seeing this, she walked to the tub, a nice sized bronze affair transported from Glanlies, and tested the water. Frowning, she moved to a dresser and pulled out a polished wooden box. From which, she took a bottle and poured some of its oil into the bath, causing the scent of lavender to fill the room. Turning to me and seeing my stare of surprise at the bottle, she smiled and purposely misinterpreted. "I know you don't want to share the scent with an old woman, but for now it is the best we can do. Now take off your night shirt and get in the tub."
Smiling at her attempt at humour, I disrobed. This time my new form did not disturb me, not when I realized what covered my skin. Someone had made an attempt to clean me, after my misadventures in the bandit camp, but a damp cloth cannot completely clean one of the mess that is violent death. And though my cuts appeared magically healed, leaving no scars, they left signs of their presence in dried blood and gunk. Now even at my young age, the slaughter of pigs, cattle and fowl made me no novice to blood and gore, but animal’s blood is different. It does not offer terrible reminders, such as those that happened to me two days before. Suddenly, I wished my meal came after bathing, as I struggled not to throw up.
The Mistress sensed something of my thoughts, likely not that difficult when seeing me doing the fish face, and came over to guide me to the tub. "Here, sweetie, get in the tub. A good soak will wash everything away and make you feel good as new."
Stepping in, the heat of the water startled me, being used to the bath house’s lukewarm water. But I found this a good hot, it burned away my thoughts, made me focus on the act of sitting and concentrate on not crying out before my skin grew used to the heat. At that point, it felt lovely. The tub allowed me to mostly stretch my legs out and the higher end, at which I sat, allowed me to lean back so the water almost reached my chin. Did I mention it felt lovely?
"Ok, sweetie, let me get those braids out, we likely should not let them get wet. I’m new at the lady's maid business, but let’s not tell Mary and upset her professional standards." After some tugs and pulls on my head, hardly noticeable in the wondrousness of the hot water, she said, "Your hair is a rare colour, at first it seemed washed out, but it's not. I bet it will shine when we get it clean. And is it ever thick."
Until that moment, I noticed little more than its heavy weight and strange colour. Now with my focus turned on that feature, I found myself mumbling, "I'll get someone to cut it for me."
I heard a frown in the Mistress' voice as she asked, "Are you sure you want to do that?"
"MMmmm?" Ok, not the most respectful reply, but about then my brain stopped working, the heat of the water shutting it down.
"Well it is very rare to see a young lady without long hair. Even Clara, keeps her hair long. I am thinking you would look strange with short hair."
Well you can't deny her sales abilities matched those of her husband. Preying on my insecurity at being noticed worked perfectly in making me see the validity in her recommendation. But for the moment, Mistress Elladoo point seemed valid and such remained her hold on me that the temptation rarely returned. Not that it would matter in any case.
After removing my braids, she reached in her wooden box and pulled out a chunk of lavender scented soap. When she handed the perfumed chunk of soap to me, she said, "My bath is the one area in which I allow myself to spoil myself, Drake. My family regularly sends me soaps and oils and even this magnificent tub. If there is one thing I miss from about Glanlies, it is the bathing facilities in my family home. This soap is made using hemp oil instead of the tallow with which we make the soap used around the post. I admit, it is silly how much it costs to ship it here, but you will see it is worth every copper. Now, put it to good use. And don't be shy Drake, it is your body. Clean everywhere, and I do mean everywhere."
She probably noticed my initial hesitancy. My urge to explore my new form lurked in the back of my mind, but not something I planned to do in her presence. Still her permission proved needed encouragement to wash myself, yes everywhere, while trying to block out the strangeness I sometimes encountered. A few of which I noted deserved some focus at some later, alone time.
Let me tell you, it felt fabulous to be clean, and the Mistress words proved correct, good soap is so much nicer to use. Even if it did make me smell like her. Then again she always smelled nice, though very feminine. Well I could live with that for the moment if it meant no longer feeling icky.
While diligently bathing, I maintained enough presence of mind to notice Mary’s return with an armful of colourful clothing. Mistress Elladoo went over to talk to her about the selection and though Mary talked too quietly to hear, the Mistress did not attempt such subtlety. Therefore, I heard at least one side of the conversation.
“Good idea, Mary. A bodice and skirt will be easier to fit than a dress...They are kind of musty smelling. They should likely spend some time on the line first....Ok, before you leave, where are the towels?...No don't be silly, I own quite a few. You will just need to do some extra laundry....Ahh, in the armoire in the bedroom. Could you get us two or three before taking the clothes down for airing....Yes, that's a good choice, the blue will look good on her. And it is in the best shape of the things you found."
As Mary hustled off, Mistress Elladoo returned to the side of the tub, rolling up her sleeves as she came. Taking a last bottle from her magical bath box, she asked, "All clean?"
"Yes, Ma’am, I feel much better, just as you thought."
"Aye, you cannot beat the healing power of a hot bath. Just one more thing left, time to clean your mane. Hold your breath and close your eyes, I'm going to give you a bit of a dunk. Ok, now some of this hair soap, keep your eyes closed, it will burn if you get any in them."
Then she kneaded my scalp, followed by more tugging and pulling as she washed the long lengths of hair that hung from my scalp. It really did feel incredibly nice. With another warning, I experienced an additional dunk, plus some water scoop and pours before she deemed my hair free of soap. The last part of the hair washing procedure my least favourite part of the bathing experience, as the Mistress wrung as much water as possible from my hair as her strength allowed. With my hair washed, my bath came to an end.
When I stepped out of the tub, she handed me a big, quilted, linen towel with which to use for drying off. Body mostly dry, I tackled my hair as I would normally do, but the Mistress stopped me with a comment that doing so invited all sorts of knots. Instead she instructed, before helping me wrap my hair in another towel. We then found ourselves in a quandary as I had nothing to wear. When she left, Mary took even my nightshirt, without attempting to conceal a look of disgust at its filthiness. But as with everything else, Mistress Elladoo did not remain stumped for long.
Bustling into the next room, she quickly returned with a woolen shift. "Here you go, Drake, you will need a shift. And while it won't fit the best, it will do until we find something better."
Acting so nice to me, I could not fight when she helped me pull it over my head. After all, it did not seem too different to my nightshirt, although of a softer material and a longer length, covering me to just below my knees. But it felt clean and comfortable.
The question became what to do now? In Mistress Elladoo's mind I could not leave her rooms wearing nothing but shift, yet she needed to run some other errands, ignored while looking after me. She solved the problem by wrapping me in a blanket, despite the pleasant warmth I still felt from the bath, and sitting me in a large stuffed chair. Then handing me Annals #8 she told me to study chapter 12 to 14, which I found to focus on the perfume trade.
She said, "I need to leave you alone for a few hours, Drake. Longer if I need to spend too much time calming that idiot Ensign. When Mary returns, she can help you with anything you need."
Well I didn't hold out much hope about that, but kept such thought to myself. Instead I tried to read the book; however, I constantly found myself needing restart at the first page. Nothing penetrated my mind. I could not maintain the focus required to read from the Annals, many parts of which nobody mistook for exciting. No, my mind wanted to dwell on thoughts about getting changed into a girl and possessed by a demon.
Giving up on my attempts to read, I tried to focus on the first of these changes. Though more obvious, in many ways I found it the less disturbing metamorphosis. Yet I could not ignore the second.
My mind started a pitying debate as to which of the two things would cause people, specifically my friends and family, to dislike me the most. The turned into female thing made me a freak, while the demon thing made me a dangerous freak. Not much of a debate when I really thought about it, lots of people liked girls, especially pretty girls. And all indications pointed to me being a pretty girl, which reminded me I still needed to get my hands on a mirror. Meanwhile, very few people liked someone who might go insane and tear them apart.
Closing my eyes and concentrating on not thinking about what happens when a person is torn apart, almost resulted in a head-ache. Luckily, well kind of luckily, the hallway door opened and `caused a distraction. No surprise to see Mary, but I felt less prepared to see Dougie and Marcel, two of the warehouse workers, with her.
Mary, in that so kind fashion of hers, gave the two men their orders to take the tub downstairs, empty it and clean it out. When the two men kept glancing at me bedecked in a blanket and a towel, she actually made me grateful with a barked, "Pay attention to what you are doing, I don't want you to slop water all over the floor. I have enough to do without cleaning up a great spill."
After the two of them left with the tub, we experienced a few moments of uncomfortable silence, me watching her clean up the bathing supplies and she regularly frowning in my direction. After repacking the Mistress' box and returning it to the dresser, she looked around the room, as if hoping to find something else to do. When unsuccessful, she sighed and turned to me to ask, "How long has that towel been wrapped around your head?"
Deciding politeness would likely be the best approach to keep her sharp tongue at bay, I replied, "Since my bath, Ma’am. Should I take it off? I never had hair this long before."
"Yes, you may as well. From its appearance, it is too wet to offer any more help. Here let me help you."
"Thank you, I needed the Mistress' help putting it on." With the towel off, I said, "It's still damp."
"Of course it is, it takes longer than a glass turn to dry hair like yours naturally." She then ran her fingers through it as she went into teacher mode, "After washing your hair, or when you get up, you should run your fingers through it to make sure there are no knots. It is not fun when you catch a knot with a comb or brush. Speaking of which, do you own a comb and brush?
"I think there is a comb in my chest in the bachelor's quarter, Ma’am. Though, I usually just use one at the bath house."
"Hummph, well that won't do, I will take a set from the supplies, from those we trade to the Northern tribes.. Every girl needs her own comb and brush."
Admittedly I felt less ready to take the girl stuff from Mary than the Mistress, but Mary never treated me this nicely. But at the moment she seemed to enter her lady's maid mode, which meant she decided to pigeon hole me as a lady in her charge. Ack! Actually now, in hindsight, she probably saw herself my governess, which meant she saw me as less as a lady and more as a girl, or a maiden. Double Ack! Still at the time it felt natural to follow her orders.
"What should I do now, Ma’am, shouldn't I brush my hair?"
"No it is best to let it finish drying before brushing. When I go to get your things off the line, I will stop and pick up a brush and comb for you, so you can brush it out. Now stand up, I need to take some measurements. Lady Elladoo is right. Nobody's clothes will fit you properly, we will need to make some."
Somewhat hesitantly I stood and unwrapped myself from the blanket for her inspection. When she saw me in the shift her face flowed into a frown of disapproval.
"Now that won't do, the shift is much to short on you. Another thing we will need to make you. Let me get my tape for some measurements."
She measured me from my shoulders to the middle of my shins, the length and around my arms, and finally around my torso in a multiple places. Noting the measurements down she said, "Ok, I can make something work today, but tomorrow we will look into getting you some of your own clothes. I will check with Nan and see if she and her girl can fit you in."
Not able to add anything to this one-person conversation I stood there mutely, only partially listening to her muttering. Instead my thoughts returned to mirrors and the need to see myself. Guessing one existed within the Elladoo quarters, I worked up the courage to ask, "Excuse me, Ma’am. Is there a mirror I can use? I need to see what I look like."
"You mean you haven't seen yourself yet? It would be the first thing I would want if I went through a change like yours."
Shrugging in response, I said, "Other things seemed more important, plus I am kind of scared of what I will see."
"I don't know why, you really turned out quite spectacular. Still I suppose you need to see for yourself, so I will get the Mistress' mirror."
Once more she disappeared into the next room. I found myself curious about what I would find beyond the door, but not as curious as I felt about my appearance. When she returned, she lost some of the nice points recently earned when she asked, "Now you aren't going to faint or anything when you see yourself, are you? I wouldn't want you to break the mirror, it is very expensive."
Readily apparent by looking at it, with a frame done in silver. Still, I knew I would not faint and so I told her. Not fully taking me at my word she made me return to the chair before she handed the mirror to me. When she did, she regained some nice points with the kindness in her voice when she said, "Here, dear, why don't you get to know yourself."
And there she sat. It took some time to convince myself that actually, there I sat. As multiple people implied, well actually stated, I appeared quite pretty. But nothing remained of Drake in my appearance. The reflection in the mirror did not show a female Drake, nor did it look like either of my sisters, in fact, it did not look like anybody I knew. As with my hair and skin, my face continued the theme of light colouring. My eyes, overly large and round, stood out as a light grey, almost smoke-like. Above my eyes existed thinly arched eyebrows, whose colour left them almost invisible. My lips also fit the theme, a pale rose though they hid bright, white teeth as perfect as any I ever saw.
Outside of colouring, the other continued theme consisted of my fine bone structure. I possessed a narrow, petite face with high cheekbones, a small upturned nose and a somewhat pointed chin. All of it framed by a great mass of tow hair.
A refined face, not coarse like my previous, peasant face. And completely unrecognizable. I found myself staring into the mirror, trying to recognize something of myself. When that failed, it became time to try and get to know my new self. Oblivious to the rest of the world, I did not notice when Mary left the room.
How long did I stare into the mirror? Who knows, but based on my almost dry hair, it likely measured in turns. Not until Mary's return did my inspection end, but by that time I almost burned the new me into my thoughts.
Returning Mary said, "Hand the mirror over, Drake. That's enough vanity for one day and it is time for you to learn how to brush your hair."
What followed seemed almost as complicated as sorcery, though it did make my hair shine nicely. Once combed, she created two tight little braids from the hair hanging over my eyes. Wrapping these around the back of my head and loosely tying them together kept the rest of my hair out of my face. A simple style, one regularly worn by others around the post and in Corels. And simple enough, that with some practice, I could do myself.
Then came the moment of dread. Time to get dressed.
At least I remember dreading it. Reading back through the last number of pages, it seems I did not put up any fight along the path to girlhood. It does seem a valid recollection of the time, but it does not surprise me I fought so little. After all, two strong willed women, used to getting their own way, guided me along the path. Plus my mind remained in a strange place, too much already happened, all too quickly. It felt good to follow along for a time, to let others make the decisions.
Specially when the decisions made sense. And they did make sense. At the moment I looked like a girl. Why wouldn't I wear girl's clothes?
My hopes, that girl's clothes would not feel different from my boy clothes, quickly became dashed. It proved more complicated than just pulling on some woolen, shapeless robe. It started with the information I wore the wrong type of shift. Who knew different kinds existed? My initial guess that 'wrong type of shift' meant Mary wanted to get me out of Mistress Elladoo's things, but she proved me wrong. There are different types of shifts, different necks, different sleeves, different materials, different decorations, basically just different. The new one Mary retrieved for me met the different criteria in many different ways. Instead of getting me out of the Mistress' things, she soon dressed me in a fancier shift than the first. Finely woven, pure-white linen covered with silver threaded embroidery around the neck and the cuffs at the end of enormous, draping sleeves. And unlike the previous shift, which came to my neck, this one showed off my throat and more of what extended below the throat than I really wanted.
After I removed the first shift and before replacing it with the fancier one, Mary said, “Such a tiny waist”.
She wrapped a cloth belt around said waist and tied it in the back. The six holes, three per side, each held long ribbons. And though not recognizing such a belt, I easily guessed its purpose when I saw the pair of stockings in her hands, stockings differing greatly from those I wore in my boots during the winter. Instead of scratchy wool, they consisted of the same white, tightly woven linen as the shift. They also came much further up the leg than did those woolen stockings, completely covering my knees and reaching even higher. Instead of tightening them with a garter below my knee, each contained three holes in a thicker piece of cloth sewn to the top, through which Mary tied the ribbons hanging from the belt.
I can see your eyes rolling at this, and admittedly a full paragraph is likely more than such a common contraption deserves, but on that day the belt and the stockings both fascinated and scared. Something that simple confirmed how different my life now became.
Stockings secured and feeling much stranger than any worn before, I pulled on the shift and notice how one shoulder kept slipping down my arm. But the skirt, which Mary now offered, distracted me from this annoyance. Original thoughts of a normal skirt disappeared when I saw the velvet and dark, rich blue dyed clothing item. Definitely not a normal skirt, especially for Elladoo post. The other unusual thing about the skirt, a five inch width of white lace attached to the hem.
When Mary noticed my wide eyes, she said, "I realized the easiest way to make one of the Mistress' things long enough for you is to add some length, but did not want it noticeable. Then I remembered the lace I ordered last year, but which the Mistress never allowed me to add to any of her dresses. I don't know why, look how pretty it is with the skirt. Although you will need to take care when you walk. I just pinned it in place, what with no time for a proper sewing job."
What do you say to someone who never said a kind word to you, who suddenly changes her stripes and goes out of her way for you, when she makes a statement to which you don’t know how to reply? Well if you are a well raised young man like I me, you answer with a stunned. "Umm..yes."
"Here let me help you, as I realize how new this is to you. Bend over, your shift is too wide for us to pull the skirt overtop, so we will pull it down over your head. Ok, turn around and let me tighten with this belt. Just as I thought, your waist is even smaller than Esselde's at your age. There, that's all settled, time for your bodice."
Well the bodice matched the skirt, being the same blue velvet. Noticing the silver embroidery on the front panels of the bodice also made me wonder if the shift also belonged to the set. The bodice consisted of a full back connected to the two front bodies by silver ribbons, more of the ribbons would tighten it to my torso. However, before the tightening Mary adjusted the neck of the shift so it centered on my neck and each side barely rested where the shoulder straps of the bodice could keep them in place. When tightened, the bodice did not prove as unbearable as expected.
The fit did not particularly bother me, but I felt alarmed by what it did to my bosom. The front panels of the bodice only come to the bottom of my breasts and the uplifting effect it provided combined with the lowered neckline of my shift provided fleeting glimpses of my recently arrived charms. Now don't get me wrong, you wouldn’t call it a hey-boys-look-at-these type of show, but it more than proclaimed here-be-a-woman.
While I contemplated this, Mary stood back, looked at me with a smile on her face, and said, "You look beautiful, child. Lovely as she is, Esselde couldn’t do the same justice to the outfit as you. It's likely your colouring, it's so different from anyone I know. So fresh, so wintry and so lovely."
Didn't that draw out a deep blush and a mumbled "Thank you, Ma’am.".
Suddenly Mary smacked herself on the forehead and hurried into the magic room next door. This time she did not immediately return and left me standing there in amazement. Fidgeting with my skirt brought to my attention the shift’s huge, draping, totally impractical sleeves. It made me wonder how would I accomplish anything.
Of course it proved impossible to look down at the sleeves of the shift without noticing what my top did not completely cover. Trying to distract myself from this, I fiddled with the bow Mary tied to join the two bodies together before running my hand across the velvet. It oozed luxury. I knew of the material, a few rolls passed through the warehouse, but I never saw anybody but the rich wear garments of such a fine, expensive velvet. Heck, I never wore anything not made of the roughest wool, leather or linen.
Mary returned to the sitting room with a pair of boots dyed a blue to match the skirt, which, amongst all the strangeness of the day, struck me as the most extravagantly strange. Who goes to the expense of dying boots? Apparently the Deglaces of Glanlies, that’s who.
Mary said, "I cannot believe I almost forgot the boots. I can remember being with Madame Deglace when she browbeat the cobbler into dyeing them. He tooled in the pattern to match the one on your bodice, but Madame insisted on them also being dyed this dark blue. Poor man, he really did not stand a chance. Madame Elaine is a strong woman, and when decided what her daughter Esselde would wear on Tournament Day during Turin's Faire, no petty cobbler, even a Master Cobbler like Kloster Chance, could stop her.
And the gown made for Esselde to wear during the Last Day Fete, oh you cannot believe how lovely it looked. Of course I didn't bring it, I took a chance packing this outfit, but I thought that because it is a walking about outfit, Mistress Esselde may get some use out of it at this Godsforsaken post. Alas, she never wears it and when I realized it would no longer fit her I felt so sad that such a lovely outfit would never get anymore use, but look at you. It is like it was made for you and not the Mistress. I just hope these boots fit, cross your fingers."
Caught up in her outburst I actually crossed my fingers, not that she would be able to see my hands, still hidden by my sleeves. It must brought the needed luck, for the boots fit me almost perfectly, being just a tiny bit loose. While I adjusted to heels slightly higher than those on my riding boots, Mary once more took a step back to observe. This time a frown of concentration came to her brow and she began muttering to herself. Reaching a decision, she suddenly knelt and grabbed the bottom of my skirt, making me take a wobbly step backwards.
"Stand still, dearie. I don't think we need this lace hem.. All it does is hide those lovely boots. Weren't we lucky that I didn't sew it on?"
"Um...yes?"
"Most definitely. The boots are a work of art and with you being so young, it's not inappropriate for you to let them show. If the Mistress agrees to this look, it will make it much easier to fit you into more of her old clothes. Much easier on me," she said with a chuckle.
The surprises continued, who would guess Mary could laugh. But she really seemed to enjoying herself and I milked some positive vibes out of offering her this outlet for enjoyment. Though I did not doubt I would strip it away from her with nary a thought, if given the chance. Still you sometimes need to make do with what you are offered, not what you want. At that time it meant dressing as a merchant princess leagues away from where you would normally find such an individual, while entertaining a lady's maid. Absolutely bizarre.
It became more so when she decide to teach me how to walk in the skirt, something she called it the art of being graceful. For the next while I moved all about the room, in between every chair and up and down from every couch, with her constantly stating things like ‘tiny movements’ or ‘graceful, graceful’. Honestly, she proved a terrible teacher. With no idea what she wanted me to do, I learned in a similar fashion to finding the thimble. Where Mary spoke louder, the colder became my attempts. Based on the longer periods of this occurrence, I did learn a few things. Still I decided to observe and mimic those more used to their skirts.
Speaking of which, my number one role-model returned during a mostly silent few moments of my sitting and standing in the big, cushioned chair. When she saw me, Mistress Elladoo could not stop herself from clapping her hands in glee and squealing delightfully. "Why look at you. Aren't you just a gorgeous young lady?"
"Isn't she just, Milady? And such a joy to get ready, just stood there and let me do my job."
"Mary, I do believe you are implying something negative about me?"
Shaking her head, Mary answered, "Well not really, it is not like you ever wear anything nice. A blind scarecrow could get you dressed."
Laughing at the response, the Mistress say, "Now I know you are, Mary. Luckily for me, you can now ply your skills on Drake. He will definitely need help navigating his way."
The two of them just stared at me with goofy smiles on their face until Mistress Elladoo said, "Something is missing, Mary. What is it?"
"Milady?"
"Oh I know, didn't that outfit come with a matching choker? And did you bring it with you?"
"Ah yes, it did. And of course I packed it, just let me go get it."
With Mary out of the room, the Mistress made a spinning gesture with her hand. Guessing she wanted me to turn around, I slowly, kind of gracefully, spun in a circle. Once more she clapped and said, "I know you won't want to hear this, Drake, but you do look stunning."
How much can a person blush in one day? Is it possible to blush so much you burn your skin, similar to a sun burn? Well I did not quite find out that day, but she did deserve a reply.
"I guess, Mistress, though I would prefer to remain my old self. But thank you for lending me an outfit and allowing Mary to spend so much time helping me. And thank you so very much for being so kind to me earlier and now."
I am not sure why I felt so much more emotional around the Mistress than Mary. Maybe because Mary treated me like the Sergeant treated the old me, as someone expected to follow orders. But from the Mistress I wanted hugs and sympathy, possibly because she readily offered both. And this time she acted no different, flowing across the room to hug me and murmur, "Think nothing of it, child, you are like family. How can I not help family?"
Returning the hug, I barely stop myself from starting to cry, though a sniffle made it’s way into my voice when I said, "Thank you so very much, Ma’am. I really would not be able to handle this on my own."
"Good thing you aren't on your own. Isn't it?"
"Yes, Ma’am, very much so. And don't think me ungrateful, the outfit is very lovely, but is it not out of place at the post?"
"Oh, Drake, it is terribly out of place," the Mistress laughed, staring at the returning Mary who bore a somewhat sheepish look on her face. "I remember explaining so to Mary every time she brought it out for me to wear during the last couple of years. There is no doubt it is lovely to look at, but it is not an outfit in which you can do chores. The velvet is hard to clean and the sleeves of the shift, well I am sure you can guess how impossible it is to do anything with those hanging from your arms?"
Nodding at this last, I jumped into the opening and asked, "Then why am I wearing it, when it is so inappropriate?"
"Because my dear, you are going to play a role."
Mary proved quicker on the uptake than I and asked, "A role? What type of role, Milady?"
"First put the choker on her, Mary. I want to see the full effect. Ah, yes even better, you are dressed perfectly in the role of the innocent, young maiden. You see. Ensign Tillindal is quite a handful, sure we are hiding some raving lunatic from him. He is bound and determined to place you in irons. It is all Hiram and Torin can do to keep him from storming up here to get you. It is growing tense between his men and the Post's people, especially with Jimi spreading his beliefs."
"You mean about how Jiringel possessed me?"
"Yes, how did you hear about that? Mary, did you tell her?"
"No, Ma’am, it wasn't Mary," I protested. "When I woke earlier today, I overheard Jimi and Stork talking. Realizing I was tied up, I decided to listen in on what they were saying before I let them know I no longer slept."
Both Mary and the Mistress laughed to hear this, and the Mistress said, "Why, you little minx..."
Not something normal to call a fifteen year old boy. Dearie, sweetie and the like almost appeared like general terms, but definitely not minx. But then again, they also planned for me to play the role of the innocent, young maiden. Also not something meant for most fifteen year old boys either. Thinking of which, I asked, "Why will my playing the innocent, young maiden be of help, Ma’am?"
"Well, Drake, looking like you do, it would be very hard for anybody to see you as a threat."
Mary said, "We could use some makeup available. With those big eyes of yours, you definitely look the innocent. But with some makeup I could make it so not a single man would realize you ever allowed a thought into your pretty little head. Is the Ensign a young man, Milady?"
"Aye, Mary, I would guess he is just out of his teens. Likely the cause of much of his officiousness, not confident enough in his own position to not try to push it upon others. But if more confident, we might not be able to stop him. Why do you ask?"
"Well if he is a young man, Drake could flirt with him. Looking as she does, she could make him see her with the one eye, not the other two."
I don't think the Mistress even needed to look at me to feel the tense fear that suddenly overcame my body, she stood close enough to feel it emanate from my core. So she nipped Mary's proposal in the bud and said, "I don't think that is necessary Mary. Nor do I think our Drake is ready for such a task. Instead I will keep her close to me. She only needs to look pretty and pale, something which comes to her quite naturally."
Thankful for the reprieve, it did start another of those mental debates. 'They sure seem set on the she and her thing, don’t they. Hey, wait a minute, did she say stick close to her? Did that mean I would need to leave these cozy quarters? Let other people see me? Well of course I would, why else would they dress me up? Why would I act a role amongst people who knew everything about my situation? Of course I would leave this room and join the rest of the world.'
While my thoughts raged, Mary acquiesced and asked, "May I be excused, Milady. I need to see to the rest of your things that I believe will fit Drake. I should also prepare chambers for her, the bachelor quarters is no longer appropriate."
"Definitely not. She has been using number 3 guest room, why don't you prepare it for her."
After all the other things I meekly accepted, this is something I would fight and said, with significant authority, "I do not like that room!"
This time Mary’s empathy kicked in and allowed her to realize the room held strange and bad memories for me. She came to my support. "Actually, I do not like it either. It is rather inconvenient for me, since it is at the opposite end of the building from here and my quarters. How about I prepare the maid's room next to mine, it is not used and it will keep me close at hand to help Drake if needed."
With a nod of agreement from Mistress Elladoo, she strode off purposeful, leaving me surprised at how diligent she took her duties. In fact she left me feeling ashamed I always thought of her as grumpy, old Mary.
"One more thing, Drake. Your name does not really suit the new you, we must think of a better one for now."
Flush off my victory concerning the room, this battle felt even more important for me to fight. "Oh, please no, Mistress. My name is all that is left of me! Please don't take it away from me. Please!"
I think my vehement response surprised both of us, though the passing moments only made the desire firmer it in my mind. So the delay while she considered my response left me nervous, knowing she likely would win the battle if she disagreed. Such a relief to hear her say, "I never thought, Drake. Please forgive me. Of course we won't take your name away."
So I kept my name, although from that point both the Mistress and Mary seemed to silence the K in my name. I couldn’t really argue much, particularly with how much they did for me, that when they spoke my name it sounded more like Dra’e.
The evening that followed would best be described as surreal. It started with the Mistress deciding she too would dress for dinner, which resulted in a great deal of bemoaning the fact she owned nothing decent to wear. When she, with the returned Mary's help, finally decided on a red gown, she continued to complain, although rather halfheartedly. Mary offered no sympathy, stating that the Mistress decided, not her, to not bring or make any pretty dresses. Nor did she gain much sympathy from me, I thought she looked beautiful and told her so.
Once dressed, the Mistress provided much needed support, both emotionally and physically, when she linked her arms with mine and guided me into the hallway. We met nobody as we moved to the stairs, but during the descent, me carefully with a hand on the balustrade, the noise from the main hall made its way up to us. As we reached the bottom of the stairs, an unrecognizable voice shouted above the rest.
"I am becoming tired of your insubordination, Sergeant. You will speak more respectfully to me as an officer in the Commission Militia. If you are not careful, I will place you under arrest."
I could almost feel the communal cringe at these comments, nobody got away with talking to Sergeant-of-the-Guard Torin Hussel in that manner, the explosion did not take long in coming.
"Listen here you little puke. I am in charge of security at this here post. You can take your threats and shove them up your ass, if there's any room not taken up by your thick skull. As to the Commission Militia, where were you wondrous heroes when we actually needed you? You know, when the stinkin' bunch of savages attacked the post. If not for us, particularly Drake, you and your men would be feeding the vultures right now. So it's you Mr. Ensign of the Commission Militia who should talk respectfully to us!"
This brought about memories of the conversation between Darrel and his lieutenant concerning their contact in Glanlies, the one who intercepted the message from Master Elladoo. Nobody knew about the conversation, but maybe they already knew about the intercept? Did the Master contact someone Glanlies and together they realized something seemed fishy? If he hadn't, I might be the only person who knew why the Militia never arrived. Even if guessed, my information might provide corroborating information. However, it would draw attention from the argument to me, and I did not want that. Still the fire needed put out, and since the fire involved me, I could not do anything but try.
Entering the room, still upon the Mistress's arm, I pitched my voice to carry enough to cut through the arguing, as I said, "Excuse me Sergeant Hussel, I believe I can answer your question as to why the militia did not arrive before the attack."
Wow, my new voice cut through the sound of others better than expected, maybe because it rang out in a clearer pitch. And my words definitely brought a pause to the argument, in fact it brought a pause to everything happening in the room. Everyone's focus now drawn to me and the Mistress, well mostly me. Shock seemed the common response from those who never saw me in my new form, but I received welcoming smiles from the rest.
One of those, the Master, asked, "Drake, don't you clean up nicely? Why you almost challenge my beautiful Esselde."
So saying, he stood, crossed to us and kissed his wife. Then to various catcalls he guided her, who in turn guided me, to chairs at the table in which he and Hussel sat with an unknown young man, presumably Ensign Tillindal. A masterful show by him, deflecting much attention away from me by attaching normalcy to my presence. The majority of the post's citizens, good underlings all, recognized it for such and went about their business. They realized they could satisfy their curiosity at a later point. But the one person not distracted was the Ensign.
If you, like me, expected some sort of fop or a fool, then, like me, he would leave you disappointed. A perfectly normal looking, young officer; from the cropped hair on his head to the hobnail boots on his feet. He didn’t even look at me with a leer or with disdain or anything outside of an appreciative once over. In fact he remained all business when he asked, in a much calmer tone than the one he used to challenge the Sergeant. "So are you the demon-possessed?"
Taken aback by the bluntness of the question, Sergeant spared me a reply when he interrupted to ask, "What do you mean, that you can tell me why the militia didn’t arrive?"
The easier question to answer. "While held in Darrel's tent, I heard him and a Gunther fellow talking about a contact in Glanlies. Darrel said the contact would intercept any message from Master Elladoo."
My statement seemed to bring the three men to agreement, a surprised and disturbed agreement causing the Ensign to say, "That's not possible."
However, the Master proved not quite so ready to dismiss and said, "You know, that may explain my strange communication with Glanlies after the bandit attack. I didn't think anything of it at the time, relieved by our victory. But thinking back, the warden on duty seemed surprised to hear of the attack, he also proved vague in explaining why the militia did not show up."
Ensign Tillindal turned to the Master and asked, "Haven't you heard from the Fort yet?"
"Well the Warden asked if I still needed their presence. When I said no, he let me know he would stop their march. I am sure Glanlies can communicate with the militia in North Fort?"
"There are a number of members with the skill, though it is rare for them to go into the field with smaller units. I never patrol with one. Maybe a relief column could communicate directly with the capital."
Admittedly selfish to feel happy that a fairly serious breach in the peninsula's security took me out of the center of attention. Though my curiosity did need one question asked.
Happily Hussel asked it for me, keeping me on the side. "Hiram, did you talk to the same warden before and after the raid?"
"I can't say, Torin, they are basically face less entities, only a few allow their personality to show through. The ones I talked to before and after the raid belonged to the face less group."
Doh, I knew that. Better to ask, "What do we do, Master?"
Tillindal answered, "It's obvious, girl. We let someone know in Glanlies the problem with the communication system."
"And how do you propose to do that, Ensign?" Hussel sarcastically asked. "We can't very well use the communication system to do so."
Master Elladoo answered, "No the Ensign is right, we do need to contact the city. But as you say, Torin, we cannot use our regular channels. Luckily another channel exists for me. I will contact my cousin Sharlese, who I already talked to concerning Drake. She is a sage with the College and can initiate an investigation. I also think we should dispatch a rider to North Fort with a report of the raid and our speculation about the communication issue. Torin, can you prepare the report?"
"Yes, sir!"
"And, Ensign, you should also prepare a report about your findings. And if you feel there are any issues with the security of my post or with Drake, include them there. I heard your arguments, I disagree with them and am tired of them. And on this Post I am in command. Don't forget that the militia is just a wing of the Commission, a subservient wing. Remember that and it will go better for your career. Both of you are dismissed."
The Sergeant actually saluted before leaving on his task. After a moment a somewhat chastened Ensign followed suit, he said, "Yes, sir. And I will think on your advice."
With the two of them gone, the Master turned to me, sitting between him and the Mistress to say, "I do wish to apologize for my earlier insensitivity, Drake. Totally unforgivable."
"Apology accepted, Master. We have all been under a great deal of stress."
"Still, I will try to be much less of a lout."
"Well you may try, Hiram, but you are a man and it comes so naturally," his wife said with a smile.
"Likely true, my dear. But for now, Drake, please be aware that Esselde and I will do everything in our power to help you out of this...difficulty? As I said, I contacted my cousin Sharlese and her opinion is you need to see the experts at the College."
"In Glanlies, Master?" I asked, feeling a bit of awe at the thought of going to the big city.
"Aye, Drake, in Glanlies," said the Master, his smile showing he likely guessed my excitement.
"And don't worry, Drake, you will not travel alone," said the Mistress. "Hiram and I talked it over earlier today and decided I should provide your escort."
"Thank you, Ma’am, but you really don't need to do that," I said, though even I didn't believe me as I said it.
"Nonsense, sweetie. I wouldn't let you go to Glanlies alone even before your change. You most definitely need a chaperone. Plus there are other reasons to go. It is over a year since I saw my family, as their letters of mention. Plus, Hiram is not happy with some of our suppliers, so I can meet with them or find new ones while in the city."
"I'm going to Glanlies," I murmured.
"Yes, but it will take some preparation. Hiram does not want us to travel with the Hanglish Mine’s barge."
"I should think not, that idiot ensign will place poor Drake under lock and key in a heartbeat."
"Yes, dear, we all understand your feelings about Tillindal, but you should let it go. You more than put him in his place a few moments ago. Still I agree, lets wait for the next supply barge to come, it should be here next week. Hopefully, either Clara or Durk will return by then, because I would like to take a couple of men with us as guards. And of course Mary will come along and look after us. She will need some time to prepare. Are you ok with the plan?"
"I'm going to Glanlies?"
"Yes, sweetie, but we will pass through Corels first, which will allow us to see your family. They need to know what happened."
"My family? Gods above, they will never understand."
"Don't you worry, I really don't think you are giving them enough credit. And before you know it, we will get you right as rain. Though I am sure Mary will miss you, she quite enjoys bossing young ladies around."
I barely heard this last comment. Thinking about fulfilling a dream, going to Glanlies.
This writing is definitely harder than I guessed when I first started this project. My belief that a few days work would bring everything to fruition. Yet now, after a good month, my story has barely started. Maybe I should hire an assistant to help with the rest. But for now, what is written will serve as my first submission to the Asthelhorne Monthly Biography Journal.
Because I need to pause my writing and return to my real job. I am part of a Glanlies' trade mission to the court of Snaguine, a tough market we’re trying to crack. Particularly since they are such a hub for exotic goods from the south Simolea continent and offers us so many opportunities. I am happy to take part, except for the need to travel there on a ship, forgive me, my poor stomach. Maybe writing will provide a distraction from my woes? Well not likely, I am sure I will spend the two weeks on the boat in misery.
Hopefully when we arrive there will be time to write down more of my memories, there are so many more. My first journey to the jewel, that is Glanlies, a tumultuous time in Corels, meeting with my family, getting to know the Mistress' family, the strangeness of the College and so much more. Heck, I may even spend some time talking about trade. Otherwise, my chosen title is kind of meaningless.
‘Til then, enjoy yourself!
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Adventures of a Merchant -2- A Pause in Corels
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Sometimes a guy just needs his Mom, even when scared to face her. But if she is worthy of the name Mom, then she is worthy of knowing the truth. After his prior adventures both are true of Drake and luckily the last is true of his mother.
Adventures of a Merchant: A Pause in Corels
by Arcie Emm
See Prior Adventures:
1. Adventures of a Merchant: A Start
...being continued...
Hello once more and apologies for the delay. But the trade mission to Snaguine did not offer me any time to write and it took much longer then we had planned. In fact it became down right annoying, we spent a good two months trying to get the ear of someone at court; however, they were too caught up in entertaining themselves to talk business. And for the court of Snaguine, entertainment meant hunting. So we tagged along with falcon on arm, or boar spear in hand, or with bows after stags, or even upon boats with lines to fish for sharks. And if we did not attend the hunt, we were there for the midday picnics and nightly parties. It was insane, those people never met an honest day's of work they were not willing to ignore.
When we finally made a break through, it was more good fortune than intelligence. It appears that the nobility just didn't give a damn about trade and that they were only offering lip service. Instead there was an entire class of gentry, kept parceled away in the city of Veilenes, who dealt with all trade for Snaguine. It is actually unfair to say good fortune was the cause of the break through, it was actually good underlings. The Militia officer's who commanded our guards had found themselves a nice brothel that had become their unofficial home. Luckily it was also the unofficial home for merchants visiting from Veilenes. After some discussions between the two groups, our mission moved to the proper city and negotiations proceeded along nicely.
Let me tell you, it was nice to once more deal with professionals after spending all that time trying to see as many creature's innards as possible. And outside of the general mission's purpose of creating a trade treaty, I was able to set up a number of side deals that should serve myself and my patrons, the Deglaces, well in the long term.
Now I am home and once more it is time to write.
Let me start by saying that it is good to be home in Glanlies, every time I return it is with thoughts that it may be time to stop the travelling and buy a home. That it is time to stop living in apartments and tents and inns and sometimes on the ground. Whenever I am in the city, there is a house for sale that catches my fancy. Yet before I can make an offer, I begin to feel restless as there is always another caravan forming or a mission that could use my skills. And if I did settle down, it would mean the end of one of my great pleasures, that first moment of spotting Glanlies on my return.
It always makes me remember the first time.
Wouldn't this have been a great point to have jumped into the second part of my story? To bad I had not planned the end of the first part better to have meshed properly with that line. Instead we left off with my having learned that Mistress Elladoo was taking me first to Corels to visit my family and then on to Glanlies. Enough stuff happened in Corels so that it would not be good to skip the destination and jump all the way to the second destination. Well I suppose I could, after all I did warn in my first submission that my story telling would not always follow a straight path, but in this situation the logical path really does make the most sense. Therefore, I propose we follow the straight path, lacking in panache though it may be.
And since I am the one that wielding the quill, it will actually be a more than a proposal. So as the play masters are want to say, on with the story.
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After learning about the planned trip to Glanlies, the rest of the evening passed in a bit of a haze. When Ensign Tillindal returned, he seemed to have taken the master's advice to heart and decided to ignore me. He did not even glare angrily at me. As for everybody else, the fact that the mistress and Midwife Nerise bracketed me at the head table kept most people away, though they could not keep away the stares directed my way by just about everybody in the room. Those who braved my guardians were quite sympathetic, coming forward to ask how I was doing or to express support for me. Not once did anybody ask me anything like, "So what's it like being a girl?" Likely because the type who would do so were scared away by glares from the sergeant who also sat at the table.
Still not many people got the opportunity to even try to talk to me, before tiredness once more set in. Even though I had spent most of the previous week asleep, it soon became apparent that it was not enough, as my body and mind had been through a lot in the periods when not asleep. So after the third time Nerise stopped me from nodding off Mary came and gathered me up for bed. As promised, she had prepared a new room for me. It was basically the same as the other room that I had been using, but it still felt more comfortable. Before getting into bed Mary assisted me in removing the strange apparel that I was wearing and into a new nightshirt, one that was distinctly feminine, but so very soft. After this she had me brush my hair, then tuck it up under a sleeping cap before allowing me to climb in and go to sleep. Sleep which was quick in coming.
The next few days followed a pattern different than my days of old. When I awoke Mary was there to get me ready for the day and she was there to put me to bed at night. In between, I was never left alone, except the few minutes in the privy. But though never left alone, I was also quite sheltered, usually being chaperoned by either Mistress Elladoo or by Mary or in a few rare instances when neither of those fine ladies were available, with the master or midwife. And based on the way everyone else, even the sergeant, avoided me, it was easy to guess that there was an order to keep their distance.
It is a good indication of where my head was at when you realize that a fifteen year old boy did not chafe under all the mothering I received during those days. Though it was not all nurture-type of mothering, there was also a fair amount of idle-child-not-good-type of mothering. This was most probably the result of them recognizing how easily evil thoughts could darken my mind. And there was a lot to prepare before we would be ready to head to Glanlies. Most importantly for me to be able to travel, they determined I needed more clothing. As even Mary recognized that what she had dressed me in first was not appropriate for all instances.
So the first morning found me still in my room, still in my nightshirt as a member of a sewing party consisting of Mary, Nan Washan and her daughter Cecile. My role was defined from the start with Nan's words, "Mary is right you are a pretty thing, aren't you? Well don't you worry, we will have a wardrobe made up in just a jiff. Now be a good girl and put on this dress so that we can start making the necessary adjustments."
Yes, my role in the sewing party was that of dress maker's dummy. But I was a good dress maker's dummy, while I would have been horrible at any other task, so I couldn't really complain.
By the afternoon I had two new linen shifts, two stocking belts and two pair of linen stockings. For outer wear they had modified two of the mistress's every-day dresses, one brown and one blue, and were well on the way to finishing a fancier one made of a tightly woven, dark green wool. The collection also included another skirt and bodice that had also belonged to the mistress. All in all, as someone who had always made due with at most two pairs of pants and shirts, I thought it was definite overkill. When informed of my opinion Mary just laughed and said, "It will do for now, though we will likely need to get a few things in Corels to tide you over until the mages in Glanlies can do their magic."
"What else could I need, Ma'am? This is way more than I have ever had."
"Well, first off you will needs some new boots."
"Can't Alphonse make me up a new pair of boots?"
Frowning at my mention of the post's cobbler, she replied, "We will see if he has some moccasins already made that will serve you til we reach Corels. But I don't think he is the right person to make the boots for you."
This was surprising to hear. I had thought that Alphonse was quite a proficient cobbler, in fact the master had been quite pleased to have hired him when the old Cobbler had moved back to Glanlies last year. Well the reasoning behind Mary's dislike became apparent as soon as we visited him to measure me up for a pair of moccasins. Alphonse was a lech. Being the first one I met in my new form, he made quite the impression on me. Well actually his greasy paws trying to fondle my calf made the impression. After we left Mary was only half-hearted in her attempt to calm me down when I started tromping back to my room planning to get my crossbow. Not finding it, she finally put a stop to my plan when I started off to the guardroom to find a replacement.
"As much as it would please me and every woman on the post for you stick a bolt into that man, I just can't allow you to do it. And if you did all the men would think that the demoness was lose and you would end up in shackles. Its just something you have to deal with as a pretty girl, Dra'e. All you can do is grin and bear it, while consoling yourself that the best he will ever do is console himself. After all, no woman he doesn't pay will ever do it for him."
"He's a pig!"
"Yes dear, he's a pig!"
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A couple of days later I was with Master Elladoo working on some book-keeping, enjoying immensely the normalcy of the task. In general, normal seemed to be the best way to describe how the master treated me. Both the mistress and Mary seemed to be enjoying the experience, though not in a malicious way. They did support my desire to return to myself, they just felt that as long as I was in a female body that they would treat me as the daughter that the Elladoo's would never have. But the master, he just decided to treat me like nothing was different. Well that's not quite true, he was a bit more solicitous towards me, much like a few years earlier when I had broken my arm. Still he seemed quite confident that the mages in Glanlies would fix me up soon after my arrival, which lead to my confidence in the same.
So there we were working away when a recognizable racket of shouts and animals and carts came from down below. With a nod of permission from the master I moved over to the window to see what it was, "Master it is Clara returned with her caravan from Meeting Point."
"Ahh that is good, I had expected her to be the first to return. Hopefully the tribes had good fortune with their trapping over the winter and that Clara had better fortune in trading for the results. The monthly commission report has listed furs as a need item. I am sure Clara will be up soon to give a report and I am sure that she will want a report from me. So let's hurry and finish this up before she arrives."
True to his prediction, it was only a few moments before the door swung open with and Clara rushed in asking, "Hiram what's this craziness I am hearing about bandits and Drake being..."
At this point her glance fell upon me and suddenly her speech stopped. If you knew Clara, you would know how improbable it was for her to be made speechless. Clara was an extremely confident lady, she had to be in order to be a female trader on an frontier post such as ours. But she was very successful, much of that had to do with her ability to talk, but this was only made useful as a result of her being a good listener. Beyond that men liked to hear her talk. It was not that she was beautiful like the mistress, though she was a fine looking lady, it was something else that made men want to be around her. What she had is hard to describe; therefore, I will parrot what I once overheard Stork tell some of his fellows, "Clara is so very alive, isn't she?"
Yes, she was very alive. Her eyes danced, she laughed with the best of them and she entranced men, or in my case boys, wherever she went. So to see her struck dumb was definitely unusual, but it did not last long. Another of her strengths, one shared by many on the frontier, was adaptability, "So it isn't all craziness, is it? Drake?"
At my nod, her eyes widened somewhat and she quickly turned to the master for confirmation, "What happened, Hiram?"
As he told her of Sandrelessa and of Darrel she kept glancing in my direction and shaking her head. At the conclusion of the story, she stated, "You know this is the first time that I haven't envied the extra training that you receive Drake."
"Aye Clara, it can be a dangerous path, but usually the one I walk is quite safe. Drake, I am so sorry that the one time it was not, you were the one to be caught in the crossfire."
"It is not your fault Master. It was bad luck combined with me not being strong enough to withstand Sandrelessa's lure."
"Still, I should have done more to ensure your safety."
"If I had been able to follow orders, then nothing would have gone wrong. Though the experience has definitely driven home your lesson that one needs to be careful when dealing with the demon world."
Chuckling at this response, he replied, "Well I wish you had just taken my word for it. But the mages will fix things up when you get to Glanlies. And as you say it will be a good lesson."
"Are you going to reverse the spell Drake? You seem quite comfortable," Clara teased.
"Most definitely, I want to be myself. As for being comfortable, well I think it is more a matter of following the instructions of my tutor, while biding my time."
"Tutor? Ahh, I bet Mary has gotten her hands on you, she must be ecstatic to have you in her clutches?"
The master laughingly agreed, "Aye, she hasn't been piercing me with any of her 'why have you brought us to this Gods-forsaken hole' looks since she got her hands on Drake."
Not really liking the tone that was being used when talking about my new friend, there was a primness in my voice, a primness that would not have sounded so fitting only days before, when I stated, "Mary has been exceedingly kind to me. If she is getting some enjoyment out of the situation then I am happy for her, since she has been working so very hard preparing for the trip while spending so much time with me."
Correctly interpreting the tone of my answer, the master moved the conversation back to business, "Well now that you have heard our story, let's hear about your travels. How went the trading with the tribes, Clara?"
"Well there was good news on that front. Their hunting and trapping went very well during the winter, so they had lots of nice pelts for sale. As per normal the flour and spices were the hot commodities in any exchange, I only wish we had the logistics to carry more of it. Cloth and blankets weren't that big of traders this time around, I brought back over a third of what we took with us."
"Aye, they are always cyclical. If they didn't take much this time, they will want more in the fall. How about the other goods?"
"Well you know they just aren't that into hauling much crap around. So it went about as well as could be expected. Things they use daily sell okay, but luxury sells were rare. Though I actually sold a fancy mirror and brush set this year to one of the war chiefs who got himself a young, new bride. Oh yeah, the knifes traded really well this trip, that new Corels' supplier really came through. They aren't as fancy as the ones we used to get from Glanlies but they are the good every-day knifes and that's what the tribes want. I recommend we use him to restock, though maybe ask for more variety in blade size and type."
"Noted. How about the pots and pans?"
This question brought a sneer of disgust to both his and my face, while Clara's face turned red in anger, "The newest shipment are complete crap. Luckily we had some left over from last year, to fill the few requests that we had. But the new stuff isn't worth the space it takes away from stuff we could actually trade. I was close to dumping it on the ground and leaving it there."
"I don't know what went wrong with them, the Bandleua's always supplied good quality before."
"Course you do Hiram, you're just to nice to say it. The old man knew what he was doing, but since he died his idiot son has been left in charge. I grew up with Furnie and while he was a great partier, he was useless for anything else. Hell I don't even think he knows you can use a pot for a purpose other than for pissing in, and after a night of drinking he doesn't even know that. We definitely need to find a replacement."
"Esselde is going with Drake to Glanlies, I will ask her to find us a new supplier. Heck, I will load up the crap we already have and have her get our money back from the drunkard. I hate losing money because of idiots."
Shaking her head wryly, Clara responded, "I don't think it is even worth the effort. The last letter I received from my sister makes it sound like he is close to receivership and that was a couple months back. Our family dodged a close one there, she was sweet on Furnie, there was even talk of marriage. Happily it didn't happen, I wouldn't want to see good Holnd money keeping idiot Bandleua business practice going."
"Dammit. I won't even get my money back. What are we going to do with a batch of complete shite pots and pans?"
"The Militia is always looking for pots and pans, their patrols are constantly losing stuff so they don't really care that much about quality. I will be passing through there when delivering the pelts to Glanlies and will load up the current stock to take with me. We should at least be able to recoup our losses and if Turin smiles, we may even make some profit."
"Well profit would be nice at this point, but mostly let's worry about cutting our losses. Well enough of the pots and pans, is there anything else I need to know?"
"Actually there was one more thing I found interesting."
The gleam in her eye showed that, like a performer, she had saved the best for last. The master was not quite as eager an audience as I was, as he did not lean forward in his chair, but there was a smile in his voice as he asked, "And what friend Clara, might that be?"
"Well I had a meeting with the High Chief and he was wondering if we had hand tools stock. When I asked about the type of tools, he mentioned saws, hammers and other building supplies. When I replied that we usually did not have them with us, he implied that it would be a good idea to have them on hand next time we meet up for trading."
"Very interesting, Clara. What reason would a nomadic tribe have for building tools?"
"My question exactly Hiram. So I did some asking around and heard the most delicious rumour. Apparently there is a move afoot to establish a permanent camp where we usually meet them for trading."
"That is very interesting. What do you think the possibility is that they may allow someone from the outside to establish a presence at their camp?"
"I would say very high, otherwise I wouldn't have found out as much as I did. I think it may be a good idea for you to head out and visit the chief, boss-to-boss. If you did, we may be able to get a jump on the Fork Post crew. Currently we have better relations with the chief and his people, but he will have expectations of us. One that I caught the implications. Two that you will come and talk to him, he likes me but always asks about you."
"Very good work, Clara. With Esselde in Glanlies, now would be a good time for me to head off for a visit. This could very well lead to a permanent warehouse, which would definitely be a coup for us. But I am going to need someone to run any new post that we set up, would you be interested?"
"I thought you had to be a sorcerer to be a post master?"
The master must have heard the hidden anger in her voice, because he was quite tactful when he replied, "Admittedly the commission only offers its full support to posts with a master, but truly the commission gets more out of us than we get from them. After all, when I made the call on them last week we didn't get any help. Besides which the vast majority of posts are run without any sorcerer present and run quite successfully. No the most important thing for most post-masters is to understand the clientá¨le with whom they are dealing. You know the tribes as well as anybody, that will serve you better than any sorcery. Honestly the sorcery requirements for post masters are not that big of thing."
"Unless you are trying to convince your apprentice to learn sorcery," I could not stop myself from blurting.
Laughing unabashedly at this statement, the master replied, "Exactly, that's the best use I ever found for the requirement. Honestly Clara, you have what we need to run a new post amongst the tribes."
"Aye Hiram, I know I do. I was mostly just pulling your leg." She then lapsed into a moments thought before answering, "But no, I am not ready to leave the road quite yet. It's best to look for someone else. Plus you have to find out if there will even be a post, before you offer its command to anyone."
"Well I have a feeling that you read the situation correctly. But on to other things. Is there anything else to report? If yes, it will have a tough act to follow."
"No, that is all."
"Very good, now it's time to see if my apprentice was paying attention or was just here for comic relief. Drake, what assignments have come out of the discussion between Clara and myself?"
Expecting a question like this I had been trying my hardest to keep track of the discussion, "Yes Master, I believe the following are the assignments. The first is yours, you will be travelling North to talk to Chief Many Song about establishing a post within his territory. Clara is to deliver the pelts to Glanlies via North Fort, while at North Fort she will try to offload our current pots and pan supply. Mistress Elladoo will be tasked with finding a new supplier for pots and pans. She will also talk to the knife supplier to get him to expand the range of items he provides."
"Don't forget that the chief mentioned tools to Clara, we will have to have Esselde look for a supplier for those as well," Master Elladoo reminded.
"How about finding a post master," Clara queried?
"Let's hold off on that for now, as you said it is best not to weigh our catch before we pull in the net. However, if needed, I plan on talking to Eric Soldin. He has really good relations with the tribes, is a hardworking and honest fellow, but he has never been able to bankroll a large operation."
"Good idea, Hiram. Plus I know that his wife is tired of the road. She knows she will never get him to settle down in a real town, but she would be willing to accept an outpost."
"Okay, I think we've covered everything?"
"Actually Master, may I add something?"
"Sure Drake, what is it?"
"It concerns the new cobbler, I do not believe he is working out."
"Alphonse? But he's an excellent craftsman, we are lucky to have someone of his skill at our post. What's wrong with him?"
"Umm, well the women don't like him."
"Huh?"
Luckily Clara came to my rescue allowing me to just sit there blushing that I had brought it up, "Hiram the man is a pervert. I am guessing the reason why you were able to get someone of his skill, way out here, was because nobody wanted him wherever he was before."
"Has he done anything?" the master questioned with quite a bit of fierceness in his voice.
"Not anything of which I am aware, it is more the way he looks at us. Now you know that I am no prude, and enjoy the attention of a man with the best of them, but he makes me feel dirty with his stares. There are dark thoughts lurking in his eyes. Since I am on the road so much, I always can always find another cobbler to help me. But those who are here, year round, are not as fortunate."
"Well I hate to condemn a man who hasn't done anything, but he's useless to me if a good portion of the post is afraid of him. Let me talk to some other people about him, if necessary we will add finding a new cobbler to Esselde's tasks. Now, let's call it a day. I am going to go down and check that the warehouse has the salt ready to ship once the river boat arrives. Then I am going to spend the rest of the day with my wife, from whom I will soon be parted by our separate missions."
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Sorry all, I need to interject something about the last section of my story. When my editors at the Asthelhorne Monthly Biography Journal read my first draft of this submission, they recommended that I leave it out. They felt it doesn't move the story along nor that it is really all that interesting. They may be correct, but they completely missed the most important reason for it to exist, that section more than stories of demons, bandits or even my change reflects who I am. It is the reason my story has the title, Adventures of a Merchant. No matter what has happened to me over the years it has always been based around my mercantile experience. I love the art of the trade, or the moment when you get a lead that may blossom into something beneficial hopefully not just for you, but also for whomever which you are dealing. After all, as Salend Voctor writes in book two of the Annals, 'If you want to make the big score one time, become a con-man. But if you want to have a lasting partnership of benefit, become a merchant.'
Yes, much of my time, even to this day involve discussions such as the one just described. Sure the setting has changed, now it is more often to occur in a salon or fancy office, but the same truths apply. A ten minute conversation may lead to a year of work and years of benefit. And since I am not going to delve into the master's negotiations resulting from the conversation outlined above, let me tell you now that it definitely led to years of benefit for the members of Elladoo post, though it did require quite a bit of hard work.
So the section needs to stay in. Plus I did mention at the end of my previous installment that there would be some merchant talk, so you cannot say I didn't warn you.
However, just to be nice to my editors, who work hard to interpret my scribbled hand writing, we will skip over the meeting with Durk when he returned from his trip a couple of days later. He had been west of the Rillian travelling from farm to farm trading for spring sheared wool, as expected it went very normally and he did not bring back any news of the magnitude obtained by Clara. But his arrival did initiate some frenzied work by the the warehouse crew as they worked all night re-bundling the wool for easier shipping. Once done, it was reloaded, along with the pelts from the North and the crappy pots and pans into a new caravan which Clara had on the road the next day.
A few days after Clara headed out the river boat on which our party was to head South arrived soon after and was quickly unloaded of supplies and wares before being reloaded with salt for a return trip. The evening before we left involved a get together between the Elladoos and myself, where we reviewed the itinerary and purpose of the journey. Parts of which I was looking forward to, such as; being returned to myself and assisting the mistress in negotiating deals with suppliers. For even though she had no official ranking within the commission, she was a master in her own right. Likely it was her birthright as a Deglace. However, there was one task towards which I was not looking forward. That being the visit with my family.
Now it may seem that, since I have mentioned this fear multiple times, that my family and I were not that fond of each other. But that has never been the case we have always got along quite well. But like many successful relationships, one hundred percent honesty is not always the best policy. Not saying that lying is the key to good relationships, but sometimes omitting to tell loved ones everything can prove to be beneficial. The risk with this approach is that one day you are forced to reveal that omission when explaining something that is even worse then what was hidden. At that point all you can do is hope the omitted truth does not bite you too hard. Well this was one of those cases where I was caught omitting a truth and my worry was that the bite taken would be rather large.
There had been fairly regular contact with my parents, mostly through monthly letters explaining my life as a merchant apprentice. Beyond that, there had been visits to Corels at least once, usually twice, per year. But in none of those letters or any of those visits had I mentioned that my apprenticeship involved learning sorcery, minor though it may be. Though unaware of my parents' feelings about sorcery, I could guess. Based on their never disputing Grandmother's beliefs, who had believed that magic was the work of evil, it was easy to surmise that they held the same belief. Furthermore, Corels was the home to the largest congregation of Furigal worshippers in the peninsula, and those who worshipped the God of the Sea were also the most anti-sorcerous group in the peninsula. Sailors tended to be a superstitious lot who spent much of their time out on the realm of their God, who was capricious and demanding. Furthermore, more than any other god or goddess in the Peninsula's pantheon, Furigal was a god of nature. And sorcery is anti-nature. Since my parents, despite not being sailors, were worshippers of Furigal, it was my guess that they too were leery of sorcery.
So my fear was that, though they may not lose their love for me, they may also not be that sympathetic to my plight. They may even believe that my fate was deserved. Thus, for the first time since my encounter with Sandrelessa I was unable to get a good night's sleep, resulting in a rather bleary Drake who boarded the river boat in the morning with the mistress, Mary and our guard, which consisted of Jimi and Stork. The two of them had been chosen for the same reasons that they had been chosen to watch over me while I slept off the results of my demoness inspired rage. Those reason being that they worked well together, were patient and calm, were good at their job and had been retainers with the Deglace's long before they had followed the mistress to the North. However, before they joined us, the master and sergeant had taken them aside to explain my whole story and to try to convince Jimi that I was not possessed by Jiringel. I say try, because he was not quite ready to be convinced. Still it mattered little with Stork along, since he would handle any talking that was necessary.
We had not been on the river for long when all of a sudden we were attacked by river pirates. Well not really, at the time it just seemed that being attacked by pirates would have been preferable to what I was experiencing. For even though the Rillian was calm that day, I was quickly feeling as sick as could be. This was a new experience for me, I had made the trip via river boat multiple time before with not even a hint of sea-sickness. Yet soon I was hanging over the side of the boat getting rid of my breakfast.
It definitely was not an auspicious start to our journey.
The only thing that made the trip bearable was that the river boat did not travel during the night. We spent two of the nights during our trip in outposts similar to ours and one night tied up to the shore, though even then I ended up in a tent on shore since the rocking gentle rocking while tied up was still to much for me. One benefit to this sickness was that I was so caught up in my misery that there was little time to worry about my meeting with my parents. Even when we arrived in Corels, just before dark settled in, all we did was get to one of the better inns, find me a bath so that I could feel human and settled in for the night.
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The next day we were up early, with me feeling much better. My nervousness had returned and as we were getting ready Mary had to chide me rather sternly to stop my fidgeting. When we were ready, she once more had me done up quite fancy. I was decked out in the in the dark green woolen dress, which fit tightly to my body and had yellow embroidered vines up its sleeves. Matching the colour of the dress was a ribbon that Mary used to tie my hair in an intricate series of lose knots. Once more, I was in that bizarre world where I become maiden personified. The only thing was that the garments no longer felt bizarre to wear.
As we were eating breakfast, I could not help but wonder why I had been dressed the way I was, was it part of the plan? For that matter, I did not even know if we had a plan, "Mistress Elladoo, is it part of the plan to have me dressed up like this?"
Looking up from her meal, the mistress smiled at the question before answering, "No, it is just a lovely day and since we are in no longer out in the wilderness, it just seemed appropriate to dress up. See my dress is a similar colour to your's, we're a matched set."
Until that moment, I had not noticed how nicely both she and Mary were dressed, embarrassment from this resulted in a hastily mumbled, "You both look very nice."
Mary, with a smile on her face, to remove any potential sting replied, "Well it is difficult for us old maids to gain notice when we are in your presence, but yes we do look good today."
With a blush, I apologized, "I am sorry for being so addle pated, but I am very nervous."
"We know you are sweetheart," Mistress Elladoo answered. "But you can be sure that both Mary and I are here for you. And unless I have completely lost my ability to read people, your family will also be here for you."
"Thank you so much for the support, both of you. I would have been an even bigger wreck without your guidance and support. But I still wonder how we go about telling my parents what has happened to me. Even I find it is such a hard story to believe and I'm living it."
"I have actually given it quite a bit of thought, Dra'e. I hope to catch them when nobody else is in the bakery at which point I will go in on my own. I will then break the news to them, both of your possession and how that possession has changed you. In addition I will tell them of our plan to have you returned to yourself. Most importantly, I will stress that these changes have not affected who you really are. Once I determine if my read on them is correct I will either come and get you or come out so we can continue on with our task to talk to the knife supplier."
"What will I be doing while you are in talking to my parents, Ma'am?"
"You and Mary will be waiting outside in a carriage that I have ordered. Speaking of which, my ears tell me it has apparently just arrived outside. Let's finish up our breakfast and head on out."
By mutual consent we decided that we were done and stood up to move to the door. Before getting outside we were joined by Stork and Jimi, who preceded us through the door. When outside we all stopped in sudden shock, for though there was a carriage waiting, it was not what we expected. Nor were those who escorted it expected. Before our surprise had a chance to abate one of those escorts, none other than Ensign Elfos Tillindal, moved his horse forward and stated with authority, "Drake of Elladoo Post, you are under arrest."
I am not sure what it says about me that my immediate thought in response was, 'I really need an eke-name', but luckily Mistress Elladoo was there to do my thinking for me.
"Ensign Tillindal, what is the meaning of this?" While the ensign had made his statement with authority, she made hers with fire. Still he was not cowed.
"Mistress Elladoo, we are no longer on your post, you and your husband are not in charge of security in Corels. Instead it is the Militia's responsibility, and it is our belief that security is undermined by allowing a demon possessed individual such as that to run lose," he finished with a gesture in my direction.
"Ensign Tillindal, we are on the way to Glanlies to have Dra'e cured by the Mage's College."
"Then you should have gone directly to Glanlies, Mistress Elladoo. However, you came to Corels and I have a arrest warrant from the Magistrate's Office of Corels for the arrest, please let me do my job."
At his insolent tone Jimi reached for his sword, but just as the guards with Tillindal began to swing their crossbows in his direction the mistress clamped her hand on his to stop his. "May I see the warrant Ensign?"
"Of course Mistress. But you will see that everything is in order."
I watched her with a hopeful eye as she scanned the document. When she frowned my hopes began to be dashed, confirmation of the dashing followed when she turned to me with a sigh and said, "It looks like everything is in order, Dra'e. You will have to go with them for now, but I will have you out of their clutches as soon as I can. For now say nothing until I can obtain a solicitor to advise us."
It was hard to tell who was more nervous, myself or the young soldier who came forward and clamped irons around my wrists. After they were attached it was no longer hard to tell, it was definitely me. The Militia members then surrounded and herded me to the carriage that was not a carriage, being a wooden box, with only a small grating in the door. No not a carriage, just a cart for transporting criminals, apparently the class to which they deemed I belonged.
The ride was hot and smelly, but still shock had not disappeared before the cart pulled into the courtyard of the Militia headquarters. Climbing out was quite difficult in my long dress and with arms clamped together. Luckily one of the men, a corporal by his markings, reached up and helped me down. However, when I murmured my thanks he only looked at me with those opaque eyes common amongst under officers when they did not want their underlings speaking to them. Instead he grasped my upper arm, and none to gently guided me in following the ensign into the building where we soon ended up in a large office housing a Militia colonel.
With a short bow of respect, Tillindal reported to the man, "Colonel Sir, I have returned with the prisoner. Where shall I imprison her?"
The man basically ignored the ensign, instead he focused his attention upon me. After a thorough head to toe inspection he smiled and stated, "I find it rather hard to believe that you were the death of Darrel Haubanks, he was one of the deadliest men I ever met. While you, you appear to be many things, but deadly is not one of them."
Frowning at the colonel's doubting tone, the ensign hurried to explain, "Well Sir, that is what Elladoo explained to me and stated in his report. And that insubordinate, bastard sergeant agreed."
"Hussel agreed did he? I don't know Elladoo from a harem guard, but I remember Hussel. If he stated that she did it, then he believes it. The insubordinate bastard, as you call him, is not smart or slick enough to pull off such a lie. So how did she kill Darrel?"
"They said she is possessed by a demon Sir. That's how she did Darrel and a bunch of his followers in."
"Demon possession you say. Based on Darrel's reputation I think its more likely that she stabbed him while he was sleeping off raping her." He then returned his attention to me to ask, "So which is it girl, were you his victim before you surprised him? Or are you really possessed by a demon?"
I was really beginning to hate the sound of an Glanlies' upper-crust accent. Though the colonel's voice did not have the cruelty that had been lurking in Darrel's voice, its very indifference was not that much better. It caused the fear of my situation to bubble up over my shock and surprise. I forced myself to remember the one voice of this type with which I did not associate fear and latched onto the last thing that voice had said, "I would prefer not to answer until I have a solicitor present."
He just smiled at my response, "Likely the smart thing for you to do, in fact it is the same approach I would take. However, since you won't talk, we will have to return to Ensign Tillindal's question."
"Sir?"
"Your question as to where we should imprison her."
"Yes Sir."
"Well I am not really convinced that she is possessed by a demon, one would think she would be spitting mad if so. Instead she is standing here the pretty little lady. Still I cannot ignore the the possibility that she is demon possessed, so our cells here may not be strong enough to hold her. Therefore, deliver her to the old donjon."
"Yes, Sir!" Tillindal answered with a smile.
If his accent had not already proven that he was not from Corels, then his use of the word donjon would have given it away. Locals, which I still was at that point, always called the old donjon the Hole. It had been given that name about forty years earlier when it had been replaced as the headquarters of the Militia and turned into a prison by the mayor at the time. Since then it had become the home of the most serious criminals; murderers, rapists, rebels, heretics and so forth.
It had received its nick-name, the Hole, as a result of a reputation that once a prisoner went in they never got out. It went beyond being escape proof, anyone sentenced to the Hole was going to live there for the rest of their life, which sometimes could be quite short if they had a dance scheduled with the hang man. Even after death a prisoner's body would be burned and the ashes discarded into the nearest garbage pile. It was and continues to be a very bad place. And that was where they were delivering me.
The entire time that it took to travel from the headquarters to the Hole, once more in the same cart, I was trying to convince myself that I would only be a temporary resident. That I was not going to be one of those who never got out. That the mistress would be able to hire a solicitor to get me free. But that hope was less easy to grasp as the cart rolled through a massive, closing gate.
The same corporal once more helped me down from the cart, but this time he did not immediately lead me anywhere, instead he looked in the direction of Ensign Tillindal who was talking to a captain in a slightly different uniform. Based on the man's advanced age, and his relatively low rank, I surmised that he was the commander of the prison. After all he had the look of the steady, but non-ambitious (which means without political backing) officer who would end up in a relatively dead-end post like Commander of the Hole. The captain showed none of the animation that was in Tillindal's gestures during their conversation, since to him I was just another prisoner. After the explanation was complete he nodded his head and gestured some of his guards in my direction and passed set of orders to one of them. Upon reaching the corporal and I, they took me into their custody with the corporal seeming to be only to happy to hand me over to their control. I guess he was no more excited about heading inside the donjon than me. The difference was he could leave.
Soon a group of four guards were taking me down into the cellars of the keep, which I am sure that you can guess were a dark and dreary place. Walls seeping moisture, proved that digging a hole this close to where a river merged into the sea was not the smartest idea. It also led to the smell of mold and mildew permeating the air.
Much of what I saw was to be expected, but there were some surprises. The first being that we really did not climb that deep into the ground, there appeared to basically be a basement, used for storage, and a sub-basement which held the cells. The second thing that I noticed was how quiet it was, you expect that there would be lots of chatter, yelling and cursing from all these hardened criminals, but there was none. The last surprise was the number of cells. My impression had always been that there were hundreds of murderers lurking underground in the Hole, but if there were actually half a century of cells I would be surprised.
Seemingly at random, at least to me, they led me to one of the numerous cells whose door was open. Looking inside at the grubby cubicle, barely larger the a closet, I was dismayed to see it contained only a filthy pallet laying on the rush covered floor and a vile bucket in the corner. When I stood at the door, looking inwards with horror, one of the guards stated, "What are you looking all disgusted about Missy? This here is one of the better cells."
I turned my head to look at the voice, with disbelief apparently evident on my face, since he continued, "Yep, you are just an accused prisoner so you get one of the nice cells. If you're convicted then you get one of the crap ones."
One of his colleagues chimed in his agreement, "Yep, cells like this one that have no outside walls are the best. They are warmer and don't have the dripping walls. We save the corners for the real bastards."
The first guard continued, "And the rushes are fairly new as well, no other prisoner has been inside since we replaced them."
Hardly believing their bizarre sincerity, it only required a small push to get me the into the cell, then with a warning that I better be quiet if I wanted be fed the door was closed. Leaving me alone in that terrible box, in a darkness that was almost as black as my thoughts.
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I have described the events leading to my imprisonment to a number of people over the years and it has always amazed me how often I am asked, 'Why didn't you fight them? How come you were so passive?' And it has always been difficult to explain the answer. Partially because the type who ask are either the ones who cannot even begin to comprehend being in trouble with the law or they are the ones who do not know me very well. They look at me and wonder how the slayer of Darrel the Roamer could so easily have been made a prisoner. The other thing that makes it hard to explain is that they constantly interrupt and ask additional questions. Maybe I will have better luck explaining via quill than via voice.
Any explanation must start with a few truths about me. Despite my adventures in the bandit camp and some other examples I hope to detail to you at some point, I am not a violent person. Sure if attacked or in danger I will defend myself, but never in my life has it been me who started the violence. In conjunction with this I must admit that violence is not my forte, sure I have had some training, but outside of the crossbow my skills are barely above average. My chances of success against professionals would have been exceedingly small, as to not even being measurable.
What about my demon, you ask? Well honestly, outside of being changed into a girl, the possession did not measure. When you think of possession, or at least when I had thought of possession before it happened to me, you think of it as a constant presence that whispers things like, 'Kill them. Kill them all.' But that was not my experience with Sandrelessa. Outside of the bandit camp and maybe the sickness I had felt on the river, she had never made her presence felt. Still even if it was possible for me to bring her to the forefront, I did not really want to have her in control. It was not a good feeling to be a passenger in my own body, allowing something as insane as a demoness to hold the reins. Who knew what she would do if she was in charge, my belief is that none of it would be good.
Which leads to the second truth about me, I am an orderly type. My belief in the Commission and its rule of the peninsula is rather unshakable. The Militia troops that arrested me, even Ensign Tillindal, and the guards that locked me in the cell were representatives of that organization. They were just doing their jobs, how could I bring myself to attack them? Furthermore, along with my belief in the system that they represented, I also had to believe that the system would find no reason to punish me.
The last big truth was my age. You must not forget that I was still just fifteen years old, and a fifteen year old who was not rebellious beyond the norm. At that age my life revolved around following the orders of my elders, which included darn near everybody. It definitely included the Militia and prison guards.
So those are the reasons, at least the ones I now believe, as to why I did not put up a fight. Actually when they are written down I cannot see why it is so difficult to explain. It may be due to one other reason that rattles around in the back of my mind, one which I have just about convinced myself that I do not believe. The cause of disbelief is that this last reason grew out of the first hours inside that darkened cell, after my arrest, when I asked myself the questions I am now trying to explain away. At that time, the reason that leaped to the forefront of my mind was that I deserved any punishment I received. There was no doubt in my mind that I was demon possessed and having seen the results of that demon possession first hand, there was even less doubt that it was evil to be so possessed. Hence, how could I not be evil? It had only made sense that they should lock me away in some foul hole like the one they did.
Once coming to this cheery conclusion, I had latched onto it and began to explain away other things. I concluded that the real reason for being scared of visiting my parents was not because I was worried about their opinions, no it was because I was not worthy of their good opinions. For it was as obvious as the back of my hand, which at the time I could hardly see, that my becoming inhabited by this evil force was not an accident. No, it was because I was a natural vessel for evil. And the reason for my comfort in the female form was due to some perversity lurking in my soul. My prior belief that it was due to the support and teaching from Mary and Mistress Elladoo actually disguised my taking advantage of their good nature. And...
Damn, thinking about that time is depressing me. Of course endeavors in self hatred are never enjoyable experiences. So in an effort to stop me from wanting to jump off a bridge and to stop you from wanting to gouge out your eyes, let us skip over those hours of personal condemnation. Instead we will focus on the efforts of my would be rescuers.
Now you should be aware that instead of participating in these events, I only learned of them after the fact from those who actually lived them. So I cannot fully vouch for them as whole truths, but those whose descriptions I use are trustworthy. Besides which, there really is no reason for them to lie or exaggerate.
This signals the need for me to take a step away from the role I have played so far in the telling of this story. Until this point I have felt that my role has been that of the host, welcoming you into my home. But for the next short while, at least until we can get through the rest of that day, let me change my hat to the more humble one of narrator.
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Well that did not work out at all well; therefore, I am going to change my mind. I did try and tell the story of my friends. Pages were written about Mistress Elladoo hiring a lawyer and speaking to my parents, of Stork's journey to Glanlies, on their speculations about what was going on and all their efforts to free me. Yet every word was a chore, what they had told me no longer seemed clear. Maybe it is because when they first told me what they did and what went on, while I was locked away, it all made sense. Being closer to the time their stories were more believable or I was much more ready to believe. But now, now there are so many questions that spring to mind as I try to write down their words. How did they reach that conclusion? Why did they do that? Where did they obtain that piece of information?
I suppose I could ask them. Yet will they be able to answer? These questions did not spring to my mind until years later, maybe they never asked the questions of themselves. And how would I ask them? Only Jimi and Mary are readily available, everybody else lives far away or are acquaintances at best. For those who are far away, I suppose I could send a letter. Yet, if I could not write their story, how could I write the proper questions? And though I will visit them in the near future, now is not the time.
No, it is best if I stick to that with which I am comfortable, my own recollections. Even when they involve very little happening, but don't worry we will ignore most of the nothing time. For example, let us delve not to deep into the hours immediately after my imprisonment. How many hours I am not sure, since it is hard to tell time in a basement cell.
You may wonder if my situation improved in those initial hours after my imprisonment. Well I could provide the simple answer, but though that works well in teaching, it is not always the best approach for story telling. Instead let me outline a number of the thoughts I thought and experiences I experienced over those hours.
With the cell door closing my thoughts had settled into a dark mode, and the passing of time did not suddenly turn them sunny. Adventures in self-loathing continued to be the mainstay of my emotional imbalance. Though every once in awhile another thought would creep in to take the foreground, at least for a moment or two. Sometimes they were even semi-positive, such as; being glad that I was not forced to share a cell with some violent criminal or my surprise that there was soup with my bread and water. Then at other times they were not so positive, such as; realizing that I was was actually sharing the cell with a multitude of fleas or that the soup was basically made of water and bread.
There were also periods where I wished that all of this craziness had never happened to me, which was either followed by me promising the Gods anything they wanted if they got me out or by my cursing Master Elladoo for leading me astray. At other times I convinced myself that it was all a mistake, that Mistress Elladoo would be there to save me, but later I would begin to question where she was and why it was taking her so long. I would retreat into worrying that the Elladoo's would wash their hands of me or that my friends would not be my friends or that Mary would be so angry at me getting my dress dirty.
In turn this would lead me towards thinking about being changed into a girl. For such a major change to my life, it was amazing how little of an impact it had on me. Much of this was due to an understanding that it was only temporary, but I had to admit that everyone being so nice to me played a large role. Since my apprenticeship, outside of my training, I had basically been on my own. But after my transformation it had almost seemed like I was part of a family and that felt good. Plus as a fairly plain looking fellow, there was definitely an attraction to all of a sudden being pretty, even if it involved the strangeness of wearing dresses. Though some of the dresses were kind of nice...Pervert!
Sadly even non-negative thoughts could not survive long in the environment in which I had been placed when combined with the state into which I had forced my mind. The doubt and anger and fear had to have their place of prominence. They greedily drove away things that did not put me in despair or turned a sneer on my entertaining ideas that I was dreaming and just needed to wake up or that I should try to figure out a way to escape or that rescue was close at hand.
But if you still prefer the simple answer, then please feel free to ignore the previous four paragraphs. Instead, let me tell you that no, things did not improve. In fact the only change was that at any moment the urge to begin itching would overwhelm me as my cell-mates made their presence known.
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Though one could not tell the time of day in the Hole's cellar, there was a rhythm that had been created to mimic what went on outside. I assumed night had arrived when every second torch in the halls outside of my cell were extinguished. This provided a momentary distraction as I digested how mistaken it had been to think the cell had already been as dark as it could get. But again it was not a strong thought so was quickly pushed away by the other negative things that had set up their squatter's camp within my mind. They squabbled amongst themselves, with each trying to gain ascendancy, though each time one was successful it would soon be pushed aside by another. So rapid were the shifts that I cannot say which held the high ground when I finally, please don't stone me for this, drifted into uneasy sleep.
When I awoke, the number of lit torches was still low, so I guessed that my slumber had not lasted long. Nor had it been restful, since I remembered what had been going on in my dreams and dream memory for me only occur in those moments before I fully awake. The reason for my awakening was readily apparent when I realized that I was freezing. But though cold I was happy that it had woken me, because it was not what had made my slumber restless, no that honour was reserved for my dreams. In them I was back in the bandit camp, Sandrelessa was once more back in control and my memories of the event were extremely vivid, either that or my mind was doing an incredibly good job of creating details. And where the event itself had seemed to flash by in a horrific haze, the dream moved slowly in perfect clarity letting me relive every attack, allowing me to study every face. As they attacked and before they were obliterated each and every one of them wore a face that I did not recognize, but when they lay on the ground shattered and broken their faces turned to those I knew and loved. Yes I was quite happy that the cold awoke me.
But once awake the cold, moment by moment, became worse than my nightmares. Soon I sat with my knees drawn up to my chin, with arms wrapped around my legs. Still it did not help, the cold had sunk in too deep. Finally I found myself needing to get to my feet hoping that moving about would restore some heat. And so I began doing laps around my cell. Two steps, left turn, two steps, left turn, two steps, left turn. On and on I walked, and when I began to think I forced myself to count steps to override thought. And when I lost count it was time to start over again, until I was mindlessly lost in two steps, left turn, two steps, left turn, two steps...
There was no more beating myself up, no self hate, there was just the pacing. It surely would have petered out on its own, but on one of my frequent trips past the door I thought I heard something. After more laps I realized that it was voices, and after even more laps I began to wonder why the voices were whispering. Finally it clicked within my head that it was actually prisoners talking amongst themselves. Wondering what could cause them to risk punishment from the guards finally brought me to a stop by the door. Without the beat of my feet on the ground it was soon possible to make out what they were saying and with understanding the first smile in a long time took up residence on my face. They were actually telling jokes, well not jokes, they were actually taking turns telling the joke.
You know the one, it starts with, "A peg-legged pirate with a parrot on his shoulder walks into an inn. While the pirate is looking about the bartender asks, 'Hey Joe, where have you been and who's your friend?'" It then gets rolling when the parrot answers.
It's a joke that I have heard told in many places by many people and never once has it been the same. But though different there are a number of commonalities. The most important being that it is never in good taste, in fact you can determine a lot about the people you are with by seeing how low the joke sinks within their midst. There is often sex involved, usually either involving a siren or a mermaid, heck I even heard one telling that involved a lobster that night in my dank cell. And in general there is no bodily function taboo in telling the joke, though during that night in the Hole I heard taboos broken that I did not even know existed. Yes my fellow inmates were willing to sink very low indeed, definitely making the joke an entirely different species than the first version I heard it in my bedroom one night from my elder brother. My brother's version was mild compared to those I had heard in the bachelors' quarters at the post, but they in turn were mild compared to the ones I heard that night.
In turns I was shocked, stunned, confused, outraged, thrilled and sick from laughter. Now in the first installment of my tale I dissected an experience with crying, how it made me feel and what it did for me. Now laughter, true belly laughter affects me in a much more positive fashion than crying. The tears from laughter seem to wash away my fears and angst, while tears from crying make them blurry but does make them go away. And after a good laugh, everything is funny, not sad. If I had my druthers, I would always prefer the laughter. Alas, there is usually not a choice, you just deal with what you experience and hope that everything works out for the best.
On that night, the laughter most definitely worked out. The laughter chased away much of my darkness and stood guard against its return. It allowed me to judge myself in a much more positive light, question why I felt bad about what happened in the camp. After all neither Darrel nor his followers would have felt a moment's guilt over anything they planned to do to me or my friends at the post. So what that Sandrelessa lurked inside my body? Based upon what Master Elladoo told me of how the spell worked, it was I who possessed her not the other way around. And true, I was not gnashing my teeth and pulling out my hair about being turned into a girl. But being adaptable was important to us frontier dwellers and honestly it was far from being horrible, some of it was quite nice in fact. Yes I would be glad to return to being a boy, but until then I would make the best of it.
I was going to get out of the Hole, and I was going to go to Glanlies. Despite what that idiot Tillindal may think.
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The laughter served me well over the next number hours, both in sleep and while awake. When I saw the guard whose job it was to empty the buckets I immediately recognized him from one of the jokes and began to giggle. When he did not take kindly to this and threatened me, his rather squeaky voice pushed me into a full-fledged laughter. And when he was about to enter the room and his colleague said, "Leave her alone Clem, she's demon touched," I laughed even harder. Yep the tiniest thing could start me off again; like how silly the intricately tied knots from the day before looked as they loosened in my hair, or the off key whistling of a guard and most definitely the limerick that, though barely readable, had been scratched into the wall.
My guess is that with the amount of cackling I did that day, there was little doubt that anyone who heard would be sure that demon possession was driving me insane. And of course even that was funny. Still by the afternoon laughter was beginning to lose its charm and I found myself trying to figure out something new with which to occupy my mind. First off I tried to remember every song I knew, but though they had put up with my laughter, the guards were unwilling to put up with my singing, they apparently found my voice was just as unable to carry a tune as it had when it was my boy's voice. With this avenue of entertainment discouraged, I fell back on a proper task for any young apprentice merchant, I began testing my memory of the Annals. It is truly amazing how much material is covered in those books and it pleased me how much I remembered. My review also proved how much I did not understand, which led to wishes for paper and a quill to note down questions for the master when next I saw him.
I was in the midst of an internal debate concerning what additional items, which were currently not included on our caravan, we should supply to any outpost opened in the tribes' territory when the door opened. My first thought was that it was time for another tasteless meal, but when I saw multiple men at the door none with a bowl of food, my curiosity was peaked. When one of them gestured for me to approach my positive viewpoint continued and my immediate guess was that I was being released. However, that guess was dismissed when I saw them holding wrist-shackles that they quickly fastened to my arms.
Curiosity got the better of me when instead of leaving the stairwell at the point I had entered yesterday we kept climbing. So working up my nerve, I asked, "Where are you taking me?"
The man who was guiding me with a large hand around my upper arm answered, "We didn't know you were of the Deglace when we put you downstairs yesterday. You high mucky-muck types are to be kept in one of the Tower's cells."
Digesting this explanation raised a number of questions in my mind, but the rather rapid climb up the steep, winding steps in the long skirt of my dress forced my attention to focus upon not stumbling. We passed four more exits before the guards stopped, unlocked the landing door and pulled me through onto a level with four doors similar to those in the basement.
The same man who had answered me originally looked around and stated, "Well you're the only one up here girlie, so take your choice."
After my random point at a door, they took me over, opened it up and in that same not-totally forceful way as the day before pushed me into the cell. Actually it was more of a room than a cell, not a particularly nice room, but not a hole either. The most important difference, the thing that further lifted my spirit, was that there was a bar covered slit in the wall through which both light and fresh air was able to stream. Hardly noticing the rest of the room I quickly moved over to this slit and though it was above my head I could look out and see the sky and more importantly breathe in the fresh sea air. Only after refilling my lungs did I look around the rest of the room and noticed that much had not changed. Sure the room was a different shape, maybe slightly larger, but it still only had a straw covered floor, a flea-infested pallet and a bucket, though maybe not quite as vile as the one in my old cell.
As I leaned against the wall under the slit the guard's statement about being 'of the Deglace' repeated itself in my mind and the questions it had raised earlier now were able to take the place of prominence.. Did he mean it in the general usage? If so, then it meant that Mistress Elladoo was most likely trying to get me out of this prison. But could he have meant it not in the general usage, but in the Glanlies' manner? If so, then she was definitely trying to get me out of prison.
What is meant by in the Glanlies' manner? Well let me delve into the Annals to provide that answer. Not long after the formation of the Commission a bell maker in Freenjie named Edgar Karsen had an apprentice whom he felt should one-day follow in his steps and become the Master of Karsen Bells. If the old master had a daughter he would have married her to the apprentice, but he and his wife had only had sons, two of them. Sadly both had died at a young age in the Sailor's Plague that had devastated Freenjie a number of years earlier. This meant that his sister's eldest son was Edgar's legal heir.
Now while he liked his nephew, and even had him working in the shop, he knew that Paul would never be a master bell maker. He just did not have the gift and most everyone in Freenjie recognized this, including Paul. The only one who could not see it was Paul's mother, Edgar's sister. She was bound and determined that her son would be the master of Karsen Bells. As time passed the apprentice, Sigfri, became journeyman and then as Edgar grew feeble served as master in all but name, meanwhile Paul had settled in as the manager who dealt with supplies and sells. Finally the old master realized that he must do something otherwise it would be to late; therefore, one day he gathered up Paul, Sigfri and his solicitor and went to visit a magistrate.
Initially they had no success, but then Edgar struck upon the idea of adopting Sigfri. At first the magistrate had dismissed this idea due not only to Sigfri being a grown man, but that his parents were also alive and well. Still Edgar was beginning to think it was a better and better idea, so he explained to the magistrate, "Ya see your Honour, it's not so much that I am wanting to make Sigfri my son, its that I want to give him a place in my family similar to what he would have if he married the daughter I don't have."
The judge, who happened to have married into a family wealthier than his own, saw the logic behind this statement and told the group that he needed to talk to some of his colleagues. A decision would be provided at the end of the week, at which time they once more all returned to hear the magistrate's ruling, "You raised some interesting points Master Karsen, causing my fellow magistrates and myself many hours of deep discussion. We felt the key to your request was the concept of how a family survives, grows and renews itself. In fact we asked ourselves, what defines family? Well the traditional answer has family defined by blood; however, as you yourself described, marriage can bring one into a family and blood is only shared with offspring. So if marriage does not join one to their spouses family via blood, then how do they join? This same question can be asked of those children adopted into a family. Therefore, we found that family involves more than just blood.
"So there are already two legal means by which to join a family that does not involve shared blood. This leads to the question as to whether there can be other ways, such as the one that was proposed by you Master Karsen. We recognized that though adoption of a child is possible for all households, marriage is not. This puts families such as yours into a competitive disadvantage. We believe that this can be an unfair disadvantage. Therefore, we rule that a family can contractually choose an adult to join their family."
As a result of this ruling, Karsen Bells passed into the joint hands of Paul and Sigfri who saw that it was brought back into one family when they wed Paul's son to Sigfri's daughter. However, the precedent set in Freenjie was rarely followed, until about seventy years before my imprisonment it made a come back within the wealthiest families, like the Deglace and the Vannigans, when they began to utilize it as a means to broaden their reach. Though before renewing its use, they had redefined the contract into what it now has become, with those being contracted known as the Chosen. The changes had them no longer being seen as members of the family or even equal to those who joined via adoption or marriage, still a Chosen was much more than an employee. The best description of the relationship I ever heard was from a fellow who had been chosen by the Nurnigovs early in his life, when he told me, "You know Drake, rarely have I made important decisions for the Nurnigovs. But by the Gods, rarer even still is one of those decisions that I have not had a hand in implementing."
Those of you not from Glanlies are likely wondering what this all has to do with the guard's use of "of the Deglace". Well it is because that is how the Chosen were often known, at least it was the name they would use when acting for the family. Still I was not sure if the mistress had the authority to make a choice for her family. Or if she could would she able to complete the choosing without me? These and other questions about the Chosen filled my mind for much of my first evening in the tower cell.
And though I was not able to answer, only speculate, it provided me much comfort. Mistress Elladoo, actually I am sure in this situation she was going by her other name of Esselde Deglace, had established the Deglace blanket of protection around me. This was good, for even though the laws of Glanlies applied the same to everyone, the pace of the application was much slower for the privileged.
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Being imprisoned is so very very very very very very boring, it's like being sick without the fun of throwing up. Over the next four days and nights nothing occurred to break up the monotony of my existence, not even the jokes that knocked me out of my funk during my first night. In fact, outside of the food deliverer and the bucket emptier I neither saw nor heard anybody during this time. Even a resumption of my singing endeavors brought about no censure. Still the loneliness was offset by the temperature in the cell, it was not real good, but it was much better than down below. I still had to go for regular walk abouts, but the cold never returned to my bones.
Outside of thinking and singing my entertainment was fairly limited. There was the good ole stand-bye, count the number of stones making up the walls and floors, but seeing as how the number never changes you can only do this so many times before it loses its allure. When that happened I created a new game with the same stones, this involved picking two stones and then placing a finger on the mortar near the first stone I would begin tracing along the mortar from stone to stone until I reached the second one. At one point during this game I actually came upon some lose mortar, which caused some excited scratching in the hopes of finding escape. However, after a bit I realized that even if I removed the stone it would open into the next room, which was not much of an escape. This lead to some searching on the outside wall hoping to find more lose mortar, but it was it was in surprisingly good repair, nor had I looked that hard. After all I wasn't exactly able to fly, so it would not have been much good if I could create a hole. The endeavor did waste a fair amount of time and prove that my new nails were quite strong.
The other thing that provided quite a few hours of distraction was, somewhat embarrassingly, my hair. There is an amazing number of things a bored individual can do with a full head of long hair, specially when that hair is fairly new to the individual. My favourite hair activity had to be the hair waterfall, this is where you gather your hair up up over your head and then let it fall, either in one big batch or let small amounts loose in a continuous cascade. However, hair does not really appreciate this type of abuse, and it resulted in my spending a fair amount of time trying to comb it with my fingers. I also decided to try and copy some of the things that Mary had done to it, specifically braiding. Admittedly I started out doing a fairly crappy job, but hours of free time in which to play with it meant I slowly began to get the hang of it, even with regular stops to rest my arms and fingers.
By the fifth day all these glorious pursuit had lost their thrill. Or in the case of my hair, became to dirty and yucky with which to play. In fact I was finding myself just feeling dirty overall, so much so that I spent quite a bit of time dreaming of bathing. I was in the midst of one such dream, on the morning of my fifth day in the tower cell when the door opened to once more display a group of men, with the one in the lead holding the arm-shackles that implied I would be leaving the cell. The man with the arm-shackles spoke up, "Come over here girlie, time for you to go in front of the magistrate."
Finally, something was happening. So pleased was I with this end to my boredom that I actually hurried over with my arms held out ready for the shackles, then almost skipped down the stairs. Well actually that would have ended with me falling down those stairs, but the guard did not have to do the dreaded upper arm drag. Although it did become necessary when we made it outside and I stopped to just glory in the experience, but soon they had me in another cart and off we went to Corels' court building.
My happiness at the freedom from my cell took a sharp turn downwards when the cart arriving at the court building brought about the realization that I had no clue what was going on. Until this point my entire hopes of freedom had been placed in Mistress Elladoo's hands, an approach that maybe was not all that smart. Still what more could I have done, until they brought me before the magistrates there would be no way for me to know fully against what I would need a defense.
Once at the building they soon had me locked in a room, containing a glorious pitcher of water and bowl with which I tried to wash up. It was of limited benefit, the grime had set in to my clothes and hair, but it did feel good to clean my face, neck and hands. I wished for more, but just as in my cell, even though alone, I was extremely rather about even loosening my clothing. As there was no way for me to control when or who could walk in.
Not long after my wash they came to take me to the court room, a rather plain room with a table and chair at which would sit the magistrate and his clerk, a number of chairs in which a number of people sat and a chair near the door through which I entered. The guards led me to this chair before reaching under my skirts to attach a shackle, chained to a nearby eye bolt in the floor, around my ankle. A new indignity that barely registered, instead my attention was focused upon the chairs and who sat in them.
My eyes, upon entry, had immediately been drawn to my parents and I watched as the shock showed on their faces at my appearances. My mother's shock showed in a her covering much of her face with her hands, though she still peeked over her fingers in my direction. My reaction in turn was one of embarrassment, which caused me to look down at my hands in my lap as I sat, not even acknowledging the smiles of encouragement from the mistress and Mary which I had barely noticed. The room was silent for a couple minutes until the door once more opened behind me, causing a guard to prod me into a standing position along with everyone else in the room.
The figure who entered was shapeless and faceless in a neutral grey cowled robe and leather mask, for the person inside was not to be seen as an individual, instead he or she was an interchangeable Deacon of Jiringel. For it was the deacons of the Goddess of Justice who served as magistrates in the courts on the peninsula of Glanlies. This individual would conduct the trial, ask whatever questions were necessary and would make the final judgement. Solicitors at a trial were there only to provide information to the magistrate or to request a line of questioning. They played a bit part while the sitting magistrate was the conductor of the court room, which was seen as the manifestation of Jiringel's church.
This arrival did drive away my embarrassment with nervousness and I found myself saying Jiringel's Prayer of the Innocent in my mind as the figure took its seat. When the rest of us followed suit, the trial started. There were no preliminaries, instead there was immediately a question from underneath the cowl, in a voice that was rather sexless, even though I assumed the magistrate to be female from height and what little of the form that could be seen beneath her robe, "Who speaks for Corels in this manner?"
"We do your Honour," stated a man in the front row of chairs, standing in conjunction with Ensign Tillindal.
"Administrator Kalok, before we go any further I have questions concerning a number of irregularities concerning this case."
"Irregularities your Honour?" oozed the greasy bastard standing beside the ensign.
"Yes irregularities Administrator. Starting with who issued the arrest warrant for the defendant?"
"I did your Honour."
"Is it normal for you to issue an arrest warrant without first consulting a magistrate Administrator?
"No your Honour; however, law allows the Administrator of the Magistrate's Office to issue an arrest warrant in the case of an emergency."
"What constitutes an emergency Administrator Kalok?"
"There are a number of initiators your Honour. Most of them deal with danger to the city from attack, either from within or from outside. The other type deal with danger to the citizenry of Corels. It was due to these dangers that the warrant was issued."
"All valid initiators Administrator. And we will deal with them in a moment, first we need to finish discussing the irregularities. If as you explain, this is an emergency situation, why did the Magistrate's Council only learn of it yesterday, days after the arrest occurred."
The questioning was definitely making me feel good, but Administrator Kalok seemed not to be bothered in the least as he continued to answer, "Apologies your Honour, there was an issue that arose around the defense of the prisoner which needed to be dealt with before we could proceed any further. As the prisoner is a not of age, it was necessary to determine who should provide a solicitor in support; however, we had two separate claims. The first claim was presented by Esselde Deglace who is the wife of the prisoner's apprentice master. The second claim was presented by the parents of the prisoner, Barmir and Julia. We determined that this issue needed to be resolved before we could proceed."
"Interesting," intoned the magistrate in a manner that actually made Kalok flinch. Then turning to face the side of the room in which my parents and friends sat, asked, "Master Chone I guess that you are here to speak for the defendant. Which party do you represent."
One of the two men whom I did not recognize, sitting with my parents and the mistress stood up, bowed to the magistrate and answered, "Your Honour, I have actually been contracted to represent both parties. The issue that the administrator mentions was resolved the morning after Drake's arrest. Any other delay was totally created by his office..."
"Your Honour," the administrator spouted in outrage.
"Is that true Administrator? Were the two claims put forward by the same solicitor? If so, what was the issue to resolve?"
"They were your Honour. However, we needed ensure that there was no conflict of interest before we could allow Master Chone to speak for both parties."
"Master Chone was there a conflict of interest?"
"Your Honour..."
"I was asking Master Chone, Administrator."
"No your Honour. Both parties were working together through me, almost from the beginning."
"Almost from the beginning? Please explain."
"Yes your Honour. I was initially engaged by Mistress Deglace to determine why Drake had been arrested. However, my queries to the Magistrate's Office were turned aside when they informed me that the mistress did not have standing in this issue. This despite her being the wife and a designated agent of Master Hiram Elladoo, to whom Drake is apprenticed. After this rebuff Mistress Deglace and myself contacted Drake's parents, Barmir and Julia, to explain what had happened. As a result of this discussion they also retained my services. However, when I presented myself at the Magistrate's Office the next day, they still would not provide me any information."
I was pleased to have my guess about the mistress using her birth name validated, but then it did not require much thought to realize that she would use Deglace in this situation. After all, even though we of the post saw her mainly in the context of Master Elladoo's wife it did not mean that she was no longer a Deglace. And it was the simple truth that anywhere outside of a small range surrounding Elladoo's Outpost the name of Deglace carried much more weight than did Elladoo.
While I thought this, the magistrate continued her questioning of the solicitors, "Administrator Kalok, if the issue was resolved so soon, what caused the rest of the delay?"
"Your Honour, when Master Chone presented himself on behalf of the prisoner's parents he also submitted an application from Mistress Deglace requesting that the prisoner be granted Chosen status to the Deglace family. Since this had a role in determining whether Mistress Deglace had standing or not, we felt that it needed to be resolved first before proceeding."
Well that answered the question that had monopolized my mind during the first night in the tower cell. The "of the Deglace" had been in the Glanlies manner. The new question was as to whether it was just a tactical part of my defense, or if it would be pursued if I ever obtained my freedom. I was hoping the second was true, for I was young enough to think it would be wonderful to have such a close tie to one of the families of power. I felt that it would place me in good stead as I pursued my career and rather fun.
"Was it necessary to delay informing the Magistrate's Council until this manner was dealt with Administrator?" the magistrate asked once Kalok finished his explanation.
"I am not sure your Honour. I felt it was best that we ensure that the issue be dealt with properly in order for the prisoner to receive a fair trial."
Yep he was a smooth bastard. Everybody in the room were able to guess that he was not telling the truth, yet there was no way to prove that he lied. The magistrate must have realized this as well for she started upon another line of questioning. "Thank you for your explanation of the irregularities Administrator Kalok. I believe it may be necessary for the Council to review some procedures, but that is for another time. Let us now focus on the case before us. You stated that the arrest of the defendant was the result of an emergency, what was the emergency?"
"Yes your Honour. Six mornings ago Ensign Tillindal of the Corels detachment of the Commission's Militia presented himself at our offices and provided information that a dangerous person was in the City of Corels. He was of the belief that this individual was a great risk to the citizenry as a result of being possessed by a demoness. The ensign was very persuasive in his explanation and being aware of his and the Militia's desire to ensure the people's safety, I issued the warrant."
"So you issued the warrant based upon the testimony of Ensign Tillindal?"
"Yes your Honour."
"Thank you Administrator Kalok, you and Master Chone may sit down while I question the ensign."
"Thank you your Honour."
"Ensign Tillindal is it true that you were the one to request the arrest warrant against the defendant?"
"Yes your Honour."
"What led you to believe that the defendant posed a threat to the community Ensign?"
"Well your Honour about three weeks ago I was in command of the escort for the monthly Hanglish Mine's pickup barge. During our return trip we stopped one evening at Elladoo Outpost at which point I learned that they had recently survived an attack by Darrel the Roamer and his band. During questioning of the Outpost's Master I learned that the reason for their survival was the result of the defendant having killed Darrel and many of his bandits. I found this shocking because they had a well-earned reputation for being a hard-bitten group and for a single individual to wipe so many of them out was rather hard to believe. When I expressed my doubt, Master Elladoo informed my that he believed that the prisoner was able to perform this feat as a result of demon possession."
"What did you do at that time Ensign?"
"Your Honour, being aware of the dangers posed by the demon possessed I immediately offered to take her into custody; however, Master Elladoo and his rude sergeant did not allow me to do so. Something that was their right, poorly thought out though it was."
"You mention the dangers of the demon possessed, what are these dangers Ensign?"
"Well your Honour everybody knows how violent they are. How they are all about killing and based upon Master Elladoo's report this demon possessed girl is all about killing horribly."
Well he was close to the truth, I definitely wanted to tear him limb from limb at that point. And it was not the demon talking. Luckily for the ensign it was the magistrate in charge and not me, for that worthy continued in a slightly scornful tone. "Ahh, everybody knows? Tell me Ensign, has the defendant committed violence against anyone else?"
"Not that I am aware of your Honour. Though it is very possible that something has happened between the point of my leaving Elladoo Post and my arrest of the prisoner."
"Mistress Deglace, has your charge committed any violence other than against the bandits?"
"No your Honour."
I will admit that I wished for a stronger endorsement from the mistress, but as the magistrate's questioning continued I realized that it was not needed and may have just slowed Jiringel's Deacon down, "Ensign did the defendant resist you during her arrest?"
"No your Honour."
"How about during the time in prison or transportation?"
"Well your Honour..."
"May I remind you of how much I like the truth Ensign."
"No need your Honour, the prisoner was not violent in the prison or during transport."
"What you are telling me does not seem to be consistent with your concerns leading to the defendant's arrest Ensign."
Tillindal nervously looked back at Administrator Kalok but that unworthy was looking away and would not meet his gaze. After a questioning 'ahem' from the magistrate he turned back and gamely answered, "I will admit that I am not an expert on possessions your Honour; however, based on the extreme violence the prisoner committed against the bandits I still believe that the prisoner needs to be locked up behind bars."
"Do you really want to go there Ensign?"
"Your Honour?"
"Do you really think the defendant should be kept behind bars for defending herself from rapists and murderers?"
"Umm...well your Honour...um...I guess not?"
"Of course not Ensign. Darrel and his men were scum who deserved to die. Do you have any other reasons for keeping the defendant imprisoned?"
"Umm...no your Honour."
"Administrator Kalok do you?"
"No your Honour, it appears I was overly quick to reach my conclusion."
It took some self control on my part to not blurt out 'Yeah, I believe you,' though I did roll my eyes. While Ensign Tillindal seemed shocked by what had happened, it was easy to tell that it was all expected in the game that Kalok was playing. Nor did he show any surprise when the magistrate stated, "Then I will have to find against the City of Corels, they have no right to continue the imprisonment of Drake of Elladoo Post."
You can likely guess that I did not jump up in glee at this statement, after all things had gone much to easily. Plus everything so far had seemed scripted, with each person playing a rehearsed part in the play. However, in this play not everybody had yet performed, for me the two who I assumed had a major role during act two sat on the side of the room with Kalok and Tillindal. Almost as soon as I had spotted them it had jumped into my mind that they were the two who wanted my head, the others were just their pawns. This was confirmed when the male member of the pair, wearing the sea green robe of a priest of Furigal and decked in the insignia of someone holding a high office, stood and approached the front of the room.
When the man came to a stop he gave a little bow to the magistrate who returned it in kind before knowingly asking, "Father Igtanigus is there something that you would like to add to the proceedings?"
Recognizing the name I guessed that the man would be miffed that the magistrate had used the lesser honorific of Father as opposed to Your Worship. My guess was confirmed when he likewise addressed the magistrate, "Thank you Deacon Smoiners. I would like to bring forward a point of precedence that is important to this case."
"Please go on Father."
"Thank you Deacon. While it is true that the city and the Militia are tasked with providing security and protection to the citizenry, there is actually an ancient compact between the City of Corels and the Followers of Furigal for the latter to provide protection from sorcerous and demonic attack."
"I am aware of the compact Father Igtanigus; however, I do not see how it would apply in this case since there has been no attack."
"True Deacon Smoiners, still the compact allows us to be proactive in ways that is not allowed to the militia. It is our duty to study this child to determine if she is a threat to herself and others. Luckily we have an illustrious visitor in Corels who is able to conduct such an evaluation." Bowing in the direction of the hard faced woman whom had been sitting with him, Father Igtanigus performed the introduction, "Abbess Deanile of the Sisters of the Sea Convent has spent most of her life helping those afflicted by demons. I recommend that we place this child in her care for evaluation."
Well there was another name I recognized and felt likely explained why the administrator had delayed informing the Magistrate's Council about me. As a high ranking official within Corels there would be a very good chance that he was a member of the Followers of Furigal and would not be adverse to providing them a favour; such as, delaying my trial until their chief bully girl could arrive on the scene. My grandmother had often talked about Abbess Deanile, although Grandma had always referred to her as Inquisitor Deanile when extolling her good works. The name caused a thread of fear to wrap itself around me heart, making it so I had to force myself to pay attention to the continuing verbal jousting between the priest and the deacon.
"That was a lucky chance to have the Abbess visiting Corels while this was happening. Still if I understand the compact correctly, is there not a provision for the defendant to have her own expert present during any evaluation?"
"Most defendants do not choose that option Deacon Smoiners."
Which I interpreted to mean that the Followers usually forced the defendant to waive that right. It was a moment in which my faith in Mistress Elladoo was put to the test and rewarded, for that wonderful lady had her solicitor stand, move forward and wait for the magistrate's permission to speak. When granted, he firmly stated, "The defense definitely would like to implement this right your Honour."
Without waiting for permission Igtanigus offered, "We will be happy to provide access to one of the our other experts. I am sure that Abbess Deanile can recommend an able assistant."
"Will that be acceptable, Master Chone?"
"Actually your Honour, the defense will be providing their own expert."
Neither of Furigal's clergy members were pleased to hear this and once more the father jumped in with his reply, "We will not accept any charlatan as an expert. And I would like to remind the Deacon that the College of Mages' application is still waiting approval; therefore, if the defense is hoping to foist one of their members upon us he should know now that it will not be acceptable."
Like a tumbler in a lock, the final component fell into place for me. My arrest was not about me at all, I was just a skirmish in the ongoing battle between the Followers of Furigal and the College of Mages. Approximately every five years the College would apply to establish a presence in Corels and every time the Followers would fight the application. Usually they found it an easy fight, just marshalling the members of their congregation to voice disapproval and having the City Council vote it down, it also helped that council members were often Followers. That they were actually going after me raised a question as to whether their defense was not going as well as normal this time around causing them to see my persecution as an important component in their plan to stop the College. After all, what had happened to me was the result of magic gone wrong, I could definitely serve as a fine object lesson.
While these thoughts raced through my head, Solicitor Chone responded to Father Igtanigus, "Well aware are we of the Followers of Furigal's concerns with the College of Mages; therefore, we submitted a request to the Temple of the Allfather in Glanlies to see if Magister Bewlmon would be willing to journey to Corels to participate in an evaluation of Drake. Happily for all of us he accepted."
This time the name did not mean anything to me, but based on the lemon sucking look upon the Father's face and the eye squinting of his she-wolf, the name was recognizable. Additional confirmation of this was provided by the looks of glee on the faces of my supporters, showing that they felt they had pulled off a great surprise. In turn, my face broke out in a smile when I realized that my parents' faces held the same glee as all the rest. For in that moment I realized that it was aimed at the discomfort of the two members of Furigal's clergy, members who my fears had made me feel my parents would support instead of me. How could I have been so wrong about them? They had never given me reason to doubt, instead I had just jumped to the most negative conclusion.
So yes I smiled at them. A smile that they returned even though it must have been rather bizarre for them to return such a smile from their son, a smile that Mary later described as my fair damsel's smile of delight. The way I felt at that moment I would not have been surprised if Asolde's Angels all of a suddenly appeared singing arias of love. Of course this did not happen, but you must admit it always feels rather excellent to learn that those you want to love you, truly do love you. It is even true, maybe more so, when it occurs while your very life is in danger.
While my side were sharing smiles Father Igtanigus was marshalling his thoughts and soon presented his next objection. "While we recognize and honour the skills of Magister Bewlmon, we fear that if we do not hurry in dealing with the demon inside this child it could turn out to be disastrous. Therefore, we believe it would be unwise for us to wait until the magister can arrive in Corels from Glanlies."
"Master Chone, Father Igtanigus raises a valid concern, do you know when Magister Bewlmon will be able to arrive in Corels?"
"Yes your Honour, he should arrive sometime tonight or tomorrow."
"Well that is hardly any time what so ever after the delays already experienced in this case. Father Igtanigus, will tomorrow be early enough for you?"
With bad grace the father accepted, "Yes Deacon Smoiners, the time frame is acceptable. However, we believe that it would be the safest for us to take control of the possessed until the tests can be conducted."
"Why is that Father Igtanigus?"
"Though this possession has shown limited acts of violence, one can never know when the demon will gain control. In that case it would be much safer for everyone if Abbess Deanile was nearby in order to provide a defense that is beyond the skills of the Militia or prison guards."
This point brought about sour looks on the faces of my supporters as we all realized that it was well reasoned. This was confirmed when the magistrate answered, "Yes that makes good sense Father Igtanigus"
With those word the play came to an end. And though it had started with me believing I was the central figure, it ended with a realization that my only role had been that of a prop.
-------------
I was not immediately placed into the hands of the Followers, but neither did they give me a chance to talk to any of my supporters. Instead, after unshackling my leg, the same guards led me out of the courtroom and back to the chamber in which I had been held upon arrival. Then the wait began, even though there was little doubt in my mind that they were already prepared to take me wherever they planned to take me, nobody immediately showed up to take me where ever they planned to take me. And though I was sure that the Followers were dragging things out to increase my fears, the knowledge did not help. Actually the waiting may have not done it, but when combined with the stories that I remember my Grandma telling me about the inquisitor, I really did become incredibly nervous. They had been tales of warnings meant to teach my siblings, cousins and I what would happen to us if we did not stay on the proper path. It had alway made me feel that she wished that one of us would stray so that she herself could report our wrong-doing and thus prove her faith.
Yes I held no doubt about which side of the room that she would have been sitting on if she had been alive to attend the earlier play. In fact it crossed my mind that maybe the whole affair was her revenge for my not returning from the post to mourn her passing a few years previously. And my guess was that if she was watching from beyond that realizing one of her granchildren was a magician possessed by a demoness would have her spinning in her grave.
After a significant period of this nervous waiting, with my thoughts flipping between hunger and worry, the door was finally flung open and six crossbow wielding, chain armoured men in the sea-blue surcoat of Furigal rushed into the room. When each had his weapon pointed at me they were followed by the inquisitor and three of her sisters all dressed in the habits of the Sisters of the Sea. And though unarmed it was these ladies upon whom my attention focused, for though they were different shapes and sizes they all shared that same hard-faced hatred that I had noticed on their leaders face earlier in the day.
For a few moments the eyes of the quartet studied me, until I lowered my eyes to escape their stares at which point Abbess Deanile said, "Sisters Gertrude and Erene secure the demon-spawn for transport."
At this command, the two burlier women stepped forward, one of whom carried a clanking sack. Walking behind me the one without the sack grabbed both of my wrists and wrenched them behind me back. When I struggled in response the second woman dropped the sack before grabbing a handful of my greasy hair to yank my head back so she could hiss into my ear, "Try something Demon-bitch. Please try something. I don't want to waste my time studying an abomination, it would be so much better if we could just kill you now."
I believed every word she said, her voice hels so much conviction that I just stood there, trembling and saying nothing. She held my head, pulled uncomfortably back, for a few more moments waiting for a response, but when I offered none she finally let go. Reaching into her sack she pulled out something that I assumed by the metallic clanking was wrist shackles but soon proved to be a chain that she wrapped around my lower arms as the other sister forced them to cross behind my back, once the wrapping was complete the chain was kept in place with a heavy lock. As the weight of the chain forced my shoulders to sag she knelt down and attached a pair of leg shackles, joined by a short length of chain, to my two ankles under the hem of my skirt. As a final step in my chaining a last length was hung from those wrapped around my arms and connected to the chain between the leg shackles. Immediately I knew that there was no running away, walking would be difficult enough and every step would be painful.
Finished with their task the two sisters rejoined the inquisitor and once more the four sets of eyes burrowed into me. In that moment the fine hairs on my arms began to stand up as I felt a power emanating from them, though mostly from the sister who had stayed beside the inquisitor. The strange thing is I recognized that this was not the first time that I had felt this, it was just that during the first time there were so many extraordinary things occurring that it did not register. What I felt from the sisters was similar though slightly different to what I had felt from Sandrelessa. It held much of the same anger as had hers, but where Sandrelessa's was tinted by capriciousness, the sisters' held only purpose. A purpose that saw me as an enemy who needed to be destroyed. More than their looks, this power proved to me who was in charge and I did not have the bravery within me to dispute this as truth.
Inquisitor Deanile must have read my understanding of the situation, because she suddenly turned to leave the room while shadowed by her three puppets. Once they were out the door one of the men, whose face held no more kindness than the sisters, gestured at me to follow. So began my long and uncomfortable journey. My earlier expectations were almost immediately proven correct, rare was the short step when my arms and shoulders were not wrenched and the stairs outside the back door were tear inducing. Never had I been so glad to reach the end of a walk, even if it occurred at another prison cart, similar in form to those used by the Militia but bearing the trident emblem of Furigal. Of course there was no chance that I would be able to get in on my own, though they forced me to try, resulting in even more pain and laughter from the men as I struggled and dripped in sweat from my efforts. This went on for a few moments before two of them set down their weapons in order to grab me, each to a side, and toss me head first into the wagon.
Now I did not fly far through the air, just far enough to get my full length through the door, but I had absolutely no way to protect myself upon landing. Due to my flight being head first the landing was rather horrible. The first thing to hit the floor of the cart, not surprisingly, was my face upon which I bounced and slid a couple of feet. And though it had become rather petite, the first part of my face to hit was my nose, which could do nothing except be crushed beneath the pressure even as the wood scraped and cut the rest of my face.
It hurt, but not nearly as much as the pain caused by the next part of me to hit and bounce along the floor. This horrible pain was the result of my breasts being slammed underneath my weight, which resulted in some of the worst pain I had ever felt. Possibly even worse than that time when my neighbor Sammie and I were having a snowball fight and he hit me in that place just under my belt. It was definitely worthy of a bellow, shout, or screech but such an outlet was denied as my stomach also made its impact and knocked the wind completely out of me. By that point I was in such bad shape that the bruising impact of my knees and toes did not immediately register. By the end of my graceless entrance I was lying face down on the floor that when combined with the other factors (broken nose with blood gushing out and the wind knocked out of me) made breathing a most difficult task. Finally, struggling with my bindings, I was able to wrestle myself onto my side and through wheezes and whines able to get some air.
All of this was done without a bit of assistance from my captors, who showed absolutely no concern for my plight. Instead they just closed the door and soon I felt the cart lurch into motion. It was definitely a much longer cart ride this time around, long enough that my nose-bleed had almost stopped on its own by the time we rumbled to a halt. Wrapped up in my misery as I had been it was no surprise to be yanked out into the courtyard of a building on the outskirts of town, a building which I soon learned was the Sisters of the Sea's home within Corels. This learning came about when Sister Erene, or was it Gertrude, stepped forward with her sack and pulled it over my head while stating, "The holy sights within our convent should not be profaned by the eyes of one such as you Demon-bitch."
This shroud did nothing to help my breathing, with which I was still struggling, but worse it made any movement almost impossible as I found when a hand in the back pushed me forward. Before we even made it to the entrance my crashing to the ground had my skirts torn and trickles of blood running down my shins from knees that were scraped raw. That neither of my shoulders was dislocated was a miracle that became a mercy when two of my captors, in their frustration at my pace, each grabbed a hold of an upper arm and began to drag me forward, which in turn resulted in my feet and lower legs bouncing along in a bruising fashion. Irrationally this brought about a surge of anger towards Alphonse the Cobbler, who I had been unable to trust enough to measure and make me sturdier boots. Boots that would have done a better job protecting my feet.
My very helplessness and pain pushed me from worry and fear all the way to hatred. Even Darrel, when he had held me in his clutches, had not earned my hatred to the extent earned by those hypocrites in sea-foam who hid behind a facade of concern and respectability in order to feed their desires for the pain of others. My hatred had a wish, a want for Sandrelessa to come to the forefront and destroy my tormentors. To tear them limb from limb, to see if they enjoyed experiencing the pain in the same fashion that they enjoyed inflicting it.
But I also realized that they wanted Sandrelessa to appear, that it would give them reason to strike me down. Both they and I knew that it would not be the same unfair fight as the one in the bandit camp, yet still it was a chance that I was willing to take at that moment. But the wish itself did not manifest itself into existence. The hatred was not a ploy by the demoness trying to gain control, it was totally my own.
When we finally came to a stop it was in a room full of heat, making me guess that they had taken me to some fiery torture chamber. Vowing to myself that they would not break me, I forced myself to stay on my feet when my arms were released. I even forced my chin up, planning to meet my doom with head held high. Thus when the sack was finally removed from over my head I was somewhat taken aback to find that we were actually in the convent's laundry. Seeing my reaction burly sister number two stated, in a voice that made the first's voice seem like a dulcet tone, "You're disgustingly filthy spawn of evil. It is bad enough that you stain our home with your presence, we will not have you befouling it with your vermin."
They did spare me from one indignity when the inquisitor dismissed the men from the room. Though I doubted that they did it for my sake, it was more likely that they wanted to deprive the men of seeing my naked body than to spare me from their gazes. Once the room held only us girls the burly twins approached, each with a pair of shears, and began to cut away my once pretty dress and shift. After they had completed the removal of my clothes burly number one mentioned that I likely had lice and soon they had shorn me in the most haphazard fashion. They also made the decision, for their safety, to cut my claws. Finished with their shears, they lifted me into a trough at which point they began to douse me in bucket upon bucket of cold water, ignoring that which had been heated. As the next step in my cleansing they scrubbed me with the harsh lye laundry soap and bristled brushes until they determined that it was time to rinse me once more in the cold water.
It was a far cry from that lovely bath that the Mistress had supplied when I had woken after my ordeal with Darrel the Roamer. And what they dressed me in was nothing like the festival garb I had worn that day. Instead, after they temporarily removed my arm chains amidst harsh threats, they supplied me a tight shift made from goats' hair over which they draped a shapeless brown dress. Immediately the shift began to make my skin itch, but before I could try to combat it with a scratch the burlies once more had my arms chained.
This time they did not even make me attempt to walk, they immediately began dragging me to our next destination. While they did this I found myself silently offering an apology to Alphonse as the moccasins he had supplied were still more protective than bare feet. Luckily they did not have far to drag me, soon we came to a small cupboard like room in which they placed me, once more with dire warnings against escape, before leaving me huddled all alone on the floor.
Alone in my self-pity I struggled to breathe through my broken nose and wished I was back at the Elladoo Outpost. I feared the future while hoping that this Magister Bewlmon fellow would be able to save me from the terrible paths of the sisters, the paths I did not want to travel. Meanwhile my vanity forced me to mourn the loss of my hair and my beauty. But I did not go into the black funk in which I had found myself immediately after my arrest, no there was not any self-blame this time, there was just little hope. Once more I found myself turning to the one ray of light available and struggled to my feet to shuffle over to a barred window. Yet this provided no relief, instead I struggled to interpret the meaning of what I saw immediately outside the window.
Finally understanding forced its way through my fuzzy thoughts. It was the stake at which they planned to burn me.
-------------
At some point, despite hunger and pain, I fell asleep. As with the times immediately after my change or after my hurts from Sandrelessa's rampage it was another of those deep, lasting sleeps. When I awoke it appeared that many things seemed to have occurred, the first of which I noticed before even being fully awake was that my breathing came much easier. This brought to my mind something overheard from the conversation between Stork and Jimi after my last such awakening, about how my injuries disappeared during my sleep. It appeared that maybe I was once more the recipient of this supernatural healing.
The next thing that I noticed was that they no longer had me wearing chains, nor was I still dressed in the cilice. Admittedly my hands were still bound, but now they were tied with a length of leather and my wrists crossed in front instead of behind. These changes and the pallet upon which I had been placed meant that I was borderline comfortable. The final piece of good news occurred while I struggled into a sitting a position and a number of strands of hair fell over my eyes. Yes my hair was back, just as long and healthy looking as it had been the morning of my arrest. Maybe this shouldn't of thrilled me as much as it did, after all many consider vanity a sin, but dammit was I happy. I really liked my hair.
Now I am sure there is a sneer or two out amongst you, my readers. Likely at least one of you has thought, 'Well how convenient it is that you can magically be healed and have your hair grow back.' Well to those, I will say that yes it is convenient, but there are drawbacks. Starting, but not ending, with having to be possessed by a demon. Still when I awoke from my not-so-gentle dealings with the bitches in sea-foam, showing minimal signs of their actions, I was once more feeling quite positive. Though quite hungry and thirsty.
The hunger and thirst was dealt with when I noticed a jug of water and hunk of bread beside the door. Initially I began to crawl the few paces towards them before deciding that it insulted my dignity to crawl to my meal like a dog, so I forced myself to my feet and moved the three paces to my meal. And though it was somewhat awkward to eat and drink with my wrists tied I was able to get most of the water and all of the bread down my gullet. Admittedly the bread was somewhat stale and the water rather brown, but it served its purpose well enough. During the meal I furthermore noticed that my nails had also returned to their full, claw length.
Somehow they must have been keeping a watch upon me for I had barely finished when there was a noise at the door and a surprisingly polite, "Please move away from the door."
Curious about the unrecognized voice I stepped back by the window, well actually curiosity combined with fear of what disobedience may bring caused the step back. Once I moved the door opened up and two figures stepped in, one was the silent sister who had oozed and still oozed the most power of the four Sisters of the Sea. The second, also female, was dressed in a brown robe signifying she was a member of Durnst the Allfather's clergy and she too wore an aura of power, hers implying calmness and confidence. And yet, though it did not hold any specific anger towards me, I knew it too would willingly end my existence if I stepped out of line.
It was she who spoke, and who had spoken previously, "Good, I see that you have eaten and drank. You will come with Sister Jeunille and myself to the privy. Then we will take you to see Abbess Deanile and Magister Bewlmon so they can finish their studies of your condition."
That definitely stirred my curiosity making me wonder how long I had been out, as it did not feel as long as my two prior long sleeps, so I worked up my courage and asked, "Excuse me Ma'am, how long was I out?"
The sister pegged me with a scowl, while the lady in brown did not even look at me, though she must have followed my train of thoughts as she answered, "Just since yesterday, the Abbess and Magister looked in on you this morning."
"What about..."
"No more questions, please follow," she interrupted as she walked out of the door.
Taking her at her word I followed, though the sister waited for me as she apparently preferred not to have me at her back. After a stop at the indoor privy, they guided me to a plain room holding a long table behind which two individuals sat. One was my Grandmother's hero, the other I guessed was Magister Bewlmon. He was not as expected, instead of some studious type mouse he was man who carried himself with the bearing of a soldier in the prime of his life. He also proved why it was unworthy to ever question why the clergy of the Father of the Gods wore the dull colour brown. One only needed to see the lustrous brown robe he wore, which made the brown sack I wore look truly like, well a sack. Impeccably groomed as he was, I might have at one point dismissed him as a fop, but I had recently become a bit of a fan of nice clothes and good grooming. Therefore, I took a second look.
What I saw behind a smile, that likely would have caused many a non-newly minted girl to melt, was power. Similar to his companion's in feel, but vaster and more encompassing. It was no surprise to see Inquisitor Deanile appear almost shrunken in the chair beside him, in fact the anger in her eyes no longer seemed to be focused completely upon me. She was not pleased to be so eclipsed and it must have been even worse to have it occur within her own convent. Needless to say, my heart did not weep for her hurt feelings.
Magister Bewlmon did not even pretend to acknowledge her as an equal as he immediately took charge. "Drake of Elladoo Outpost we have some questions for you."
It would have been nice if they had provided me a chair, for the two peppered me with questions for quite a period of time. Well mostly it was the magister asking the questions and he covered a broad range of topics; such as, reviewing every imp summoning I had witnessed, the training that the master had provided in magic, the room in which we committed the summonings, the summoning of Sandrelessa and the aftermath of that summoning. Every once in awhile the inquisitor would try to jump in, like when my description of Sandrelessa set her off on a rant about the evilness of Carthanan demons. I did have to give her credit, my belief that she was just persecuting me as part of a maintaining Furigal's power in Corels was proven to be wrong. She truly was a believer and felt that she needed to protect her flock from my evil. However, as the interview continued, it was also proven that she had little idea about what she was talking. Time after time the magister ended up correcting her, each time she would quickly look past me at her sister, and each time she would not receive the answer she sought. But that did not stop Inquisitor Deanile from battling on. It would have made me uncomfortably embarrassed for her if I did not hate the bitch.
One particular nasty exchange occurred between the magister and inquisitor when I told about Sandrelessa taking control. The magister was quite surprised that the primary emotion I had felt at the time was fear, as opposed to anger or hate. Inquisitor Deanile stated that fear was just an offshoot of hate, so it was not that big of deal, while the magister argued that it was quite different and that he had never heard of a case where fear, instead of anger or hate, caused the demon to take control.
There was one topic about which both seemed to have a number of questions, specifically how I was able to heal so quickly. Each felt this was an abnormal side effect to demon possession. Revelling in his curiosity the magister questioned me about the extent of my injuries after my fight in the bandit camp. When he learned that I had little memory of the event, beyond my exhaustion and being covered in blood, he moved to my injuries from the day before. After another verbal spat about the cause of those injuries between the two senior clergy members, he stood up and approached me before stating, "Hold still please, I wish to confirm you have healed."
I tried to follow his command but did start back when he reached out to touch my face. Shushing me, like one would a pet, he placed a hand over my nose and then moved it to cover the area of my face that had been cut by the cart's floor. He did it in such an impersonal fashion, yet I could feel a whispering thread of somethingness from his hand. As he examined my face he began to frown and then asked, "Her nose was broken and face scraped up?"
"Yes," the inquisitor replied, apparently just as confused about what he was doing as was I.
"Did you injure her in any other way?"
"She was bruised on her lower legs and her knees were scraped up," was the indifferent reply. Even though the question had held an accusation, their earlier spat had proven that she cared not at all that I had been injured, in fact she even appeared to think I was deserving of everything that had happened.
"And you cut off all her hair."
"Yes!"
"I wished I knew what your previous injuries had been young lady. But since I don't I will have to be thorough in my examinations; therefore, I will have to ask you to disrobe."
Well didn't that cause an immediate warmth to grow on my cheeks, yet what could I do? The magister seemed to be on my side and I did not want to anger him. So I decided it was in my interest to obey and sheepishly held out my tied hands. Magister Bewlmon quickly recognized my problem and untied me, after which I slowly pulled the sack dress over my head.
He made it easier on me when he made no acknowledgement of my nakedness, proving if nothing else that he was not like any of the men I knew or the boy I was not that long ago. Instead he visually inspected me head to toe, then slowly circled me to get a close look from every direction. When next he was at my front I noticed that he wore a look of confusion. He took a step closer, held out a hand and asked, "May I."
When I nodded my permission he reached out to brush my torso. Despite my nakedness and the fact that he was a male, the touch was chaste and so soft it barely registered outside of some goose-bumping of my skin. He held his hand in place for a moment before allowing it to glide to another spot on my body, he repeated these steps again and again. If you ever seen a person studying a statue, running their hands and fingers across the stone, then you can visualize how Magister Bewlmon appeared in those moments. Though that image likely does nothing to help you understand my role as statue. His hand never lingered long, nor did it ever seem to be in full contact, yet even with only the slightest touch I felt linked to his hand. Slowly I began to realize that the linkage did exist, that the magister was casting some sort of spell with which he was examining me.
Soon after I began to fight the need to fidget the magister took a step back, told me I could put my dress on and looked towards the inquisitor, "As far as I can tell, she has never had an injury in her life."
"What do you mean Magister? I saw them myself.", Inquisitor Deanile snapped.
"That is as it may be Abbess, but there is no sign of those injuries. Her nose is not misshapen, nor does she bear scars. Furthermore, there are ways to see beneath the skin, to see where bone and tissue has mended itself, yet I was unable to find any indication of such mending. This does not happen, even the smallest child soon experiences hurt. It is as if Drake has been kept in a bottle away from all hurts, but we know this is not the case."
The inquisitor's tone was full of condescension as she replied, "Of course there is no sign, the demon-bearer was magically healed."
Magister Bewlmon responded to her tone and statement with a large heaping of scorn, "Do you know nothing, woman? Only the best magical healing can remove the visible signs of wounds and injuries, but I have never seen even the best remove the hidden damage."
If things were not so serious it would have been funny to see the inquisitor look past me to her sister for a sign of disagreement. And once more, based upon the frown that came over her face, she did not see what she wanted. Still Inquisitor Deanile was not the sort to let a minor thing like facts get in the way of her beliefs, "Well then it is a new style of magical healing."
"I agree that it is something new, but I don't think it is healing. I do have a theory, but I must think on it some more."
"I too have a theory Magister. And unlike you, I do not need to think on it, a demon-possession is a demon-possession. When it occurs, the victim must be killed so that the rest of us in turn do not become victims."
"Well I guess we will just have to present our theories to the Magistrate Smoiners and let her decide which is to believed, won't we?"
"We will, will we?"
I had been happy to have them ignore me as the sparred with each other, but the phrasing and tone question brought the importance of me back into the equation. Happily Magister Bewlmon most have caught the same undertone as did I, because he stated, "Yes we will. And just to see that we do, I will ask Priestess Ellisel to stay the night with Drake to see that no harm comes to her."
This actually caused the inquisitor's nostrils to flare in anger, "I do not think I like what you are implying Magister Bewlmon."
"Oh I am not implying anything Abbess Deanile, I am stating that this child need protection in this house of worship," he answered with a voice full of sarcasm.
"Well I don't extend an invitation to Priestess Ellisel and I command in this convent."
"Then we will just have to take Drake with us, when we leave."
"You can't do that. Magistrate Smoiners placed the demon-bitch in our care to protect the citizenry of Corels."
"And who will protect Drake?"
"We will of course."
"So noted," the magister intoned, in a voice that was much different than he had been using. If I had not seen the look of consternation upon Inquisitor Deanile's face with this intonation, his giving in would have filled me with apprehension. However, her look told me that he had some how tricked her into ensuring my safety.
As I was taken back to my room, I could only hope that she in turn did not come up with a trick to get around his.
-------------
Based upon the passage of time until the next morning, she apparently had not. Actually it would have been quite a relaxing evening, except that I was never able to relax, sure in my expectation that they were not going to let me make it to the next day. Every time there was a noise, it would jostle me awake or draw my attention to the door. Yet the only time there was ever anybody there was once when the silent, powerful Sister Jeunille brought me some bread and small beer (I think more water would have been tastier) for a meal. She also stopped by to take me to the privy a couple of times. And though I expected them at any moment, the burly sisters never came to provide their expected harassment. Even the stake no longer lurked outside of my window.
So it was a rather blurry eyed and tired Drake who greeted the dawn the next morning. Even then I was unwilling to let myself nod off, remembering stories told by Sergeant Hussel that showed the benefit of dawn attacks. Still as the dawn became full morning nothing happened. Instead I began to feel upset with myself for not taking the opportunity to sleep so that I would be at my near best on this important day.
That day started, for real, when a rattle of a key chain signified someone was about to open the door to my room. Expecting one of the sisters as I was, it was definitely surprising to have a group of guards, some the same as before, show up instead. Unlike that last time, they were not nearly as confident looking. I guess they found it easier to bluster and taunt when standing behind their mommies' skirts. Some of my scorn must have shown upon in my face for suddenly their leader's face hardened and he became quite forceful as he grabbed my two arms to tie them together. He then gestured for me to lead them out of the door.
For a moment I considered resisting. My guess is that this was brought about but my sleep lacking brain combined with my suppressed teenager belligerence. Better sense prevailed when I thought that their plan might actually involve me acting up so that they could fall down upon me like an avalanche; furthermore, the men were just lackeys and it was not through them that my freedom would be obtained. So out of the room I walked, being the very image of obedience as they led me once more to the courtyard and a waiting cart.
This ride started out much better, as even though my hands were tied, their being in the front still allowed me to crawl up and into the box by myself. When the door closed I continued my crawl up to the front wall where I shuffled around to sit in a corner. And though the cobblestones made the ride somewhat choppy, the swaying motion of the cart soon started to play upon my tiredness. Causing me to drift in and out of sleep.
In that state one really does not control their thoughts, instead the strangest combination of things can run together creating bizarre adventures in your mind. Dream interpreters will tell you that it is your mind trying to tell you something, trying to warn or remind or convince. On that day my mind was trying to warn via a dream where I found myself walking through the wilderness. Maybe it was more of a float, for though my vision moved past object after object, whenever I tried to see if I was male or female there was nothing of myself to be seen. Soon my movement was interspersed with attacks by tiny carved figurines like the rich buy their children as toys. At first I was able to brush aside the attacks with ease, but continuously there were more and more of those figures between me and my goal, unknown but constantly further away. Just as I began to distinguish where I was heading the figurines all disappeared.
And with their disappearance I jerked fully awake with a head full of questions. Where were the sisters? Why had none of them been along with the guards this morning? Were they not to be protecting the citizens of Corels from Sandrelessa and myself? What were they up too?
Wishing to know what was going on outside of my box, I scrambled over to the door and looked out of the tiny grated window. But the opening was so small that I could see no one or nothing, nor could I hear anything above the rattle of the wheels over cobblestones. Neither of these calmed my mind, for I was sure that Followers of Furigal had something planned. So I stuck to my post, trying to see or hear something. Yet even with this watch, it was not until the cart exited a street into one of the numerous squares, scattered about Corels, that their plan began to take shape. One which would allow them to circumvent the promise that Inquisitor Deanile made to Magister Bewlmon the day before. No they would not cause me any further harm, instead they would allow others, maybe even prompt those others, to do the dirty work for them.
The cart did make fully into the square before it came to a stop. With the end of the noise of the wheels I suddenly heard a murmuring mixed with shouts of anger. Though I could not see anybody, I automatically recognized the sounds.
It was something that was embedded in my memory from the days before my apprenticeship to Master Elladoo. It had been one of those nice summer days where young boys become a bother in any house and I had been set free to roam and find what mischief I may. After meeting a few friends, each making the group braver, we found ourselves moving towards the somewhat forbidden harbour where we planned to do some swimming. We had not gone far when we began to hear many shouts of anger. By unspoken consent our little herd turned in curiosity towards the direction from which the noise came. In a short time we found ourselves staring at a mass of people in a square, much like the one in which the cart had stopped. We had stood and watched in stunned silence as man, who many cursed as a child-slayer, was dragged crying from a house by four large men in the garb of dockworkers.
I had wanted to leave, but the closeness of my friends, forced a bravery that made me stay. On that night and many nights after I had bemoaned that bravery, for it was often an image of the child-slayer rising, kicking and flailing into the air with a rope around his neck that started my nightmares. And if not that image then it was the aftermath, the body swinging beneath the the rocks that were thrown at it.
From within the cart I heard the sounds I had heard on that day of the child-slayer's hanging. It was the sound of an angry mob seeking to inflict their judgement upon someone. Because of my lack of sleep I was unable to immediately make the jump to who was that someone, instead I found myself swearing at our bad luck to happen upon such a group. But a shout of, "There's the cart with the demon-bitch," shattered my calm, making me realise that the mob existed for me.
This was confirmed when I saw, out of the little window, Furigal's guards run past the cart and down the street from which we had come. Their abandonment of me to the mob's mercy brought a clarity that had me curse Inquisitor Deanile to the depths of Aredente's realm. She would not allow Magister Bewlmon to free me, no she would not stand for such a loss, instead she would have her blood. If it was my blood, that would be a minor victory for her. But even more sinister was the other option, most likely her true plan, where Sandrelessa was released to rampage through this mob. Their deaths would be a great victory for her and her cause, so much so that the College of Mages would take years before they could gain a foothold in Corels. At that moment I promised that I would go to my death without fear, for I could not let Sandrelessa ride the waves of that fear. In the next moment I immediately began to doubt my ability to keep that promise.
There was a moment after the guards fled when the mob quieted, but soon that quiet was broken by the thud of stones pelting the side of the cart. One of the stones must have missed its target as suddenly there was a screech from one of the cart's horses and I was flung away from the door at the resulting lurch. This movement reanimated the crowd as someone shouted to stop throwing stones, followed almost immediately by a number of angry, bearded faces appearing at the back of the cart. Already upon my backside from the sudden lurch, I scrambled even further from the door as hands tried to reach through the grating. And though they shouted and cursed I did not hear a word they said, blurring as it did into continuous, angry sound.
When they found the cart's door barred with a heavy metal lock their frustration led to a group of them starting to rock the cart back and forth. Again this brought about a reaction from the horses and based upon a man's yelp that reaction resulted in someone being hurt. Cooler heads took over for a moment as the horses were unhitched and soon they were back to rocking, causing me to slide back and forth across the floor, bouncing off walls as the cart's wheels began to lose their grip upon the ground. As more men added their weight the rocking motion became steadily more extreme until finally it tumbled over onto a side and rolled onto its roof, causing me to fly about bruisingly. However, the cart and lock were well made and they still had no access to me.
Stymied for awhile, they continued to shout and rock the cart over onto its side once more. Again I heard the loudest voice, the commanding voice shout out for axes and not long after that they were obtained and began hacking into the walls, roof and floor, whatever they could reach. Well made as it was, the cart did not put up much of a fight against these blows and soon there was daylight shining in from all directions. It would not be long before the holes were large enough for someone to come in and get me. I could only hope that it would be quick, that there would be no time wasted on talk, such as with Darrel. It had to be quick, or else I would lose all. Yet I was already afraid, my hands trembled, my teeth chattered and I wanted to cry. Nor did closing my eyes to lock away the sight of axe heads breaking through provide any escape. No my attention focused upon the largest hole, as it became larger and larger. I knew it would be soon.
It was. But not from the hole upon which I focused.
Someone must have been attacking the lock for suddenly I caught a flicker out of the corner of my eye as the door swung out, followed by a rush of men, likely more than really fit into the cart, as they grabbed and began to drag me out the door. Trying to remember my promise not to hurt anyone I once more did not fight my captors as they pulled me out into the open.
Blinking in the sunlight, I was finally able to put a face to the loud-mouth as he shouted to drag me to the square's center, which was inhabited by benches and a tall tree, a good hanging tree. As they followed his orders I realised I recognized the man and had seen him recently. However, the last time he had worn the uniform of the Militia and he had been with Ensign Tillindal during my arrest. But not just him, at least two of the men dragging me were also recognizable. It confirmed that this was no random happening, not that this knowledge would do anything for me.
Even though they were about to hang me they displayed none of the cruelty of the burly sisters. Outside of some bumps and bruises I had received while the cart tumbled, I was not hit or dragged or hurt while four large men carried me behind the militia member giving the orders. Admittedly my temporary safety was owed in large part to the proximity to my bearers and one of them shouting, "If any of you bilge-suckers hit me with a rock I am going to tear off your arms and take you swimming."
Still it was not the potential rock throwers who drew my attention, no that was focused upon a man at the centre of the square. Older than the majority of the men, and while the rest of the mob was in a frenzy, he was the picture of calm. Unlike the rest he paid no attention to me, instead he was intently studying what he held in his hands. Yet in that study he was similar to me, for my sight was drawn to him and the rope that held. I knew its purpose.
And I realized my earlier promise could be damned.
And I did not care how my actions would affect anybody, including the Followers or the College.
And I knew that I was not ready to die.
So Inquisitor Deanile got her wish. Suddenly I was no longer a helpless child, girl or boy, at the mercy of an angry mob of men. No I was suddenly strong, I was dangerous. Where seconds earlier I was being carried to my doom by strong men, I now stood alone amongst a suddenly quieting crowd. Those strong men were now on the ground, lying where they had landed after being flung aside by my shaking free of their grasp. Many had their eyes drawn to those groaning figures, before snapping back to stare at me. In those eyes was shock, for though I may have been tall for a woman, each of those men were taller and much heavier then I, nobody could believe that they could so casually be handled by someone as small as I. Recognition of the truth began to show on some of their faces, followed by wariness or fear. Silent questions were asked as to whether they were being payed enough or if this lark was no still worth the entertainment. They had heard the stories of what the demon-possessed could do, maybe even what had happened in Darrel's camp. The men were frozen.
Yet the stories they had heard and my adventures in the camp did not tell the full truth. Maybe it was because it was expected, maybe it was because it occurred with my blessing, maybe it was because of my promise, maybe it was because of who knows, but this time was not like the last time. Where before it had been as if I vacated my body, allowing Sandrelessa to pour in like water into a pot, this time I was still there. Sandrelessa was not alone; furthermore, she was not in charge. I felt her anger and frustration at her confined existence boiling just below the surface and realized that it could easily overflow the top once more. But my initial release of our anger had been as a pot blowing its top, blasting away my bearers in the steam of my fear and Sandrelessa's anger had relieved some of the pressure. The boil was manageable and there was space around me as the mob had taken backward steps. Yet I as well did not know what to do and was also frozen.
Over the next few seconds I glared at those around me, watching as some of the men hesitantly slunk away. They included the disguised militia members, the man with the rope and those who I guessed were in on the plot or were wiser or less brave. Still that left quite a few, many fueled with liquid bravery and nary a lick of common sense amongst the lot of them. Though leaderless for the moment, soon they would notice the rocks in hand or gain confidence in their numbers. Bravery would cause them to spring into action and blood would flow. Most of that blood would be theirs, for I knew that it would require only a little more heat for Sandrelessa to bubble completely to the top.
The question was what should be my next step, would running away cause them to chase or would it be better to threaten attack. And where to run, this was not an area of Corels with which I was familiar. But a decision was required and quickly, they were starting to mumble, to grumble, to regain their frenzy. So I charged, but not to attack, just to scatter. And scatter they did, for bravery had not yet fully regained its grip. With their cohesiveness temporarily torn apart I took my opportunity to plunge down the street from which we had come, at least it did not have a dead end lurking just around the corner. For a moment or two there was only the slap of my bare feet, then they regained their wits and offered a chase.
The street was straight and quite empty, good for running even with bare feet. The sack in which I was dressed was loose and billowy, not really that good for running but better for it than anything else I had worn since the mistress and Mary got their hands upon the new me. And the new me turned out to be a very good runner and not easily winded. Slowly my pursuers fell further behind and slowly I began realizing that it was time to determine a destination. I settled upon the convent, hoping that from there I could hopefully make my way to safety.
No sooner had this plan solidified in my mind before it was pushed aside by the appearance of a group of men upon horseback cantering towards me along the street. My immediate guess was that it was the militia or a group of the Followers' guards and with my confidence in those two organizations being quite dim I looked for a side alley to escape from both them and my chasers. Spotting an opening not too far ahead I pulled more speed from my tiring body and sprinted towards it. With this extra effort I was able to make my target just before they came upon me, yet when it sounded like they road past the alley I had entered my curiosity made me slow and glance back. This showed that not all of them had gone past, at least two had turned to follow behind me. So once more I turned back to focus on my running.
The two who followed were shouting something but it was not until my mind told me that they sounded familiar did I actually listen and hear, "Dammit Drake, slow down. We're trying to help."
These words finally penetrated, telling me that it was Stork who was doing the shouting and even though Sandrelessa was whispering not to trust him, I did. Coming to a stop I turned to see that the other rider was Jimi who looked much less comfortable on his mount than did Stork. Though both of them looked rather marshal, each fully bedecked in armour and bearing a shield and lance, with sword sheathed at their waists. Furthermore, each wore a tabard of a dark blue with silver piping and a emblazoned with a silver vines. It bore a striking similarity to the first dress that I had worn and unlike that time I was able to do the math, put two and two together and recognize the colours and the vines as the Deglace colours and symbol.
However, their appearance though noticeable was of little importance when compared to trying to determine the reason for their presence. "Stork, Jimi, what are you doing here?"
"Supposedly rescuing you, but it looks like you don't need us," Stork answered with a laugh.
It was the laugh that made me suddenly feel safe, driving Sandrelessa back to wherever she lurked while I was not in danger.
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My chasers had not wanted to have anything to do with the members of the Deglace Household Troops. I could see their reasoning when Stork and Jimi escorted me back to the troop, for despite the fancy tabards they were not ornamental, instead they were seasoned veterans commanded by a lieutenant who reminded me of Sergeant Hussel in age and demeanor. When we slotted ourselves into the troop, me uncomfortably riding behind Jimi on his horse, the lieutenant was cursing at and offering dire warnings to anyone who thought they could get away with attacking someone under the protection of the Deglace. Noticing our arrival he continued to vent for a few moments until he was sure that he had the mob cowed, then he gestured for his men to turn horses and head back the way they came.
With all that had befallen me over the last days I was more than willing to put my faith in my rescuers and instead of worrying about where they were taking me, I focused upon staying on the horse behind Jimi, while trying to ignore my now noticeably sore feet. Finally I got my skirt placed so that there was minimal rubbing, though a fair length of my leg showed, and held on tight. Once sure that my next destination was not upon my bum behind the horse my curiosity could be satisfied as I questioned Jimi about what was going on.
Fom him I learned that immediately after my arrest the mistress had sent Stork to Glanlies to obtain assistance, which had resulted in the arrival of Magister Bewlmon, this troop and the family solicitor. Furthermore he informed me that the rescue attempt was the result of information from a local named Falster, the man who was with the mistress and my parents during my court appearance whom had not spoken. He was a member of the Steel Brotherhood, the local supplier of unattached caravan guards, who had been hired to help protect the mistress and Mary while Stork was gone. With the arrival of reinforcements she had kept Falster on to provide local information and it was this channel that had gotten wind of a large sum of coin being offered to anyone willing to participate in a riot. The mistress had made a guess as to the purpose of the mob and had dispatched the troops to ensure that my cart made it to the court house.
Even though they had almost been too late, forcing me to perform the first part of my escape on my own, it was good to be in their midst. The last thing Jimi told me was that even though this was a rescue they could not free me from all harm, they still needed to take me to see the magistrate, to get the decision about what would be done with me.
We received a lot of space as we travelled to the court house, though a number of curious stares were directed at me, so slovenly in was I in appearance compared to the men. Yet we had no trouble until we got to our destination at which point we were confronted by a ten men dressed in the uniform of the guards who had abandoned me to the mob's mercy. When their leader approached the lieutenant and demanded that they turn me over to them. The lieutenant, whom I had learned was named Kelton Saldian, was having none of this and stated that he would keep me in custody so that the Follower's men could run away unhindered if anything scary happened. From that point the conversation went downhill.
I don't think it would have reached the point of violence, but it was not looking like there was going to a resolution when the court house guards decided to take an interest. Since their interest was expressed in significant numbers and punctuated with crossbows both the Deglace troops and Furigal's guards were willing to listen. The compromise that was reached, actually imposed, was that they would take me into their custody, while the two arguing groups would stay outside and do nothing. Seeing as how my dealings with both the prison and court yard guards had been fairly good, and that neither group had seemed to have an hidden agenda, this was acceptable me. Soon I was once more locked in the room in which I had been locked twice before.
Honestly, it was a much happier and positive Drake that was there this time then the last time. I was rather thrilled with my escape from the mob, and particularly ecstatic that I was able to do so without killing anyone. Sure they had given me some bumps and bruises, while adding to my nightmare collection, but it went as good as it could have gone for me. My hope was that my luck would continue to be good for the rest of that day.
Soon I was settled into, what I now see had become my new favourite position, the corner with my arms wrapped around my legs. Drowsy as I had been during my cart ride, my state of excitement made it impossible to nod off. Good thing they did not leave me alone for long, since I had a desperate need for something to happen other than sitting in a jittery heap. But not long after the door had closed it once more opened and the guard who had backed down the arguers out front entered into the room with a couple of others carrying a chair behind him. When I began to stand up he gestured for me to stay where I was.
The reason for the chair was made apparent when a middle aged lady, with short brown hair made her way into the room and sat in the chair. My curiosity about who she was did not last long, for as soon as she spoke I recognized her voice as that of the magistrate, Deacon Smoiners. She studied me for a moment, causing me to fidget under her stare, before stating, "Well child, I have heard many people talk about you over the last number of days, both in my courtroom and in my time away from this building. Yet the one person I have not heard from is you. It really is time for you to speak, including describing what happened today."
Well I won't bore you with repeating what you just finished reading, so let us skip my answer. Though one thing to mention is that I found myself emphasizing that I had killed nobody and had kept my inhabitant in check despite her desires and my situation. I even blurted out my suspicion that I had been set up to do something horrible and that the Militia was involved.
When she heard me state this her eyes hardened, making me think that I had gone too far, letting my mouth run ahead of my mind. Therefore, I felt a fairly large draught of relief when she turned to the guard officer and said, "Captain, see that a request is prepared and sent to the Glanlies' Militia headquarters asking for an inspector to come and see if their is any truth to this young lady's accusation."
It felt good to see that she did not immediately dismiss my suspicions. Yet I had little time for relief as she soon had me describing my experience in the bandit camp and then she had me try to describe why the results were so different this time compared to that time, "I do not know why it was different your Honour. The only thing that comes to my mind is that in Darrel's camp I did not know what would happen. Whereas today I expected it, was prepared for Sandrelessa to make her presence felt. Thus when she arrived, she did not push me completely to the side and take over. We were both there, but I was controlling her strength."
"How about the men of the mob, did you feel the same way about them as you felt about the bandits?"
That question took me aback for a moment, before I realized it was easy to answer, "Well your Honour, I was annoyed with the men in the mob today, but I never really hated them. I felt they were payed off or duped by someone, but I did not feel they were evil. I did not feel they deserved to die. Whereas, I admit that I felt that way about Darrel and his thugs. They were going to do terrible things to my friends."
"So you thought that the bandits deserved to die, while the men in the mob did not?"
"Yes your Honour."
"Well I cannot say that I disagree with you. In fact at least two of the bandits you killed existed under a death sentence signed by myself."
Grasping at that straw and remembering something overheard from Jimi, I said, "I overheard someone guess that maybe it was actually Jiringel's hand guiding my hand in the camp."
Looking back that was an incredibly stupid comment to make to a Deacon of Jiringel, but luckily it only caused her to laughingly explain, "No child, you definitely were not acting for my Goddess or even driven by justice, instead you were driven by fear. That you were not driven by justice is a good thing, because it is not your role, just as it was not the role of those idiots in the mob, to dispense justice. That is the role of my peers and myself who do act for Jiringel."
"Yes your Honour," I answered somewhat sheepishly.
"Yet in your case, neither am I serving justice. There is no justice to be served, it is about potentially stopping the need for future justice. And I am not a seer to see into the future, so I am forced to guess. I don't like guessing; therefore, you need to answer one question for me. Are you a danger to others?"
Despite the magistrate's protest that this case what out of her area of expertise, her question held weight beyond the words. It implied that lies would be so interpreted that only the truth would do, it was as if her Goddess was behind the question. And even though I wanted to answer in a fashion that would place me in a better light, I ended up answering, "Yes your Honour. I am a danger to others."
"Then you understand the truth more than any of the others with whom I have been talking. Better than your friends and family who love you and want you safe. Better than His Worship who sees you as a pawn in a fight for the hearts and minds of his flock. Better than the Abbess who also knows you are danger, but her knowledge is based upon faith instead of truth and she does not fully understand the danger. Better even than Magister Bewlmon who postulates that you are actually a conjoining of the most stable component from Sandrelessa, yourself and the protection spell. That your mind remains because it is not tinged by the madness inherent in demon-kind. That your body is a humanized version of her body, one that has already matured and no longer in the flux that common in a young man such as you are or you were. Meanwhile the spell ensures consistency, ensuring the stability between body and mind does not change.
"It seems like a rather far fetched explanation to me, but his genius is renowned in this field. Yet even with his brilliance missed the most important thing. Within your mind, human and not demon as I believe it is, lurks danger. All of us are a danger to others. Nor have most of us been in a situation where we chosen to be dangerous or control that danger, today you were placed in such a situation and you passed. Therefore, how can I give into the demands of His Worship or the Abbess? I can't, you will be set free Drake of Elladoo Post."
Before I could begin my celebrations, she continued, "However, my judgement does introduce a problem. Can you guess what it is?"
"The Followers?"
"Exactly, they really cannot afford to be seen to lose in this case."
Her phrasing gave me sudden insight into being a commodity, realizing my case could easily be boiled down into a regular deal. As with any deal there is something, let us call it a Drake, that one party wants and the other party owns. In this situation The Followers of Furigal were the buyer and Deacon Smoiners was the seller. But what made it difficult was that when the buyer was powerful and outside of the realm of trade, like the Church, they often expected to get what they wanted with a price that would cause the seller to lose. Non-merchants often see dealing as win vs lose. Just as the con-man was dangerous for the buyer, so is this type of buyer dangerous for the seller.
Salend Voctor whose quote on con-men has already graced the pages of this part of my life also recognized, in his treatise, the dangers posed to merchants by such a buyer. 'Be careful of those who think they deserve to much, for if you let them win they will continue to take from you everything you have. But take even more care to ensure that you don't win either, for that will require them to lose. And if you force them to lose, they will take from you even more.'
No the Followers of Furigal could not accept losing. If they lost, they would not go after the magistrate, that would put them into a conflict with someone as strong as themselves. Instead they would be forced to go after me, ensuring that the evidence of their loss would not flouted for the world to see. It was no longer about justice, instead there was only one answer to the problem, the merchant answer, "Can we offer them a deal your Honour?"
Deacon Smoiners, despite her path in life was still a child of Glanlies, smiled at me as a teacher does when her student answers correctly, "Yes child, we can offer them a deal. But it will mean that you will still have to face some indignities and it will be expensive, though your patron has offered to cover the cost."
"Could you explain your Honour?"
I was not completely happy with her plan and found myself arguing against some of it. But in the end I think we built a deal of which even Salend Voctor would be proud.
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Four days later my bargaining skills found me living like a princess out of a story book. Admittedly I was not a princess in some castle, no I fell under the category of princess held captive at the top of an ugly tower. The part of the magistrate's plan that had raised my hackles the most was her plan to turn me back over to the inquisitor until her plan could be fully realized; however, I had convinced her that this would only lead to bad things happening, like my death or Sandrelessa running amok. She had argued that they would not let me walk free, even if only temporary, while I pleaded for any other solution. We had finally compromised upon sending me back to the Hole, although seeing as how I ended up on the top floor, even higher than my last cell, it could not very well be called the Hole.
My disappointment at still not being free and being sent back there was significantly diminished when I found the cell on the top floor of the tower to actually be nicer than any room that I had ever called my own. It was supposedly set aside for the rich and famous, such as; Ingar Fulstead when he was convicted of killing his wife or General Dessan after he was convicted of treason or apprentice merchants possessed by demons backed by a rich family like the Deglace. You know, the hoitiest of the toity. The room had a four post bed, a book shelf, a desk and oil lamps that I could use well into the night. It was during my time locked in that room where I truly gained an appreciation for the size and breadth of the Annals, which filled much of the book shelf. Since still mostly alone, I found myself voraciously reading through multiple books.
Meanwhile at night, in the soft and clean bed I found myself sleeping like a babe. This was also due to peace of mind, knowing that there were always five of the Deglace troopers on the floor below me, which had been another thing negotiated with the magistrate to help ensure my safety. So I guess I was not like the regular story book princess, locked away in a tower. After all they usually did not have their own guard contingent unless they could sway one of their captor's with their loveliness and charm.
And that wasn't going to happen! Nor was I waiting for some handsome hero to come to the rescue before an evil sorcerer conducted a spell upon me. In fact there was a spell to be cast, but not by an evil sorcerer, no it was to be cast by a Magister of the Allfather Durnst. And I wanted the spell to be cast, the sooner the better. It was high time that this whole sordid affair ended, time for me to get to Glanlies and find someone who could make me become me.
On the fourth day after my run in with the mob and at the top of the tower my wait came to an end with the appearance of a welcome face. It was just after I had finished another bland breakfast of porridge when there was the sound of the key in the door. Expecting it to be the guard coming for my breakfast tray I did not look up from the edition of the Annals I was reading. To be honest my initial excitement about being set free had waned into teenage sullenness as my actual freedom had not materialized. But my attention was grabbed upon hearing a voice exclaim, "Well aren't we just the impolite young miss."
Immediately recognizing the voice I jumped up shouting, "Mary!" Then running over, I enveloped her a great big hug, one she happily returned. I kept her locked in this position for a few moments, thoroughly enjoyed the human contact until she finally muttered, "Sweetling you need to let me breathe."
Embarrassed I quickly backed away with a mumbled "sorry", though I could see by the smile in her eyes that she was not mad. Then seeing that she had a couple bags with her caused me to ask, "It's lovely to see you Mary, but why are you here? Is it time?"
"Well just about Dra'e, but first we have to do something with you."
"Umm...what is that Mary?"
"We have to make you look like less of a street urchin, what are you wearing?"
Looking down at the brown sack dress I had been wearing since my time in the convent I stammered an apology, "I'm so sorry I lost the green dress Mary. But even though it was originally so pretty it became so filthy and I was scared of the inquisitor so I completely forgot about it. Then I awoke and I was wearing this and..."
Guessing how close I was to tears, Mary held up her hand and said, "Peace child, peace. Don't worry about the dress, we are happy that you are safe, or soon to be safe. But the Mistress wants you more than safe, she wants you representing the Deglace in full glory."
"But shouldn't I continue to look meek and humble?" I asked, being a bit concerned about where "in full glory" would lead.
"I carried all this stuff up these many stairs, you will wear them down for me. Besides, it is time for us to show our colours, prove to the Followers of Furigal that they are challenging something bigger than you. That they are challenging the Deglace family."
"Why though Mary, why would the Deglace protect me? Why would the mistress choose me?"
"I can think of four reasons Dra'e, the first being that you were under Mistress Esselde's care when you were arrested. Duty means that she had to do everything she could to assist you, including fully placing her mantle of protection over you. However, it is not completely a thing of the moment, she also recognizes that she owes you for what you did in protecting the post from Darrel. And there is a recognition of your special skills, those that Master Elladoo teaches you alone. Those of you who possess those skills are rare and fewer still are those within the Deglace sphere of influence that have them. It is advantageous to the Deglace to cultivate more Chosen with that skill. But the most important reason is that she likes you, she wants you to be safe."
That suffused my cheeks with the warmth of happiness tinged by embarrassment. Not knowing how to respond I found myself hugging, though more gently, Mary once again. Yes it felt good to be liked.
After our moment she pushed me back and stated, "I wish we could get you a bath and wash your hair, but we will have to make due. Let me request some warm water and a basin at the least, so we can get you somewhat clean."
After she had made that request to one of the guards outside of the door, she attacked my hair. Without the proper tools it had become a bit of a rat's nest and there was much yanking and pulling and hollering. Trying to take my mind off of this I told her about how my hair had grown back, which led to a full story about what happened. This turned out not to be the smartest idea on my part as in her anger at what had been done to me she became even more forceful with the brush.
By the time that she had completed brushing it my hair out so that it once more hung smoothly, water had come. Hanging a cloth across the door grating to protect my privacy, something that I had completely given up since my capture, she had me undress and begin washing while she unpacked her bags. Mary was correct, a bath would have been nice, but at least I was less dingy though the water was much more so.
When I was cleaner Mary wrapped my in the cover from the bed and had me sit in the lone chair and once more started in on my hair. Describing the magic that Mary performs with hair is a daunting task, specially since my understanding does not extend beyond the basics, so lets jump forward a glass turn or two. Nor will you get a description our conversation during that time, for I do not remember it. And conversation may even be misleading, since it basically involved Mary listen to me chatter away about what I had been reading in the Annals. Now normally I am not super talkative, but there is something about solitary captivity that makes a person want to have someone listen to them talk.
Anyways, at the end of our separate endeavors I was in need of a drink and Mary had finished with my hair. My needing of a drink was quickly resolved, while Mary's work was not nearly as quickly admired. For the first time in days my hair, well outside of when I did not have any, no longer hung into my face. She had weaved Deglace blue ribbons into it to create a crown of braids, which still leaving a cascade hanging well down my back.
With her work done on my hair she dug into her pack and pulled out a number of small lidded bowls, which for some reason made me nervous in a completely different way than did imprisonment. Hesitantly I asked, "What do you have there Mary?"
"Just some cosmetics Dra'e."
"Do we really need to use those?"
"Well I did wander all over the market place looking for cosmetics that would best suit you. With your pale complexion it was not an easy task, let me tell you. But if you would rather not, then we don't need to," she responded with a sigh.
Knowing full well what she was doing, I still could not stop myself from giving in with a, "No Mary that is okay; whatever you think is best."
With my grudging approval she attacked me with brushes and smells, leaving my face feeling strange. Truthfully it was not that onerous of experience, there were only a three bowls and one little bottle whose contents she held and used upon me. There was kohl that she used to hilite my eyes and lashes. Then a bowl of a rouge for cheeks and lips. My favourite bowl contained a blue-black lacquer that was used to cover my finger nails, changing them from scary claws into to something much more ornamental. The final container, the bottle, held a perfume smelling of cinnamon which she dabbed at my wrists and throat.
Thus painted and perfumed it was time to get dressed and the outfit she pulled out was not surprising. Though I had not made the leap in logic the first time I wore it, there was no doubt it would be perfect for showing the Deglace colours. And the second time around the shift, boots, bodice and skirt felt much more normal than my first time so dressed. It appeared I was becoming comfortable, or at a minimum used too, my no longer so new form. I did wonder why there were no stockings, but did not say anything because I had found them rather annoying.
Though now ready to head out we found ourselves waiting once more. I queried Mary on what was to happen but she told me that she knew little, though Mistress Esselde had informed her to tell me to trust the deacon. I did not reply that I was already trusting Deacon Smoiners, having placed my life in her hands. My hope, my belief was that her word was good. We spent some time in small talk, but neither of our hearts were into it, both of us were ready and anxiously waiting for the next step, the final step of this bump on our road to Glanlies. There would be time to enjoy each others company when nothing hung over my head; therefore, we found ourselves constantly glancing towards the door, until we were finally rewarded.
It was another sign of my increase in status when it was an officer of the guard who entered the room, accompanied by the Deglace lieutenant. Nor did they place me in irons, though their lack did not make my trip down the stairs noticeably easier. When we did reach the ground floor, with no accidents, and made it outside my final bargaining point with the deacon was on display. No more would I be forced to travel to and from in a prisoner cart, now they transported me in a carriage, not the fanciest but still better than a box on wheels. Once they had Mary and I, along with Jimi and Stork still in their tabards, ensconced within and surrounded by men of both allegiances we rattled out of the Hole's gate for what I hoped was the last time.
Stork who was never one to let an audience go to waste had his appreciation for my appearance quelled rather quickly by Mary. However, he could not stay quiet for long and started to regal me with a tale of his epic ride to Glanlies and back. This time it was Jimi who brought it to a stop when he complained that he was sick and tired of the story. We sat in silence for awhile as Stork pouted, until his face lit up as he thought of something that we may allow him to talk about, "Did you hear about Ensign Tillindal?"
Not surprisingly I had not heard anything about my least favourite Militia officer, but neither had Mary and before she could stop herself she shook her head no. Taking the gesture for approval to continue, he stated, "Well he was killed last night in a duel."
I think I may have smiled when I heard this, but Mary was much more surprised, "A duel? That doesn't make sense. Militia officers don't duel, who did he fight?"
"It was Jocco Wadgins"
"I thought Jocco usually works for the Vannigans?"
Stork nodded his head saying, "Well the official story is that Jocco caught him cheating when they were playing hazard. Supposedly Tillindal was using weighted dice. However, the rumour that is floating around is that Colonel Vannigan was behind it. Supposedly the ensign was the one who bought the mob that attacked you Drake. Speculation is mixed that he may have done so with the colonel's permission, but now that there is an investigator on the way and in either case the ensign would have proven to be an embarrassment or worse to Vannigan's ambitions. The additional benefit for Vannigan is that with the duel's result and Jocco still walking about there well be nobody brave enough to give the investigator any information."
This information made me wonder who truly had been pulling the ensign's strings, and why? It had seemed personal, it had seemed that he was a pawn of the church, and it appeared that he may have been acting for his superior in the Militia. I would never know the truth, but it did confirm the need to pick proper patrons, ones who would shelter and not abandon. Hopefully that was the way of the Deglace.
And so my second enemy, my first true personal nemesis exits the story of my life. His last impact upon me was to provide further understanding of myself, for though it may have made me a better person, I felt no sympathy for Elfos Tillindal. Instead I considered it a good start in my vengeance against my persecutors.
Stork must have sensed something of my thoughts as he became quieter after his report of the news, leaving us to ride in companionable silence, each thinking his or her (place me where you will) own thoughts. Mine fantasized about revenge against the inquisitor or her lackeys while I found myself watching the passing buildings. When I recognized one of those buildings as being the Temple of Asolde my thoughts were jerked back to reality. Being in the Temple District, near the Cathedral of Furigal made me rather antsy. A quick study of my friends showed they shared none of my fears, which did re instill my confidence, but it was a wary confidence. Further confidence was gained when we rumbled past that structure under the icy stares of guards in their hated uniforms. Soon our destination was reached, and seeing that Magister Bewlmon was to conduct whatever was to be conducted, the Hall of Durnst was a logical place.
Giving me a hug of luck Mary murmured that she would stay outside, that magic and Gods unnerved her. So it was Stork and Jimi who escorted me inside the building, one that seemed like a perfect home to the magister. Like the garments that he wore, the Hall was bedecked in a simple yet elegant fashion. Marble was everywhere, from the floor to the ceiling and the pillars in between. Ornamentation was minimalistic, there was a mosaic of grey rocks formed a mountain on the floor and alters in alcoves about the room, each and every one covered in a brown cloth fashioned from the material that had been used to make Magister Bewlmon's robe. It was so very different than the church of my childhood, the Cathedral we had just rode past. Unlike the Cathedral of Furigal it was not a place of ordered benches, a place you went to be preached towards, no this was a place that an individual could come and commune with the Father of our Pantheon. It was a place worthy of him, worthy of what he had allowed us to accomplish. It made me feel safe despite the colour of some of the robes upon those who were there when I arrived.
I was taken aback for each colour signified either a different God or Goddess or allegiance, its wearer a priest or priestess or member in their service. Some of the figures or faces in those robes were familiar; Mistress Elladoo and my parents all in Deglace blue, Deacon Smoiners faceless in her grey, Magister Bewlmon and Priestess Ellisel in their browns, and Sister Jeunille, the one with the power, of Furigal. There were also those I did not recognize as individuals, though I recognized who they represented. There was a middle aged lady dressed in the straw gold robe of Sera the Allmother. A man who could be her brother wearing the green of Turin, God of Merchants. He stood by an older man, the oldest in the room, wearing a pristine white robe signifying his attendance upon Aredente, God of Death. Separated slightly was a beautiful woman, as was to be expected from a Priestess, in the Rose coloured gown of Asolde, Goddess of Love and Beauty. Rounding out the number was the lone figure not in a robe, instead he wore a polished chain mail signifying him to be a Battle Monk of Caling, God of War.
It was a awe-inspiring group, representing all the major players of Glanlies' pantheon. Each and every one of them, outside of my family and friends, imbued with that aura I now recognized was common with magic users, even the Deacon though I had not noticed before. Their presence made me doubt the wisdom of her plan, whatever it may be. However, there was little time to linger on this thought, for with our arrival Magister Bewlmon took charge. Gesturing to a door towards the end of the building he asked everyone to follow him.
The next hall we moved into was much smaller than the first, with only the one door through which we had entered. It too was marble, though a marble that had veins of pinks and reds as opposed to blues and greys. Nor did it have any any alters in alcoves, no the purpose of the room was implied by the mosaic on the floor, a pentagram of pink stone. Remembering Master Elladoo's comments about the superiority of the rhombus over the complexity of the pentagram I had a sudden fit of further nerves wondering what they were going to do. However, I immediately tried to convince myself that a pentagram of stone would offset the problems the master had warned about, additionally I was sure that those in this room controlled powers well beyond those of us who could only perform two spells. Well at least I hoped that was the case.
Upon entry the magister turned to me and asked, "Drake, can you please remove your boots?"
Baffled though I was by this curious question I none the less soon had my boots off and was left feeling the coldness of the marble flooring upon my feet. Looking towards Magister Bewlmon he reached out to take my hand and guide me to the mosaic in the middle of the room, before having me lay down upon my back within the pentagram. When I was positioned in the manner he deemed appropriate and the fall of my hair arranged in a wreathe above my head, he waved Priestess Ellisel forward to kneel on my left while he knelt to my right. Reaching into a pouch that hung at her side she pulled out what appeared to be two chains and handed one to the magister, who looked at me questioningly and asked, "Are you ready Drake?"
At my nod, he intoned, "Father Durnst I call upon you to witness this Chaining of one of your children, beset from within by the unnatural from beyond your realm. I plead for your strength to assist this child in living within your rules for your and your people's glory."
Then both he and the priestess grasped one of my hands and slipped a chain upon each wrist. Immediately after I felt the cool metal upon my arms the two clergy members pulled upon each hand so that they soon had me reaching almost horizontally to the points of the pentagram on either side of me. Not fully understanding I still did not fight their pull as they both held a wrist, with palm down gently near the points. Magister Bewlmon once more spoke, "Father Durnst I beseech you to bind your child's hands so that with them she cannot commit harm upon any of your innocents."
Suddenly the once cool metal of the bracelets began to give off a warmth hotter than that which my wrists could impart in such a short time. It did not burn, but I had little doubt that something had happened, which was further confirmed when Bewlmon and Ellisel released my hand and my arms did not sag from their stretched out position. Surprised and somewhat uncomfortable I tried to move my arms, yet still they did not move, trying once more unsuccessfully the panic must have begun to show in my eyes for Ellisel placed her hand upon my brow, leaned towards my face and whispered, "Calm child, everything is all right."
It may have been my desire for everything to be all right, possibly it was because of her demeanor and my trust for her, or maybe she was channeling her God; whatever it was, with those words and her touch she soothed my panic away. Having already experienced it to my arms, there was little surprise when they repeated their motions at my feet and ankles, wrapping them in an anklet and stretching them to the lowest points of the mosaic before Magister Bewlmon chanted, "Father Durnst I beseech you to bind your child's feet to the earth, to have her walk the paths you desire her to walk."
This time I was prepared for the warmth and my legs being firmly attached to the ground, in fact the only thing in my mind was that with my legs spread apart it was good that my skirt was draped in the fashion it was, because I definitely was not in the most lady like pose. This thought was pushed aside as the pair moved together to my head, close to the topmost point. Knowing what was to happen did not lessen my appreciation for the calming hand that the priestess once more lay across my brow as her colleague fastened a choker around my neck and made one more request, "Father Durnst I beseech you to protect your child's thoughts, to drive away anger and hate, to maintain peace and calm."
Then rising to his feet and offering Priestess Ellisel a hand to help her stand, he looked towards his audience to state, "Brothers, Sisters, Friends and Loved Ones, the Chaining is now complete. Father Durnst, in his wisdom and love, has granted his protection upon this child and upon all innocents from this child. Would the Rusticates confirm my statement."
At this invitation the Priest of Aredente and Sister Jeunille approached to study me and my bindings. I don't know if their God's granted them sight that allowed them to see the invisible tethers holding me to my stone bed, but I do know their God's did not change their touches to dampen the warmth emanating from bracelet, anklet or choker. No their hands held human warmth, not the cold of death or of deep sea. When either looked me in the eyes, I met their glance with open eyes, trying to open my soul to show my innocence. Finally they turned towards Magister, nodded their heads and moved once more to stand near the door.
Smiling his thank you at the two Magister Bewlmon continued, "The Chaining is complete. But though Father Durnst is willing to clasp his children to his chest in time of need and fear, he knows that we must walk free to experience all that he and his family have to offer. But in order to walk free, one must always have a place to return, a place to heal and rest. Who will provide hearth and home to which the child may return no matter how far she walks?"
At this question the Priestess of Sera clasped my mother's hand and guided her to my left side, while the Priestess of Asolde mimicked the action with my father to my right side. After they knelt my parents each reached for a hand and looked me in the face with eyes of care and concern.
Together my mother and the Priestess of Sera the Allmother slid a ring upon the pointing finger of my left hand as the priestess whispered, "The Mother clasps her child to bosom knowing she must let go, yet fearing where her child will walk. She let's go, but with arms outstretched, alway ready to welcome the child's return."
With these words my hand and arm were suddenly free of its binding, soon to be followed by my other hand as my father and the other priestess also placed a finger upon my right pointing finger followed by her saying, "The Father teaches his child duty and honour, love and hope. He allows the child to leave, to grow, in order for the child to return an adult."
Though the priestesses returned to their place by the door, my parents remained with me, each holding a hand. Smiling benevolently at all of us Magister Bewlmon asked his next question, "There are obstacles and dangers on many of the paths upon which Durnst's children walk. But they need not walk alone, who walks with this child?"
This time it was Deacon Smoiners with Jimi and the Battle Monk of Caling with Stork who walked forward to kneel at my feet and place a ring on my littlest toes. The deacon spoke first, "The Friend provides companionship and a helping hand to the child when the path grows steep. He also provides guidance and direction so the child does not stray from the way of the just and true."
Then it was the Battle Monks turn to state, "The Friend provides protection, guarding the back of the child. He also is worthy of protection, and has his own back over which the child must watch."
Unlike my parents, Jimi and Stork did not stay kneeling, instead they moved away with the deacon and battle monk. And though they were friends, I was more than happy to not have them holding my feet. That would have been creepy and if Stork had stayed there he likely would have tried to look up my skirt. But maybe he deserved the honour since he was here for me?
Nah!
I was almost free, only one tether remained, the most uncomfortable of the lot. Thus it was good when Magister Bewlmon asked his last question, "But where does the child walk? Does she walk aimlessly or does she stride with purpose? Who will help the child choose her path?"
By process of elimination I am sure that you can guess that it was Mistress Elladoo and the Priest of Turin who stepped forward to answer. They knelt at my head and wrapped what I later learned was a diadem, matching the rings, under the crown of my hair and centred on my forehead, before the priest spoke, "The Patron provides the path for the child. She points and the child travels, she requests and child finds."
Like my parents, the Mistress stayed kneeling with me, gently rubbing her fingers on my temples beneath the diadem. I felt safe being surround by these three and happy to be the centre of their attention. So focussed was my attention upon them I barely heard the magister finish, "The Chaining is complete. Though the child is free once more, she is bound by the rules of Father Durnst and by the will and wishes of her friend and family."
He allowed a few moments of silence before turning to look at me with a smile, "You may now rise Drake."
Happy to follow his instructions, the marble floor was far from comfortable, and with the help of my father I scrambled to my feet. No sooner had my state become vertical when my mother flung her arms around me to give me a hug as big as the one I had given Mary earlier that day. And just as that hug had felt wonderful, re-establishing contact with the outside world, so too did this re-establish contact with my family. Something that was needed, after all sometimes a boy just needs his mom. My father joined in briefly, awkwardly, but I could not blame him. One thing my change had given me was a greater understanding for the healing properties of a hug, something I never appreciated as a boy. After he let go I saw tears in my mother's eyes, and based upon the black smudge on her finger after she wiped my cheek, there must also have been tears in mine.
When she finally pushed me back so she too could look up into my eyes, I heard her wonder, "I cannot believe how beautiful my son has become. Is it really you Drake?"
"Yes Momma, it's me. I'm sorry."
With that extra sense that mothers have, she was able to interpret my sorry in all the fashions in which it was meant; the worry I had caused her, my doubting of her love, doing magic behind her back, being turned into a girl, not being what she expected me to be and all the other ills that a teenage boy unintentionally bring a mother. Therefore, with that understanding, she was able to both temporarily absolve and let me know that it was not over, "That's okay Sweetie, you didn't mean any harm. We will talk about it more later. But for now you need to thank Mistress Elladoo for all that she has done for you, she has spent a fortune on your freedom."
Turning to that worthy lady I was once more was gathered up into a hug. When she held me close and nobody else could hear, she whispered with a smile, "Oh we will find something for you to do to pay me back."
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After my freedom from imprisonment I was ready to make my escape from the town of Corels, but everyone else was convinced that it was to late to start travelling. Besides which we needed to celebrate, so the mistress hosted a party at The Dancing Dolphin, the inn in which she had been staying and from where I had been arrested. All my family were there, including my parents and my siblings and their families. The oldest was my brother Albert with his wife Sondra and their children Nicole and Annie. And my sisters June and Ester, June with her daughter Jillian who was enthralled with my looks, my new jewelry and particularly my hair. Both of their husbands, whom were sailors, were out with their respective ships and unable to attend. Seeing all the womenfolk of our family in the room Albert had joked to my father that I had joined the other side. Father had laughed, but you could see a wince in his eyes.
In general it was a night for laughter, often at my expense. Outside of Albert's joke, much of the humour was supplied by Stork who had numerous complaints that he finally got to attend a magical ritual involving a beautiful virgin and he did not even get to see her naked. He was constantly spouting, "Take off your boots. Her boots? What's with that?"
That was usually the queue for Jimi to spout, "And her feet, has she ever heard of water?"
Aye it was a good night had by all, many a time I found myself just sitting back soaking in all the good will and humanness surrounding me, being warmed by it all. When my thoughts did turn bleak there was always another joke, another song or a niece climbing in my lap to push the bad away. And then there were the private talks.
The first of these was the one promised by my mother earlier in the day. I found myself in the corner with her, my father and Mistress Elladoo having my parents convincing both myself and the mistress that they really had a right to know what was happening to me. They rather surprised me when they informed us that they had known of Master Elladoo's special skills before they had approved my apprenticeship. Apparently Master Chenester, who had recommended me to the master, had known of my Grandmother's prejudices and had ensured that my parents did not feel the same way. He had learned that they were not completely trusting of it, but that they were aware of its potential benefits. And since then my father had almost swung completely in favour of it when he looked at how much prominence Kumil had gained at the expense of Corels on the West coast of the peninsula.
That conversation taught me that hidden truths are dangerous and that instead of guessing what people think it is better to just ask, even if you do not receive the answer you expect or you do expect it and it is not what you want to hear. And over years there have been many more conversations that have taught the same lesson. Maybe one day I will actually learn it.
The second of conversation was with Mistress Elladoo after I had sneaked away by myself to find her mirror to get a look at the new pieces of jewelry that adorned me as a result of my Chaining. The pieces were custom made, extremely high quality and likely each piece cost more than the yearly salary of any of the post's employees. The bracelets, anklets and choker were copies of each other, varying only in size. They were made of flattened, rectangular links of silver with every link engraved with a different marking commonly used to symbolize each of the members of the pantheon; the mountain of Durnst, the sheaf of Sera, the scale of Turin, the rose of Asolde, the eye of Jiringel, the gauntlet of Caling, the hourglass of Aredente, and even the trident of Furigal. I experienced a moment of panic upon realizing that none of them had a catch, before realizing that they truly were really chains. And though ornamental, my suspicion was that they were also highly functional.
Still they were not as ornamental as the other five pieces. The rings on my fingers and toes, had settings also made of silver, but they were not solid bands instead they were circles of silver wire painstakingly meshed by a master into the appearance of a vine, the silver vine of the Deglace. Further linkage to that family was presented by the dark blue, faceted, oval sapphire mounted on each. The diadem about my forehead took the non-simple design of the rings and took it a step further. Instead of wire, the vine was made of beaten silver that was maybe two finger widths thick at the front and tapered thinner towards to the ends, which were hidden behind my hair. It too held a blue sapphire, a rounded star sapphire of a size that likely cost more than every other piece combined. Like the chained pieces none of them budged when I tried to remove them, making me realize that I was now well worth stealing. Just as Magister Bewlmon had made me feel like a statue in the inquisitor's den, so did having ornamentation attached. And statues were not robbed, nor kidnapped, they were stolen.
After I had gained full appreciation for that in which I was bedecked, my conversation with Mistress Elladoo was based completely around my shamed, groveling embarrassment at being such a burden and thanks for doing so much for me. For her part, great lady that she is, the mistress tried to ease my discomfort by dismissing my thanks and saying that she only did what was expected as a friend and patron. Finally she calmed me down, only to once more make me nervously wonder what she planned for my future when she said, "Don't worry Dra'e, you are worth it. I know my investment today will pay off in the future."
That conversation taught me that the chains created during the Chaining were not only physical. My attachment to the Deglace, with or without a Choosing, was unmistakable. My freedom was not completely my own. Nor was it completely a burden, I was quite happy being linked to the mistress, though still unsure about the rest of her family, none of whom I had met. Yet all their employees and retainers I had met seemed to be happy and loyal, which was a good sign. Still I now had more incentive to end my demon possession and get changed back to myself, for when that happened I would be able to dump the jewelry and return it to the mistress so that she could recover some of her expense.
My last memorable conversation of the evening was with Magister Bewlmon, whom also had been staying at the Dancing Dolphin as a guest of the mistress. It was he who initiated the conversation, joining me in one of the times when I was not surrounded by family. Again the conversation was about the jewelry, but not about their cost nor about their decorative qualities. Instead he told me their role in the Chaining he had performed. They would not end my possession, nor would they stop Sandrelessa from taking control; however, they would limit my body's use to her if she did. First the bracelets and anklets would tighten, causing my hands and feet to become useless. If that did not stop her then the choker would actually begin choking me until I passed out or died. Rather daunted by the role of the Durnst Chains, as he called them, I asked the purpose of the rings and diadem.
Smiling reassuringly at the worry he saw in my eyes, "Worry not child, Father Durnst does not want you in his son Aredente's halls. He will not be capricious in enacting the power of his Chains, but you and through you, the demoness, know what they can do and that will make her extremely cautious. However, neither Father Durnst nor his son Caling would see you at the mercy of the evil of others or unable to provide righteous protection to friends, for they know as you have learned that the world is not always a safe place. You and the demoness have leeway in what the two of you can do together, but it is limited and depends upon your being in control as you were with the mob. Understanding if you are within your leeway is the purpose of the gems in your rings. The stones of your four rings will begin to glow when she rises up from where ever she lurks within your soul, this is okay, it provides warning. However, if she takes control the stone on your forehead will begin to glow and the power of Durnst Chains is likely to become active."
That conversation taught me to fear my pretty chains. Actually it would be truer to say it confirmed my fear of the chains. I had felt their warmth, had tried to remove them from their resting places and remembered being unable to move arm or leg during the Chaining. It had been real, not a sham performed by a group of shysters, though I wished that it had been.
After talking to Master Bewlmon I was in no mood for further conversation, instead it was time to focus on food, drink and song. The specialty of the inn was a spiced, boar stew that was wondrous after the bland prison food upon which I had survived. And the wine, though heavily watered, made me slightly silly. It allowed me to sing, though everybody agreed that they could do without that torture. And it even allowed my niece Nicole to convince me to join her in a dance she had learned from her mother, whose dancing had been one of the things that had attracted Albert.
We would have partied late into the night but a bakery opens early and we planned to be on the road early in the morning. A round of good-byes were made and then interrupted when my mother decided that she needed to come to Glanlies with us in order to protect me. It took a great deal of convincing by myself, the mistress and even my father, but only after I promised to stop and visit for a longer period of time on my return trip was she willing to listen.
And so our pause in Corels, during our journey to Glanlies, came to an end. The next morning there was no unexpected surprise after we breakfasted and moved outside to the carriage, which had brought the magister and his assistant from Glanlies and which we would share on its return.
One would think that a carriage holding five people, we must not forget Mary, would be rather uncomfortable. But if one had ever spent much time in the prison cart, they would not have minded the ride at all. Admittedly there were periods of rocking and bouncing, since we travelled on a lesser road that led directly from Corels to Glanlies, rather than taking the Great Trade Road through North Fort, the path taken by the public coaches. But Priestess Ellisel informed us that the sedate pace at which we travelled made things much more comfortable then their hurried trip in the other direction.
Taking much of four days to make the trip, I came to appreciate the hurry in which they must have been travelling. Even more so, I appreciated the ride that Stork had made to seek assistance. So regularly during the trip I felt myself heaping thanks upon everyone. Stork lapped it up as a kitten did milk, after all he found it so much less work to have someone do his praising then doing it himself. Everybody else finally force me to stop, in fact the magister told me that he had not acted in a totally altruistic fashion, that a large part of his willingness to help was due to his guess that Inquisitor Deanile would be involved and his quest to prove to the world that she was an dangerous idiot.
Even though my thanks were minimized after awhile I found that, just as with the morning when Mary came to prepare me for the Chaining, my chatter would just not stop. Everyone showed great patience as they answered all my many questions or listened to me talk about nothing at all.
On the third day the road improved as we began to travel through the land that directly supported the city of Glanlies. It was very good earth, much of it either tilled for food crops or covered in orchards of fruits and olives. And the vines, they were everywhere. Mistress Deglace could talk about them endlessly as grape vines were the foundation of her families wealth and power. Based upon the number of great estates we passed, they were also the foundation of power and wealth for a number of other families. A day later, during one of these lectures on vines, grapes and wine that the carriage came to a gentle yet surprising stop.
When I tried to gawk past the mistress, being in my customary spot between her and Mary, to see what I could see out the window she said, "Why don't we get out and stretch our legs for a moment.
Always ready for some fresh air I nodded my head and followed the mistress, priestess and magister out the door with a helping hand from the lieutenant, whose troop had stayed with us. Wrapping her arms around one of mine, Mistress Elladoo led me to a rise not to far away and said, "Look Dra'e, you can see Glanlies."
-------------
So even though I was not able to start this part of my tale with the symmetry that would have been so smooth from my previous tale, I now feel that it works just as well to keep the symmety completely within this single writing. And it signals a good place at which to pause my story, as this installment has gone on for a much longer length than I had expected. Surprisingly, those who said that writing about my life would prove cathartic were more correct in this part than the first. I have never shared many of my dark thoughts from my time of imprisonment. I had always felt it would be an unfair burden to place upon my friends. So I thank you all for acting as the vessel in which I could pour some nasty memories.
For now I do not want to dwell any more in the past. It is time to take a break from the quill and the parchment. Instead I think I will spend some time living in the the current and dreaming about the future. Time to make a deal and earn some money, maybe even to visit my family or friends at Elladoo Post, since writing of them makes me feel their absence.
But I will be back, there is more of my story to be told. Also there is a contract with the Greater Asthelhorne House of Publishing that needs to be fulfilled. And I would not have any success as a merchant if I did not live up to my contracts.
Until then, enjoy yourself!
...to be continued...
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Adventures of a Merchant -3- Choices
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What happens when Drake first arrives in the City of Glanlies? Will Sandrelessa be banished once and for all? What will Drake wear and how will his hair be styled?
Adventures of a Merchant: Choices
by Arcie Emm
See Prior Adventures of a Merchant:
- The Start
- A Pause in Corels
...being continued...
Greetings once more friends. At the end of my last tale I mentioned that it was time for me to spend some time in the now and I took my own advice. After a stay in Corels to visit family, I continued on to Elladoo Post for my first visit in a number of year. As it always does, the visit served to remind me of who I am, for people who knew you when you were young often continue to see you as you were, as opposed to who you have become. Though this can be annoying when making those first steps into adulthood, it is relaxing when you are comfortable in yourself.
Comfortable as I have become in my skin, it was very relaxing. Allowing me to follow instead of leading, whether it was helping with paper work, assisting in inventory or even taking out a caravan to make the rounds of the nearby farmsteads.
Still escape can only last so long, at some point responsibilities will call you back. For me, that call occurred just over five weeks after I left Glanlies. The responsibility, that called, was not one I cherished. The Commission, who besides extracting fees, also expects members to provide labour. This labour is compensated at the appropriate clerk rate, but usually involves work no contractor would perform at such a sum. You can refuse a task, but everyone knew that without a good excuse the next work offered would be even worse. Enough refusals and you could lose your membership, which usually led to bankruptcy.
I did not have a good excuse, in fact with the project being at North Fort and my being at Elladoo Post it was completely logical for me to be assigned, no matter my dislike for the task. Thus I found myself travelling there to examine the books of the fort. And like every other time I have performed this task, I hated every minute of it. On the positive side, it made me quite ready to lock myself in a room away from everybody.
And that made it easier to write this next episode of my life, in which I found myself in the City of Glanlies for the first time.
Now the way that I talk about the place, it would be easy for you to assume that the City of Glanlies is some wondrous place. As beautiful as marbled Venwick, the capital of the Simolean Kingdom, and as majestic as far off Newlbourne in the Yasper Mountain range. Yet anybody who has ever been to the city knows that it is neither. Instead they will comment on how orderly it is or how clean or even regimented, meanwhile they will be thinking that the proper term is boring. At least that is what they will think if they are not of the peninsula, but to those of us who are it's children, the city is perfect. Yes it is all those things that others see, but that is the way we want it.
The city itself is located in the middle of a plain where the vine and farming lands are intersected by numerous streams, though most of the water for the city comes from deep wells. It is built entirely of stone from a near-by quarry, which gives each building a solidness, but also a likeness to each other. In fact many of the buildings are the same, long, three story structures used either for offices or for apartments. The only buildings that stand out as unique are the temples of the Gods and the manses of the wealthy.
At the centre of the city is Heart Park and spanning out from this centre are rings of buildings. The inner most ring holds the temples and churches of the eight gods and goddesses whose clergy had participated in my Chaining in Corels. These temples and the park existed long before the rest of the city, having first been built to service the land owners and farmers of the plain. However, those land owners did not stint, instead they poured great wealth into the creation of those temples and soon Glanlies became the spiritual hub of the peninsula, home to the major deity and seasonal festivals. These festivals soon became the meeting points for all the merchant families from across the peninsula and the four coastal centres who made up the Commission. This continued as the norm for over a century until the coastal city of Freenjie was raided by a force from Jewel, which resulted in the razing of the old Glanlies Trade Commission headquarters.
After much politicking by the land owners, a decision was finally made to build not just a new headquarters, but a new, inland city to serve as the capital. And so about 200 years before the writing of this tale, a project was started to implement Chief Architect Reginald Banskine's vision of the perfect capital for the Glanlies Peninsula, more specifically the Glanlies Trade Commission. And after 14 years (14 years, 3 months and 22 days to be exact) the project was complete. Since then little has changed about the city, it had been built to serve a purpose and it does it very well.
Therefore, what I saw when Mistress Elladoo had me step out of the carriage was little different than what I would have seen at any time since the birth of the city.
-------------------------
"It is smaller than I thought." I murmured while looking out at the walls of no-longer distant Glanlies.
"Aye Dra'e, smaller than any of the port cities, Glanlies has less than 20000 citizens. Nor does the Commission allow it to grow, for it was built with agreements that it would not be competition to towns that already existed. Instead it is a place of trade and administration."
"But don't many of the goods we sell come from here? Like the crap Bandleau pots and pans?"
"Aye Drake they do, but they are not made here. Instead they come from factories found in the towns and villages that dot these plains or from one of the other cities, even though they are distributed through Glanlies."
"So, is that what keeps the population down? In order to follow most trades, you have to leave Glanlies and go elsewhere?"
"Mostly. But some are drawn to adventure or change and move away on their own. Such as those who go out to establish outposts on the frontier." Mistress Elladoo added with a smile.
"Then you don't miss Glanlies? You don’t regret living out on the frontier?" I asked, with a familiarity that would have been unheard of not too long before.
"There are aspects and people that I miss. But they are outweighed by my life at the Post, where I feel I make a difference. Honestly I prefer life as Mistress of Elladoo Post to the role of a Deglace lady," she answered with equal candor.
"But when I am here, it is the second of those roles that I must play," she continued. "And I must warn you that being the dutiful daughter causes me some stress, so please forgive me if I am not myself. However, today I will spare you Esselde Deglace."
"Milady?" I asked in confusion, showing Mary’s influence was affecting more than my appearance..
"Yes, sadly it is back to milady for me. But let us ignore that for a moment while I tell you of my plan. And a plan is needed for I am unsure if my actions in Corels overstepped my authority. Therefore, I think it is best that I go alone to speak to my parents first."
"But it was me who caused the trouble, shouldn't I be there to take the blame?"
"Bah it was that horrid ensign and those dreadful Furigal people who were at fault. So don't worry about me, I am sure my family will be happy to see me and won't be overly harsh. I also think it would be good idea to let me fully tell your story before having you meet them; after all, it has been a rather unbelievable two months."
"Has it been that long?" I murmured in surprise, thinking back to that fateful meeting with Sandrelessa. It seemed both shorter and longer than two months. Shorter, for I had tried to convince myself that my state was temporary and something temporary cannot last for months. But also longer, as I had become rather comfortable in my girlish form, no longer distracted by long hair draping across face or entangled by long skirts. Strange no longer seemed strange, instead it was my past that had begun to seem unreal.
"Aye sweetie, it has been that long."
Standing in momentary silence, we each reflected on what had passed and tried to see what would come with the future. Yet for me, like for most, that vision showed nothing. Therefore, I focused on the present to ask, "Excuse me milady, but what am I to do while you go to your family?"
"The village of Fermere is on this side of the city's West gate. It has a number of inns used to house visitors to Glanlies, since such buildings are rare in the city and those that do exist are expensive beyond their worth. We will put you up in one of those, meanwhile I will head into the city and prepare my family."
After further assurances from Mistress Elladoo that she would be able to smooth out anything requiring smoothing out, though with warnings that it may take a few days, we once more boarded the coach and proceeded to Fermere. There, I learned that one of the troopers had been sent ahead to book rooms at Turin's Scales, an inn that the Deglace regularly used to house business partners visiting the Glanlies area. Soon after our arrival I watched the carriage and its escort continue on the way, though I was not alone. The mistress had placed me in Mary’s charge and under the protection of Jimi and Stork.
I am not sure what the trooper had told the Barton the innkeeper, but he treated me with more an unexpected degree of respect, calling me damsel and treating the others as my retainers. Uncomfortable with his respect, I knew not how to respond. Luckily Mary found it normal and spoke for our party.
In comparison, the other attention I received while passing through a nearly empty common room seemed almost normal. Nearly empty, the room contained four men at a single table whose attention was drawn in our direction, more specifically my direction. It was something that I had seen on the barge from Elladoo Post, at every inn in which we had spent a night during our trip from Corels and even from some of my captors in Corels. Still it was not yet something to which I had grown accustomed, even if I understood the cause.
I was rather exotic in appearance, tow-headed and pale in a land of dark hair and olive skin. Tall and slender, where voluptuous was the norm. And at the risk of sounding vain, I had spent enough time looking in a mirror to recognize that others spoke truth when calling me pretty. All this was before my Chaining, before I was bedecked in silver and sapphire jewelry. It was a given that people noticed me, the degree of their notice depended upon the individual. These four men were the type who were brazen in their stares, despite the glowers from my three protectors. Prior to my misadventures in Corels, such attention would have caused me to shrink away from their gazes, bowing my head and averting my eyes. However, that experience, involving my early self-condemnation, followed by victory over my persecutors, had burned away much of my shame and self doubt. So I did not seek to hide nor deny what I had become. Not that I had turned into some brazen hussy, casting smoky glances in the direction of any man. It was just that I gave the appearance of not noticing their looks.
Once through the common room, the innkeeper led us to a set of rooms. One would be shared by the two guardsmen, while Mary and I entered a suite, including an elegantly appointed sitting room, allowing the suite's inhabitants to host meetings or entertain their own guests. It seemed rather extravagant, combining this with the innkeeper’s manners led me to worry that there must have been some mix up concerning my status.
"How should the innkeeper have treated you Dra'e? A Deglace guardsman books the finest rooms in his inn for our company, which includes Stork and Jimi in their surcoats and myself so obviously a maidservant. And just as obvious, the three of us are serving as escort to you, who is young, beautiful and bedecked in a fortune of sapphires and silver. Of course he would see you as someone to treat with respect, which is what Mistress Deglace wanted."
"It is?"
"Aye. Better by far for people to see you in this light than to let their worries run ahead of their sense, as occurred in Corels."
It was hard to argue with the reasoning behind that argument. Much rather would I find myself in a lovely suite than in a dingy cell. So I said, "That’s makes sense, though I do not know if I will be able to play the proper role."
"No problem Dra'e, that is why Mistress Elladoo asked me to serve as your governess. It will be my job to help you play your part, which will require new clothing."
“What’s wrong with my clothes?”
Grinning a grin that scared the bejeebers out of me, she replied, “Oh what you are wearing is fine for travel, but everybody in the city will find it strange for a damsel wearing so much jewelry, not to be wearing newer and prettier dresses.”
Thus it was, that later in the day we found ourselves on the way to shop of a Mistress Fulert, Fermere’s premier dressmaker. I found myself concerned about where this would lead, Mary did tend to treat me as her dress-up doll, and so asked, "Excuse me Mary, but why are we getting me a new dress? It will be a waste of money after I am returned to myself."
"Well Dra'e, we do not know how long it will take for someone at the College to determine how to get you back to yourself. Therefore, Mistress Deglace feels you should have dresses so that you can better blend in, while you are in the city."
"But doesn’t it make more sense to go to a lesser quality dressmaker, one who will not charge Master prices for temporary garments?"
"Oh I am sure it does," Mary answered, not fooled in the least by my sudden logic. "But the mistress decided to spoil you until the change."
And that brought an end to the conversation, while proving that words are as malleable as a willow branch, both can be bent or shaped to form. What they become depends upon the crafter’s skill, while what is seen or heard depends upon the audience. Neither Mary nor myself needed to be overly attentive to understand the words crafted by the other. Mary realized that I did not want to go to the dressmakers, while I surmised that my opinion did not matter. Mary would be true to her earlier words, she was going to get me into prettier dresses.
It was with this understanding that the two of us found ourselves entering Mistress Fulert's shop, having left Jimi and Stork outside. Inside we were greeted by a young lady, most likely an apprentice, who let us know that her Mistress was just finishing with another customer. She then guided us to a small fitting room, where we were provided with tea for our wait. Not long after we had sat down the door once more opened to allow entry of the apprentice and an older lady, likely of an age with Mistress Elladoo. Based upon both her appearance and demeanor I guessed she was the mistress of the shop. This was proven true when she welcomed us, "Greeting gentlewomen, how may I assist you today?"
Having been warned earlier to say little, I let Mary take the lead, "Greetings Mistress, my charge is newly come to Glanlies and in need of proper dress for a maiden of her stature."
"Ah, by the sound of your voice, you are of Glanlies and yet you say your charge is not? What type of dress do you seek for her?"
"Actually we have multiple requirements today. Damsel Dra'e will need three different outfits for her visit to Glanlies. One should be day dress, for normal wear. Secondly, she will need a visiting dress, one appropriate for a temple or College visit. Lastly she will need a gown appropriate for an evening presentation to the Lord and Lady of the Deglace."
"The Deglaces," Mistress Fulert mused.
"Aye, Dra'e is in the care of Esselde Deglace who is home visiting her parents."
I saw that the name-dropping had the affect of placing the mistress in a better frame of mind about us, two scruffians from the North. It was my first witness of the magical balm that was an inner ring family's name, names able to soothe the ruffled feathers of any local. Mistress Fulert's smile immediately became more welcoming and her eyes more calculating.
“Do you have a particular style in mind for your charge Goodwife?”
“We will have to leave that to you Mistress Fulert, spending so much time in the North I cannot say what is appropriate. Though I do know that Dra'e would like something less drab than is appropriate on the frontier.”
“Very well, I am sure that we can come up with something to please you damsel. Now if you will disrobe, we can take your measurements.”
However, no sooner had the measurements begun then Mistress Fulert noticed the state of my boots. With my soft sole boots having been lost during my captivity in Corels and Mistress Elladoo's faire boots being reserved for special occasions, I once more wore my old boots. Comfortable and useful though they were, they were also ratty from use. With a grimace she stated, more than asked, "You will be after new footwear?"
"Why yes we are; however, we will have to find a cobbler," Mary answered.
"Fortunately Fermere has a number of skilled cobblers. If you wish, I can have one of my girls run out to see if one of them is available to assist you?"
"Thank you. That would be excellent."
With that, Mistress Fulert turned to her apprentice, "Liselle please ask Suzanne to run out and check with Master Lestage, since Nicholas knows what I like."
Returning to her measurements she quickly finished. Then she and Mary began a discussion about a colours, cloth, and price. During this I was distracted from listening in as Liselle was having me try on a number of pre-made robes and slippers, which I would need in order to use the inn's bath house. At least in this selection I was allowed to make the decision, ending up with a floor length grey one of amazingly soft wool with matching slippers.
After my choice, I was returned to my dress and we left the dressmaker with promises of a final fitting two mornings hence. Out on the street and feeling that my vow of silence was at an end I asked, "Mary, what am I going to end up wearing?"
"Don't worry Dra'e, you will look beautiful."
Well THAT was what I was worried about, yet no matter how much I whined or begged she would not give me any more information. Finally, as we were arriving at the small cobbler's shop, Mary reminded me that good girls should not question their elders. After all the my other indignities that I had experienced that day, I quit complaining and settled upon pouting.
We found Master Lestage to be as small as his shop and just as fastidious. Nor was he as impressed by the Deglace name or Mary’s determined efforts to describe the styles he was to make. Instead he appeared much more impressed by the fact that we came from Mistress Fulert's and put an end to Mary’s questioning when he said, “I know what Mistress Fulert likes, that is what I make. If you don’t want, you go elsewhere.”
With poor grace, Mary accepted. Though, on departure, she was much more willing to share her complaints than she had been to listen to mine. I, in turn, showed the proper way to deal with such complaints was commiseration, even if my lesson was lost on her. However, her complaints did end before we returned to the inn, for she left me in the care of our two guards while she went to perform some errands on her own. Meanwhile, with neither Jimi nor Stork willing to give into my pleas to explore, the three of us soon found ourselves back at the Scales where they deposited me in the sitting room of my suite. They then headed down to the common room while I was forced to find solace in one of the Annals, which were on a bookshelf.
The rest of the day involving a wonderful meal, a luxurious bath and a deep, long night’s sleep placed me in a rather good mood the next morning. During which I willingly sat while Mary experimented, upon me, with hair tongs heated with boiling water. The tongs’ purchase had been one of her prior day’s errands, resulting from the dressmaker recommending that my hair needed some curl. We were also joined by Stork and Jimi so that the three of them could tell me more of Glanlies and the members of the Deglace family. This task mainly fell upon Stork whose observations were tinged with humour and not nearly as blindingly loyal as Mary’s.
“Deglace is actually a Barony in South-Eastern Simolea, which has long been ruled by the family from whom our Deglaces sprung. The Glanlies branch was started by a fellow named Julion, the third son of the Baron who decided to seek his fame and fortune in the newly colonized port of Senlil. Now Julion was smarter than your average Simolean noble and was successful even though many considered the colony a failure. Therefore, while most returned home, he stayed and continued to prosper. He was also fortunate in the heirs he begat, so by the time Glanlies was built the family was a power on the peninsula, which continues to this very day.
“Yet they have never been a large family, having been known for marrying children off to establish and solidify contacts in the Kingdom. Their numbers were even further diminished by plague during the mistress’ Great-Grandfather’s time. After that plague, the family consolidated their presence in three main areas; their centre is still to be found in Glanlies, but they also maintain a strong presence at their country estate and in Senlil, for it is wine and shipping that provides the foundation of their wealth. I tell you all this so you won’t feel short changed when I describe and you meet only a small number of their herd.”
“Teodore Walcom, you will show proper respect towards your employers,” Mary admonished.
“Teodore?” I asked.
“Shh Drake, Teddy doesn’t like to be called that,” Jimi laughed.
“Shut your mouth James.”
“Be good all of you, Stork please continue with your description. However, you will do well to remember of whom you speak.”
“Aye Mary, sorry about that. I will try to hold my tongue in check.”
“See that you do.”
Stork then spent the next glass, with frequent interruptions from Mary and less frequent from Jimi, identifying the Deglaces who I may meet in Glanlies. Starting with the mistress’ parents; Master Dilen who was the head of the family, having assumed the position three years previously when his father passed away, and Madame Celise who had been born a Halston, which was another of the inner ring families. Then there were Mistress Elladoo's siblings, of whom only Anna her father’s heir and Julion the youngest would likely to be in the City. Georges, the second oldest was in charge of trading the family’s wine, outside of the peninsula and Deanne who had married a business partner’s son on the mainland were less often at home. Beyond the immediate family was Nilson, Dilen’s younger brother and right hand man, and his family. There was also Torsen, Dilen and Nilson’s uncle, though of an age between the two. Apparently Torsen was a bit of a black-sheep being more interested in adventure than trade, much to Mary’s disapproval. Beyond these main players were a number of cousins, wives, children and chosen who were key to the overall operation of the family business.
From discussions of the Deglaces we moved onto talking about the families of my three guardians, which lead to a significant amount of embarrassment on my part when I realized how little I knew about those who were my friends. I felt particularly bad to learn that Mary’s children were still in Glanlies and that but for looking after me she would be visiting them. Finally it was necessary for her to ease my mind when she told me that they were all grown up and that she would see them soon enough. As for Stork and Jimi, they were both from the Deglace country estate. Stork came from a large family, while Jimi was an only child whose parents had died when he was young after which he had grown up in the general care of everyone, the Walcoms in particular.
After that we discussed anything that could distract us from our worries that no word had come from Mistress Elladoo. All in all it turned out to be a very interesting day, linking us, one to the other more strongly than we had been before. Still, when we received a note later that afternoon from the mistress, saying that all was well, there was a general sense of relief. It allowed me to have a nice evening and another good sleep in preparation for what may happen on the morrow.
-------------------------
After two full nights of wondrous sleep I had awoken with the belief that it would be the day when something happened, that the chapter where I returned to myself would begin. However, my morning seemed to push me even further in the direction my life had recently taken.
First we returned to Master Lestage’s shop to pick up my new boots and a pair of shoes. The boots were made from the softest leather I had ever felt and dyed a shiny black. Still it was the fit that showed they were made by a master-craftsman, for they gently hugged my foot and calf when the leather laces were tightened. Their grasp was almost magical, promising nary a blister. While the shoes were made of a white-with-blue-flower brocade that I guessed would match one of my new dresses. Both would have been perfect if not for having heels narrow and tall enough for me to almost wrap my hand around. My exasperation at the man was equal to Mary’s two days previous, but so was his pigheadedness. And like with her, he prevailed against me.
From there we moved onto Mistress Fulert's shop for final fittings. Quickly we found that the height of the heels were expected and so included in the length of the skirts. Therefore, after undressing from dress and shift I soon found myself once more putting on the boots, though over a pair of wondrous, new, silken, knee length stockings held up by lace covered garters. Once shod, the fittings started, as I tried on the three beautiful dresses. After a few final adjustments were made by Mistress Fulert, Mary chose the light grey day dress for me to wear out of the shop.
The dress was mostly made of the same cloth from which his new robe had been made. Because of this and its bone stays it was rather form fitting, molding to my torso right up to a lace edged square cut neck and three quarters the way down my arms to end in similar lace. The tight fit even continued passed my hips, behind and upper thighs before the skirts widened to allow steps already shortened by my new boots. I was unsure about how much the dress showed off my figure, though when I voiced this concern Mistress Fulert proudly assured me that such was her goal when making the dress. Easy for her to say, she did not have to wear the dress or try and laugh off Jimi and Stork’s expressions or the stares from others. Those stares made me doubt the mistress and Mary’s plan to have me fit in, it also ensured my desire to explore, from two days previous, did not flare up again. No convincing was needed to get me back to the inn this time.
It was as if the Deglaces had someone watching us, for not long after we returned, there was a knock on our door. At the time Mary had me walking about the room getting used to my new boots and skirts, even though they had not proved overly difficult on our walk back from the dressmaker’s shop. Moving about my room it came to me that one thing I would miss when returned to myself, was how fit this body had proven to be. Even with garments that confined, I still felt lighter of foot than I had been while clomping about in my pants and shirts.
Guessing the knock was one of the inn’s staff, Mary gestured for me to continue as she moved to answer the door. Hearing an unrecognized voice and Mary’s respectful welcome, I turned to see a young man in a Deglace surcoat. A messenger was my first thought, though my second glance measured the quality of his clothes and made me doubt my initial impression.
Inviting the man in, Mary closed the door and gestured for me to approach, “Milord, may I present Dra'e of Elladoo Post. Dra'e, Lord Julion Deglace.”
Showing my training had paid off, I immediately sank into a curtsy, as deep as my new skirts allowed, with a murmured, “Milord.”
However, my reaction to his accent was purely instinct. It froze in my curtsy, not allowing to recognize the smile behind his words, when I said, “Nice choice Sister mine.”
Fortunately Mary came to my defense and in a voice holding exasperation, she admonished, “Master Julion!”
“My apologies Mary, and to you Dra'e. Or do you prefer Drake?”
Though Mary was my rock and I knew her preference, this was a moment in which to regain some of myself, “Drake Milord, I prefer Drake.”
“Very well, Drake it is. Now why don’t the three of us take a seat so I can update on what has happened while you have vacationed here in Fermere.”
Seated, Julion began to speak, “Before your journey South, Esselde sent a letter briefly explaining what had happened during the attack by Darrel the Roamer. Good thing she did, for when Stork showed up with his fanciful story, he was not locked up with the crazy cousins. Therefore, Father willingly sent the troop and requested the assistance of Magister Bewlmon. That done we waited for further word, word that did not reach us until Esselde arrived two days ago. Now that was a mistake. Esselde really should have let us know when things had been resolved in Corels. Mother does not take kindly to worry and when she learned her worry had been needless, she became rather annoyed with Esselde.”
Having recently suffered similar rebuke from my mother, for much the same reasons, my sympathies definitely lay with Mistress Elladoo. So I tried to come to her defense, “But none of us thought to send such a message.”
“Well it was not for any of you to send the message. It was Esselde who was in charge and she is the one who knows Mother the best, after all they are basically the same person.”
At this Mary nodded her head, “Aye the madame and the mistress are as alike as two blades of grass.”
“The two of them are full of the Halston fire, which is difficult to deal with, for us plain old Deglaces. And when one sparks, the second often serves as tinder resulting in a fierce blaze. Two nights ago there was a fire to melt the walls, Mother demanding explanations for every step your party took and Esselde unwilling to offer them. Why I honestly expected their screeching to wake Grandfather Larmir from the dead.”
Hearing the glee in Julion’s explanation resulted in my feeling a spirit of kinship with him. After all, I too found a significant, little brother pleasure from my own Mother’s battles with my sister June, who were also as alike as two blades of grass. With this recognition, I began to feel less wary of Julion, even if he did sound like Darrel and Colonel Vannigan.
“Well happily before either said something regrettable, something whose hurt could not easily be repaired, Father stepped in to end the fight. He has great skill at this, being a master of the compromise, at least once he determines upon what the compromise should be based. In this case, he determined that it was you Drake who was the point of conflict.”
“Me?”
“Yes you. See everybody knew that Esselde would, rightfully, if I may say, spend the majority of her time ensuring that you are able to get back to being the you that you wish to be. My, wasn’t that a pretty piece of wordplay?”
“Umm...yes?”
“Of course it was, though I can see by the look on your face that you find it of little interest. Understandable after being informed that you are the chaff between the grinding stones that are my mother and sister.”
“Please Master Julion,” Mary interrupted. “Could you tell us of Master Dilen’s compromise? Dra'e is nervous enough, without having to bear the additional burden you attribute to her.”
With a seated bow in Mary’s direction, Julion apologized, “I am sorry Drake, I am easily distracted by my own voice and cleverness. ‘Tis a fault that Father believes I must correct. But enough of that, let us return to the compromise of which I had begun to speak. Father quickly guessed that Mother was actually worried that she would get no time to spend with Esselde during this rare visit. Understanding this, Father convinced my sister to spend most of her time during her visit at home with the family.”
“That is understandable, if someone can offer me directions I can look after myself,” I replied, though my bravado was as rickety as an abandoned barn. The truth was, though Mary provided most of my day to day support, it was Mistress Elladoo upon whom I had attached my hopes.
“Drake, I would have thought you had more faith in my sister, what type of sad compromise would that be? No she made sure that you will not be on your own, that you would have a chaperon to guide and assist you. Now the obvious choice would be the estimable Mary, but that would be unfair as she too deserves a chance to spend time with her family. Therefore, they settled upon the next best choice. Drake of Elladoo Post, I would like to offer my services as that guide.”
The offer was accompanied by a manic grin that did little to instill me with confidence. Yet how could I not accept the help, without insulting my matron and the family by whom I wished to be chosen? I could not. Still that did not mean that it was not my duty to offer an out, “I appreciate your offer Milord, but I am sure you are busy enough without having to trouble yourself with me.”
In turn, it was Julion’s duty to ignore that out, “Not to worry Drake, I am not bothered. Well at least I am no longer bothered, as I am sure that being seen in your lovely presence will do my ego an unmeasurable amount of good.”
Unsure how to deal with his flattery, I ignored it, except for a blush, and said, “Thank you Milord, I am honoured by your offer.”
“I also admit that I am extremely curious about the entire affair. I mean not to slight your situation, but it is rather amazing. So I would have been pleased to assist even if Father had not assigned me this task, he also bade me judge your worth to be a Deglace chosen.”
Thus I was reminded that care should be taken in measuring a person too quickly, since their actions or words may hide who they are. Such was the case with Julion, for despite his foolhardy air he was a scion of his family, which was as powerful as any on the peninsula. If he was as competent as his sister then he would be quite formidable and his next comments made that seem very possible.
“Well this all happened on the day and night of Esselde’s return, which likely makes you wonder why it is only today that I came to visit. It is not because we do not see you as a priority, let me assure you of that. No it is the result of me diligently taking yesterday to prepare for our task. First I needed to contact Hiram’s cousin, Sharlese, at the College to ensure that she would be able to meet with you. She will, tomorrow morning. However, she also asked if she could discuss your case with Magister Bewlmon, which resulted in my setting up and hosting a dinner between the two of them. A fascinating night, even if I had no idea what they were talking about most of the time. Then there is the Militia.”
“The Militia,” I exclaimed, not thrilled to hear that they still had an interest in my life.
“Yes the Militia. Their investigative branch has been looking into Hiram’s report about the attack on his Post. They are interested in what you overheard from Darrel, about him having a contact who was intercepting messages. They wish to ask you about this. Now we know that your experiences with the Militia in Corels was very negative; however, Father is rather concerned by this breach in the Commission’s communications and would take it as a personal favour if you were to talk to them?”
“I agree Milord. As someone who lives on the frontier and who has used that mode of communication, I am sold on its benefits. Therefore, I am willing to assist the Militia.”
“You are? Most excellent, Esselde did say that you would be quite reasonable in this request. In fact she convinced me to set up an appointment with the investigators tomorrow afternoon. So I guess that ends my update, do you have any questions?”
Mary and I looked questioningly at each other, wondering who should pose the obvious query. When she made no move to do so, I asked, “Yes Milord, what are we to do today?”
Laughing, he replied, “Of course, what other question could you ask? Well Esselde said that you would be seeking new frocks, as you had been forced into her hand-me-downs. Now unless her fashion sense outstrips that of the city, I would guess that you have been successful.”
“Yes, she has Milord,” Mary answered.
“I thought so. And let me say, you do look most delectable. However, since you have fulfilled your frock quest, do you have any other tasks keeping you in Fermere?”
“No Milord, we are waiting upon Milady Deglace’s orders.”
“Very well, then why don’t you pack up and we will move Drake into the family house in town. It will also allow you to visit your family, Mary. Sound good?”
“Yes Milord,” the two of us chorused.
“Okay, while you pack up I will go settle the bills. Who was the dressmaker?”
“Misha Fulert, Dra'e also had new boots made by Master Lestage.”
“Ahh, did he get you into some of those stilts that are all the rage?” At my nod he smiled and continued, “Just another reason for me to stick close, as you will need someone to catch you if you fall. Well I should be back in a half-turn, then we can head into town and introduce you to the rest of the clan.”
With that he was out of the door. Rather stunned by the whole visit I looked questioningly towards Mary, who answered with a shrug, “That’s Master Julion for you.”
-------------------------
True to his word, a short while later Julion had Mary and me in a carriage heading into Glanlies, he, Jimi and Stork riding beside us on their horses. I would like to tell you my thoughts as we passed through the gates into the city; however, everything was a blur, worried as I was about meeting the rest of the Deglaces. If I had my druthers, it would not occur so soon after learning that I was a point of conflict amongst them. Yet in the end my worries were for naught, as despite Julion’s proposed introductions I did not meet any more of the Deglaces on that day. Instead, after being ensconced in rooms nice than those at the Scales, I was left alone.
Even Mary saw this as an opportunity to escape to visit her sons and daughters. Meanwhile I looked forward to spending the afternoon truly alone, peacefully alone, something rare since my girlification. Now, you may say that I spent quite a bit of time alone in Corels, but I would respond that it definitely was not peaceful. However, my plan was not to be, for soon after Mary left there was a knock on my door signifying Julion’s return.
“Excuse me Drake while I was out a message arrived from Archmage Sharlese, she asked if we would be able to visit a friend of hers this afternoon?”
“I suppose so Milord, I do not have anything else planned. Do I?”
“Nothing of which I am aware.”
“Then I am free, who does she wish me to visit?”
“It is the Priestess Alynn, she is a Physician of Sera. The Archmage would the physician to examine you, before she begins her own work. Luckily we have lots of time to pop over to the Sanctuary and see the priestess before eve. Shall we?”
‘Luckily’ was not how I would describe it, guessing that the exam may prove to be rather embarrassing. But if the Archmage requested it and she felt it necessary to return me to myself, I would just have to endure. “Of course Milord, I would be happy to visit the priestess.”
“That is excellent. But there is one other matter we must discuss before we go.”
Wondering at the seriousness of his tone, I cautiously queried, “What matter is that Milord?”
“Well it’s my name. You see it is Julion, not Milord.”
“But I couldn’t call you that Milord, it wouldn’t be right.”
“Don’t worry about it Drake, none of my friends go by their titles. Titles are reserved for our parents. Really you must call me Julion, otherwise everybody will think I am putting on airs.”
“I don’t know? I am a nobody.”
“Not looking the way you do.”
“Are you sure it is all right?”
With a smiling leer on his face and with his eyes no longer looking me in the eyes, Julion intentionally mistook my question, “Oh you definitely look all right, much more than all right. In fact I was not nearly as effusive as I should have been when praising Mary for wrapping you in that wonderful frock.”
Unbothered by his flirting, having guessed that it was natural for Julion, I decided to give in to his request, “Okay, I will call you Julion.”
With a smile, he stated, “Excellent.”
He then offered me his arm. Surprising myself, I took it and allowed him to guide me outdoors where we found a cabriolet we could take to Sera’s Sanctuary. Unlike earlier, during this ride I paid attention to my surroundings. What struck me the most was that it did not seem like we were in a city, at least nothing like my birthplace of Corels.
Not that the inner ring or temple square and its park accurately reflected the city, no this was the showcase where visitors were awed by the wealth of the Commission. Streets and paths were of packed, white stone, which was carefully groomed and maintained to provide a ride smoother than the cobblestones we had traveled earlier in the day. And where there were no paths, there was grass or flower beds or benches, each as carefully maintained as the streets. All of this surrounded great mansions and even more spectacular temples and churches.
It was exciting and Julion was wise enough not to encroach upon my wonder with idle chatter. Instead he periodically offered a smile to me as we moved passed the Chapel of Turin, then the Temple of the Allfather, before coming to a stop in front of Sera’s Sanctuary.
Leaving the cart with a caretaker in the robe of Sera we entered a great hall adorned with as much plant-life as any outdoor garden. Taken aback by the calming nature of, well, nature, I did not notice the approach of an under-priestess until Julion jostled my arm and said, “We are to follow.”
Follow we did, out of the main hall and down into a veritable maze leading finally to a door where the under-priestess stopped and knocked. Inside was an office full of books and with a desk behind which sat a full priestess of Sera, in the same straw gold robe as worn by she who had attended my Chaining. Nor was it just their robes that made them alike, each was of similar age, demeanor and appearance. Almost as if they were sisters of blood, not just of faith. However, the priestess in Corels had not emitted the power that I had come to associate with a magic users, this one did. The aura was of similar intensity to Magister Bewlmon’s, but of a different feel. While the Allfather’s power seemed to reflect knowledge, the Allmother’s was one of soothing. Not that the demeanor of the priestess reflected this calming influence.
Rising to offer greeting, she spoke to our guide, “Vera, please take Master Deglace back to the foyer, I would like to see the damsel alone.”
For someone whom I had just met, I was loathe to lose Julion’s support. However, the priestess’ reason for his banishment was explained when she commanded me to undress. With little hesitation, I was growing used to others seeing my body, I complied. Not that it would have been as quick if I had been aware of how Priestess Alynn would poke and prod me. It seemed she found my existence insulting, being beyond her ken, finding it hard to believe that I had once been a boy. She even described me by saying, “You are as healthy as a girl your age can be. Your maidenhead is intact and you should be bursting with fertility, yet it is as if you are fallow. How long have you been in this form.”
“Just over two months Priestess.”
“And have you bled?”
“Pardon?”
“Surely you know of a woman’s bleeding?”
I did, though my knowledge was cursory at best, “No Ma'am, I have not bled.”
“You should have bled by this time, your body begs for it. Why has it not happened?”
Though not a question for which she expected an answer, I had a theory, “Excuse me Priestess, Magister Bewlmon believes that the defense spell that protected me during the demoness’ attack continues to operate, though now he thinks it protects me from the passage of time. So maybe my body does not yet think it is time to bleed.”
“Magister Bewlmon you say? He always does have crazy ideas, though I admit I do not have a better explanation at this time. I will have to pray on it. Mayhap the Lady will offer me wisdom. But for now my examination is at an end, let me attach your anti-fertility charm and then you can get dressed?”
“My what?”
“Your anti-fertility charm. We don’t want you getting pregnant.”
“But...I can’t...and...I won’t,” I gasped.
“Well I don’t think you can either, not that I understand why. And what I don’t understand, I don’t trust; therefore, we will stick to what works. As for you not getting pregnant, you are a pretty young girl and I saw the way that young man looked at you. Honestly I don’t trust you or any girl your age around such temptation, specially the sort that dress in a manner to please the Lady’s silly daughter. No I know what is best for you.”
None of my pleas or reasonings budged her decision, no more than had similar words affected Master Lestage. I found myself thinking these Glanlies’ folk were rather full of themselves as she pierced my navel with a gold ring from which dangled a small, golden charm in the shape of a sickle.
When done, I could not escape from the woman fast enough, even though the throb from her piercing served as a steady reminder. Its presence and her words forced me to look rather differently at Julion, when I was returned to his side. Apparently sensing my hidden thoughts, he did not pry or question me on what occurred, nor did he offer me his arm as we returned to our cabriolet. Instead he provided silent companionship that I willingly accepted. Nor did he extend our visit or attempt introductions when we returned to his home, instead allowing me to seek my delayed solitude. Now needed even more after my visit to Sera’s Sanctuary.
Back in my room I tried to confront the feelings brought about by Priestess Alynn. I knew she saw me as female first, demon plagued second, whereas I thought the opposite. To the priestess I was a girl on the brink of womanhood. Ready to be pursued by men, wedded to one and bedded by him. She expected me to be catchable, assumed that I would want to be caught and so she had sought to protect me from myself. And hidden within her actions I read a belief, that she had not spoken, she fully expected me to stay a girl. This fed a niggling thought lurking in the back of my mind, ‘If Magister Bewlmon, an expert in demon possession, did not understand what had happened to me, then how would know how to break it?’
Rubbing a hand across my stomach I could barely feel the charm beneath my dress, yet its presence loomed large in my mind forcing me to asked myself what it mean to be a woman? It was a difficult question for a fifteen year old boy, even for one masquerading as a girl. Yet would it be easier for a fifteen year old girl? After all, I had not yet determined what it meant to be a man.
Maybe a girl would not be as confused by this body, as she would flower out of childhood over years not in a single sleep. Possibly a girl’s mother or sisters or friends would do a better job of explaining what in meant to be a woman than had my father and brother and friends in telling me about being a man. Actually I doubted that they could have done a worse job, for the only stories and lessons, mostly passed on by those with whom I shared the bachelor quarters at the Post, were recognizable as lies or exaggerations. As often as not they were warnings of what not to do hidden behind laughter or personal glorification. As for any wisdom they had about women, let me just say that it would take many drops upon my head for me to believe anything they had said.
Yet the advice I had from women was non-existent, for the little contact I had with them had not involved teaching me what it meant to be a woman. Instead the lessons with Clara and the mistress had been on trade and math, the only knowledge of women I gained during those times was how unobtainable both of them were for one such as I. Although at least they had not ignored me like the rest of the womenfolk at the Post, specially those close to my age.
Anything I knew of women was what I had learned in the last two months, surface things, little of substance. My knowledge was akin to having learned the curses, yet being expected to speak a language. There were so many questions to be asked and answers to be found that I fervently hoped my niggling thought would be proven false.
As for the charm and what it implied, I vowed to prove to Priestess Alynn that it was unnecessary. Sure, I had found myself liking Julion, he seemed fun to be around and was someone worthy of emulation. But he did not set my heart aflutter as did Filice of the glossy black hair and fiery eyes, the daughter of a Roamer whose caravan often stopped to trade at Elladoo Post. When I was near her I was struck dumb and breathless. Neither Julion, nor any other man, affected me in such a way. Nor did I think that I would dream of him as I dreamed of her.
Nor did I, instead my thoughts were of Sophie, the pretty maidservant who had assisted my preparations for bed, helping me out of my dress and into a new, lovely, muslin night-gown. She had left me tongue-tied with her gentle touch and flowery smell as she loosely braided my hair and stuffed it underneath a night cap. Thoughts of her were enough to fill my dreams with...
...actually I think I will keep them to myself. Instead let me share my last waking question, ‘What would the magic that healed my wounds do to my new piercing?”
-------------------------
The next morning once more found Sophie helping me, as I learned she had been assigned to look after me while Mary visited her family. She bustled into my room with good cheer not long after I had awoken and found that the Goddess’ healing must have negated the need for my own magical healing, for the ring through my navel felt the same as it had the night before. Also unchanged was my reaction to Sophie, which allowed her to get away with petty tyrannies easier than would have Mary. Not that I am saying Mary would not get her way, she just would have had to put up with my complaining.
For Sophie I remained silent and let her do to me what she would. It started with the jars of cosmetics that Mary had purchased in Corels, with which she was not at all impressed. Not that it stopped her from dipping in to use them, while mumbling under her breath a list of items she would have to find in the market that day. She was happier with our purchases from Fermere and was most entranced by my chains, the jewelry aspect of them. She felt that they were rather spectacular and should be on display, not hidden. Personally I had felt that this was already the case, but soon learned they could be put on even greater display.
For a start Sophie had use a long ribbon, made from the blue, satin cloth of my new visiting dresses, to tie my hair into a pony tail which hung well down my back. As a result, my hair was pulled away from my face, allowing the sapphire at my brow and the silver filigree of the diadem to be fully seen. Strangely I was less bothered by this than the fancy bow and dangling ribbon tied in my hair. It just seemed extremely girlish. I may have said something, if not for Sophie praising the result.
Gods, I was so weak.
With the ribbon chosen, I was not surprised to see her choose the visiting dress for me to wear. It was not only the satin that made it a fancier dress than the grey one, there was all the lace. At the hems, on the boned bodice and providing additional, minimum protection for a rather low cut neckline, even the short sleeves Sophie tied to the dresses shoulder straps were completely made of lace. Looking in a long mirror at the end result caused me to feel a number of different emotions and not all of those were bad.
From my room, I was led to a small dining room where I found Mistress Esselde and Julion breakfasting. After the mistress gushed over my appearance, made me spin in a circle and called me adorable. As I sat, my masculinity retreated even further into the dark recesses of my mind, ending up somewhere near memories of a cat named Socks, who had lived in the bakery when I was a little boy. Happily I was soon distracted by sharing news with the mistress. After telling my story from the last three days, the mistress passed on the news that she had received a missive from Master Elladoo. It told of his success in negotiating a deal with Chief Many Song and outlined a number of jobs to be completed by someone in the city.
To the three of us, this news was exciting enough to keep us entertained throughout breakfast. Apparently Clara, whose wagon train of furs had made it to the city, was to be in charge of hiring the work crews to build a post somewhat smaller than Elladoo Post. She was also to set up contracts for merchandise to be sold at what was to become, Many Song Post. I hoped that I would be given the chance to assist her, it would be an excellent training.
Our enjoyable conversation was brought to an end when Julion said we needed to head out to our meetings. Again we used the cabriolet, this time to head into the city and towards the College of Mages to the Southwest. This trip Julion found me both less awed and less pensive, allowing him to entertain me with stories about the city and his friends, most of which ended with me laughing. It was fun and I did not even mind where his eyes would dart during my laughter, as I would have been no different, well except for the stretch required to see me with a girl wearing the type of dress I was wearing and being able to make her laugh.
The College, beyond its size and location, did not particularly stand out amongst the other buildings, as it was made from stone, out of the same quarries, that had been used to build most of the city. It was a twin, according to Julion, to the Commission and Militia headquarters.
However, once inside I found it was not like any other building. Not because of the tasteful decor, but because of the people, the mages. They were all over the place and each emitted power, great or small, of different feels or textures or smells or sounds. It was like walking into my parent’s bakery and having the wonderful aroma encompass me. Yet what I experienced in the College’s lobby affected every one of my senses, nor was all that assailed me wonderful. In its entirety it was overwhelming and it stopped me, frozen in my tracks.
Julion, noticing something, turned to me to ask what was wrong. And though I saw his lips move, the sound came as if from far away or drowned beneath a rushing river crashing over a falls.
How long we stood there, I do not know. Probably it was not long, for others began to notice and turned their gazes in our direction. Some looked on with idle curiosity, wondering what was wrong with the pretty girl and her well dressed companion. Others, more learned, saw what rested on my forehead and understood that I was more unique than in just my appearance. Some shrank away, but most looked on with curiosity, for most of them would be familiar with the demon world and demon kind. They saw me as an interesting bauble and some began to cast spells of inquiry that quested towards me, like numerous curious snakes.
This was much too much. I wanted too flee or hide, yet my feet were unwilling to take me anywhere. Instead, like a child, I scrunched my eyes closed and clapped hands over my ears. Not that it helped. Only when Julion scooped me up and carried me from the College to a stone bench, at the bottom of the College’s steps, was I able to gain relief from the assault.
Thankfully the curious stayed inside and let me regain my wits as I sat crouched over, rocking back and forth, glorying in the regular sounds, sights and smells of the street. I barely noticed Julion rubbing my back and murmuring words of encouragement, though I drew strength and comfort from both. Beginning to feel normal, I became aware of approaching footsteps and saw the hem of a burgundy coloured robe enter into my view. From the direction of the approach I could tell that the figure had approached from the College, the gleam of power glowing the same colour as the wearer’s robe confirmed that the person was one of its members.
Still one person, or a handful of people who had the power, even great power, was manageable. Therefore, I raised my tear-stained face to see an older lady looking at me with a curiosity similar to many of her colleagues. Seeing she had my attention, she introduced herself, “I assume you are the Drake of whom I have heard, both from my cousin Hiram and your companion, Master Deglace. I am the Archmage Sharlese.”
“Aye Archmage, I am Drake. I thank you for seeing me, though I apologize for making you come outside for that to happen.”
“It is alright Drake. I was looking forward to your visit and am now even more intrigued. You really must tell me what happened.”
“I am not sure how to explain it Archmage, it is...”
“Wait Drake, the street is not the best location for such a conversation.”
“Oh please Ma'am, please. I cannot go inside. Please no.”
“Relax child, I do not ask you to go inside. Instead let us go around back, where we can find privacy in the gardens.”
With this assurance,I allowed Julion to be help me to my feet and then with each upon a side, as I still was not that steady, we circled behind the building to find the garden. One not of plants and flowers as expected, but of stones and statues. Moving to a pair of benches beneath a canvas cover the three of us took a seat, she then asked, “If you are willing, I would involve one of my colleagues in our discussion. He is Overmage Tison and has done much study of the Carthanan demons.”
I saw no reason not to grant the request, so I nodded my head at which point I noticed her concentrate for a moment and then flare brightly for an instant, like the aftermath of a lightning bolt strike. I guessed she had cast a communication spell of some sort and thus was not surprised with the arrival of a man in his thirties wearing a robe of umber, the same colour as the power that surrounded him. A handsome man, who looked like he had spent more time on his appearance than I had been forced to endure that morning. This thought made me think of Magister Bewlmon, though it was a comparison the man lost.
After introducing the man as Overmage Tison, the Archmage began her interview, “Please ignore my prior question about what happened in the foyer. Instead tell me everything from the start. I have heard some from Magister Bewlmon and Priestess Alynn, but would hear of it from you, personally.”
It was becoming easier to tell, having told it so many times already. Plus Archmage Sharlese was a good listener and did not make me focus on my time in the bandit camp, saying it would provide little value as I was not in control at the time. Instead she focused on my experience with the mob in Corels and how I held been able to channel, yet keep, Sandrelessa at bay. With my story told she reacted like everyone else and settled back into thought.
“And you believe that these two times are the only periods when the demoness has made her presence felt?”
“As far as I know, Archmage.”
“Has your personality changed in any way?”
“I do not believe so, though of course everything is different, what with my being changed into a girl.”
“Yes I guess that would change things rather much. However, please forgive me for saying, if I did not know the truth, I would never guess that you had recently been a boy.”
I struggled to be insulted by this statement, but was unable to kindle any anger. Things were becoming too normal, expected, rather than surprising. “I am not insulted Ma'am, even though I feel I should be. But what has happened to my body has never been as bad as what lurks inside of it. It may even have kept people close. Because, if I had been turned into some horrid monster, my friends may have turned upon me, maybe I would never have even woken from that first sleep.”
“So how you no look bothers less than the possession?”
“Most definitely. It is like when someone has their nose broken, you see.”
“Actually I don’t.”
“Oh sorry. Well you know how when your nose broken you also get black eyes. Yeah the black eyes are annoying and all, but the broken nose is worse. And by the time the nose is healed, so are the eyes.”
“So being turned into a woman is the black eye to the broken nose of demon possession?” she asked, rather incredulously.
Even while nodding my head, I understood the tone of her question, for it was an explanation that barely passed muster for my fifteen year old mind. I am now willing to admit that it was crap and she had every right to be incredulous, but at the time it just popped into my head and burst out of my mouth.
Deciding to ignore my explanation, she returned to what had led to it. “Still it is surprising that you are so natural.”
“It’s likely because of Mary, Mistress Elladoo's maidservant. She has been looking after and teaching me things.”
Looking towards my companion at the end of my explanation, the Archmage asked, “Why do you shake your head Master Deglace?”
“Sorry Drake, but I am sure that Mary did not teach you to move as you do. Now don’t take this as a complaint against a valued family retainer, but she has been with Esselde for years and my sister still stomps around like a dockworker. Not you, you glide, even in those boots I know you are wearing. Any mother would be thrilled to have a daughter move with your grace. No actually, you sway in a fashion more appealing to us menfolk than to a mother. Now that I give it more thought, you walk like a dancer.”
“Thank you for your expert opinion Master Deglace,” Archmage Sharlese answered in a tone that implied, that if needed, she would side with the mothers of the world against the Julions of the world.
Unabashed by the tone, Julion turned a leer in my direction and said, “Glad to offer it Archmage Sharlese. And don’t worry I will maintain a close study on Drake to see what else I can notice.”
Showing how quickly I had gotten used to Julion, moving him from respected member of a powerful family to friend, I rolled my eyes at him. Smiling at this he taunted in a completely non-insulting way, “You are such a girl.”
Ignoring our byplay Overmage Tison spoke for the first time, “Actually Master Deglace, you may be on to something.”
“Really?” Julion asked, seemingly shocked by the very idea.
“Aye. See Sandrelessa is not unknown to the College, she has been one of the few Carthanans to regularly come to the call of our members. Much has been written about her, most that she has spoken is thought to be lies, but there have been some speculation about her. One such thought is that she is so interested in our world, because she has so very little power in her own. A worthy guess, for we have learned that amongst the Carthanans their women are treated as chattel. This fits with tales of her being a concubine and then consort to a fallen prince amongst her kind. After his fall, it is believed she was taken slave by the victor, ever since she has been known as Sandrelessa the Lithe. Maybe she was a dancer, it may explain why Drake moves in the fashion Master Deglace noticed.”
“Wait. Are you saying that Sandrelessa is controlling me? That’s horrible, what else is she making me do?”
“No I do not say that. I just surmise a possible explanation to Master Deglace’s observation. It may just be that you or your new body have inherent grace. But I cannot say, nothing about what has happened to you makes sense.”
There it was. A statement, from an expert, that enhanced my worry that I may be stuck as Dra'e. I did not find it unexpected; therefore, I was able to, despite the way my heart was beating, rationally say, “I have tried to deny it to myself Sir, but I think your thought may be true. For there is something about me that I have told nobody, something that is not normal. It makes me wonder if Sandrelessa is hiding closer to the surface then I hope.”
Archmage Sharlese asked, “Does it have something to do with what happened to you in the foyer Drake?”
“Yes.”
“Tell us about it.”
So I did. I told them of how I could sense power surrounding those who had it. I described what I saw and felt, how with individuals and smalls groups it was bearable, yet how it had frozen me amongst the dozens in the College. I stated how any use of the power made the magical aura around a person flare up. My explanation seemed to fascinate both mages, for their eyes glowed brighter and brighter in excitement.
When I finished, they both began to talk, though Tison deferred to his superior the archmage, who asked, “That is rather amazing Drake. Do you mean to say that when you look at either Tison or myself, we glow?”
“Kind of, it is hard to describe. It seems like everyone is slightly different, though I can say that the colouring of each of your robes seems the same as your power. How can I explain it?” I paused, trying to order my thoughts, to figure out how to make my strange vision real. “It is like the sun on a foggy morning, when it rises and its light glows within mist. So to there is such a fog, though barely noticeable, surrounding each of you and your robes seem to provide the light causing the glow. Though I don’t believe it is your robes, I think it is each of you.”
“Very interesting. Once a student obtains the status of mage, she is taught a spell with which she colours her white, apprentice robe to one of her own choosing. I have always been intrigued by the colour choices made by some of my colleagues, now I wonder if they or I had a choice.”
Nodding his head, the Overmage added, “Aye, do we choose the colours or do they choose us?”
“That is the question. Too bad there are not apprentices close to the ceremony, otherwise we could try and answer it. So let us return to the bigger question of Drake’s talent. May it be a variation on the Sight of Objects?”
“That seems possible Sharlese. Does any of our members have the Sight?”
“I am not sure, I will have to check with the Master of Roles.”
Feeling rather confused, I broke in to ask, “Excuse me Ma'am, but what is the Sight of Objects?”
“My apologies Drake. The Sight is a skill that allows one to look at an item and determine whether it is imbued with powers. For example, take your jewelry. While I or Tison can look at it and guess that they were used for a Chaining, a person trained in the Sight would be able to see the power of the Gods. We were wondering if your extra sense is similar. Actually, what do you see when you look at either of your bracelets or rings?”
“I just see them as jewelry Ma’am. I can tell they are well crafted and made of fine materials, but if I had not felt their power I would not know they were special in other ways.”
“I am not surprised, for I have never heard of anybody with the Sight seeing as you do. It seems your vision is one more oddity about your possession. I now regret my hasty response to Hiram when I first learned of your possession, it may not be as easy to break as I casually implied.”
“It is because it involves a Carthanan.” Overmage Tison stated.
“That is my guess as well. And yet I have never read of a Carthanan possession, have you Tison?”
“I have not. I believe it would be wise to do some research. If there is nothing to be found in the library it may be necessary to summon a Carthanan and see if it can provide any information.”
The Archmage frowned, “We can’t be sure that whatever it says will be the truth.”
“Well there is that, but I may have plan. That is if Drake is willing?”
“I am willing Sir, what do you need me to do?”
“I would like you to attend the summoning, I am hoping that your state may prove a surprise and that it will let something slip.”
Okay, I should not have been so quick to volunteer, still I bravely squeaked, “I will be there if needed.”
-------------------------
The interview ended soon afterwards and the mages headed off to pursue their research. As they moved towards the door from which the Overmage had earlier join us, Julion and I walked back around the building to the waiting cabriolet. As Julion helped me step up and take a seat, he said, “Well that was definitely interesting.”
“Aye it was and I want to thank you Milord...”
“Julion.”
“...Julion for helping me and in particular for rescuing me from the College foyer earlier.”
“Oh it was nothing for a daring-doer such as I. Why if I don’t rescue a damsel before lunch I feel that my morning has been wasted.”
“It was though and I very much appreciate it.” I confirmed not wanting to be denied my thanks by his humour.
Bowing in acceptance, he said, “I am, was and will continue to be glad to help.”
“I only hope I can return the favour.”
“Excellent, I was looking for an accomplice, I mean an assistant in my master plan to seduce the Kingdom of Simolean Ambassador’s daughter. You can distract the guards while I climb up the wall of the embassy into her room.”
My only response was a brilliant impression of a fish out of water. Julion watching this let a worried frown come over his face before plaintively asking, “Are you saying, well actually not saying, that my plan is less than brilliant? It’s so simple it cannot fail. First there is the distraction, you should have no problem with that, I know you distract me quite easily. Then I climb up into Isoboe’s, that’s her name, beautiful isn’t it. I am almost sure it rhymes with some romanticky word. Wait, is romanticky a word? Well never mind, we must get back to our planning. I cannot believe how easily I was distracted, what did you do?”
“Umm...nothing?”
“I’m not sure I trust you, you must have done something. Hah! I know what it was, you were proving to me your skill at distraction, which must imply you have another problem with my plan. What was the plan again? Right you distract, me climb wall. So you must doubt my ability to climb the wall. That’s it, isn’t it?”
“Well...”
“No no, you needn’t worry. I am an expert climber. Why almost daily I climb both out and into bed, what other practice would I need?”
Having finally caught up to the fact that Julion was once more playing the jester, I played along, “It isn’t that I don’t have confidence in your climbing ability, it is more that I worry about your clothes.”
This time the confusion was on the other foot (or would it be other mind?) as he questioned, “My clothes?”
“Yes, your clothes. I would think that if you wanted to seduce this Isoboe, you would want to wear your best clothes?”
“Most definitely. In fact I have had the perfect duds tailored.”
“Well my concern would be with how dirty they would get in your climb.”
“That would be horrible.”
“Aye, most horrible.”
“You really should have thought about that before you proposed your plan and got me all excited.”
“My plan?” I asked, in mock outrage.
“Well I guess I shouldn’t lay blame, after all we are a team and teams work together. Like the Baron Davdiut and Milton Bornes.”
“Didn’t they live over a hundred years apart?”
“Did they? Then we will be like Elton Brawnlake and Dugliss Terinmor.”
“Julion, I believe Brawnlake killed Terinmore in a duel.”
“How about Captain Igor Wilsh and Lieutenant Sanmore Danels?”
“Wilsh was a pirate who was captured by Danels and was later hanged.”
“Well that just means we will have to be the first great team. Why a hundred years into the future I am sure another pair of adventurers will look back on us and hope to be as great a team as Julion Deglace and Dirk.”
“Drake.”
“What’s that?”
“My name is Drake, not Dirk.”
“Are you sure?”
“Quite sure.”
“Well have it your own way, Drake it will be. Though you must admit that Dirk has quite a flair to it, so knifish you know. Whereas Drake seems rather ducky, hey do you mind if I call you Ducky?”
“I would prefer not Milord.”
“Hah, well played. Drake it is. With your wit and my derring-do we cannot help but succeed. Hold on a moment, that reminds me of something. I now understand why we are struggling with our plan for me to seduce the lovely Isoboe. Didn’t we already rescue a damsel this morning?”
“Well it was more you Julion.”
“No no, remember we are partners. We share the blame and the success, besides you played a key role in the rescue if I remember correctly.”
“Well I guess that’s one way of looking at it.”
“That’s the spirit. So if we are to rescue a damsel a day before lunch and if we have already rescued said damsel, then it must be time for lunch?”
“Possibly.”
“Exactly Drake, it is good to see we are in agreement. What say we grab a bite to eat?”
“Aren’t we to visit the Militia?”
“Not until this afternoon, we have lots of time to get something to eat and then go see the inspector.”
“Then I guess we could, though I am not feeling that hungry.”
“It’s likely your dress, from what I can see and I’m not ashamed to admit I have been looking, there isn’t much room for food. But as a team we must each make sacrifices. For instance, you really must keep wearing that spectacular frock, while I will help you by eating anything you can’t finish.”
“That will work.” I answered, not even bothered by his comments about my appearance. He had a way of saying things that made me feel part, not the target, of his humour.
“Excellent and here we are.”
Having not been paying much attention to where we were going, I looked around. Like everywhere in the city it was not yet recognizable, though based on the number of people milling around the large basin of water in which there were a number of fountains, it appeared to be popular. “Excuse me Julion, where is here?”
“Why it is the Fountains of Joy. The street vendors here serve some of the best food and drink in the city. Plus it is a great place to see friends, catch up on the latest gossip, and if one is as fortunate as I am, to show off the pretty girl they are escorting.”
Hopping out of the cart, Julion waved to one of the boys loitering near-bye. After handing the boy a coin and offering more if the cart and horse were well looked after, Julion helped me down. The throng and the number of glances cast in my direction were enough that I willingly took his arm and the protection it offered. Soon we were moving towards what Julion described as his favourite vendor; however, our pace was slow as it seemed that everyone knew him and wanted to talk or find out who I was.
My curtsy skills were well exercised as I was introduced to quite a few people and my breasts were introduced to many more. It was during one of the latter, that a fellow who seemed to exude a dislike for Julion snarkily commented, “So Julion, can I assume that the new tart on your arm means that Isoboe has finally come to her senses and cast you aside?”
From there the conversation moved into a verbal duel between Julion and the man, where, even considering my bias, Julion totally slicing and skewering his adversary. Not only did Julion defend my honour, but he also cast aspersions upon his opponent’s. He then accused him of being an ugly troll who could not even dream of attaining a wondrous angel such as Isoboe or I. After that things really went downhill, until the man stomped away trying to ignore the laughter of the crowd, who had gathered to enjoy the spectacle.
While Julion savoured his victory and the congratulations of his friends who had been watching, I bemusedly reflected on the strangeness of being called both a tart and an angel. I found it hilarious and so it was with a smile that I asked Julion, “So partner, is there something you have not told me about the target of our plan?”
Quick as he was, Julion still looked at me with confusion for a moment before catching on and unapologetically saying, “Well actually Isoboe is my betrothed. However, the Ambassador is rather old fashioned in his beliefs and I am not sure that I can wait.”
“Aren’t you afraid that slug will run off spreading rumours about seeing me with you?”
Batting his eyes at me outrageously, he squeaked, “La sir, my sister said my honour was safe with you, did she lie?”
Laughing I told him, “No you are completely safe with me. But...”
“Don’t worry about it Ducky...”
“Drake!”
“Don’t worry about it Drake, Isoboe is fully aware that I have been tasked to escort your loveliness around, though if her friends were as fully aware of that loveliness, they would have told her to grant approval with a chastity belt. You see, Isoboe’s friends think I am a bit of a scoundrel?”
“You?”
“I know, it is hard to believe. Happily Isoboe is aware that I am pure of heart and trusts me, besides which she thought that it would be a good idea for me to have a new ear to bend. You don’t think I talk to much, do you?”
“No not at all.”
“Ahh that is good, you really must convince Isoboe of that when you meet her. I know that no matter how much time I spend telling her I don’t talk too much, she never believes me. Ah-hah, we are here. Two please.”
It was quite the challenge to keep up with Julion’s thoughts, fun though. This time it hardly took a moment to realize that he was now talking to a vendor. Looking around I guessed that he sold chunks of course grained bread on which sauced, sliced beef and pork was piled. It was a concoction that looked delicious yet terrifyingly difficult to eat while keeping the front of my dress clean. Fortunately the vendor looking in my direction, asked, “Would the lady like a platter?”
Seeing my nod, Julion said, “You might as well give me one as well Gavron, I don’t want to show up at my afternoon meeting with a juicy spot on my tunic.”
With Julion leading the way and holding the two platters above the throng, I was able to follow in his wake as he forced a path to the marble wall of the basin. Taking a seat we began to eat our meal and watch the people about us, most of whom did not have the time to sit at the fountain to enjoy their meal. I quickly learned that both Julion and I were correct concerning our earlier discussion about lunch; he in how tasty was the food, me in how little of it I could eat, and he once more when he finished off my left-overs. Our meal complete Julion offered the platters and Gavron’s name to another of the many children about the fountain.
Seeing my questioning look, he explained, “She will return them to Gavron and get back the small deposit I paid for them. It’s the traditional way for children to make their first coin, I spent many a day out of my Nanny’s hair in the pursuit of such gains. I think it was what makes me love the place. By the by, would you like some cider to chase down your meal?”
I weighed the benefit of a drink against the cost of standing up from my comfortable perch in the warm sun. The latter won. “Actually I would like to just sit here for the moment, it is so very nice.”
“Well why don’t you keep our spot while I go get some for both of us?”
“That would be nice”
“Excellent, I will be right back.”
With those words he stood and strode back into the crowds, faster than he could walk with me by his side. Only as his head disappeared from my sight did it strike me how strange it was to have someone of Julion’s stature doing the fetching while I lounged by the fountain. It was not that I was bothered by his buying, as an apprentice I was used to living off the purse of my patron, even if it was usually earned by labour on my part. And I was hard pressed to convince myself that sitting here glorying in the sun could be considered labour. Only when I remembered Julion’s comments about team sacrifices was I able to manufacture an excuse for my laziness, if my role in this partnership was to wear the pretty frock then he could do the legwork.
Having settled that in my mind, I sat back to enjoy myself and watch the people mill about, while in turn ignoring the looks cast in my direction. It was from this reverie that I was distracted by a surprised sounding, “Drake?”
Turning towards the voice I was shocked to see Clara, but not the normal Clara. Instead of her usual utilitarian garb she was wearing a dress, one almost as daring as mine. My guess, as I rose to my feet to greet her, was that the dress and makeup were for the benefit of the young man who provided her escort. Yet I barely noticed him as happy as I was to see her, even though we had never been close. Still there was happiness in my voice as I exclaimed, “Clara, how very good to see you.”
“And what a surprise to see you here Drake, sunning yourself like a princess.”
Now after my time with Julion I had guessed my blush ability had shut down, but the sudden warmth in my cheeks proved this not to be the case. However, instead of answering I glanced at the man and then questioningly towards Clara.
“Ah yes introductions. Padrick, may I introduce you to Drake of Elladoo Post, she is Hiram’s apprentice of whom I have told you. And Drake, please meet Padrick Tarringbone, my very good friend.”
Curtsying, I said, “Good to meet you sir.”
He in turn, bowed and offered, “And you Drake.”
With these introductions out of the way Clara asked, “And what are you up to, surely they haven’t let you wander off on you own?”
“Oh no, Julion, I mean Lord Deglace is chaperoning me. Although at the moment he has gone off to get us some cider.”
“What a splendid idea. Padrick won’t you be a dear and get us some, meanwhile I will keep Drake company on her perch.”
Taking his dismissal with good grace, he wandered off while the two of us took a seat on the wall. As the junior I said nothing, waiting for Clara to speak first, not that she made me wait long.
“I spoke to Esselde yesterday and she told me of your tribulations in Corels, let me tell you how pleased I am to offer you my congratulations on your victory. Yet still I was surprised to see you here, apparently without a care in the world.”
“No I still have more than my fair share of problems, it is just that on this nice day and in this enjoyable spot I was allowing myself to ignore them for a time.”
“Then my apologies for forcing them once more upon you.”
“There is no need for apologies, for even if I ignore them it does not make them go away.”
Catching something from my tone she asked, “Esselde mentioned that you were to see Hiram’s cousin at the College today, how did it go?”
Suddenly I had the need to share my unspoken fear. It was a burden that I had been unwilling to place upon my closest friends, but it needed to be spoken, or it would continue to fester within my mind. Clara seemed like the perfect target, close enough to know the truth, yet not someone who would feel it was their duty to make my concerns smaller. “All the experts are confused by me. I really don’t think they know how to change me back to myself.”
“But why would you want them to change you back?”
The question took me aback, of all the responses to my fears this was not one for which I had prepared. My only answer was silence, which allowed Clara to continue, “Actually I am sure I could provide many of the reasons. Because you think it is your duty or it is expected or because it is natural. Maybe you are afraid of being a girl, not sure how to act, worried where it may lead and worried that people will think less of you. That is probably your biggest worry, what will people think if you don’t return to being a boy.
“But Drake, in my view all those reasons are complete balderdash. Look at you, sitting here beautiful and poised, waiting upon a scion of the Deglace to play fetch for you. You have survived trials that would break many, including most of those whose judgment you fear. You are someone who seems to me to be more than you were a short while ago. For despite your learnings in magic, I never saw you as having potential greater than Durk. Competent and responsible, but doomed to stay a journeyman forever, always carrying out the orders of another. Now I look at you and your potential seems to have blossomed.”
“Would that not still be true if I was returned to myself?”
“Mayhap, but it may be that you will lose some of the you of now in returning to the your of the past. Plus, though I am somewhat ashamed to admit it, your current appearance will be better at opening doors. I know mine has provided significant help to me.”
“Yes Clara, you have done a good job at describing most of my fears and you may be correct in your dismissal of them. Still you left out the most important reason, my possession.”
“Ahh yes there is that. So are you saying that you are more bothered by the possession than your change of sex?”
“Completely. There is much about being a girl that is enjoyable. Particularly the way people have been treating me, I really like how nice everybody is to me, I always felt ignored before. And I feel like a mule that has turned into a race horse. So I likely could continue quite happily as I am, but I’m not sure I can continue to share a body with Sandrelessa.”
“I can understand that, but does not the jewelry you now wear keep the demon under control?”
“Only through the threat of harm to me if she takes control.”
“Oh, I did not know that. No wonder you want to end the possession. I wish there was more I could do to help.”
“Actually there is, if I could ask a favour?”
“If it is in my power,” Clara slowly replied, leery of where offer would lead.
“I know you have been tasked with many chores by Master Elladoo for the new post. I would ask that you allow me to assist you when I am able, for this possession has completely halted my apprenticeship. And despite what I look like in the future, I know who I want to be. I want to be a merchant.”
“Gladly Drake, I would be happy to have your assistance. But not today, today I am on a break and believe that we should focus on enjoying this fine day.”
So we did, quietly enjoying each others company until Julion returned in the presence of Padrick, whom was one of his numerous friends. Julion was even willing to let Padrick talk mostly of himself. I learned that he would serve Elladoo Post as bounty collector for the heads of the bandits who had died while attacking us. He would ride, along with a troop of guards, from city to city and kingdom to kingdom collecting published bounties and was excited by the number of bounties we added to those already on his plate. It even gave him the incentive to visit some smaller towns, places usually not worth visiting.
Now he would not be carrying the actual heads of the outlaws. That would be rather disgusting. No the heads just needed to get to the nearest Priest of Aredente, who would use them to create death chits. In the case of our bandits, Clara had transported the pickled heads to North Fort where their Priest had spent a couple of busy nights creating the chits, which were accepted as proof of death by any place worth visiting. Padrick’s expert opinion, based on the quantity of chits from the Post and the high value they were returning in Glanlies itself, was that when we received our pay out upon his return that everybody, especially I, would be very happy with the results.
I was thrilled to hear this prediction, it would provide a nest egg to serve me in good stead once I became a journeyman. It also seemed that Padrick’s travels were fascinating, seeming like a fabulous way to see the mainland. However, before I could determine how one joined Padrick’s troop, Julion decided that it was time to proceed to the Militia Headquarters.
Offering farewells, we passed our cups off to another waiting child and left the two of them sitting by the fountain. Out of earshot, Julion told me, “Asolde knows that the two of them are meant to be together, but both want to be in charge and if they spend too much time together they end up at each other’s throats. Still I believe they have learned to enjoy togetherness in short spurts.”
Musing on this, we had a quieter ride to the Militia Headquarters. I found it did mirror the College, which did cause me to feel a little nervous as we climbed the steps to the front door; however, those nerves were for naught as the inhabitants were normal militia members, none glowing with power. One of them, a corporal, lead us up to the third floor where we were introduced to a Captain Finnegal, who immediately tried to put me at ease.
“Thank you very much for coming to see me Damsel. Let me first apologize for the behavior of my colleagues in Corels, idiotic to charge you when your disposal of that worm should bring you honours.”
“Thank you Captain, though I didn’t do it for the honours. In truth I was not even in control.”
“You are too humble; however, we are not here to debate your fine qualities. No it is to discuss the poor qualities of one who would keep company with scum like Darrel. So if you will forgive me for delving into what I am sure is a distasteful memory, I would ask some questions about what you overheard while he held you captive.”
“Very well Captain.”
“Excellent. Please start by telling me of the conversation you heard?”
While recounting the words of Darrel and Gunther, I was surprised how much I had forgotten and found the Captain’s follow up questions helpful to jog my memory. “So Damsel, you never heard them give a name of their contact here in Glanlies?”
“No, they always referred to him as the contact. And please call me Drake.”
“Very well, Drake it is. So their contact is a man?”
“I’m not sure. No, no it is definitely a man, I can distinctly remember Darrel using the words him and his.”
“Did they only have a single contact?”
“That I cannot confirm, though it was my impression.”
“And this contact worked for the Commission?”
“I think so Captain. They knew all about the shipment from Hanglish Mines and talked of the Commission being too confident in our communication system. So I assume it is one of the mages who anchors the spell for the Commission.”
“It is too bad that Master Elladoo could not remember who it was he talked to.”
“It doesn’t really work like that Captain, at least not for me. When I use the spell, it does give me a sense of who is at the other end, nor do I hear their voice. Instead what they say uses my own inner voice, similar to hearing my own thoughts.”
“Very interesting.”
“But Captain, why are you making it so difficult? Can’t you just check those mages who were on duty on the day that Master Elladoo requested help?”
“We have. But each has passed tests before a Deacon of Jiringel for any of Darrel’s raids.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I know. It is why I had hoped you could shed more light on who it may be.” Captain Finnegal admitted.
“Wait a moment. Maybe I am jumping to conclusions about the contact being within the Commission,” I mused. “Many people would be familiar with the schedule of shipments from Hanglish Mines. And now that I think about it I can remember Darrel words being his ‘contact in Glanlies intercepted Elladoo's call for help.’ He didn’t say his contact in the Commission. Maybe it was some mage not working for the commission who intercepted the Master’s call?”
“Is that possible?”
“I really don’t know, you would have to ask somebody at the College.”
“Oh I most definitely will. Though my task just became a whole lot more difficult.”
“Sorry.”
“’Tis not your fault Drake. But let us not borrow trouble yet, instead I wonder if you heard Darrel or his lieutenant mention the name Stingra Vold?”
“No Captain.”
Julion who had been sitting as a silent audience until this point interjected, “Stingra Vold? Why does that curious name seem familiar?”
“It was about three years ago Lord Deglace. There was a rather nasty smuggling ring discovered, which included a number of members from the College, Stingra Vold was one of those. You likely remember the wanted posters after he escaped. Well no need for the posters anymore, Stingra was one of the bandits who died at Elladoo Post. It is my guess that he continued to be in communication with whoever we are looking for here. My guess is that Darrel was connected to the smuggling ring and that we missed at least one of their gang in our sweep.”
That answered one thing that had always perplexed me about my dealings with Darrel, “Then this Stingra must have been the one who summoned Sandrelessa and brought her into Darrel’s fold.”
“I would find that surprising Drake. Stingra was only an apprentice, I would think that would be beyond his power.”
“Another question for you to ask at the College, Captain Finnegal.” I offered.
“Yes I do believe you are right. I suppose it will be necessary to move in a different direction to solve this mystery,” he said before pausing to consider if he had anything else to ask, “Well that is all for now. I thank you for your time Drake, though may I call on you if any additional questions arise?”
“Gladly Captain, this is an extremely serious matter for those of us who live on the frontier.”
-------------------------
From the Militia Headquarters we returned to the Deglace mansion where I was greeted by Sophie who frantically said, “Oh where have you been? You are expected to sup with the Lord and Lady tonight and there is so much to do to get you ready. Hurry, hurry.”
With that she whisked me away from Julion, dragging me towards my room. So great was her rush, she did not even wait until we were inside before she started undoing the stays of my bodice. And soon after the door closed I was defrocked, unshod and beginning to wash up while she hung up my dress. Finished and thinking my pace too slow, she took another cloth and began to assist me in my task, something that I quite enjoyed. Even though it did turn me into clay even easier for her to work.
Wrapping a belt around my waist, she had me pull on silken stockings, dyed a pure white, up my legs to be fastened to the belt. She then had me put on the shoes from Master Lestage, before helping me to step into the dress that I had not yet worn. One definitely fit for meeting the Lord and Lady of the Deglace, as had been Mary’s request. The dress that Sophie helped me into was a concoction in white, unfit to be worn out of doors. In style it was not significantly different than the blue dress, though the only colour it had were embroidered blue flowers on the bodice. Nor did it have sleeves, instead on the off the shoulder straps were attached a small, number of hand made, blue, cloth flowers.
Dressed, Sophie had me take a seat before covering my dress with a sheet and going to work with her days’ purchases. She took my pony tail and tied it into an intricate knot at the nape of my neck that she held in place with two polished wooden sticks. Then began the painting, involving more makeup than Mary had used before my Chaining. Yet the result in the mirror was less noticeable, highlighting my features but not overwhelming them. It was very difficult not to like what I saw.
Deeming me presentable, Sophie began to tidy up while I continued to look into the mirror, not trying to see who I used to be, instead trying to learn who I had become. Soon after realizing that I was more and more willing to accept the woman in the mirror Mistress Elladoo arrived at my door and dispelled any concerns that I was over dressed. I had never seen her look so beautiful as she did in a draping gown of red velvet and with her glossy black hair, both offset by jewelry of gold and rubies. Gasping at the sight of her, I exclaimed, “Milady you look wonderful. If only Master Elladoo was here to see you.”
Laughing happily at my words and expression she said, “Poor Hiram would be stunned speechless is what would happen. I love him dearly, but he is uncomfortable in Glanlies’ social setting, better for Hiram to be where he is and for the two of us to represent him and the North. And I do believe we are set to do both proud, for you look quite spectacular Dra'e.”
“Thank you Milady. However, it was all Sophie, I just sat here.”
“Well done Sophie.”
“It was easy Milady, the damsel is quite beautiful and very easy to work with.”
“Well then let us just say that your partnership has been successful. But enough of praising each other, let us join the others so that they can do it for us.” Mistress Elladoo laughed as she led me out of the room?
“The others? Do you mean your parents Milady?”
“Amongst others, my parents have a weekly gathering of all those who live or guest on the estate. However, as it is spring our population will be lower than during winter. So I would doubt there will even be twenty people there tonight?”
“Oh no, I’m not ready for that.”
“Of course you are Dra'e, really all that will be expected of you is to stand around, looking pretty and smiling. There will be others, like my brother, to fill any conversation gaps. Actually this is the perfect way for you to meet my parents.”
“It is?”
“Yes, in a face to face meeting they would focus their full attention upon you, which even I find uncomfortable. While at supper they will be distracted.”
Her comment suddenly reminded me of her conflict with her mother, “Milady, is your mother still mad at me?”
“Mad at you? Whatever for, she hasn’t even met you?”
“Well Julion, I mean Lord Julion said that the two of you had a fight about what happened at Corels.”
“I think my brother needs to work at not saying whatever springs into his head. But no, don’t worry, she was mad at me, if she was mad at anyone.”
“Oh, I am sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be, it is just the way that Mother and I are. I was ever her favourite and she had great plans for me, but she had not foreseen a Hiram Elladoo entering into her and her princess’ life. She has never forgiven him, for taking me North, nor me for going. Because of that, we are guaranteed to have at least one row whenever I visit. This time we just had it early. Now don’t worry, enjoy yourself.”
I did, everybody either made me welcome or ignored me, both of which were acceptable. Lord Deglace showed the most interest in Julion’s description of my ability to recognize mages, seeing it as useful skill for certain negotiations. So when last I saw him, he was compiling a listing of those whose bargaining techniques he questioned and who he was considering having me meet. Meanwhile the Lady Deglace was most interested in my appearance, musing on an fantastic outfit that sprung to mind for me to wear to the Winter Festival. During both conversations I had taken the mistress’ advice and maintained a respectful, smiling silence. Afterwards, Julion let me know that I had done quite well in my command performance before his parents. Not so smooth was my meeting with Angelise, the wife of Torsen the Great Uncle and family black-sheep, who was away on one of his frequent trips. She was an artist of note from the Kingdom, whom Torsen had brought home to Glanlies a couple years before, but though she had rooms at the Deglace estate, it appeared she had found opener arms of welcome amongst the city’s art community than with her hosts. Not that this information meant anything to me, for she was beautiful and when she told me in her charming accent that she wanted to paint me, I was left rather speechless.
Poor Sophie, my fickle nature had only allowed her to be the queen of my dreams for a single day. Not even a repeat of the prior night’s bed preparation could return her to that place of prominence.
A suspicious mind would think that Sophie guessed this and that is why she did not take the same care in dressing me the next morning. Nothing fancy, instead I showed up for breakfast wearing clothes that had come from the post, right down to my old boots. However, the suspicious mind would need to ignore the fact that I was meeting Clara, to assist her and that my outfit was well suited for the day. Finding nobody at the breakfast table, my meal went quickly and I was soon ready to head off. Well, if you call not knowing where to meet Clara, nor how to get there if I did, ready to start.
This was solved when Jimi and Stork showed up with the necessary knowledge, telling me that we were to meet Clara at her family residence, Holnd House. Outside, I started out on a bad foot with my two supposed friends when I asked them how we were going to get to Clara’s.
Sarcastically Stork replied, “Why we walk. Were you expecting a carriage Princess?”
Well yes, that is what I was expecting after my travels with Julion; however, I could not tell Stork this, instead I said, “Oh no Guardsman, I look forward to traveling like the little people.”
Accepting my response with a wink, Stork said, “Then if the Princess will follow me, we will get on our way.”
So we did. And yes, Stork continued to call me Princess. He even got Jimi in on the act, though they only called me that when we were alone. When we were amongst others, they stayed silent and hovered protectively over me.
Our path took us through the centre of Heart Park and out the other side of Temple Square, between the Shrine of Asolde and the Cathedral of Furigal. We then turned right to find Holnd House, which though not of the inner ring, was just across the street from the inner ring. Both they and the Elladoos were considered, by the Commission, to be families whose importance was second only to the Inner Ring families. You could say the Holnds and the Elladoos were members of the Peninsula’s gentry, while the Deglaces were of it’s nobility.
At Holnd House we were led to a large room where Clara was found directing the work of a number of clerks and factors. Three of whom she stopped to converse with before reaching us at the door, “Thank you for coming Drake, as you can see I can use all the help I can get. Luckily the family has decided to partner with the Elladoo’s in financing the new post, so I was able to commandeer help. Not that I can not use more assistance, if you are willing?”
“Gladly Ma'am,” I answered, recognizing that today she was the journeyman and I was the apprentice.
“Excellent, though I hope you have on your walking boots as I would ask that you serve as my feet today?”
“Yes Ma'am, I have on my Post boots. They have many a league left in them.”
“Okay, talk to Olaf, the fellow in that ghastly yellow tunic by the door, he has a list for you. Meanwhile, Stork and Jimi should be able to lead you everywhere that is listed.”
Following her directions I soon learned that Olaf likely wore the tunic to keep people away, much like thorns of a rose bush, though I am not sure any part of him was the flower. Still he begrudgingly went through the list of tasks, explaining each. He then handed me a pouch of coins and we were off on our first task. This took us to Printer’s Way, which is the home of the Greater Asthelhorne House of Publishing, where we found a shop named Nelson’s Scribery. Smelling of ink and parchment, the clacking of printing presses made it difficult to communicate with Nelson, though he finally caught on that I was there to pick up a number of placards commissioned by Clara Holnd.
After ensuring their correctness, I paid and we headed out into the silence and fresh air. Our next destination was familiar one, though I was not yet able to find the Militia Headquarters on my own. There we talked to the first of many officials who granted us permission to post our placards on their notice boards. The placard advertised the third part of the load brought from the North by Clara. Not the furs, which had been turned over to Elladoo factors to sell. Nor the crap pans, which Clara had sold,at a small loss, in North Fort. No the third part was the one that interested me the most, seeing as how it included the the weapons, armour and goods that we had found in Darrel’s camp. Clara planned sell these at the South Market during the Turinday Open Market, two days hence, to sell as much as possible, before consigning the rest to the local shop owners. But anything consigned would result in lower profits. Therefore, we hoped to sell everything. In order to increase our chances, Clara had placards, I was to post, printed. They listed of the more interesting items, such as; weapons, armour, swords and jewelry. However, to make our goods more interesting, the placards stated in large lettering, Notorious Criminal Darrel the Roamer’s Goods for Sale, at the top. It showed that she subscribed to the words of Chetser Kinningdon in the 8th Annals, “An item with a story is worth more than one without.”
The next two stops, at the Guildhouse of the Steel Brotherhood and the North Militia Grounds, were to post more copies of the placard that went up at the Militia Headquarters. The locations pointed to the second part of Clara’s strategy, the belief that fighting men were the most likely purchasers of the items. Which was in line with the second part of Chetser’s advice, “Yet even a story provides no value for one without a need.”
Being close to North Gate, our next task had us leave the city and walk out to check the camp of the Post’s men who had been part of Clara’s wagon train. Since the camp was run by Corporal Deagel and Senior Wagoneer Thomsa, both old hands at the job, everything was running smoothly. There was nothing a beginner such as I could add, but I realized that the very act of my checking up on them, granted me a level of authority that I had never held. This show of Clara’s confidence provided a boost to my confidence, so much so that I was not bothered to be called Miss Drake by the two men.
Grabbing a quick bite to eat, I confirmed the plan for Turinday, after which Stork took the opportunity to regale everybody with tales of his ride from Corels to Glanlies. This led to his description of what happened to me, which easily could have laster longer if the corporal had not growled, “Shut it Lapdog, it’s not for you to be spreading Miss Drake’s life story about.”
I was grateful for his intervention, as I was sick of the story. It was also funny to hear him call Stork, Lapdog, which was the derogatory name the Post’s guardsmen used for personal guards. After putting up, all morning, with taunts of Princess, it was hard to feel any sympathy for him. However, I had to bring the entertainment to an early end, so we could continue on with our tasks. After all, the princess and her lapdogs still had much to do before day’s end.
Our next goal was the Commission Headquarters, where we took the second set of placards. These were adverts listing the skills we sought to hire for the construction of the new post. Yet before we posted them at various guilds, we needed to stop at the headquarters to have them stamped with the Commission designation. This designation, which had been negotiated by the Elladoos and Holnds, confirmed that the Post’s construction was Commission approved. That approval meant that work at the post would count as Commission duty labour, similar to the auditing I mentioned performing earlier in this tale. The families hoped this, combined with higher than normal wage, would tempt some good people out of the city.
The stamping complete, we made our way to the Builder’s Guild where we were quizzed on what we knew about the Post by a couple of the guild’s officers. Only when I was able to convince them that they needed to talk to Master Efram Elladoo at the Elladoo Office were we able to post our placard. From there, it was on to the Wagoneer's Guild to register our need for wagons and their drivers, while the Post’s own would continue their regular duties. Similarly our guards would be needed for their normal duties and so we visited the Guard Society, to post an offer of hire.
The Guard Society also received two market placards. One was the same as we had posted elsewhere. While the second, recognizing that most of their members served with wagon trains, listed the more mundane items from the bandit camp, items needed a traveling armsman. However, the best part about the Guard Society was that its hall was right next to the Wagoneer's Guild. After the all our walking, this proved a welcome relief, though I must brag that the Princess was doing better than the lapdogs, who were taking every opportunity to find a seat.
Although ready to drag ourselves back to the Deglace Estate, we still had a two tasks to perform. The first was easy, as it was a duplicate of the stop at the North Militia Grounds, this time at the Southern grounds. We then walked over to the the South Market Grounds to confirm our spot for the Turinday.
I am not sure if was my age or my sex or just not being local, but the market keeper decided he could take advantage of me. Whatever it was, he tried to shake me down for more coin than had been paid, by a Holnd factor, when reserving our market spot. Maybe on another day he would have had more luck, but by that time I was dusty, tired and my feet were sore. If he expected me to give in or cry, he was mistaken. Instead I coldly asked, “Are you saying that you have rented out the spot that we have paid for?”
“Yes, someone must have made a mistake, the spot is reserved for one of our regular stall holders. You must admit that it would be unfair to a regular if he lost his spot? But don’t worry, I am sure we will be able to fit you in somewhere else.”
I knew he was full of crap, but was not sure how to prove it without involving Clara or her factor. And having to run for support struck me as a failure. Then remembering that not all support is equal, called out, “Stork and Jimi, could you come inside?”
Seeing the two men enter, the market keeper protested, “I do not take kindly to threats. I will summon the guards.”
Ignoring him I said, “Stork this man is no longer willing to provide the stall space for which we have paid. To me, this does not seem right, but there may be different customs here in Glanlies. So I am thinking it would be a good idea to get another opinion. Could you run over to the Militia Grounds to find someone to come and provide legal advice?”
“Yes Miss, right away.”
“Wait that is not necessary. As I said, we can work something out.” the keeper protested, which caused Stork to stop at the door and look in my direction.
“Well I understand your position Sir. Yet I worry that not knowing the lay of your market, I will make a bad choice and get in trouble. No I really think it is better for me to talk to someone to see what options I have. Don’t you agree?”
“Actually, Dreger is getting more and more lax about booking his spot for the weekly markets. He expects us to hold it until he has determined whether he will use it or not, meanwhile we have to hold off on booking the spot. My partner must have decided that it was time to teach old Dregs a lesson when he rented the spot to your people. I guess he had a good idea, so don’t worry about it, I will make sure your spot is available for you?”
“You won’t get in trouble?”
“No don’t worry about it, I can handle it.”
Some of you may wonder why I did not carry through with my threat to call the Militia on the man, as it was likely a regular practice for him to try his tricks. The biggest reason was that I was tired and wanted to get back to my rooms and maybe find the baths that Mistress Elladoo had described in such detail, but which I had not yet enjoyed. Okay maybe that is a selfish reason, ignoring the common good while seeking personal comfort. Still you have to admit that the attempted shake down was rather weak, and if anybody fell for it, then it was their own damn fault. It is not my job to protect people from themselves.
So content in my victory, we began our final march for the day, back to the Deglace Estate. The lateness of the day meant most people on the street were heading home for the night. A number that shrunk as we reached the inner ring. Worn down as the three of us appeared, it would not have been a surprise to be stopped by the guards who roamed the ring’s streets, but Jimi and Stork’s tunics served to grant us passage. Though we were carefully watched until we were allowed to pass through into the Deglace Estate.
Before reaching the front door the two men headed towards the guards quarters, with a final “Night Princess” from Stork.
Myself, I dragged my way towards the door wondering if I needed to knock or if my guest status allowed me entry. Neither proved necessary when a doorman, who must have been watching my approach, opened the door for me. When I smiled my thanks, he bowed his head and said, “Welcome home Damsel.”
“Thank you.”
“If you will Damsel, the young Master has left wishes for you to attend him upon your return.”
Recognized the order behind the polite statement, I surmised my rest would be delayed. “Of course, where may I find Lord Julion?”
In answer he rang a small bell, summoning a maid to whom he said, “Jesca, please take the damsel to see Master Julion, he can be found in the Blue Room.”
Curtsying in acknowledgment, Jesca turned to me, “Please follow me Damsel.”
Keeping a tired sigh to myself as she headed in the opposite direction of my room, I followed. It was a short distance before she ushered me into room holding Julion who comfortably sat in a chair, with his feet upon a table, reading a book. Looking up at our entrance he languidly waved and asked, “My word Drake, what have you been up to today? You look positively tuckered out.”
“Clara had me serve as her legs today, and her legs walked all over town.”
“Ahh, then take a seat.” As I did so, he turned to my escort to say, “Jesca, could you please find Sophie and let her know that Drake has need of her assistance?”
“Yes Milord.”
“Thank you, Jesca. As for you Drake, why didn’t you take a cart?”
“I did not know what I would be doing when we left in the morning.” I answered deciding not to get Stork into trouble, though I began planning a proper vengeance. Maybe I would make him walk all over the city.
“And I would guess that you did not know one would be available to you. But Drake you are a guest of the household, feel free to ask for such assistance.”
“Thank you Julion, it did give me a good chance to see the city, but in the future a ride would be appreciated.”
“Excellent, but that was not why I left word for you to see me on your return. No it is due to a note we have received from the Archmage Sharlese. She sent word that her and the Overmage have finished their research and found no other cases of possession by a Carthanan demon.”
“Already?” I asked, dreading what I expected to hear next.
“I think your condition excites their scholarly instincts. Therefore, the have decided to proceed with Tison’s plan to summon a demon.”
“When would she like to do the summoning Julion?”
“Well she proposed tonight.”
“Tonight!”
“Aye, ‘tis further proof of their curiosity. Tison will conduct the summoning and he would like to use his work room at the College; therefore, after your reaction the last time, they felt that during the evening, when most of their members are at home, would be the best time for you to visit. And apparently they see no reason to wait.”
The thought of participating in this summoning scary. Despite the numerous times I had observed Master Elladoo, only one had involved a Carthanan and we all know the result of that. Still that had been unexpected, all the other times everything had gone as the Master had planned, he had been in complete control. It seemed reasonable that someone of Overmage Tison’s power, who specialized in the Carthanan, would treat this summons as the Master had treated those with Imps. Yet I was still afraid.
The problem was that when you are fifteen years old, you think being afraid is a bad thing. That it will mark you as weak, that the dandy older fellow, will look down upon you if you show it. Such is what flashed through my mind when I realized my fear, thus there was only one response, “No, I suppose there is no reason to wait. I admit to having looked forward to rest after my day, but if they are willing to work late to solve my problem, it only seems proper for me to put in the same hours.”
“If you are tired, I am sure we can put it off until tomorrow night.”
“Tonight will be fine, as long I can get that ride you previously offered?”
Smiling he replied, “Definitely, I will come along and there is no way I am walking.”
“Okay, I am ready to head out when you are.”
“Oh don’t worry Drake, there is no rush. It is a full three turns before you are expected, which should give the College time to empty out. Go grab a bit of rest, a bite to eat, and maybe change into a new frock.”
“What’s wrong with what I am wearing?” I retorted, before all that was wrong blossomed in my mind.
“Hah! For the first time I truly believe your story. That is the most boyish thing you have said or done. Do you really think what you are wearing is acceptable?”
“I guess not,” I grumpily admitted. “I know Mary would be horrified by me wearing it for anything other than work.”
“So would my sister, mother and Sophie. But if you wore it to the College I am sure they would blame it all on me for rushing you.”
“Well a good partner would be willing to take the blame.”
Laughing at my attempt at humour, Julion stated, “So now you want to be my partner, when you can get something out of me. But where were you this afternoon while I was below Isoboe’s window waiting patiently for you to come distract the guards?”
“I was tramping all over your city.”
“So you say, but I am not sure if I believe you.”
“Besides I thought we had decided that the climbing plan wouldn’t work?”
“Well we had, but my partner wasn’t around to help me come up with a new plan.”
“Maybe we can do so tomorrow, but for now I guess I should go to my room and change.”
“You may as well sit for awhile longer, at least until Sophie comes to collect you. Meanwhile, tell me what Clara had you up to today, while she kept you away from my side?”
-------------------------
A couple turns of the glass later I met Julion at the front door. During our separation Sophie had repaired my appearance and had me, after serious thought, change into the grey dress However, do not ask me to try to explain her reasoning, for all I know, she felt the dress was fine enough not to embarrass her, yet plain enough that it would not be a tragedy if the demon broke lose and ruined it (along with me).
Looking me over, Julion asked, “Drake, where’s your cloak?”
“Umm...I don’t have one, but it will be okay.”
“Nonsense, besides I would look the complete cad if I had one while you do not. Johnson, could you find a cloak for Miss Drake?” he asked the same doorman from earlier.
“Right away Milord,” the man answered, moving over to a closet to return a moment later with a blue woolen cloak, which he draped over my shoulders.
Murmuring my thanks I fastened the clasp of the cloak at my throat, before saying to Julion, “Well I suppose I am ready now.”
The cloak was not needed yet, when we moved out into the dusk, but the promise of coolness in the approaching night air had me guessing I would appreciate its warmth during our return. Apparently one that Julion and I would not be making alone, for there were four guardsmen on horses attending the cabriolet. Questioning Julion as to the danger of travel at night in Glanlies, led to a dismissal of any peril. However, Colonel Eldrick, who commanded the family’s guards, often assigned guardsmen to family members leaving the estate during the evening and that it was easier not to fight it.
With empty streets, we made good time and soon arrived at the College of Mages, where Julion had one of the guards enter to find either the Archmage or the Overmage. Instead he returned with a pretty apprentice whose glow was faint and who requested for us to follow her around back, to use the door we had seen the mages using on our prior visit. Inside the building, we did not see anybody else before arriving at Archmage Sharlese’s study.
The Archmage welcomed us. “Thank you for coming Master Deglace and Drake. I wish your visit allowed me to offer some positive news, but you have presented us a pretty puzzle, a puzzle that we are no closer to solving.”
“Then you could find no other Carthanan possessions?” I asked.
“Not in the literature that we have at our disposal.”
“Is there another library that may have more information? Possibly on the mainland.”
“It is possible, but it will take time for us to send messengers and to wait for their response.”
“Can’t you just...you know...” Julion asked, waving his hands in what he likely thought was a magical fashion.
Smiling at this, the Archmage answered, “Would that we could, but few are the places who have such an enlightened view of our arts as does the Peninsula. Most rulers see our brethren as threats, who need to be monitored and controlled. One area of tight controlled is their ability to Talk at a Distance, for it is an excellent tool for plotting treason. No, any requests for information will have to be made in the more mundane fashion, but that takes time and is expensive.”
“The cost can be managed.” Julion stated. “However, the time may be a greater concern to Drake.”
“Aye, it is.” I admitted. “I worry that I am losing myself. Or in truth, maybe my worry is that it is seeming to matter less and less that I am losing myself.”
Both were silent at my admission, before the Archmage said, “All I can recommend, is to hold tight to your friends, while they hold tight to you and do not allow you to drift away from who you are.”
“I am Ma'am, my friends have been a great comfort. But what of Overmage Tison’s plan, may that not provide the information we need?”
“It may, but I would not put great faith in a Carthanan if I were you. Still I do not believe it would hurt to find out what it has to say, if you are willing? It is your decision”
“Aye Ma'am, I am.”
“Very well. Cerise is waiting for you outside, she will take you to Tison.”
“Will you not be there?”
“No, if I attend the Carthanan will not know if it should talk to Tison or myself.”
“Okay, wish me luck.”
“You have it.” she offered with a smile of encouragement.
Cerise, the apprentice who had been our earlier guide, led me downstairs while explaining that those mages who specialized in demons had their workrooms in the basement. The descent reminded me enough of the Hole in Corels that my discomfort increased. Yet remembering Master Elladoo’s windowless workshop, I forced myself to speculate that the basement workrooms served the same purpose.
“Aye it is what we are taught.” Cerise answered. “It is best to to show demons the outside world, which would allow them to increase their link to our reality.”
It made sense, though it did not provide me with much comfort, as I could have done with a better link with reality, myself. Thus I was pleased to find Overmage Tison’s workroom not nearly as stark as Master Elladoo’s workshop. It proved to be a room worthy of a mage, full of interesting nick-nacks and books. It had a mosaic of coloured stones forming a pentagram in the middle of the floor. And despite the Master’s contention, after my Chaining to the pentagram in Corels, I felt that a pentagram to be more powerful than a rhombus.
The same could be said for Overmage Tison, in comparison to my Master. Still there was something about him that rubbed me the wrong way. It was not that he leered, like so many other men. Or that he smiled too much or had a voice that grated. No, it was as if a small voice deep inside me was was saying, ‘I don’t like him.’
Yet he greeted me politely, “Thank you for coming Drake. I understand you are nervous, but I assure you that this demon and I have spoken many times before. His calls himself Karnigan the Historian and I believe that we have built up a rapport. However, I cannot guarantee anything, so if you start having difficulty, let me know and I will end the summoning right away.”
“I will.”
“Excellent, then shall we get started?”
“Okay.”
“Very well. Why don’t you sit in this seat and I will begin.”
Unlike the Master, Tison did not have me on the other side of the room. Instead I sat beside his standing form while he performed the summoning ritual. Watching him I gained confidence, for he seemed so much more practiced in his motions than had Master Elladoo.
Then it...he was there. In all his glory.
And he was truly, horrifyingly glorious. Beautiful in a way that a man should not be, yet undeniably male. Broad and strong and muscled and handsome and so very perfect. And he was not surprised in the least to see me beside the mage. Instead he was looking directly at me upon arrival, and smile. His smiling attention shot a bolt of fire throughout my body, taking my breath away and focusing the heat in my loins.
Then he spoke, “A virgin, a pretty virgin. Is she for me Mage?”
Despite the sinister intent of these words, they caressed. Unlike Sandrelessa’s sugary cooing that had repulsed, even while she drew me towards her, Karnigan’s voice racked me with shivers of pleasure. Oh I wanted him so very badly. I needed him.
So I reached out towards him, yet my hand stayed on the arm of my chair.
So I stood to move to him, yet I remained sitting. Sitting and lusting while surrounded in a bright glow of blue.
Shockingly, terribly, a frown crossed his perfect features. Causing me to shed tears at the upset I caused, but then he smiled and said, “I see now. Sandrelessa my sweet, I had wondered why you had left us forlorn without your presence. Your touch.”
That was my problem. It was that harridan Sandrelessa, making her presence felt. Using the powers of my chains to shackle me in place, just as they had done at the Temple of the Allfather in Corels. The cruel bitch was keeping me away from him.
Cruel and lying, for I could now hear her voice, inside of me, shouting, “No! He is bad. He destroys. He will destroy you. And me.”
Selfish too, was there no end to her corruption? How could she do this to me? I screamed, “Let me go. Let me goooo.”
As I strained at my bindings he watched me tenderly, finally saying, “Oh what a cruel torment this conjoining is to you my love.”
“Conjoining?” another voice asked. “Tell me, what is a conjoining Karnigan?”
It was the evil, vile mage who bound My Lord in that hideous pentagram. Whose malevolence kept Karnigan from coming to me, just as my loathsome bindings kept me from him. Making it so neither of us could approach the other, so he could take me as his.
“Why should I tell you Mage?”
“I am curious Karnigan and I know you usually have a price.”
The worm. How dare he bargain with My Lord.
“Yes worm, how dare you bargain with me,” Karnigan spoke, showing my thought had been aloud. “But calm, my pretty virgin, I should at least see what friend Tison has to offer.”
Silly me, how could I doubt him. He was so strong and confident. So very perfect. I could only laugh at the fool of a mage pathetically challenging, “What is your price?”
“My price, my price, what should be my price? I really must think on this. I don’t know what I want, though it mus include Sandrelessa’s return.”
Feeling her sudden terror I laughed louder, before realizing what he had asked, which made me shout, “No My Lord, you don’t want her. Ugly, hateful Sandrelessa. You want me.”
“Oh yes I do want you, but that price may be too high. I must think more on this.”
“Tell me now Karnigan.”
“No I am not ready. Unless you will give me the pretty virgin? Then I will tell you all.”
My sudden hope was dashed when the spiteful man roared, “I will not give her to you. Ask for something else when next I call. For now, begone.”
“No, don’t go. Take me with you,” I shrieked.
But it was no use, for he was gone and so was Sandrelessa. Leaving me there, empty. Slumped, covered in sweat, in the chair and suddenly horrified by what had happened, how I had acted. Mortified and exhausted I broke down and began to cry. I felt Tison’s hand hesitatingly pat my shoulder, trying to comfort, yet remembering the horrible things I had thought and said about him, cause me to blubber apologies begging for his forgiveness.
Only when I heard the door of the room bang open, did I look up. To see a concerned Julion and an angry Archmage Sharlese asking, “What happened?”
Unable to respond I flung myself at Julion, who wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. As I continued to cry, Tison explained what had happened, before asking, “What do we do now?”
“Now we do nothing. I am taking Drake home, we will discuss this on the morrow,” Julion stated, using commanding voice I did not know he had. Then for the second time in two days, he scooped me up and carried me from the College of Mages. Nor did I let go of him during the entire ride home, clinging tight like a child to his parent after waking from a nightmare. Only when we reached the estate did I regain some of my decorum, though I continued to clasp one of his hands in both of mine until he handed me over to Sophie, after telling her what had happened with a whispered word.
In my room, I finally began to feel safer, though exhausted by the experience. Willingly did I follow Sophie’s directions as she helped me from my dress, into a nightgown, and then into bed. Yet despite how tired I was, sleep would not come. I was terrified of what or who waited for me in the Land of Slumber.
Not until my door opened and a figure smelling of lavender climbed into my bed and wrapped me in her arms was I able to fall asleep. Blessed sleep.
-------------------------
When I awoke, I woke alone. Even I was not fully there, for I observed the world from a distance, my mood fey as I remembered the prior night. As horrible as it had been, it no longer held immediacy, nor did thinking of it turn me into the quivering mass I had become after the actual events. The events seemed more dream, nightmare, than truth. And yet I could not deny that they happened, being able to recall how Karnigan’s eyes felt upon me, which in the light of day the memory made me feel dirty, not...not whatever I had felt the previous night.
Clean, yes that was it. What I wanted more than anything at that moment was to be clean. I wanted to go back to the moment of my triumph over the market keeper, to a time when my desire was nothing more than a bath after a hard day of walking. True it was an escape, but one that I was willing to seek.
I wished that someone were there to guide me to the baths, which I had looked forward to for too long, but I quickly recognized my wish to be a lie. No I wanted to be alone, as much as I had needed Julion and the mistress the night before. I needed time to think for myself, by myself. If I were at the Post, it would have been time to find my way to my thinking spot on the docks, but both were far away. So I gave into the draw of the baths and climbing from my bed, into slippers and a robe, I ventured outside of the room on my own.
After a few wrong turns, directions received from a number of the servants allowed me to found my way to a large door at the back of the mansion. Tentatively opening the door I found a marble oasis, empty except for a woman, scarcely younger than Mary, who scowled questioningly in my direction.
Suddenly unsure of my decision to use the baths as my thinking spot, I asked, “Excuse me, I was hoping to take a bath? Is that okay?”
“Most people bathe in the evening.”
“I had planned to last night, but then I was delayed. However, I can come back later if now is a bad time.”
“You’re Lady Esselde’s charge?” At the nod of my head, she stated, “Of course you are. I doubt there are two of you, looking like that, running around. So you want to take a bath?”
“Yes please.”
“Very well then and you are in luck. If you had come in the evening you would have been looked after by my girls, they are competent enough, but when the room is full, like it was last night, they are run off their feet. I really don’t know how anybody can enjoy a nice bath in that situation. No it is wise of you to put yourself in my hands. Now get out of your robe and we will get started.”
From that moment, she led me down a path of luxury that I had never imagined. It definitely did not give me any opportunity to think of the recent past or the soon to be future, for it made no moment more important than now. She guided me to the first tub, though tub is not a name to do it justice. A deep basin of marble, with steps for ease of entry upon which one could sit in water up to the neck. Large enough to fit at least eight people, I was sure that so much water could not help but be cold; therefore, I was pleasantly surprised to find it more than warm.
Hearing my sigh of relief, the bath attendant said, “Surprised you, didn’t it.”
“Umm, what’s that?”
“The water. You were expecting it to be cold, weren’t you? Its a spell, keeps the water clean and as hot, helpful as all get out, otherwise there is no way I could look after the women’s bath on my own. I think it was this spell, as much as any other that made the Commission willing to trust our mages more than they are trusted elsewhere. Though I am not sure I agree, what with mages consorting with demons and all.”
“Excuse me, Ma'am.” I said, believing an explanation may be needed.
“Kesa will do young lady, I’m not no Ma'am to anybody but my girls. And I can guess what you are going to say, but don’t worry I have heard all the gossip about you and know about your possession. Usually I would have chased you out of my baths as soon as you arrived, but I also know that you have been judged by the Gods and they did not strike you dead. That’s good enough for me. Still it speaks well for you that you were willing to admit such a thing, Mary has taught you well. Enough of that though, what is your scent?”
“Pardon?”
“What type of soap do you like, we have as broad of selection as you will find anywhere in the city.”
Remembering Mistress Elladoo’s bath box I said, “Well I like lavender.”
“Lady Esselde’s scent? No I don’t think so, it does not suit you. You soak for a moment and let me get some possibilities from which you can choose.”
Moments later she was back with a tray holding seven different blocks of soap. They all were nice, but one of them just jumped out at me and I pointed at it.
“Interesting choice. I have always liked it myself, but few choose it. Why, if I may ask, did you?”
“It reminds me of home.”
“Elladoo Post?”
“No, back in Corels with my parents. They run a bakery.”
“Ahh, I like bakers, hard working people with lots of common sense. Now stand up and I will give you a scrub.”
“Oh I can do that.”
“Nonsense, how are you to reach everywhere.”
Giving in I allowed her to soap me up and ducked down into the water when she decided it was time to rinse. This provided me a chance to see the second part of tub’s spell, as the rinsed of soap lingered temporarily on the surface of the water before disappearing into, apparently, the air. Deciding that I was clean enough, she had me duck completely under before proceeding to wash my hair. When she had me climb out, I found my assumption of being done to be incorrect, instead I was lead to a much smaller tub, though just as deep, from which steam rose above the water. Hesitantly stepping down into it, I found that it was almost to much too bear, though slowly I relaxed.
While I boiled, Kesa used a towel to remove as much water from my hair as she could, before wrapping it in a different towel and helping me out of what was slowly becoming uncomfortable water. Leading me to a padded bench she had me lay down, still naked, upon my stomach, before using an oil smelling the same as my chosen soap to give me a full body massage. I do not know how to describe one of Kesa’s massages. Words such as magnificent, wonderful, astonishing and incredible immediately jump to mind, none of which begin to do justice to the actual act. Suffice to say that it was glorious. Sadly it had to end, for I think I could spend forever in such languor. When complete, I was made to rinse off in a final tub. One where the water was barely heated, which served to knock some of the lassitude from my body, though still leaving me feeling more relaxed than I had ever felt. Helping me into a clean robe she obtained from her cupboard of plenty, she sent me on me way back to the world.
Still even with the shock of cold water I was still not completely there and did not notice the opening of the door or the person coming through. Thus I found myself with my arms wrapped around Angelise, who in turn held me in her grasp, as we grabbed hold of each other to stop from falling. Hastily let go and stammered apologies to Angelise, who said nothing, instead leaning closer to sniff at my neck before looking towards Kesa to say, “I see you finally talked someone into your cinnamon scented soap.”
“She picked it out herself Milady.”
Still with her arms around me, Angelise smiled up at me and said, “You smell delicious. To bad you have already finished your bath, I so would have loved to share mine with you.”
Only then did she let go of me, though in doing so one of her hands drifted slowly across my stomach as she stepped passed me into the room, before unfastening and slowly letting her robe drop to the ground. Stunned to see my first naked female (no I do not count), one very nicely put together was almost as good as Kesa’s massage. I did not know how to react and realized she was smiling at me as I stared. Red-faced at being caught, I mumbled a final apology and then fled out into the hallway.
Pausing once in the hallway I realized that Karnigan was not the only one who could spread fire throughout my body. Feeling rather happy with this discovery, I smiled all the way back to my room.
I was surprised to still find the room empty. My expectation had been that Sophie would be waiting for my return, in order to help me get ready for the day. This expectation was dashed when I remembered Stork calling me Princess, which convinced me to dress on my own. Removing the towel from my still damp hair and remembering Mary’s lessons I began to comb and brush it out, when complete and despite it still needing time to dry I decided to try to copy Mary’s normal styling. Making two little, not particularly tight, braids out of the hair hanging over my eyes, I tied them together behind my head to keep the rest of my hair from my face.
Bolstered by this success, I suddenly felt a desire to finish on my own and rushed over to the armoire to pick something out. Ignoring the newest one, I chose of of the outfits that had been altered for me before leaving the Post; a shift, a simple grey skirt and the matching bodice. Then pulling on my old boots, determined that I had delayed long enough, it was time to think about the prior night and what it all meant.
Yet if I stayed there, sooner or later someone would find me and distract me once again. So once more I left my room, then the mansion and the estate completely. Wandering towards Heart Park, not so far away, it was a surprise that in my contemplation I was not run over by one of the numerous carts passing, between the West and East gates, along the street upon which I walked. But someone must have been watching over me. I learned who it was after a close encounter with a man hurrying in the opposite direction. Starting to curse at me, he suddenly stopped and looked past me. This caused me to turn to see man in the surcoat of the Deglace, one who I recognized from the troop that had rescued me in Corels.
The guard’s presence caused the man to continue on his way, muttering under his breath. Meanwhile, the guard greeted me, “Greetings Miss, my name is Garth, I have been tasked with escorting you today. I would have introduced myself earlier, but I saw that you were in deep thought.”
Chagrined that I had not noticed him earlier, I said, “It’s okay, I don’t need an escort today. I am just going to the park.”
“’Tis not a bother Miss, besides the Colonel let it be known that you were to be assisted in any way you need, seeing as how you are new to the city.”
Thinking that was a rather polite choice for explaining why he followed me, I decided this was one of those times where Julion would not to fight it. So I said, “Thank you Garth. I do not plan to go far.”
“Good to hear Miss, Stork spent most of last night complaining about his feet.”
Smiling at a reminder of the good part of yesterday, I continued upon my way. Not long after I was in the park and found myself drawn to a bench near a statue of a man on a horse. Stopping myself from looking for a name plate, which would just provide another distraction, I sat down and began to think.
Initially my thoughts were scattered, until I found myself thinking about how I had reacted to Karnigan. How had he, without a single word, been able to control me so? Even now, thinking of him sent tiny shivers of pleasure through my body. It had been so very different when the Master had inadvertently summoned Sandrelessa. True she had exerted some control over me, but it had been over my body, not my mind. Even during her rise during our rampage against the bandits, my memories proved that I had been completely aware the entire time. Not so with Karnigan, he had turned me into his puppet.
Or would it be better to say he had toyed with me like a cat with a mouse. Though never would a mouse have gone so eagerly to its destruction, for I do not doubt that is what he had in store for me and for Sandrelessa. Her quick thinking, triggering my chains had saved us both from, based upon her terror, what likely had been a terrible fate.
I could not help but believe her statements from the night before. Karnigan was bad and without a doubt a destroyer. How strange it was to learn that by comparison to this Karnigan, Sandrelessa was a piker amongst her kind. Sure she was cruel, probably she needed to be cruel to live amongst the Carthanans, but she was dwarfed by Karnigan’s evil. Karnigan the Historian indeed, surely if Sandrelessa could to speak to me now I would find that she knew him by another name, possibly even that of the conqueror of her Prince from the story, he who had enslaved her.
Yet he seemed to know something of what bound her and I, this conjoining. Maybe he even had the knowledge of how to bring it to an end. All I needed to do was to pay his price.
But...
Have you ever found an item so perfect, so exquisite that you felt that your life would not be complete if you did not make it yours? If so, did you not realize with your very next thought that such an item was impossible to grasp? Even if its owner was willing to part with it, you knew the price would be too much for you to pay. And so you did not even ask, unwilling to torment yourself by learning how completely the item was beyond your reach.
Such was my dilemma. I did not want to know Karnigan’s price for the knowledge that may return me to myself. The price would be too much, even the part I already knew was too much. I could not, would not give Sandrelessa to him. Despite what she had tried to do to me, she had since rescued me three times. Admittedly her reasons had been based upon self-preservation, rather than anything altruistic, yet she had come through. How could I do less? How could I abandon her to torture or worse, and what would I become if I committed an act of such selfishness?
Furthermore, even if I was willing to pay the price, what was the chance that he would treat with me truthfully? He could be lying that he knew anything of worth or seeking to trick us into something. No, there was little doubt that he was untrustworthy and I did not need the Annals to tell me that it was dumb to waste time bargaining with such an individual.
My choice was simple. I had to accept what I had come to suspect. There was no easy fix for my problem. I was stuck in this body with Sandrelessa. Sure we could continue to seek answers, maybe somebody, some day would have the necessary knowledge, but the simple truth was that I would continue to be Dra’e. Actually I was still Drake, it was just that for now I was to be a female Drake. I needed to accept this truth. And in that moment I did. It was surprisingly easy.
I was ready to move forward with my life, whatever form it may take. It was time to adapt to my situation, make the best of it. You know, all that type of stuff. Although, if you think about it, that is what I had already done. In the previous two months I had formed friendships greater than any before, seen more and learned more. My future was brighter.
No wonder it was easy to accept my truth. After all, so many others had already made the leap.
Feeling satisfied with my choice, I rose from my seat and wandered over to the statue to satisfy my earlier curiosity. That accomplished I looked towards Garth, who had been waiting in a stance of bored watchfulness, a pose common amongst the guardsman of the post. Noticing my look, he wandered over to say, “Miss, if you don’t mind me saying so, it looks like you have lifted a great weight off your mind?”
“Aye Garth, I think I have.”
“That is good to hear Miss, are you ready to head home now?”
“Actually, I have one more stop to make, if that is possible?”
“’Tis fine with me Miss. I’m still on duty, but I would just as soon be out and about as tied to the gate.”
“Very well, let us head to the Temple of the Allfather.”
After a short walk, Garth was seated upon the steps I climbed, after having convinced him that Durnst would watch over me inside. Larger than the temple in Corels it was just as peaceful, maybe moreso, for it held fewer people than had attended my Chaining. Looking about, I spotted the glow of a priest, who in turn watched me. Approaching him, I curtsied and queried, “Excuse me Father, would Magister Bewlmon be in and is it possible to see him?”
“Yes he is child. And he has left word that you may be coming to visit. A moment please, he is on his way.”
Surprised though I was that the magister was expecting me, it was less that the father knew who I was with out asking. I was easily describe, which was one of the reasons I was there. My wait was not long before the magister arrived to say, “I am very glad to see you again Drake. I have heard of your continuing adventures and had hoped that you would come tell of them.”
Such had not been my intent, but it was a request I saw no reason to deny. So after we found a side chamber I updated him on what I had experienced since our arrival. Being who and what he was, it soon became an interview, though one less stressful than during our first encounter. He confirmed my guess that Karnigan was a name of power amongst the demon world and was most interested in Karnigan’s use of the term conjoining, saying he would research the term. The magister also heartily approved my decision to seek no more knowledge from the demon, agreeing that it was likely to lead down a path I wished not to walk.
As I finished my story and told him that I had decided to accept who I was, he nodded his head and said, “A wise choice Drake, for each of us cannot but grow more and more into ourselves.”
“Do you mean it was fated for me to be turned into a girl?”
“Nay fate does not work in such a way. Yet now that you have been made female, it will always be part of who you are. How large of part, well that is still to be determined.
“But is it possible to be too much of oneself Magister?”
“I do not know what you mean Drake?”
“It has to do with how I look and how my chains look. People stare at me.”
“You are quite beautiful child, people would stare even if you did not wear the jewelry.”
“But do I need to wear them all the time?”
“Sadly you do and did you not last night feel the benefit of their power?”
“Aye I did and I understand why I need them. It is just that I wish that they were not always there or if not that, I wish they were not always so extravagantly there.”
“Ahah! I see the problem, it’s fashion. But really that is outside of Durnst’ s bailiwick, more within the realm of Asolde I would think. Still I could look into it, maybe see if one of Asolde’s priestesses can help out. However, I can’t promise anything.”
“If it won’t be too much of a bother?” I asked, more from politeness than anything.
“No, no, it is quite alright. I always enjoy working on new projects, gives me reason to do research. I do love knew knowledge.”
After exchanging a few more pleasantries, I bid the magister farewell. Returning outside, I found Garth munching away on a meat pastry from a nearby vendor. Seeing this made me realize that I had not eaten since the day before, out at the camp, and made me regret forgetting to bring the purse I had received from Olaf. Luckily Garth noticed my longing glances at the pastry and purchased me one, for which I promised to pay him back. We then headed back to the estate, this time with him walking beside me, instead of behind.
Leaving him at the gate I started towards the house to obtain some coin to repay him, after which I would find the mistress and Julion to tell them of my decision; however, as I began to move back towards the door, I noticed a familiar face walking up the street. My curiosity drew me to change directions and head back to the gate to welcome Captain Finnegal.
Seeing my approach a smile crossed his face as he said, “Drake how good to see you, as you are the person I tromped over here to meet.”
Intrigued though, due to his smile, not worried, I asked, “Greetings Captain. Is it about your investigation?”
“Aye, I took your advice and approached the College to ask of Stingra Vold’s skills and to learn if it was possible to intercept a communication spell.”
“And?”
“Well let us just say that the answers opened a door into a room containing many more suspects than we had previously thought it would hold.”
“Oh sorry.”
“No need to be sorry, at least we have found a better trail, it is just that I now do not know which direction to go next. Therefore, I have another request for you.”
“Me? But I told you all I know.”
“Aye, and I believe you. No it is not more questions, instead I have a favour to ask of you.”
“I promised to help if I could, Captain.”
“Very well, though feel free to refuse, as I am not even comfortable with it. See the Commission is desperate to have this case solved. Therefore, they approached Aredente’s Tabernacle, seeking assistance.”
Not liking the thought of being involved with the God of Death, I hesitantly asked, “What for? And why would you need my help?”
“Well they plan to raise Darrel from the dead and ask him some questions. However, in order to do so, the Priests of Aredente need one of two things. The first of these is not available, since Darrel’s body is buried in the North. The second option is Darrel’s slayer. The Commission asks if you would be willing to participate, in exchange they will waive your first four years of journeyman Commission labour.”
“There is no need for a bribe Captain Finnegal, I know my duty. And I know that Master Elladoo and the Deglaces would wish me to help, when will the ritual take place?”
“Four nights hence. The priests believe that, as the moon wains and becomes a sliver, it is easier for them to hook the dead and bring them up from Aredente demense.”
Shivering at the thought, I nodded my head, “Okay Captain, I am willing to take part. But I want five years waived.“
“That is acceptable,” he agreed with a smile. For even though he was of the Militia, enough blood of the peninsula ran through his veins for him to understand the nature of our deal. He knew that I would be willing to do it for free, but recognized that an unpleasant duty should be rewarded.
“Very well Drake, I have much to prepare before the ritual. Therefore, I should continue on my way. I will let you know if anything changes.”
“Thank you Captain. Good bye.”
This time as I moved to the door I did not look back, but before I reached it a sudden bolt of insight struck. My earlier choice seemed even better when I realized who was the villain lurking in the woods. All the evidence had been there for me to see, but I had been too worried about myself to pay attention. Obviously it was Overmage Tison.
His ranking showed how skilled he was at magic, doubtlessly he would be able to intercept a communication if anybody could. Then there were the Carthanans, they were his specialty, of course he could have summoned Sandrelessa for Darrel. Plus Tison and Sandrelessa had been in contact, for why else would she have whispered to me last night that she did not like him. Yes I now recognized that little voice, I had heard before our greeting the night before, was the same voice that had shouted warnings about Karnigan, Sandrelessa’s voice. Why would she make such a proclamation if she had not already had dealings, negative dealings, with the Overmage?
It made so much sense. He was willing to assist Archmage Sharlese, because he wanted to ensure that I would not prove a danger to him. I had been curious as to why their research had been so quick, but it was likely due to Captain Finnegal’s questions at the College, maybe he had even heard of the deal reached between the Commission and the Tabernacle. Tison likely felt the walls were closing in on him and blamed me. Therefore, he had proposed the summoning. He had prepared Karnigan for my presence, assuming that it would lead to my doom. After all, despite his words before we started, he had done nothing to bring the summoning to an end when he saw that I was in trouble. He had not made his presence known until Sandrelessa and my chains had combined to stop me from going to Karnigan.
My guess was, seeing his initial plan fail, he had then stepped forward to seemingly be on my side. But why had he done nothing more? Maybe it was because he was afraid of what my glowing chains meant, did he guess that if he tried to attack, that Sandrelessa would be free to defend me? I would think that he would fear that, for even Karnigan, his ally, had been bound in the pentagram.
What would he do now? Did he think that I would be at least willing to find out Karnigan’s price, that they would once more have a chance to bring harm upon me? Maybe he expected me to casually toss Sandrelessa aside, disposing of my protection. Whatever his plan, I would be careful. I would keep my distance and send a message to the College telling them of my morning’s decision. But I would not tell anyone of my suspicions, better to play dumb. Best to wait until Darrel fingered him as his contact, then Tison would have greater worries than dealing with me.
It was a simple and workable plan. I would try to stay in as much as possible, but would be happy for the guardsmen who had been assigned to follow me while I was out. Hopefully I could make it until the moon turned into a hook.
Decided, I continued towards the door, entering as it was opened by the doorman, Johnson, who looked at me with concern before asking, “Is everything alright Damsel? Lady Esselde was worried to learn that you had gone out on your own.”
“My apologies, I just needed some time to think and I was not alone, one of the guardsmen was with me.”
“Still maybe you should go to see her to allay her worries.”
“Okay, but first I need to run to get some money to repay Guardsman Garth, who bought me a pastry while we were out.”
“Worry not Damsel, I will look after that. It is better for you to find milady, who is with her mother in the Yellow Room. It is in just past the Blue Room, will you be able to find it? Or would you like a guide?”
Recognizing the order behind his polite recommendation, I stated, “Thank you, I believe I can find it.”
I did and soon was informing the mistress and her mother of my decision. They took it almost too well. Though the mistress did try to be sympathetic, I could tell that she was secretly happy to keep me around in my girlish form. Like her mother towards her, she did like the thought of having a doll with which to play, something I was willing to accept in exchange for the support I knew she would continue to provide.
-------------------------
During the wait that followed I became more and more antsy, if not for activities during the day to keep me occupied, I would likely have started driving people crazy. But fortunately I did have things to do during the day, being left alone with my thoughts only at night when I returned to my room.
My busiest day was the one after my decision, Turinday. I arrived at the market with sunrise to assist in setting up our stall for the Open Market. Then I helped Senior Wagoneer Thomsa and Jonton Holnd, Clara’s youngest brother, sell throughout the day. The two of them had decided that my role, based on my appearance and being Darrel’s slayer, was to draw the customers while they closed any deals. It proved to be a successful formula, though I think that Clara’s advertising and the high quality of the goods we were selling were more important than any feminine wiles I displayed. Still a successful venture is a successful venture, whatever role one plays. And I definitely learned a great deal from watching the two men negotiate, things that I was able to try on those occasions when one was absent and the other needed me to be something other than a pretty face.
It proved to be a long day, going from dawn until dusk, which kept me busy and left me tired enough that sleep came easily that night. Further benefit, beyond the financial one I would earn as a result of the sales, was that it gave me reason to visit Kesa upon my awakening the next morning. This proved just as good as the first time, though I did not run into Angelise.
After my bath I once more met up with Clara. She informed me that planning for the new post was proceeding apace and that we would be visiting our vendors to obtain goods to restock Elladoo Post. Most of these visits were quick visits to offices, rather than to any factory. We would speak to whoever was in charge, place and pay for an order, tell them to deliver it to our wagon camp and confirm whether they wished to expand the relationship for the new post. Unless the person was a particular friend of Clara, each visit went quickly. And since many of the offices were in the same buildings and all of them were on the North side of the city it was not long before we were done.
Clara then informed me that it was time for us to do some personal shopping. She let me know that I would be spending a lot of the summer on the road, filling in for either herself or Durk, while they helped with the new post. After letting my excitement settle down, she told me that I would need a lot more than the skirts and dresses I had recently been wearing. Therefore, she offered to float me a loan, until I received my reward money, and to take me around to her favourite shops. Quite willing to benefit from her experience, I readily accepted.
A whirlwind of activity followed as we visited the Garment District and the Leather and Fur Market before crossing the city to visit Metal Town. This crossing introduced me to taxi carriages that carried passengers around the city for a fee. Hectic as it was, I did not remember everything I had ordered, which would be picked up in a few days. I know that there were quite a few items of clothing; breeches, shirts, bodices, underthings, boots, gloves, cloaks and hats. Beyond that were items to make the road more comfortable, including my own set of tack. And in Metal Town I picked up a hatchet, some knifes, a sword and a more appropriately sized crossbow.
When I complained that I could have bought many of these things far cheaper from amongst the items we had sold yesterday, Clara had just sniffed and said, “A girl needs things of her own.”
Something in this struck me as hilarious and I burst out laughing, which she soon joined. The day, combined with our discussion by the fountain, made me feel that I had developed another friend and ally, therefore, when we parted I impulsively hugged her in thanks. Seeing as how she returned it, maybe she felt the same way.
The third day turned out to be the least busy, though interesting none-the-less. Unlike the prior three days, where Sophie had left me alone to prepare for the day, she arrived soon after I awoke that morning. Apparently it was to be another dress-up day, though she refused to tell me why. Once more she powdered and painted my face, did the magic stick thing to my hair and then helped me into the blue dress. As a final act, which showed that she had likely been speaking to Kesa or had smelled my clothing, she had me dab on some new perfume smelling of cinnamon.
Guiding me to a dining room I found Mistress Elladoo and Madame Deglace waiting, also dressed in their finery. After my curtsied greeting, the mistress had me come sit beside her, saying, “Good morning Dra’e, please eat quickly we must be on our way soon.”
“Where are we off to Milady?”
“Well yesterday Magister Bewlmon came by to visit and he told us of your request concerning your jewelry.”
Remembering the expense of the items and the significance of the sapphires, I suddenly regretted my impulsive request to the magister. Trying to stem the damage I quickly apologized, “I am sorry Milady. I very much appreciate that you went to such expense to provide them and they are truly lovely, it is just that sometimes I wish they were not there.”
“No need to apologize child.” Madame Deglace answered. “I know I wouldn’t want to wear the same pieces of jewelry all the time, besides I have something else in mind for your costume.”
The Lady of the Deglace’s initial comments about the Winter Festival costume had seemed far-fetched, but now with my choice it had become much more likely. And during the last couple of evenings, which I had spent with the mistress and her mother, it had been a topic of much discussion. What I had gleamed of her plans was enough to make me apprehensive, so, I was pleased when the mistress cut her off, “Now Mother, please let me explain to Dra’e what is happening.”
“Very well then. But do hurry.”
“Yes as I was saying, Magister Bewlmon told of us your request and let us know that he, along with a Priestess of Asolde, had come up with a possible solution. Though he asked for our help. Of course I agreed, and when Mother heard of it she also decided to lend her support.”
“Thank you very much,” I said. “But what does it involve?”
“Oh I really don’t want to say, it will be a surprise.”
A surprise that excited the two of them did not fill me with confidence, yet I was not a large enough lout to say so. Maybe it would not be as bad as I feared.
With breakfast complete, the three of us made our way outside where I learned that the Lady of the Deglace did not travel inconspicuously. The carriage we approached was a shining box of ebonwood bearing the crest of the Deglace on its doors, complete with driver, footmen and a team of four black horses. Inside was just as opulent, as I found after being helped aboard and seating myself beside the mistress on a padded bench covered in leather dyed a familiar blue. Then with an escort of guardsmen, we were on our way.
First we stopped at the Temple of the Allfather, where we were joined by Magister Bewlmon, before continuing on to the Shrine of Asolde. There we were met by a beautiful priestess in a dress of rose, very similar in shape to mine, though as both the magister and I noticed, cut lower. Still, for me, her most distinctive feature her was the way in which I felt her power. Instead of a glow, from her I felt a warmth and heard a sound that seemed lyrical in nature. While I listened to this, the magister performed introductions, informing us that the Priestess Desmona had come up with the plan we were about to attempt. Chastising him for his humility, she led us to an antechamber and guided us each to a seat, mine being a graceful chair carved from rosewood, with a cushioned seat of rose coloured velvet, sitting in the centre of the room.
Our attention upon her, she spoke, “Drake, you presented Magister Bewlmon with a seemingly difficult task, but when the two of us put our heads together, it became less so. Discussion with the Lady Deglaces provided the final component we needed. Do you have them?”
This last was addressed to Mistress Elladoo who reached into a pouch, at her waist, to get something she handed to Priestess Desmona. Moving in my direction, she continued with her explanation, “See, the purpose of your jewelry is important, the look is not. Well at least the look of the sapphire pieces; your choker, bracelets and anklets tie you to the Gods, but the others can be anything. The magister and I decided that if they can be anything, why not make them so.”
Her cryptic speech did not ease my confusion, noticing this, the magister said, “What Priestess Desmona means, is that there is no reason that their appearance cannot be changed.”
“Yes, yes.” the priestess agreed, frowning prettily at the interruption. “Since you cannot remove the pieces, we needed to come up with a way to make them changeable. How to make this happen was the next question, luckily we have these.”
At this she opened her hand to show me what she had received from the mistress. It took a moment for it to dawn upon me what she held. When it did, I turned to Mistress Elladoo with a questioning look.
Smiling sheepishly she said, “When I commissioned the items that Magister Bewlmon requested for your Chaining, for some reason I included earrings. The magister did not ask for them and I knew he would not make you wear them, but I just felt they were needed for the set.”
“Well that you did Lady Deglace, for it is with them that we will be able to answer Drake’s request. They are linked to the other pieces by style and the hand of their maker, yet free of any other purpose. Therefore we will use them as the focus for another spell, one allowing you to change the appearance of all the pieces. Are you willing?”
“What does it involve?”
“It is simple really. I will pierce your ears with them, while performing my spell. Then all you need to do is to change to different earrings and the rest will transform to match. Do you wish to proceed?”
It seemed to be the opposite to what I had requested, in fact I felt those glittery things would only make it worse. Still maybe they were on to something. If a physical change of earrings would result in a magical change to everything else, could I not switch to something like simple hoops? It would not make it all disappear, but it may make them less noticeable, particularly the diadem. Therefore, I nodded my head.
What followed was nowhere as complex as the ritual Magister Bewlmon had conducted during my Chaining. Moving behind me I heard her sound take on a different tone and when she touched my earlobes it was as if I could not feel her fingers, only the extra weight hanging from each ear told me when she had already finished the piercing. Again the tone changed, becoming more sonorous, as she performed the spell she had described. Then her sound returned to normal and she told me it was done.
Reaching up to feel the stones hanging from my ears brought a wry grin to my face. My search for returned masculinity had taken another step backwards. Madame Deglace, who seemed to take the grin for a smile of pleasure, came over to look and described the results as lovely. She then asked, “Can we see how it works? I brought along some other earrings?”
“Nay Lady Deglace, my spell needs time to attune itself, at least until tomorrow. If Drake will visit me here in the afternoon, we can check to see if it is complete.”
However, that was not to be.
After we left the Shrine and dropped Magister Bewlmon at the Temple, the carriage did not turn for the estate. Instead it headed towards North Gate, before turning West to take us to Henrietta’s Salon in the Theatre District. It was a gathering place for Madame Deglace and those of her social set, where they met to gossip and where vendors of luxurious goods came to display their wares. It was one vendor in particular whom Madame had come to see on that day, a merchant of fine cloth, recently returned from the mainland. The Salon was a place of gentility and feminine elegance right down to a musician playing the lyre in the corner, yet there was also an undercurrent of nastiness, particularly whenever I was introduced, that left me feeling uncomfortable. Thus I stuck close to Mistress Elladoo, unwilling to leave her protection, and was pleased when Madame finished her purchases and we were able to leave.
My afternoon was also spent with the two ladies, out in the estate’s garden, where I tried my hand at embroidery. Surprising myself, I found that I had a certain knack for it and with the help of one of Madame Deglace’s maidservants was able to stay occupied while they talked about people I did not know. It was relaxing, okay for that day, but not for every day. I need to be kept busy.
It was during supper that our plans for the morrow were put on hold. While eating the main course, Johnson the Doorman entered and moved over to speak with Julion. Seeing Julion’s glance in my direction, I guessed that it had something to do with me. Fearing the worst I rose to follow when he gestured for me to follow him from the room. In the hall, he said, “Johnson informs me that Aredente’s people are here for you Drake.”
“But the ritual is not to occur until tomorrow night” Mistress Elladoo, who had also followed, exclaimed before I could.
“Excuse me Milady, but they say that though the ritual is to be tomorrow night the damsel must come with them tonight in order to prepare.”
“Let us get to the bottom of this.” she responded, before leading our group towards the doorway where we found three priestesses in white and surrounded by a stark glow waiting. Continuing to lead, the mistress asked, “Greeting Honoureds, may I ask why you have come for Dra’e tonight, when the ritual is to be tomorrow?”
The oldest of the three responded, “Greetings Lady, it is true that the ritual is scheduled for the eve of tomorrow, but the reasons for your ward to come with us tonight are twofold. The first of these is that the role of the Caller is not an easy one, we will need to spend the time between now and then in preparation.”
I liked that not at all, nor apparently did Mistress Elladoo, for she demanded, “Why did you not let us know of this before hand, why are we only learning of it now?”
“That leads to the second reason Lady Deglace. We did not want anybody to know that we would bring the child into our protection tonight, we feared it may lead the villain to act before we were ready?”
“Are you saying Dra’e is in danger?”
“We are unsure Lady, but we are unwilling to trust the intentions of one who would keep company with Darrel Haubanks.”
Or one who would keep company with Karnigan the Historian, I silently added. Suddenly I was happy to see them, for I had begun to dread the night and the next day, worried that at any moment Tison would strike at me. No it would be better to be away from my friends, to keep them out of danger, while surrounding myself in the power of a God and his followers. So I said, “It is okay Milady. I am ready to go.”
Still unsure, the mistress looked from me to the priestesses and found the same look of determination. Frowning at being overruled she reluctantly agreed, “Well then I will come with you.”
“No Lady,” the priestess said, losing some of her respectful mannerisms. “She is to come alone, others will just be a distraction.”
“Very well, but I like this not. At a minimum, may she change?”
Looking at me in my fancy dress, the priestess nodded her head, “Yes I believe that would be a good idea.”
Taking me by the hand Mistress Elladoo drew me to my bedroom where she helped me out of my dress and into one of her old dresses. She dragged it out as long as possible, but then could delay no longer and giving me a fierce hug, took me back to the lobby where Johnson again draped a cloak over my shoulders. Then in the company of the three I left the mansion to find a contingent of guardsmen, each bearing a halberd and wearing a white surcoat over their chain armour, waiting to escort us to the Tabernacle.
During our march I learned the names of the three priestesses; Junnifer, who had done the talking, Ceniel, and Elibeth. They were tasked with preparing me for the ritual though it would be the head of their order, Curate Leonide, who would actually conduct it. Priestess Junnifer explained what would happen and what was to be my role. Basically I would help the curate call Darrel, if he answered then I was just to watch, allowing the Curate to do the questioning. She told me that my preparation would require me to loosen my grasp upon life.
“What?” I admit, I shrieked when I heard this.
“Worry not Drake, it is not as serious as it sounds. It is really quite simple, we just need to keep you awake between now and then. For, as you grow tired, the real begins to wander.”
So that is what they did, through the night and the entirety of the next day. Since then, I have longer period awake. Yet each of those times it was during an emergency, when my attention was on something other than being tired. But during that night and day there were no weightier distractions to push tiredness aside. It ended up being a most surreal experience, filled with discussions about everything and nothing, periods of songs, drinking a most foul herbal drink, that always drove away some of the sleep, and physical activity. Some of it was almost normal, like when we talked of our lives or told stories or they quizzed me on aspects of the Annals. Other parts are hard to believe, such as the game of tag that we played with five guards in the main hall of the Tabernacle, empty except for the bier upon which bodies rested during the service to send their spirits to Aredente. I still find it hard to believe the childish fun that we had in the late night, just before the rise of the sun, in a place usually so somber.
This too I witnessed, when I joined the Priestesses in the choir loft as they joined their brothers and sisters to sing the songs of mourning for the five people whose spirits were sent forth on that day. And though I did not sing, I shed tears of sympathy for each passing and for those who were left behind to grieve.
After the last of these ceremonies was the most difficult. Saddened and tired, I just wanted to lie down and sleep, but it was time to begin our final preparations. Taking me to a bathing room they had me undress and bathe, a bath unlike the ones I had experienced with Kesa, for it had not been heated. The shock of its coldness forced me awake, then without scented soap or oils I cleaned myself, washing away the scents that served as an attachment to life. Finished, Ceniel helped me dry my body with a towel while Elibeth with a murmured spell brushed her hand through my hair, leaving it dry.
Cleansed, Elibeth quickly braided my hair in a fashion similar to her own after which Ceniel helped me into a white robe of the softest wool. A robe that was the same as I had seen five others wear that day, with sleeves draping and cinched at the waist by a long, white, silken cord. They then offered me a final drink before we moved into main hall.
However, I soon realized that the drink was different. Instead of awakening, it pushed me closer to sleep, for the people who were there, to observe, blurred and became shades of themselves. By the time we reached the bier I was asleep on my feet, putting up no struggle when four priests approached and lifted me to lie on the hard, marble bier. I tried to jokingly ask if this was my funeral, but nobody heard my words, for they had not been spoken. Everything seemed so far away, the observers, or were they mourners, even the man in white who stood above me and held my hand, though I felt in not. Nor did I hear him chant, even if it seemed lips slowly moved
Then he became real, I could feel his hand upon mine and hear his words. Now I stood beside him, no longer lying upon the bier. When I looked around I saw that we were still in the hall, though alone. Looking up at he, who I guessed to be the Curate Leonide, I asked, “What is happening?”
“We are now in a place not of our world child, though not in Aredente’s realm either. Call it my God’s antechamber if you will, it is here that we can speak to the dead. All that we need is for you to call Darrel Haubanks.”
“How do I do that Sir?”
“The same way you would call someone of the living.”
Hesitantly, unsure, I called, “Darrel, Darrel the Roamer, I would speak to you.”
When nothing happened, I looked again at the curate who gestured towards the door. As I watched it opened, from a dark gloom shuffled a figure that soon became discernible as Darrel. Unlike Karnigan, his appearance was not glorious. His skin was of a greyish pallor and his head drooped down to lay upon a shoulder, forcing him to look sideways at us. But in his eyes there was recognition and hate, which caused him to snarl, “What do you want Sweetmeat? What nasty trick are you going to play on Darrel now?”
Before I could answer the curate squeezed my hand and said, “Speak not child. Darell Haubanks it is not for you to ask questions, you are here to provide answers.”
“Very well whiterobe, but don’t expect me to nod. The bitch made it so can’t do that anymore, you know I really do hate her.”
“Is there anybody you do not hate Darrel Haubanks?”
“A good point. Now what is your question, with death my patience has become even worse.”
“We seek the name of your contact in Glanlies.”
“Ahh, you still haven’t found him. But then I am not surprised, snakes are always good at hiding.”
“Give us his name.”
“Why should I?”
“Because if you do, then he will share your fate. You wouldn’t want him to go free while you suffer, would you?”
Darrel smiled, a grisly smile, “You know me too well, don’t you. Very well, his name is Vernor Gralien.”
“Who?” I could not stop myself from exclaiming, for it was not the expected name. It was supposed to be Overmage Tison. Had I misjudged?
“Not the name you were expecting, is it Sweetmeat?”
“Enough villain. Do you lie?”
“No whiterobe, I do not lie. Vernor Gralien is who you want.” Then looking directly at me, seeing my anguished surprise, he finished by saying, “Who knew the truth could be such a pointed weapon.”
With those words he turned and shuffled back through the door from which he had come. Leaving me to ask myself. ‘Had I made the wrong choice?’
There was no time to answer, for as the door closed we were whisked back to the real hall. Briefly I saw the observers, but before my thoughts could align I fell asleep upon the bier.
-------------------------
The question was still there upon my next awakening in my room, at the Deglace mansion. For a moment I was crushed by what a horrible mistake I had made, but then logic made itself known. I remembered that I had made my choice before coming to believe that Overmage Tison was the villain whom Darrel would finger. My reasons against dealing with Karnigan had not changed, any price he asked would still be too high. So no, nothing I had learned led me to be sure that I had made a wrong choice.
Still I could not deny that I had hoped that it would be Tison. I had convinced myself that he was not to be trusted, that he was up to something. It would have been so much better to tidily wrap it up with him as Darrel’s ally. I was wrong, but unwilling to admit that I was totally wrong. Tison and Karnigan were still after something and they would receive no help from me.
Realizing that I did not want to think on it any more, that I did not want to doubt my choice, I got out of bed. Considering what to wear, I decided instead to head to the bath. That was always a good choice.
I worried not, well mostly worried not, about my choice during the final few days of my first visit to Glanlies. Instead I moved wholeheartedly into the preparation for the next part of my life. I learned that Clara would accompany the Mistress back to Elladoo Post, while I would journey North with the wagon train of supplies and goods. This decision was made for a few reasons. Most importantly the route the two women were to take was quicker and the Post was in greater need of their skills than of mine. Plus they felt that it would give me a good opportunity to get some command experience, though I was cautioned to listen to the senior wagoneer and corporal.
However, another reason to send me with the wagon train was that the mistress was concerned about taking me through Corels. If I had been successful in my quest to return to maledom it would have been one thing, but we worried that my enemies, who had retreated, not been vanquished, would once more stir up trouble. Worry not though, I had learned my lesson and spent a full afternoon scribing a hand-cramp-inducing letter, explaining all that had happened within Glanlies, my choice and why we decided to keep me from Corels. Not waiting for the mistress to deliver it to my parents during her passage, I posted it with a service that delivered correspondence between the two cities.
That evening Madame Deglace took the opportunity to test out Priestess Desmona’s spell. It was rather amazing, all I needed to do was change my earrings and soon the rest would match, only needing to remove them to make them turn back to their normal state. No matter what she had me try, jewel or metal, the rest would take on the same style. She felt that the magic would come in handy, thinking that all she needed to do was find some earrings she liked and I could show her what matched. After all, she felt that there couldn’t be a better designer of jewelry then Asolde.
Clara and I also took the opportunity to pick up the items that we had earlier ordered. Most of it I was quite happy with, specially a beautifully made pair of black, riding boots, which came over my knees and had a jaunty flap I could fold down or tie around my thighs when I rode in the rain.
I was less pleased with the three pairs of leather breeches, made of deerskin, including a reinforcing panel for the inner thighs and the crotch. They were well suited for days in the saddle. I just was not prepared for how very tight they would be after I tied the thongs closed at the sides. Used as I had become to having my cleavage on display, the lower part of my body had been mostly hidden by long skirts. Nothing was hidden by the breeches
Standing in shock after pulling on the first pair I heard Clara whistle and laughingly say, “Good thing it is impossible for you to put on weight Drake. For if you put on another pound, I don’t think you would be able to squeeze into those breeches.”
“What do I do Clara, they are way too tight. Will the leather worker change them for me.”
“No you can’t ask that Drake, they’re exactly as I told her to make them.”
“Why did you do that?” I whined.
“That’s the way I thought you liked them, I know you always pay close attention to mine when I wear them.”
“But yours aren’t this tight,” I protested, not realizing I condemned myself in my own defense.
Grinning evilly Clara answered, “True, but then I do gain weight. Not like you, you lucky girl.”
The breeches were a minor setback, a bigger one came when we learned that Mary had also made a choice. Always having disliked the life at Elladoo Post, she finally decided to retire and stay with her family in Glanlies. Having so recently made her my friend, I was saddened to learn that we would be apart. Still Mary’s decision was harder on Mistress Elladoo, who had relied on her support for years and needed to choose a new maidservant, sadly not Sophie, before she returned to the North.
With that choice made, supplies collected and wagon train loaded, it was time for us to return to where we belonged. So four days after waking from seeing Darrel, Sophie helped me get ready one last time. She had found a pair of small silver hoops that resulted in simple bands around my fingers, toes, and at my forehead. I liked how small it made the diadem, being hardly noticeable when Sophie pulled my hair into a long, tight braid, one she hoped would last for most of my trip North. Then I dressed, pulling on a pair of my tight, knee-length breeches and my new riding boots, then topping it off with a blowsy white shirt and a leather bodice that provided the additional support I needed while on horseback.
Dressed, I hugged and thanked Sophie for the support, before heading for the main door. There I found Mistress Elladoo and Julion waiting to wish me good bye, the Lord and Lady having done the same the night before. Though, before they had gone to bed, they had extracted a promise that I would return for the winter, a time which was slow at the Post. Madame wanted to explore the jewelry business and hinted once more at the Winter Festival, meanwhile Lord Deglace let me know that he wanted to test his theory about some of those with whom he negotiated.
I said good bye to Julion first, upon which he wrapped me in tight hug, telling me, “Come back soon Ducky, we still have many plots to plot and plans to plan.”
“I will, you know that your parents think I should return in the winter.”
“You really must. And you really must promise to wear these breeches again, I do so enjoy how they look.” This last had been whispered in my ear, but the fact that he let a hand wander down to rub the part of those breeches covering my bum made his words a secret hard to keep.
“Julion!” His sister admonished, “Unhand my apprentice, what would your betrothed think?”
“Don’t worry sister mine. She knows that Drake is my new partner in crime, I mean good deeds, and would understand that we need a secret handshake.”
Knowing I would miss his good humour I joined the joke by returning the favour, then in a feeling of mischief I stood upon my toes and gave him a peck on the cheek, “I’ll miss you partner.”
“You two! Come here Dra’e before my brother corrupts you any further.”
In this hug I was the taller and the whisperer, “Thank you for everything Milady. I needed all the support you have provided.”
“It was the least I could do Dra’e, but will you be alright on your own?”
“I won’t be alone Ma’am. Jimi and Stork will look after me, plus Thomsa and Deagel will make sure nothing happens.”
“Are you sure?”
“I think so.”
“Very well then, I will see you soon.”
This time it was I who received the peck on the cheek. With a word of thanks to Johnson, I was through the door and joined Jimi and Stork who waited with horses, including Clara’s horse, Beauty, that I was to ride. Helping me into my new saddle, Stork ducked away from my swing when he pinched my bottom and laughingly mounted his own horse.
Then the princess and her lapdogs rode North.
-------------------------
The final piece of this tale occurred after I had left Glanlies and returned to the North. In fact it did not even occur in the city instead it along the coast that Vernor Gralien was tracked down in a shack, passed out drunk. Captured and broken, he had confessed to everything, right back to helping Darrel in the rapes that had initiated that unworthy’s roaming. It took the presiding Deacon of Jiringel little time to decide Gralien’s fate and within a day he was decorating the end of a gibbet.
As for me, I and everybody working at Elladoo and Many Song Post had a busy summer. We needed to perform our regular tasks, but had many others thrust upon us. It meant that I spent a lot of time aboard a horse breaking in my new tack and leather breeches.
Maybe I will find time to write of those days and of other adventures that were to follow, but for now my contract with the Asthelhorne Monthly Biography Journal is complete. After their successful run of Great Villain Journals, which included the stories of Darrel and Vernor’s lifes, they felt some would find it interesting to read how my life impacted theirs. Whether they hoped I would speak more of those two, I cannot say. But know this, the two men had a smaller impact upon my life than I did on theirs. And in that I am fortunate.
Farewell and as always, enjoy yourself!
Adventures of a Merchant -4- Dance with a Demon
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Returned to the North, still conjoined with Sandrelessa, it is time for Drake to resume his interrupted studies. After a summer of learning more about what he had always dreamed of becoming, it was almost possible to forget what he had become.
If only everybody else were so able to segment him into his various selfs.
Adventures of a Merchant: Dance with a Demon
by Arcie Emm
See Prior Adventures of a Merchant:
- The Start
- A Pause in Corels
- Choices
Thank you to Hope Eternal Reigns whose editing so often causes me to embarrassedly exclaim, Doh!
A tale untold is like jewelry unsold, precious and shining gloriously, only for its owner. With my writing contract not extended after my third tale, combined with an inability to find new takers for it, I began to wonder if my story was like a ring on a charlatan’s finger, large and gaudy, implying an undeserved worth to its owner.
Most depressing were these thoughts. Bad enough being unable to sell the goods from your inventory, but when those unwanted goods are your own stories, it is embarrassing. In defeat, I scurried away from the world of writing, focusing on my first love, my truest love, the art of the deal. It welcomed me warmly, gathering me in and making me question why I had ever strayed from the comfort of its embrace. Soon I had mostly forgotten about my endeavors with the quill, even convincing myself that I was content with the way things had worked out, that I had returned to my true purpose.
Then upon returning from my last trip to the Kingdom, I found a missive waiting from my former editor, who, along with some others, had started a new journal and were interested in publishing more of my adventures. Despite thinking that writing was behind me, my excitement at this news was undeniable. Excitement dampened upon learning that they wanted something right now, with right now equating to before I return to the road in a couple of weeks.
The difficulty with that request is that I am not the quickest writer. The act can be downright painful, so much so, that friends have told me that they would rather be around a cat giving birth to a calf, than me writing one of my tales.
So though my original plan involved writing about the months after I first visited Glanlies, dwelling on all that I had learned and saw during that summer, it would take too long to write. Thus my decision to focus on a single day, believing that penning a tale for such a time frame, in such a time frame, was doable. That decision made, there was only one day I could choose, one near the end of the summer and unlike all the others.
It was an important day.
I think.
***
It really was the most excellent day, one where the shining sun was chased by enough clouds to provide periodic relief from the heat. Even the prior night’s rain had stopped before turning the path to mud, instead it served to keep down the dust that could have been kicked up by the wheels and horses of my wagon train.
Yes, my wagon train.
Admittedly it was not a large train, consisting only of three wagons, their drivers, and six guards. But it was the first one where I was in charge, it contained no journeymen, no senior wagoners, not even one of the corporals. Though just a regular run, serving the small farming communities dotting the land around Elladoo Post, still I felt proud to have been entrusted with the task. And if one looked in the back of any of the carts, they would judge it a task well done.
Constant checking and rechecking meant that not only did I provide great entertainment for the veteran crew accompanying me, but that I intimately knew each wagon’s contents. The majority of the trade goods, originally accompanying us from the fort, were gone, in their place were recently harvested vegetables, probably destined for the Hanglish mines or North Fort. Meanwhile, our real treasures were to be found in chests stored beneath each wagon’s seat. Inside could be found collections of seeds, leaves, roots, bark and flowers from any number of herbs and plants that were in demand from the apothecaries in the Southern cities. I hoped that Master Elladoo would allow me to manage their dispersal upon my return to Glanlies for the winter, believing that it would be a good way to continue my summer’s education.
Education that had been the foundation of Master Elladoo’s plan to keep me too busy to worry about my afflictions. He had proceeded with my apprenticeship, just as if I had not been changed from his apprentice boy into an attractive, tow-headed girl, who happened to be conjoined with a bloodthirsty demoness. When that plan met with skepticism from Mistress Elladoo and myself, we received a rare reminder as to who was in charge as I found myself part of the work crew, under Durk, heading to Many Song Post.
It proved that he, who had been my teacher for a number of years, had not been duped into forgetting who I had been or assuming that I had completely changed. He believed things were going too fast, that the excitement and attention in Glanlies had gone to my head, and that I was in need of some grounding. Durk was assigned that task.
Now in my prior writings, I have probably been unfair in my descriptions of Durk, having him always come off second best to Clara. Yet how can you compare rock to fire, their strengths are needed at different times. For the next month I learned the way of the rock, while serving as its assistant. It proved exhausting. Durk was a large man, muscled not fat, who seemingly had boundless energy, allowing him to continuously move about the construction site ensuring everything went to plan. And except when he had me running an errand, I was always at his side. Actually, since I was barely over chest high to the man, despite being tall for my new gender, it was more like I scurried along a step or two behind.
Nor was it just my legs that were exercised, as he had always been my most demanding instructor. Our endless trek, around the site, was accompanied by constant explanations of what needed to be done, why it was needed, who would do it, and how it would be done. Or he would talk of the tribes and their history or villages and their headsmen. Then, at any moment, I had to be prepared for quizzes about what he told me, that day or the one before.
Each night I was glad to crawl into the blankets, underneath my tent’s roof, and sleep until morning. Little time or energy existed for thinking about my state or missing the luxury that had grown almost normal in Glanlies.
Not that I could completely ignore my changes. For instance, with it being summer, all the men slept under tarps, instead of inside a tent. But for me, even though muggy and often less comfortable than outside, the mistress had deemed that I should have a tent and this time she was right. As one of the few females in camp, the other two being a pair of entrepreneurs-of-the-sheets who followed the work crew from Glanlies, quite a bit of attention was directed towards me, though it was controlled attention. I was protected by both my colleagues and my own fearsome reputation, but the privacy of the tent often brought relief.
The experience also forced me to deal with my situation myself, with no maidservants to show me the way or do it for me. With little time to make things into a big deal, I just learned to make due. An example being, when I finally needed to do something with my hair, one of the summer-hire guardsmen taught me how to put it in a warrior’s braid.
Master Elladoo was proven correct in his methods. My confidence improved as I was immersed in what I wanted to do with my life. Every caravan, I took part in after returning from the construction site, further brought that home, none more than this current one.
It was great fun and I was not sure if I wanted it to end. So on that lovely day I had decided to just enjoy the sun and found myself upon the bench of one of the wagons. For it is easier to travel with your eyes closed, when someone else is in charge of getting you where you need to go. Not that it was unusual for me to spend as much time riding a bench as my horse, for my newly gained rejuvenation powers made it impossible for me to develop the iron butt that allowed others to spend hour upon hour in the saddle.
Which is why my seat-mate noticed the approaching figure first, causing him to nudge me awake as he said, “Missy Drake, Felix is on his way back.”
No longer bothered by any of the frequently used, feminine titles I looked up to see Felix heading towards us at a trot. Calmed by his pace, realizing his speed meant nothing was overly awry, I nonetheless wondered what would bring him back to us during the day. Doubtless it was a good reason, because the man tried to stay as far away from the rest of us as possible, believing that would keep him away from command of our small guard detachment. A role he refused to accept, even though his experience and skills meant he was the man for the job. In this he was little different than the rest of those making up our train, a group who lacked ambition despite their competence. Able though Felix was, more able in fact than me, he preferred others to make the decisions.
Pulling up, beside the cart upon which I sat, Felix nodded a greeting and explained, “A band of Roamers are camped at Endorn Glade, they had this missive for you from Master Elladoo.”
Catching the small piece of rolled-up parchment, tossed in my direction, I unrolled it.
Despite being only a half a day away from Carlysle, the last village in which we spent the prior night, Endorn Glade was the standard overnight stop before the final push to Elladoo Post, which itself was only two-thirds of a day further along. Master Elladoo had implemented the rule, because he did not want his wagon trains trying to squeeze the trip into a single day, which could lead to broken axles and injured horses. Not that anyone had a problem with camping at the glade, formed within a bend of Falim Creek, which fed into the Rillian, it was a wonderful camping spot.
“Well Tavis, it looks like your ladies will have a lighter load tomorrow. Felix let everyone know that there are Roamers at the glade and pass on all of Sergeant Hussel’s usual reminders about dealing with them.”
Those reminders were based entirely around being cautious around the Roamer’s womenfolk, for their men were fiercely protective of those beauties. A group that I knew included one of the ladies of my dreams, Filice, Gillan’s daughter. Sighing at what never would have been, even without my change, I pulled on my riding boots, unhitched the reins of my horse from a hook behind me, pulled myself into its saddle, and thanked Tavis for the ride.
“Not a problem thing Missy Drake, it makes me the envy of all the boyos when you sit beside me.”
***
When the wagons were a couple of miles short of Endorn Glade, Felix and Jimi - who had accompanied me everywhere that summer acting uncomplainingly as my bodyguard, joined me as I rode ahead to finalize arrangements with the Roamers. Entering the glade, just before mid-day, we found it contained twenty-eight brightly painted, living wagons set-up in a rather permanent looking camp. Apparently they had spent some days waiting for our appearance, though the number of deer carcasses hanging from pole frames proved that the wait had been worthwhile.
At the edge of their camp we were met by four men, one taking the reins of our horses as we dismounted and nodded respectfully towards Gillan Meryers. Smiling at me, he returned a lesser nod, before saying, “Greetings Apprentice Drake, I see that the rumours we heard do hold some truth.”
“There is doubtless much exaggeration in what you heard Headman.”
“I am not so sure, for you are lovely as was told.”
Unprepared for such blatant flirtation, I moved the conversation back to areas of comfort. “Umm...thank you. I received Master Elladoo’s note, which stated that you seek to purchase vegetables from us?”
“Yes we do. Whenever my people try to purchase directly from the villagers they try to drive up the price between families. Better to deal with your master, who sells to us at a standard price of 20 copper per pound.”
“I’m sorry Headman Meryers, but Master Elladoo informed me I was to accept nothing less than 25 copper.”
Smiling unabashedly at his failed ruse, he looked down at me and while making me wish I had not left the laces at the neck of my blouse so loose, said, “Maybe 22 coppers? I am sure Elladoo, being such a reasonable man, would accept that price.”
“Maybe if we sold enough it would be acceptable.”
“I am sure that we will leave your carts mostly empty.”
“Very well then, 22 copper it is. Where would you like us to set up our carts?”
“Freido will show you where and provide payment once everyone has made their selections. Then would you and your men be interested in looking through our wares or seeking the services of one of our craftsmen?”
Despite what you will hear in the cities, the Roamers are not thieves and laze-abouts. Instead they are tinkers, leather-workers, tailors, and the like who sell their services to the small communities of the frontier. Others are musicians, dancers, and actors who provide news and entertainment to the same customers. Doubtless the members of our caravan would be interested in the services of the first group, while hoping to be entertained by the second. I know I was.
“If they wish.”
“Excellent and in the evening you must all join us around the bonfire. There will be dancing.”
“We would enjoy that Headman Meryers.”
Soon afterwards, the carts arrived and while the guards set up camp, the wagoners began to assist the Roamer women fill baskets with vegetables. These were then brought to Freido and I, each with our own scale, where we noted the weight of the basket before its contents were emptied into burlap bags carried to each wagon by the young men of the families. Unlike our men, they apparently had not received any warnings about the amount of attention to pay to the other side’s womenfolk. Since that meant me, it was sometimes difficult to focus on my task, especially when Freido decided that our scales matched and that he may as well help the young men, though not with the carrying.
However, beyond the unwanted attention, everything went smoothly, leaving less than a wagon full of vegetables unsold. Finished our sales, I advanced each of us some of our salary, noting down each amount, to spend amongst the Roamers. Then detailing guard duties, headed towards the colourful camp.
Crossing the grounds between the two camps we were met by a number of the large wolfhounds that were always the companions of the Roamers. Fortunately they were well behaved, because they were massive dogs, particularly the chest high, light grey beast who claimed my side as its own. However, there were none of the children that I had come to expect in their camps, though that absence was explained away by shrieks and yells in the distance, which implied they were making use of the pools that made the glade such a fine camping location, probably chaperoned by the older girls, who were also absent.
Reaching the wagons, our group split. The guards headed towards the metal workers to have their swords sharpened, for the Roamers were known to create the finest edges on blade in the Peninsula. Meanwhile, the wagoners sought the leather workers for repairs to their tack.
Not having drawn my sword since I purchased it, nor having put significant wear upon my tack, neither path interested me. Instead my focus dwelt upon obtaining gifts of thanks to take with me to Glanlies, an idea encountered in the Annals, approved by the Mistress, and made possible by my share of the proceeds from the sale of the booty from the bandit’s camp. Still, as a rather unworldly fifteen year old, I had no ideas of what to buy. So I asked my shadow.
“Who you buying for again?” Jimi asked.
“Lord and Lady Deglace, for being my hosts. Then there is Julion, Magister Bewlmon, and Archmage Sharlese for all they did to help me. Finally I would like to get something for Mary, who was my rock in the early days after my change.”
After a few moments of thought, Jimi said, “I don’t know about most of ‘em, but I got ideas for the Master Deglaces.”
“You do? That would be a great start.”
“Well when we was back in the City I ended up on escort duty with Master Hiram and noticed that he always had a walking stick. Different ones too, so we could check with Old Abner. Then you can get some arrow shafts from Young Abner, since Master Julion is an avid archer and he is bound to appreciate Roamer made shafts.”
Thinking both of those were fine ideas, we set out to find the large, green and yellow wagon that was the home of the woodworking family Abners where I engaged the elder and Jimi the younger. As Abner laid twelve walking sticks upon a table beside his wagon I tried to remember my little knowledge about walking sticks and Master Deglace, it was all rather minimal. Though my impressions of the man led me to believe he would prefer something plain and elegant, rather than coarse and gaudy.
With this perspective, I mentally made a selection. Yet as you surely know, it puts one in a poor bargaining position to immediately point at your choice and state you want it. Only after getting the price of two others, did I ask about the one that had caught my eye.
A glint in Abner’s eye told me he was not fooled. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she Miss. Carved from a nicely grained piece of black gramblenut wood, varnished its natural colour, tipped in beaten and polished tin, and with a handle covered in shark skin. Being such a lovely example of the walking stick art, one that any gentleman worthy of the title would be proud to own, means that I could only part with it for 1 gold 25 silver.”
An insane price, barely less than I paid for my sword, and both of us knew it. However, while he saw it as the opening to a good haggle, I decided to follow in the footsteps of my summer’s teacher. Being less fleet of tongue than others, Durk was not big on bargaining, deeming it a social activity that led to exaggeration and theatrics, neither of which he particularly enjoyed. For this reason, he would not even begin to bargain unless the price he heard was somewhat reasonable, so I just nodded my head and began asking the price of other sticks.
After a slight hesitation Abner preceded to tell me the price of the rest of the sticks, placing four within the 40 - 60 silver price range the mistress and I had agreed would be appropriate for the thank you gifts, based upon my station and wealth. Separating these from the rest, I studied and tested each, finding that a white oak piece, the cheapest of the four, felt the best in my hands.
Noticing that the oak stick kept finding its way into my hands, Abner asked, “Excuse me Miss, maybe I could provide further assistance in your choice. Do you seek one for your own use?”
“Nay I am looking for a gift.”
“For a man or a woman?”
“A man.”
“Ahh, I was wondering, because most men would find the stick you hold to be overly fine.”
Confused, since it seemed to be the plainest of the bunch, I said, “But it hardly has any decorations.”
“Not that type of fine Miss. Here hold up your hand, see how much smaller it is than mine? Well we men find a lady’s stick, like that one, too thin for comfort. We need something more solid.”
Feeling embarrassed, despite the logic in my finding a woman’s walking stick the most appropriate, I blurted, “Lord Deglace does have quite large hands.”
“Lord Hiram Deglace?” Seeing my reluctant nod, he continued, “Well that changes everything. He is a collector and you can’t just give him any walking stick. The only one worthy of his ownership is this one.”
Cursing the slip of my tongue that had returned our discussion back to the expensive stick, sooner than I had planned, I none-the-less realized that the unwanted bargaining had begun. “It is a nice piece Goodman Abner; however, it is well beyond my price range.”
“You would pay much more for such a work of art in Glanlies.”
“I am sure that is true, which would put it even further out of my price range. Would you take 35 silver for the grey one?”
Snorting at the choice, Abner said, “I rather doubt that Lord Deglace will find himself in a dockside bar brawl, for that is all that cudgel is good for. No the only option is this one, how about 1 gold even, that is an excellent price.”
“Still too much Goodman Abner, would you take 45 silver?”
“It would break me, I couldn’t do that.”
Surely there is no need to repeat what followed, it being the same as any such dealing. However, we still found ourselves 15 silver apart. Stalemated, it was my opponent who changed tactics when he asked, “You seem to like the white oak stick, maybe we can work out a package deal for both?”
Surprised to find that stick still in my hand, I responded, “Oh no, I don’t need one for myself.”
“Don’t be too sure. If you spend any time walking about one of the cities, you will quickly find its benefit. Also there will be times when you are unable to wear that sword at your waist, yet can carry your walking stick, which will offer you almost the same amount of protection.”
Remembering my aching feet the day Jimi, Stork, and I spent running errands for Clara, while knowing that my sword was never included when I found myself in skirts, I saw the wisdom in these comments. My being intrigued by the idea, meant he had himself a customer. In the end he sold me both for 1 gold, more than I had intended, but rarely is that not the case when you bargain with as little knowledge as I had about walking sticks.
Nor did my purse find relief dealing with Young Abner, though this time it was not through lack of knowledge. No upon seeing the footed arrows he was showing to Jimi, made from cedar though tipped and knocked in purple heart, I immediately recognized their quality and knew they would be wonderful for archery contests. And since Julion was my favourite Deglace, after the mistress, I did not mind paying 31 silver each for three.
A better deal was found for Archmage Sharlese and Magister Bewlmon. A pair of leather gloves, dyed the same burgundy as her robes, for the archmage. While for Magister Bewlmon I found a tin ink well, decorated with mountains.
This left me with Mary and Lady Deglace, for whom neither Jimi nor I had any idea what to buy. So I moved from wagon to wagon, hoping to spot something that struck my fancy. This, in time, brought us to the wagon of Delilah the Seamstress, a name I remember Mary mentioning during the day when she and the Washans prepared my wardrobe for our trip to Glanlies. Since it had been in positive terms, I took a chance and told Delilah that I looked for gift for Mary.
“Mary? She’s not ill is she? I missed her visit when we passed through at Elladoo Post a few days back?”
“No Goodwife, she has decided to stay in Glanlies with her family.”
“So she finally decided to follow her own wants, instead of her mistress’s, did she?”
“Aye.”
“Good for her, some are not meant for the North. Though I will miss her visits. And yes I do have something that I had planned to show her, hold here for a moment and I will retrieve it from my wagon.”
It was longer than a moment, before she returned carrying a basket. Setting it down on her table, she said, “Now if I had my druthers, Mary is not who I would choose to make me any garment, but she has an excellent eye for decorating one already made. So often she bought the trimmings and ruffles I make.”
With these words she opened the basket and began looking through the different trimmings inside. Of various colours, the majority being the ruffles that the Roamers used to trim their dresses. Finding what she was looking for, Delilah pulled out a length, of multiple yards, in a recognizable blue. “Mary was always after me to make some in Deglace blue, but only recently did I find some cloth that is properly dyed to allow me to do so.”
Knowing how much of her time, during the trip South, Mary had spent with her sewing bag out, adding decoration to either the mistress’ or my dresses, I could imagine that she would appreciate what was in the basket. Yet I was surprised with how little it cost me to buy what must have taken as many hours to make as either of the walking sticks I had earlier purchased. Embarrassed that I had spent so little on Mary, who was the most important person to me, I asked Delilah if she had anything else that Mary may like, such as a scarf or a dress.
“I doubt that would be a wise idea Miss Drake. Mary is not the type to have others pick her clothes for her, much rather would she choose for them.”
Laughing, I agreed, “That is true.”
“So speaks the voice of experience?”
“Aye, she has strong opinions on what is proper, despite what may be practical or what I think.”
“How would she react to the practical, boyish garb you are wearing?”
“Oh she would hate it. Thinking it is not lady-like enough, nor would she like me gallivanting about, escorted only by Jimi, with a merchant train. But her beliefs also allow her to be a rock when needed. I miss her and so will be in one of her dresses when next we meet.”
Smiling, Delilah said, “Surely you don’t share dresses with her.”
“No, no, it is as you said earlier, all of my non-traveling clothes were chosen by Mary.”
“Just think how she would feel if you showed up to visit her in a pretty, new dress. One you had picked out yourself. Wouldn’t that be a treat for her?”
In that moment I felt sudden kinship with the fish swimming about in its pool when presented with the sight of a wiggling worm. Delilah was right, Mary would probably be just as pleased to see me show up looking all girly as she would by anything I could get her. And though both the fish and I saw an invitation too good to be true, nature demanded that we take a nibble.
“It might...”
“Oh I am sure of it. Often did she lament that it was not worth her time looking at the things I made, since her mistress had no interest in her own appearance. Maybe you would be interested?”
Entranced by the worm, as it bobbed up and down, I took another nibble. “I guess I could look.”
“That seems reasonable Dearie, why don’t we pop into my wagon and see?”
The worm suddenly moving away confused me for a moment, but as expected I followed her into a surprisingly large interior, everything from a small stove, to cupboards, benches, and beds bolted and folded the against the walls of the wagon. There was ample room for the two of us, there would have even been room for Jimi, if Delilah had not firmly told him to wait outside.
“Being that you are so tall and slender, most of the things I have will not fit. However, there is one piece I have that, with the slightest adjustments, would be perfect for you. Let me find it. Here it is, yes hold it up against yourself and let me see.”
Even after having spent much of the summer in pants and shirt, the dress did not instill the terror that it once would have done. So I did not hesitate in taking it from her; however, I did not immediately follow instructions, instead holding it up at arms length to get a better view for myself. Though the dress was much as expected, the colour did surprise me. Unlike the usual bold colours you usually see a Roamer woman wear, this dress was an ivory white whose starkness was offset only by the obligatory black ruffles at the skirts hem. Otherwise, it had the low, square-cut neck line, long bell sleeves, and unevenly cut skirt, the front being knee high while the back came down low on the calf, that I always found so attractive on their young women. My initial perusal complete, and with Delilah still waiting, I held the dress up to my body for her to judge the fit.
“My that does look good with your colouring, though most of our girls couldn’t wear it. And it looks to be a decent fit. How do you like it?”
“It’s quite nice.” I said, honestly not knowing if the colour was good on me or not. My fashion sense having not begun to develop, it just seemed like another dress. Maybe a bit fancier than those in the cupboard in my room at Elladoo Post, but nothing like the ones left behind in Glanlies. I thought I would be okay with wearing it.
The fisherwoman finally set her hook. “Well then, out of your clothes and let’s see how it looks on you.”
Too late my instincts cut in and I headed for the weeds. “Umm...that may not be wise, I have been on the road for days and have not had a chance to bathe.”
She was prepared, pulling back before I swam too far. “Worry not Dearie, I have a basin of water and some soap, you can wipe away the worst of the road dust and sweat.”
With this offer, she soon had me out of bodice and shirt, wiggling out of deerskin breeches, even my small clothes and bandeau. And though I really wanted to take a dip in the pools monopolized by the Roamer children, the hand wash with the cool water proved refreshing. Until the opening of the wagon’s door, bringing a sudden rush of light, caused me to let loose a rather high-pitched squeal of distress as I tried to cover myself with arms and wash cloth.
“Kailie, close that door right now.”
“Oops sorry Mama, I did not know you were with someone.” Said Delilah`s pretty daughter, who was slightly younger than my own age, as she entered the wagon to join the two of us. Looking appraisingly at me, she asked, “Everybody says so, but are you really Drake the apprentice boy from Elladoo Post? Cause if so, you’ve changed from mouse to vixen since last I saw you.”
Feeling myself grow even redder, I was happy to be rescued by Delilah. “Kailie, where are your manners?”
“Sorry Mama.”
“What are you doing here girl?”
“Well the young‘uns are done with the pool. Now it’s our turn, so I came to get my brush, some soap and a change of clothes before meeting up with the rest to head to North pool.”
“Wait a few moments, then you can take Drake with you and the other girls. I am sure you will appreciate more than that basin offers, won’t you Drake?”
Beginning to recover from the shock of Kailie’s arrival, I immediately saw the benefit in joining her and her friends while they bathed. And not for the reason offered by Delilah. “Yes, that would be wonderful.”
“Okay, what you doing anyway?”
“She’s looking for a dress.”
“Which one? Oh the white one, it’s so pretty. You’re so lucky it will fit you Drake, I always wanted it for myself, but Mama says I am too big up top.”
“Don’t brag Kailie, you don’t have Drake’s tiny waist. Really her breasts are perfect for her. At least so thought the boys, who delivered our groceries.”
While I finished washing, the two continued discussion about my appearance, everything from my head to toes. It was almost as if they forgot I was with them in the wagon. It meant that I was as ready as ever to put on a dress, hoping to distract them from offering their opinions on my finer qualities as a woman. Pulling it over my head, I gave a little shimmy to get it past my hips, then extracted my braid from its trap inside the bodice, allowing Kailie to do up the laces in the back. Dressed, Delilah examined the fit.
“Maybe it is a bit short, but that will just give you a chance to show off your pretty knees. How does it feel?”
“It is very soft, but the skirts seems tight.”
“Nonsense, that is how they are supposed to be and they’re not as tight as those breeches on the floor, though they will accentuate those swaying hips of yours.”
About to protest, I remembered Julion’s statements to the mages Sharlese and Tison about how I moved. Instead my attention remained upon the dress, deciding that in particular I liked the sleeves, which did not drape far past my wrists allowing me to use my hands without the cuffs getting in the way. In general, other than the intentional tightness at my hips, it seemed a good fit. I surprised myself by liking it. “If that is the case, then I have no more complaints about the fit.”
“Not so quickly Dearie.” Delilah said, pinching cloth at my waist. “It is quite loose here, I think we will have to put some darts in to get the proper fit. Kailie, hand me some pins.”
Standing patiently, so as not to be stuck by a pin, the dress was soon shaped to my form. Still a little frown on the seamstress’s face said she still was not happy. “This may not work. We need to take in more cloth than I had hoped, the darts may end up being too noticeable. I could try to make them appear decorative, but that is not what I had in mind when first making the dress.”
“How about like the ladies of Jewel, Mama?”
“What’s that? Oh yes, there’s an idea. Let me look.”
As her mother searched through the cupboards at the back of the wagon, Kailie noticed my look of confusion and explained. “Drake, you would be a natural for Jewel, where they very much appreciate a woman with a trim waist. The noblewoman even force their daughters into the most horrible of rib crushing devices to make it happen. Better to be a common woman in Jewel, instead of inflicting such torture upon themselves they wear wide belts. Mama does good business selling such belts.”
“Apparently Mama needs to become serious about replacing her stock. I only found two black ones that will fit. Here let’s try this one first.”
The first was of brocade, decorated with flowers embroidered in red thread, and was at least a hand width wide, I was surprised that it was not more uncomfortable. Still I did not particularly like it, thinking that the red flowers were rather too gaudy for the dress. That was not the case for the second belt, made of the softest leather, its blackness offset only be the white thread at the edges. However, it was less comfortable, besides being twice as wide it was also shorter in length, forcing me to suck in my breath before it could be laced tight, though it did provide a nice accent to the white dress.
“Well Drake, do you like either of them?”
“They’re both nice. Though the first one was a bit too...too much.”
Delilah interrupted, “I agree, it just did not go with your new dress at all. Much wiser to go with the leather one.”
Kailie agreed, “Definitely Drake, it really shows of your figure. The boys will love it.”
Having not realized that it had become a foregone conclusion that I would be buying the dress and belt, Kailie’s words caused my final thrashing before I was pulled ashore. “It seems too small.”
“Worry not Dearie, it will stretch to a more comfortable size. Now why don’t you change back into your boyish clothes so I can start sewing the darts, then you can wear it when you finish your bath.”
Truly glad am I that none of my instructors were with me on that day, for surely they would have been disappointed to see how few of their bargaining lessons I remembered. First Old Abner, then Delilah, treating with me as if I had no will of my own. Doubtless Master Elladoo would say it was because I was too eager a buyer. Thus when I left the wagon, it was as the owner of a new dress and matching belt. I did not even have my boots, they having been kept aside for polishing at 14 copper. Returned to the bright sunlight, I stood there blinking in confusion at what had happened and waited for Kailie to join me.
Jimi and the wolfhound, who had been dozing off in the wagon’s shade, looked up at me as I stood there, the first asking, “So Drake, did you buy a dress?”
“Apparently.”
“Where is it? And where are your boots?”
“The former is undergoing some modifications so that it fits properly. The latter are being polished.”
Holding out one of his feet, to look at the old, scuffed, brown, riding boots he wore, Jimi stated, “I don’t think any amount of polishing would do mine, or me, any good. So what now? Eck and me are all rested up.”
“Eck? Is that the dog’s name? What type of name is Eck?”
“Don’t know, just one of the Roamer menfolk cautioned me to be wary of Eck. But he seems like a good fellow, likely just gets a bad rep because he’s so big.”
Though spoken without bitterness, the words held the ring of true knowledge. Not knowing what, if anything, needed saying, I answered his earlier question. “I’m off to bathe in the North pool.”
“Is that safe?”
“Sure it is.” A voice from the wagon’s door, answered. “She’s coming with us and all the boys know how much trouble they will get into if they sneak a peak.”
“Jimi, this is Kailie. Kailie, Jimi.” Introductions complete, I noticed the canvas bag she carried, which prompted me to ask, “Umm, Kailie do you mind if we go over to our camp so I can get my stuff?”
“Sure, but let’s hurry. Everybody is meeting up fairly soon.”
Glad that the glade was grass, with me barefoot, we trotted to our camp where I quickly scooped up my pack and settled it over my shoulder. Jimi looked nervous about me heading off without him, but settled for telling Eck to look after me. The dog seemed to wuff an agreement before heading North with Kailie and I, though she nervously kept me between him and herself. Not until we were back into their camp did she regain her active tongue.
“So is the big man your lover?”
“What!”
“That Jimi, he’s awfully protective of you, like a lover is supposed to be. He’s not the most handsome fellow, but he does have large hands and you know what they say about men with large hands?”
“No! Umm no, he’s just my friend and has appointed himself as my guardian.”
“You have a bodyguard? Why? Didn’t you take on a whole bandit camp by yourself?”
“Well its better to avoid trouble, Jimi is good at keeping it away.”
“Yeah I suppose so. What’s it like being possessed by a demon?”
I was even more stunned by this question, than the one about Jimi. Not because she knew, I guessed that everyone in their camp had heard some form of my story. No, it was because nobody had ever asked that question, not even me, yet the answer was immediately on the tip of my tongue. “It’s scary.”
“Scary, why?”
“It just is. I don’t know how to explain it.”
Before any other questions could be thrown my way, we arrived at a group of eleven girls or young women, ranging from Kailie’s age all the way up to five who were past the age when most in the North would be married. However, this lack was explained away by them being the primary dancers amongst this group of Roamers, each would not be married until the younger girls in this group grew in skill and replaced them.
“Hey everybody, this is Drake. She’s going to share the pool with us.”
Kailie then introduced them to me. The third of whom was Filice, looking as lovely as I remembered. My heart beginning to race, I shyly lowered my look and mumbled a hello.
All, except one, returned pleasant greetings. That one, spoke in a harsh tone . “I don’t think so. I know who HE is. I remember him leering at me when we danced at Elladoo Post last year.”
Spotting the speaker, I did recognize her. She had stood out amongst the dancers and had drawn my eye, but not for the reason she assumed. Instead it had been the look on her face, the same look with which she made her protest, sourness. Competent at the dance she had seemed, yet of all the members of their troupe only she had seemed to hate being involved. Yet I could not explain that, it would be more harmful than agreeing with her reasoning.
Kailie came to my defense. “Bah, Celise. I saw her naked. If she really wanted to leer at a pretty girl, she would look in a mirror.”
“Quiet scamp. We all know why. He is possessed by a demon and you know what that means.”
Things were getting ugly fast, if not for Filice, I do not know what would have happened. “Quiet both of you. Kailie, it is not for you to speak to one of your elders in such a fashion. As for you Celise, Drake is a respected guest of my family, both of my father and grandmother. Do you pretend to be a better judge of what is happening than her?”
The response from Celise was a sullen one, but no more was said as we proceeded in two groups, me with the younger six, towards the pool. It had always been my assumption that someone had planted the bushes and trees that surrounded it for privacy. Moving through the hole cut in the sandilal hedge the answer of who suddenly seemed obvious, it had been the Roamers, offering their women a place to bathe out of sight. However, thoughts of the past were brushed aside by shyness as dresses began to be unlaced. Not wanting to be caught staring, in spite of my desires, I once more lowered my head and began to doff my own clothes. Only when I was as unclothed and heard splashes from the girls in the water did I look up.
I had guessed wrong, not all the girls were in the pool. In front of me, dressed the same as I, stood Filice. It was impossible not to drink in the sight before my eyes, realizing my dreams had never done her justice. Even after months in this form, it was as if it was the first time I had seen a woman, we were so very different. She was shorter than me, her soft olive skin covering fabulously rounded breasts, hips, and thighs, making my own curves seem those of a girl not yet ready for womanhood. I stared.
Yet in this I was not alone. She too stared at me, though with curiosity. Finally her gaze caused me to look into her deep, hazel eyes as she laughed and said, “Kailie did not exaggerate, as is her want. There is nothing boyish about your appearance. Here, let me help you with that braid, it wouldn’t do to get it wet.”
Reaching out to take my braid, she untied the leather thong at the bottom and began to unwind it, gently combing it with her fingers. “I really like your hair Drake. It’s almost white, like someone from the far East. Does it hold the curl from the braid?”
“No it will straighten out when washed.”
“I often wish mine could be straightened.”
My eyes closed, savoring her touch and beginning to feel the warmth associated with active fingers underneath covers, I sighed my disagreement. “Oh no your hair is lovely.”
“Why thank you. Are you okay?”
“Hmm...uh-huhhh.”
“Are you sure? Oh I know what the problem is.”
A second later I was shocked wide-eyed as my left nipple was tweaked. Reactively clamping a hand to each breast, I hissed at the smiling face. “Filice!”
“Maybe Celise has the right of it. Your girls announce your appreciation of what you see.”
Mortified more by what she correctly assumed, than by what she had done, I found myself hurriedly offering the explanation I had hidden earlier. The result being a most attractive full body giggle.
“I don’t think you’re being completely truthful about what you’re thinking, but your excuse is hysterical. Gods above, I can’t wait to tell Dowdy Celise.”
“Please no, she already dislikes me.”
“What would be in it for me?”
“My undying gratitude?”
“Tempting though that may be, I think my silence is worth more. Let’s see, what do I want? You know there’s going to be dancing tonight?”
“Aye, your father mentioned the possibility.”
“Oh there will be and I want you to join us.”
“Me? I don’t know how to dance, I’ll look foolish.”
“We’ll give you some lessons, nothing too complicated. But if you don’t want me to share your thoughts about Celise, that will be part of my payment.”
“Only part?”
“Well if you’re going to play the part, you have to look the part. You also have to let me dress you up as one of us.”
Eager to please, I said, “I bought a dress from Delilah.”
“You did, did you? That’s a perfect start, then it’s a deal?”
Combining my existing plan to wear the dress, with the opportunity to spend more time with Filice, made it an easy deal with which to agree. Agreement struck and with soap in hand she led me into the pool, proving that sometimes it is good to be a follower. There we joined the rest of the girls to wash and begin my lessons.
What followed was simply an amazing afternoon, starting out as only titillating before becoming so much more. Bathing and washing of hair took barely any of the time and soon the older dancers were done and on their way. But not the rest of us, in the waist deep pool they began to teach me their dances, specifically the graceful hand movements and upper body swaying that caused such happy thoughts amongst their male watchers. I was not immune. When the six first began their demonstration they were amazingly distracting; however, as time passed it grew more important that they were Filice, Kailie, Isselle, Sondra, Katreen, and Nadine. It was so very fun to be in their company.
That is the thing about becoming an apprentice in a remote location like the North, few are those of your own age with whom to share friendship. You are forced to leave your childhood, your youth behind. That afternoon I was given the opportunity to relive something missing since my boyhood in Corels, being part of a group. In a group it is easier to be confident.
So when we heard two boys, on the other side of the bushes, talking about me in the way that boys talk about pretty girls, I did not blush, but joined in the giggles of the others. Giggles that turned into full blown laughter when Kailie’s shout of, “Bran and Nikolai, you idiots. She can hear everything you two dimwits are saying.” resulted in sudden silence followed by footsteps running away.
That confidence stayed, as we moved to the sandy shore, allowing the sun to dry glistening bodies and long hair while we began to work on the steps to accompany what had already been taught. Never would I have guessed how enjoyable dancing could be, it felt right. Even when the others broke aside to dress I willingly accepted their praise for how much I had learned and their encouragement to keep practicing. For it had begun to feel very natural, as if it was the not the first time that I had stepped those steps, moved those movements. So when Kailie, who had dashed away to her family’s wagon, returned with a shout that she had my things, my feet were slow to stop moving before I turned to see that only Filice and Kailie remained, besides a sleeping Eck.
“Where did everyone go?”
Filice answered, “They had to go do their chores. Kailie and I decided to stay and help you.”
“Oh sorry, I did not know that you were waiting on me. Hopefully I have not kept you away from your duties?”
“Well I am personally happy to skip chores, how about you Kailie?”
“Me too. Though I did run and get Drake’s things. That was exhausting.”
Laughing as she pretended to swoon, I said, “So I guess it is time to start paying off my bargain.”
“What bargain?”
“Well Drake let something slip, which she did not want to share, when we were talking earlier and she needed to buy my silence.”
“What was it?”
“I can’t very well tell you, Kailie. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have to keep her side of the bargain.”
“Oh yeah, I guess. Can you tell me what Drake has to do?”
“Yes, she’s promised to dance with us tonight, but first she is going to let me turn her into a beautiful dancer.”
Though that was a bit more than promised, I did not dispute her claim. On that day, more than any day since being doomed to me new body, I felt completely happy with myself. Being one of the girls had been more enjoyable than any since the days I had ran free as boy. So my lack of dissension went beyond being fine with the idea of being a beautiful dancer, in that moment I wanted to be one.
Unaware of my desire, Kailie had similar thoughts as she said, “Let me help Filice. I’ve been thinking all afternoon about how Drake should do her hair, I even brought these for decoration.”
These proved to be a number of small, black, cloth flowers, probably made by her mother. Though I was not sure how they were used, Filice seemed happy with them. “Those will be perfect Kailie and another pair of hands would be appreciated.”
“I can just braid it like before.”
“Eww, Drake that was ugly. Like some greasy haired city guard, you have to let us do something better.”
“Well I did offer to put myself in your hands, and just as you I will keep good faith with our bargain. Just don’t make me look too funny.”
“Funny is definitely not my plan. Now why don’t you get dressed, you’ve played water nymph long enough.”
A good idea, since stopping my dance I had noticed that the late afternoon sun had begun to lose some of its warmth. Finding some fresh under clothes within my pack, I replaced them with my traveling clothes and those I had already soiled. This time, after Kailie and I repeated the same actions as earlier, the dress had no slack in the waist. The darts, which I thought were hardly noticeable even before they were hidden by the belt, did their job to ensure that though covered, my body was not hidden. Yet since the fit was no different than the matching dresses, black with red trim, worn by my two companions, I was unbothered by the results.
Ignoring my clean boots until later, I followed Filice’s instructions to kneel in front of her so she could brush my mostly dry hair. With my recently found flexibility, the position was comfortable instead of the squirm-inducing torture it would have been in the past. I also learned one benefit of the uneven skirts, they allowed me to kneel without binding, sensible for a nomadic people who could carry a limited number of chairs and would spend much time on the ground beside a campfire.
Once Filice was done with the brush, it did not take long to guess that she was braiding my hair in a fashion I had never experienced, nor had it ever taken so long, requiring the girls to periodically trade off. Though all my hair was pulled away from my face, they did not immediately begin braiding it into the rope that I could create, instead it was gently woven together from the top of my head down to my nape, the little flowers being artfully included in the weave. Only then did they begin to create the expected braids from some of the hair cascading down my back, three of them, the centre full and thick while the outside two were thin, being looped back to be pinned underneath the loose weave. So pleased were they with the results that I wished to have a mirror or that the pool offered a better reflection.
Smiling at the result, Filice stated, “You need some nicer jewelry. That steel stuff is practical, I suppose, but that’s not what we’re shooting for. Let’s head back to our wagon and I will find you something to lend.”
Due to the spell of Asolde’s priestess, Desmona, had cast upon me, my chains, which masqueraded as beautiful jewelry, changed to match any earrings I wore. This had led to me finding a simple pair of steel hoops before I had left Glanlies, which made the pieces less noticeable. “Thank you very much for the offer, Filice; however, I need to keep these.”
“But Drake, they’re so plain. Nothing that any of us would wear and you promised.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s because I can’t. Everything is bespelled so they cannot be removed.” Then putting action to words, I showed how, though my rings could spin, they would not move to be removed from my finger.
“Why would you do that?”
Jumping in, Kailie guessed, “It’s because of the demon, isn’t it?”
Not wanting to lie to my new friends, I answered honestly. “Yeah, it is. While in Corels a magister of Durnst, along with his colleagues from the other Gods, performed a ritual which bound the demon via these chains. It stops Sandrelessa from gaining control of my body.”
“Sandrelessa, is that the demon who possesses you? Why didn’t they exorcise it instead? What happens if it tries to take over?” The Queen of Questions asked.
“Aye, that’s her name, but it is not the normal type of possession, so Magister Bewlmon did not think an exorcism would work and as a compromise with Furigal’s people, decided to add my chains. If Sandrelessa makes her presence known, they begin to glow and will stop her, well my body actually, from acting on her will.”
Filice said, “Magister Bewlmon, you say. You can tell he’s a man, because no woman would have chosen such boring jewelry as chains.”
“Actually Mistress Elladoo chose the jewelry to use. Really quite beautiful too, sapphires and filigreed silver.”
“Then why didn’t they use them? Or were you just pretending when you tried to remove your ring?”
A feeling mischievousness, combined with a desire to show off for my new friends, caused me to smile and reach up to remove the steel hoop from my right ear. My intended air of mystery disappeared as I struggled with the clasp holding it in place, but finally it came free and I removed the left. What resulted was not a slow acting magic, as soon as that second hoop left my ear I saw both of their eyes widen in surprise.
Filice reacted first, with a startled hiss of breath she hesitantly reached out to touch the circlet about my forehead. “Are they real?”
“Yes.”
Kailie burst out with, “But they’re so beautiful, why do you hide them?”
“You cannot expect Drake to wander about with them on show Kailie, she would be under constant threat of robbery.”
“I guess, but she already has a bodyguard.”
“Well I don’t want Jimi to be hurt in order to protect my vanity. But they are rather extravagant for daily wear.”
“I suppose.”
“No supposing about it Kailie, look how they almost make her pretty dress seem almost shabby. It’s the earrings, isn’t it?”
“Pardon?”
“Your earrings, when you took out the silver hoops out, the glamour disappeared.”
Glamour seemed an appropriate description of what happened, for I did not think they truly changed, as they never felt any different before to after. “Yes, it results from a spell cast by a Priestess of Asolde, which makes everything match whatever earrings I wear.”
With a smile, Filice mused, “Why isn’t that handy.”
“Filice, your mother makes jewelry, we should see if she has anything that will go good with Drake’s dress.”
“Umm...yeah...Kailie thanks for stating the obvious. You want to check Drake?”
“I guess, though can I drop my pack back at our camp first?”
“Sure, but put your hoops back in, I don’t want your jewelry distracting from the hard work that we put into your hair.”
Laughing at this I followed directions, being quicker at putting them back in than I had been at taking them out. Then pulling on my shiny, clean boots, I tied the thigh flaps down to make them knee high. Stomping to get feet into place, I nudged Eck awake and the four of us left our sheltered world of the afternoon.
People noticed us right away, in particular their young men. Yet their looks did not affect me in the same way as earlier, for I was not alone as I had been when selling vegetables. Yes, yes, I know I had been with all my friends from the Post, I was writing metaphorically (well I think it is metaphorically, but if not, let’s just keep it between the two of us), and though excellent at dealing with physical threat, they were useless as tits on a boar at protecting me from teen-age lust. Meanwhile Filice and Kailie, along with Sondra and Nadine who joined us as we passed through the camp, were experts. Like rapiers, their words stabbed out to deflate confidences, and the follow-up laughter clubbed home each clownish suitor’s general unworthiness. I am not ashamed to admit that I preferred being on the side not being embarrassed, after having experienced that a time or two myself.
Back in the camp, my similarities to the girls seemed even more noticeable than around the pool. None of them spoke in the deep voices that had surrounded me all summer, nor did their pace out stride mine. Mine naturally being longer than theirs, as the tallest, but we were not in a hurry and if I swayed as we sauntered, so did my companions. It was possible to believe I did not stand out.
So I was glad that Jimi was not about when we arrived to drop off my pack. He probably would have tried to attach himself to me, and despite his having become my best friend, I wanted to be alone with my new ones. Nor was it just Jimi missing from the camp, the only member of our train there was Felix who eyed us curiously until he recognized me and did a double-take. That was surprisingly gratifying, still I pretended to miss his gesture for me to come over and talk. If I did not want Jimi’s company, I definitely did not want his. It did not take long to drop my pack, beside my saddle, and let Filice guide us back to the Roamer camp and her family’s wagon where she gained her mother’s permission to bring out the chest of jewelry for sale.
Inside were the pieces you expect from Roamer jewelers, items made not at great cost, but beautiful things made with care and time. And by far, the greatest number of these were made of the coloured, glass beads about whose making they were so secretive. It was earrings of this type that Filice first dug out and told me to try on. Looking at them, a hook with five strands of dangling red beads, I frowned. Even I could tell that they were a poor match for my dress. But when she winked at me, I realized she wished to surprise Sondra and Nadine, who shared my frown and had not seen my previous display.
Not wanting to spoil Filice`s surprise, I did not remove both hoops before hooking in the red beaded pair. So their exclamations of surprise was rather loud as the hook of the second one dropped through to dangle from my ear. Their reaction also drew the attention of Filice`s mother, who looked at me with suspicion.
“I recognize those earrings, but where did the rest come from?”
“Oh Mama, it’s so amazing. Drake has a spell cast on her so that her jewelry will match to any pair of earrings she wears.”
“She does, does she? And how does this spell decide what matches, not that I can complain about what it did this time around?”
“I am not sure Ma'am, though since the spell was performed by a Priestess of Asolde, the Goddess’s power must be involved somehow.”
“Yes, well I suppose the Goddess would have good taste.”
What followed was almost a re-enactment of that evening with Madame Deglace. Remembering both how much Mistress Elladoo’s mother had enjoyed that activity and my surprise that many of her earrings were not magnificent pieces, I purchased the first pair, of red beads, as her gift. By the time a choice for me was made, none of the earrings in the chest had been missed, though Filice’s mother found the experiencing rather frustrating, mumbling as she would dig out matching pieces and judge her pieces as second best to the magic’s creations.
The final choice was obvious to all. A pair made from varying length (short to long to short), alternating strands of white and black beads, attached to half an oval of wire below the hooks. Hanging most of the way to my shoulders they were rather distracting when I turned my head, but I liked the resulting bracelets, made from ten similar strands, and even more so by the rings of interwoven black and white glass. As for my circlet, it too had dangling strands, which sometimes ghosted into my vision and clinked together when I drew my fingers through them, yet I felt nothing upon my forehead. Rather eerie.
This action did bring an end to the girl’s afternoon of relaxation, as it was time to begin getting ready for the evening meal, which unsurprisingly fell to the women of their band. Before thinking it through, my feelings of camaraderie had me volunteering my assistance. Something that was gladly accepted and soon had me acting as a pack mule, carrying items from their camp’s cooking area to be set up upon a table near the bonfire, beginning to burn brightly between the two camps
As their menfolk began wandering into the area, my task grew more demanding. I, in some twisted, though likely just, payment for enjoying their discomfort during the afternoon, ended up acting as serving wench to a number of the younger men and boys, ensuring their mugs were full of wine or small beer. For no matter the age of the man, once one placed his keester upon ground or log, he appeared to lose all ability to walk.
Cut from my herd, their attention focused upon me. Yet still there existed some of my strength gained, from the group, earlier and while I was unable to reply with clever quips, putting them in their place, neither was I overly bothered by their crude attention, finding myself more likely to laugh than blush. Though one event just about had me running away. It occurred when one boy, probably acting on a dare from his friends, familiarly rested a hand upon the curved part in the back of my dress as I poured some small beer for one of his friends. Startled by his brazenness, the rest of the pitcher’s contents ended up on his friend as I spun to find him snatching his hand back, as an angry growl came from Eck, who had been docilely following me about.
Reaching down to steady the strangely protective dog, I said, “Lucky for you it was Eck and not my friend Jimi who saw you do that. You would have found he bites before he growls.”
Dignity intact, I made my way back to cooking fires to find everybody oblivious to what had happened. There my dignity disappeared for a moment as I fawned over the tail thumping hero of the moment.
From that point, with Eck watching the group of boys with baleful eye, my serving went much smoother. Though it definitely was not an activity I enjoyed, so gladly did I join my friends to eat our own meal, before assisting in the cleaning up. Finished that chore they easily dissuaded me from going to check up with my colleagues, who had eaten back at our camp, since it would not be right to eat food we had sold them earlier. Well unless like me, they worked for it. Convinced that they were coming around later for the planned show, I sat around talking with them, me about what it was like to be a guest of the Deglaces in Glanlies, them about their band, and life on the move.
Wrapped up in this, the sun had begun to sink behind the trees surrounding the glade before I knew it. Noticing it first, Filice stood up and announced, “Why don’t the rest of you keep this spot, while Drake and I go get some blankets for us to sit upon against the ground’s night damp.”
Used to following her orders, the rest of our group readily agreed. Me, well I was just happy to spend time alone with her and willingly allowed myself to be pulled to my feet.
Reaching their wagon, her mother, after learning our purpose, said, “Here I’ll get some and give them to Drake. You see if your Grandmother is ready and then help her to the bonfire.”
Curious as to how someone who needed help could also cause Celise’s earlier reaction to Filice’s words, made me to watch as she moved to the smaller wagon besides her family’s, to knock on the door. “Grandmama, it’s Filice. Are you ready to go?”
There was no immediate reaction, none before Filice’s mother returned and offered me a armful of fur blankets. Only then did the door of the second wagon open, offering some satisfaction to my curiosity. The most noticeable thing about the elderly lady, who Filice helped down the stairs at the doorway, was her apparent feebleness. A hard life on the road had left her stooped, leaning on a walking stick in one hand and Filice’s arm with the other. Yet in that tired body I sensed power of a degree not felt since I left Glanlies.
Filice’s Grandmother was a magic user, the power manifesting itself strangely to my newest sense. Not as sound or colours, but as a feeling of distance, of searching, of answers to be found, roads to be traveled. And though her body implied doubt that she could continue the journey, the resonant timber of her voice swept that aside. “And who be you Blondie?”
Unconsciously dipping a respectful curtsey, with which even Mary would not find fault, I answered, “Drake of Elladoo Post, Ma'am.”
“The demon boy?”
Rude though the words were, her tone and smile attempted to sooth the sting in her words. Yet I found myself responding in kind. “Aye, that’s me. Are you a witch?”
Smiling her acceptance of my challenging response, she said, “Until his dying day, my husband surely would have answered yes. For myself, I will admit that many of my clients would tell you I have a bit of the sight, which brings them back to have their fortunes retold. So what type?”
“Pardon?”
“What type of demon possesses you? I remember you from the past, and my apologies, but you were rather a gawky lad, no hint existed that you would bloom into a pretty flower. It does not seem the work a normal imp possession, you must have gotten yourself mixed up with one of the higher orders.”
Unsurprisingly her bit of the sight was accompanied by a bit of knowledge. “A Carthanan.”
“Ahh, the highest of the high.”
“But I am not possessed by Sandrelessa, we are conjoined.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Umm...I...I’m not really sure to be honest.”
At these words she let out a snort of laughter. “Well if I had a guess it is likely what allows you to be having this pleasant conversation, instead of frothing and gibbering away like a mad man. Still I am surprised that you are allowed to walk about free.”
“In Corels a number of priests and priestesses performed a ritual that ensures Sandrelessa’s obedience.”
“Chained by the Gods, yes who better to trust than they.”
Impressed with how much she seemed to know, I asked, “Do you know how to free me from her?”
“Sorry child, that is not knowledge I am able to give you. But enough of such gloomy talk, this is a night for enjoyment. I see you are dressed as one of us tonight Drake of Elladoo Post, will you dance with us?”
“She promised to, Grandmama.” The patiently silent Filice answered.
Though unsatisfied with the conversation, thinking that there was more she could tell me, I recognized that nothing more would be forthcoming and accepted the change in topics. “I will try, hopefully not embarrassing myself too much.”
“Pish tosh Child, look at the way you move, I am sure you will put on a lovely show. But if that is to happen, we best hurry, for these old legs of mine do not move as fast as they once did.”
Despite her claims, once we started moving, it did not take long before we reached our destination, there we sat the old lady upon one of the chairs set aside for her and the other elders. Then joining the other girls, we spread out the blankets and waited for the entertainment to start. With my curiosity piqued, I only half listened to them while looking about to see if anybody else amongst the Roamers held powers of magic. There were none who approached Filice’s Grandmother’s power, but in two of the men, one in the leathers of a hunter and the other gently tapping away on a pair of hand-drums, I felt some of the same sense of seeking.
Doubting they would offer any answers the old lady was unable to provide, I decided to enjoy the evening, just as I had the rest of the day. So as the music began to play, led by the drummer with power, I joined in the clapping as the children started their dance. More enthusiastic than skilled, their performance began the evening, with the beginning of the music drawing my companions from our camp.
It would be easy to judge them harshly in comparison to the Roamers. Dressed in dun coloured leather armour, with sword belts wrapped around waists, they showed none of the brightness that seemed to imbue our hosts. Yet I doubted not to which group I wished to belong, even while playing as the other, for that brightness was paid for by a harsh existence.
The children finished, we were treated to a succession of jugglers, tumblers, singers, and a story-teller who told some most off-colour jokes, though not as foul as those told in The Hole. All of which served as an appetizer for the main entertainment of the evening, the dancers. So when the jokester left the area between the fire and the watchers, nobody replaced him. The musicians, who had played between and during acts, stayed silent. Slowly the last members of the crowd quieted as final drinks were poured, the jokester found his seat, and the last child was settled.
Anticipation grew. Then...
Thump...
Silence.
Thump...
Silence.
By the third repetition, everybody’s eyes were turned to the drummer. Watching as he tapped his drum to coax forth another...
Thump...
Silence.
Slowly that constant sound drew me and every other watcher in, until it was as if our hearts beat to the will of the drummer...
Thump...
Silence.
Having become a member of the beast whose heart beat as one, I turned back to the fire, to see, through the flicker of the flames, that figures had appeared...
Thump...
Silence.
The thumping continued uninterrupted and if it appeared the figures moved, it was only because of the dancing flames that obscured them. They would not move until the least willing had joined the rest of us...
Thump...
Silence.
Only when that moment arrived did they move for real. Each step matching another...
Thump...
Silence. Pause.
Around the left side of the fire came a line of woman, ten strong, wearing dresses of red with black trim. Moving as one, connected to one another by lengths of ribbon held in either hand...
Thump...
Silence. Pause.
And from the right side of the fire came a matching line of men. Wearing the same colours and carrying the same ribbons...
Thump...
Silence. Pause.
Step by step, they strutted. The women crossing in front of the men, the men behind the women, until they formed two straight lines in front of the fire. Turning, they faced us, and leather boots that had previously been silent were raised to crash down with the next drummer’s beat.
Ker-Thump...
Silence. Pause.
The absence of the next beat could almost be physically felt, so completely had we accepted its lure. Yet that shock was nothing compared to the next moment, when with a shout the dancers began to whirl about, accompanied by all the musicians. After the previously deliberate pace, the wildness of sudden speed, sound and spectacle were like being drenched in ice water on a hot day.
Having seen it before, did not make it easier to follow that evening, trying to understand how the twenty dancers weaved amongst each other. Attention seemingly focused upon one, I would suddenly realize that my eyes were upon someone else. Yet if I did not watch one, the flash of multi-coloured ribbons caused me to be lost in a kaleidoscope of dazzling colours and shapes. It became hard to imagine how the dancer and musicians could keep up their wild pace, so breath-taking was it for me as a spectator.
I need not have worried, for like everything about this performance, this too was considered. The pace began to slow. The dancers began to spiral away from and towards each other, until the women were once more aligned in front of the men. Once more they came to a stamping stop...
Ker-Thump...
Yet this time there was no silence. Released from the pull of the performance, the audience could finally react. Through shouts or whistles or clapping, we could establish our individuality while applauding those who had made us one.
Now there was no need to wait for total silence before sound and movement returned with another shout. This time I could almost convince myself it was possible to follow their movements, to stay focused on a particular dancer. They did not blur into a single entity before once more spiraling apart, this time resulting in the women forming one circle and the men a second. The music slowed, but it did not stop. Dancers regained their breath, musicians flexed their fingers or wet their lips. Meanwhile we waited expectantly for the next part, it always was my favourite.
Slowly, deliberately, the dancers began to move in a circle, right foot crossing in front of left, then left behind right. Once more anticipation grew as we all waited for the next stage of the performance. Then in each circle a name was shouted and that member of the troupe dropped their ribbons, whose ends were adroitly caught by the dancers on either side, and moved into the once more closed circle.
Inside, each would begin to glide, almost running, around the circle as the music regained its tempo. Then at another shout from their fellows, they would begin to spin or twirl about. Now the spectator was given choice, whether to watch the man who leaped and kicked as he spun about, or to watch the woman as she gracefully twirled, her arms seeming to draw fanciful patterns in the sky. Always before, my eyes had been pulled away from the women to the men. Though the former would be sure to fill my dreams in the evening, the athleticism of the latter always seemed impossible to ignore. But now, after the lessons of the afternoon, my attention stayed upon the women, understanding that what had seemed comparatively simple, was not. They amazed me.
As each dancer grew tired, they would return to the circle, the music would slow, and the anticipation would once more be allowed to grow. Then in a flurry the next dancers would move into the middle.
If we had been in front of the post, and the Roamer band had been putting on a show, each dancer would have performed once before the entire troupe would have exploded into a finale as breath-taking as their beginning dance. But tonight they apparently danced as much for themselves as for us guests. At shouts from the crowd, dancers would once more return to the circle, trying to better what they had previously done. In turn, the dancers would shout the name of an audience member who would be cajoled into showing what they could do themselves.
At some point, during this time I found myself, along with my group, standing and clapping along to the music. Enraptured by the whole affair, my shouts of encouragement joined with those of the Roamers, though never louder than when one of my friends were in the circle. And when one returned, joined in offering hugs of congratulations.
It was in one of these moments, with Nadine who seemed as good as the regular dancers, that I was shocked to hear Filice and the others shout, “Drake!”
Caught up though I was in the moment, they still needed to push and pull me towards the circle before my feet began to move on their own. With my promise ringing idiotically in my ears, I continued forward to expected doom. Feeling the countless eyes upon me, my attention was drawn to those of Celise, who slowly swayed in front of me with a look of maliciousness on her face. That look added steel to my back, made me want to try, and it was with impatience I ducked under her ribbon.
Then I began to run.
Well not exactly run, instead it was that shuffle-run-dance step that the others had used to gain momentum. Circling, I tried to remember the steps and gestures taught to me that afternoon. I tried to figure out when to begin. I need not have worried, it happened at the exact right moment, even before I realized it.
But then I was no longer alone and my partner had centuries of practice.
Sandrelessa loved to dance. In that moment it was blindingly obvious to me. Just as I knew the nerves she had overcome in order to take control, I knew the fear that our chains might deny her. For though she was willing to lose everything else, she could not be denied the dance and still wish to exist. Yet remembering the purpose of the chains, to protect innocents from us, she had reasoned they may not stop her from leading our dance. So with trepidation she chanced it, success made her exultant.
Having felt her anger, hate, even fear, I knew that her emotions were greater than I ever wanted to feel myself. Her joy had me rethinking that. It was absolutely exhilarating. As was the dance, though I wished she would better share it with me.
With that wish, memories flooded my mind. I remembered being locked in a room, from whose floor grew hundreds of blades a hand length long and from whose ceiling hung more hundreds of blades, each of a different length. I remembered twirling amongst those blades, stepping ever so gently, ducking, and weaving. I remembered the pain of thousands of cuts and exhaustion whose escape was always punished by the blades having reconfigured themselves in my sleep. I remembered days, years later, beginning to gracefully move my arms between and under blades, adding artistry to athleticism. And mostly I remembered our pride when the door was unlocked and we were able to dance before our prince.
Understanding, I found it impossible to hold back a laugh of disdain at the mockery into which the Roamers had turned the Dance of Blades. Then as if I was a child riding a galloping horse I found myself shouting, “Faster! Faster!”
And faster we moved, until the only instrument accompanying us was the drummer, his magic flaring brightly every time a twirl caused me to face his direction. Though neither it, nor the two other lights I saw in my movements, were more than a candle flame compared to the white glow coming from my chains, announcing Sandrelessa’s presence. Knowing who caused each of the flickers, I began to feel curious as to their purpose. That curiosity grew as I noticed that the circle, about me, no longer resembled a circle and that the dancers had stopped moving to crouch on the ground.
Curiosity did not equal readiness. I was fortunate to be so involved in my dance, to be moving quickly, and to be remembering the room of blades. For when I saw that the spell the hunter cast was upon the arrow that he was loosing from his bow, I had no time to react. If my dance did not have me ducking low beneath imaginary points I would have been pierced by a real one. Instead the only mark of the arrows passage, was a plucking at my hair streaming behind my dance.
Sandrelessa’s outrage quickly followed. Outrage at the man for interrupting our dance, our joy. She flowed in his direction, but was brought up short. But not by the chains, they allowed an aggressive response to threat. It took us moment to understand what was wrong, to look down and see the ribbons spanning the distance between the ten dancers, each crouching to serve as a point in a pentagram given life by Filice`s Grandmother`s spell. My understanding immediately translated itself to Sandrelessa, who rage caused her to swipe a hand toward the throat of the nearest dancer, this time forcing the chains to come to life and lock us in place.
Helpless, I watched as the hunter began to nock another arrow, only to see him collapse beneath the fist of a large figure. Recognizing Jimi, I watched the guards from my wagon train to see they were amongst those few people that had reacted to my attack. Each of them dashed forward with dagger in hand to rest it at the throat of a crouching dancer, all except Jimi stood warily over his victim and Felix whose blade soon tickled the throat of the old witch.
These actions brought forth a surge of anger to the Roamers, starting them forward until Headman Meryers, who better understood the danger of the situation, shouted, “Hold! Damnit, hold I say.”
Felix’s voice, though not loud, filled the void left behind by the shout, as he sardonically said, “Yes everyone, do hold. Otherwise all these lovely ladies will feel the kiss of a blade and learn why daggers are known as such terrible lovers.”
“Do it and you will soon join them in Aredente’s realm.”
“Not just us. With your witch dead and that pentagram broken, Drake will be free. And with Drake free, well let me just say that after being part of the cleanup crew in that bandit camp she visited, she will see that all of you soon follow us.”
“That is why she must die, she is evil.”
“Bah, Drake’s not evil. Sure she can be as annoying as any of the merchant class, ambitious sort that they are. But she’s a good sort none-the-less. Honestly there is no way we are going to let you just up and kill our friend.”
The Roamers may have disdained Felix’s feelings, but surprisingly Sandrelessa did not. Noticing my surprise at what I felt from her, she shared, “Do not be surprised, we Carthanans value friendship. More even than you humans, since while seeking power, it is always important to trust those at your back.”
Used as I had grown to her extreme emotions, the perfect normalcy in the tone of her response caught me by surprise. Her rage dampened by our helplessness, she now looked for escape, just as did I. I found myself asking her, “What do we do?”
“We can test Felix’s abilities as a fortune teller.”
“No!”
“Aye, you are right. I do not want to be known as a slayer of dancers. Nor would it be good to lose your friends, particularly the loyal big one, since I am not sure if you could find your way home without them.”
“I could too.”
“Then is it acceptable to let them die?”
“Of course not. I want to get out of this with no blood being spilled.”
“It does make a mess of one’s clothes, does it not? Still I think most of the Roamers agree with your wishes, even the ambushers who sought ours. We just need to find a way to make them reach the same understanding as us.”
“But how?”
“I’m just a dancer, but if I were a merchant, I would try to sell them upon the benefits of letting us go.”
Of course. If I acted quickly, there was no reason that I could not be like Old Abner earlier that day. Bargaining from a position of strength, offering something the buyer wanted, but did not understand. But to take that role I needed to be free of my bounds and to do that I needed my new ally’s approval. I began my explanation.
“No need to explain, I know what you plan. And my immediate question is can you pull it off, do you have the confidence to pull it off?”
“I believe so, with your help.”
“I am to be the puppet master?”
“No, but you can act as mentor as guide, suggesting paths for me to take.”
“What is in it for me? Why would it not be better for me to end our existence now?”
“And give up the dance?”
“The dance? What is it you offer?”
“If you give me free rein in this, then I will see that we dance again.”
“You enjoyed it too, you will dance in any case.”
“Maybe, but are you willing to take the chance?”
“Actually I am, I know it is now surely as much a part of you as is your heart’s beat. But it is not worth arguing over our pleasure, no I will accept your plan without a price, for I do not have a better one to offer.”
When I felt the slackening of my chains, the ability to lower my arm to my side, to shuffle feet into a more comfortable position, I knew she was true to her word. She had returned full control to me, though she did not retreat as far as was normal, as shown by the glow continuing to surround me. I was free to act, but nobody watched.
The length of time to read our conversation, little mind how long it took to scribe, is ages compared to the time actually required to have it. Everyone’s attention was still upon the Headman and Felix. That needed to change. Taking advice from Sandrelessa, who was a performer of the first order, I began to move. Not to escape, though I did sneak a toe over the ribbon, ensuring that the pentagram was meant to enclose only the demoness. Instead of immediate action I once more began to twirl about my supposed prison, finding that movements performed by the will of Sandrelessa remained mine to use. I felt eyes turn towards me, heard the voices of the arguers quiet, and realized the moment had come to act.
Again I circled the enclosure, but did not stay inside. Instead I swerved and danced about the crouching dancers, crossing back and forth over the ribbons that were to hold me in check. At a gasp from the audience I came to a stop, beside Celise, who was closest to Felix and the Witch, and dropped into a deep performer’s curtsey with arms outstretched gracefully to my sides.
“And what about me, don’t I get a say?”
Then before anyone could answer I looked at Celise, brushed an outstretched finger against her cheek and said, in that nasty, sweet chirp, remembered from the bandit camp, “Oooh look, even your fear does not wash away that look of pure hate. I think I may let you live.”
“Nicely played my host, isn’t being menacing such fun?”
Ignoring her laughter, I gestured at Jimi and our men kneeling behind the dancers to join me. As a group we moved towards the group around the Witch and Felix, who watched me with a savage grin of appreciation.
My act almost came apart when another moved to join me, its very monstrosity would have caused me to startle back if not for Sandrelessa’s gentling whispers. Steady I could see in its form the shape of the wolfhound Eck, but large as that breed can be, the dog was dwarfed within a transparent figure from nightmares. Initially it seemed a bear, a giant one with curving fangs coming from both its jaws, with long claws to match, and grey bark-like hide. Definitely not a bear. It looked evil and if not for the demoness I would have turned and fled.
“Fear not my host, it is just a beladin.”
Slipping easily back into our silent communication, I asked, “A what?”
“A beladin. Carthanans keep them as pets and to guard our homes.”
“You keep monsters as pets?”
“Oh they may look ferocious and act it when defending their master and home, but really they are just as loving as your dogs. Their fierce appearance is due to the defenses they need to survive the terrors of my world. And look they’re both happy to see us.”
Now I could see, both a long wispy-haired tail and a shadowy barbed one wagging as the dog...beladin...dogadin approached. Nervously reaching out I scratched the befurred head with my hand, while another fine, long-fingered, talon-nailed, ghostly hand appeared to do the same to the hide-covered one. My prior fear was brushed aside by the contact with the fierce pair, though not my curiosity. “They’re like us Sandrelessa, but how?”
“I do not know, it is very strange.”
Strange true, but a mystery for another time, more important matters needed to be addressed. Coming to a stop in front of the Roamers’ elders I said to Felix, “I think you can let the lady go.”
I then addressed myself to her. “You know, here you are trying to kill me and I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Marni, but Child you have it all wrong. Our purpose is not to seek your death, we are trying to free you from your demon.”
“Are you going to tell me that it will hurt you more than it would hurt me in causing my death to set me free.”
“Oh I would never deny that you will feel pain, but would it not be better to be free of the burden you bear, the threat you constantly pose to those you hold dear?”
“Actually I am going to have to go with no. I am looking forward to a long, happy life, regardless as to whether Sandrelessa is around or not.”
“Hey!”
Shaking her head sadly, Marni said, “Then truly there is no hope for you.”
“And my friends?”
“We have no fight with those who seek only to protect those they see as their friend. They will be free to go.”
“You expect me to believe you will let them go after they witness what you plan for me?”
“We only do the work of the Gods, we do not slay needlessly. We will accept the price of doing what is right without doing more harm than is necessary. You have my word.”
“Harvesters!”
“What? Not now Sandrelessa.”
“No, you said you would accept my advice. Look at the hounds behind her.”
Looking where she wanted I saw three wolfhounds. Rather pathetic specimens, when compared to Eck, two seeming to cower on the ground while the third gave off all the signs of being a bitch in heat. But it was the two male dogs that drew my attention, something seemed off about them. Then I saw. They were not as different from Eck as I thought, they too were not alone. Yet instead of being dwarfed by a beladin, the dogs dwarfed the greyish imps which they held, allowing little but a shimmer of a skull from which burning, hate-filled eyes seemed to flicker.
“What?” I think I spoke aloud.
“Just as mothers in your world tell tales to scare your children about the denizens of our world, so to do our mothers have their stories about those from yours. Specifically they talk about those who harvest our souls, using them in foul rights, to create instruments of power. The witch is a harvester. And to top it off she means to house me in a bitch in heat rather than with pretty you. I hate her.”
I believed her. There was no reason for Sandrelessa to lie, since she needed me more than I needed her. I addressed Marni’s promise. “What good is the promise of a fraud, Witch? You seek not to protect the world from me, but to profit from she within me. It makes me wonder, do you have the power to imprison Sandrelessa’s soul in some ring or bracelet yourself? Or would you sell her to someone else to work their dark arts?”
“Tell her that I want to be pretty dancing slippers.”
Ignoring my inner voice, I saw the grandmotherly smile was gone from the witch’s face, but what replaced it was completely unrepentant. “You do see much for one so young, or maybe it is the one not so young who actually sees? But yes, you are correct, we will profit well in selling her to one much more powerful than I. Enough to feed our families for years, give us homes, allow us to stop begging for the pennies from you and your kind. Further you are also right that we cannot let any of you go free, or the Commission will be on our tails. Better for you to all disappear without a trace, sadly the victims of bandits.”
“You won’t succeed.”
“But what choice do we have? How else can we buy your silence?”
I could tell she truly wanted an answer, that she wanted a way out, knowing that where we were headed was good for nobody. Yet neither of us could see a way to get off the path along which we barreled towards the other.
Felix broke in to say, “You know it is too late for even that.”
Both of us looked at him, the witch speaking first, “What do you mean?”
“Well I had one of our men ride for Elladoo Post this afternoon, to tell the Master we had met up with you and that we may need some help.”
Looking around, I noticed, for the first time, that one of our guards was missing from the group of their fellows and the wagon drivers who surrounded me. I smiled, “Oh, so that is where Sammel has gone. I did wonder.”
The witch was not nearly as pleased, as she demanded, “What? I do not believe you.”
“You should, for after noticing how gently you bargained today, I was forced to remember a saying of my old Grandpappy. He always used to say that if I ever met a non-greedy Roamer, that I should watch out for the knife in my back. Smart fellow was my Grandpappy.”
“My that was quite nastily said, I like him.”
Unwilling to take Felix’s insult, the Headman blurted, “He lies, Mother. That is all his kind is good for.”
She had been studying Felix, who smirked back at her. “No Gillan I don’t think he does.”
“You should have listened to me Mother, we should have been watching their camp. I have men that would not have been noticeable.”
“Yes Gillan, maybe I should have, but it is too late now. The issue of the moment is what to do?”
Breaking into their thoughts I said, “Let us go.”
“We can’t do that, our honour is at stake.”
“The honour of murderers, Headman? Forgive me if I laugh.”
“I’ll...”
“Gillan enough! I can see what is in it for us to let you go, but Drake, what is in it for us?”
“Freedom for most of your people, few have done anything to upset the authorities, even if you are caught. And maybe freedom for all of you if you move fast enough.”
“Bah, men on horses can easily catch us.”
“Maybe, maybe not. It is possible that Sammel was slowed or did not make it to the post. Maybe Master Elladoo will not react. Or he will be cautious seeking assistance first from North Fort before he does anything.” Then making my voice hard, I said, “But I do know if you attack us, none of you will go free. Even if you were to win, doubtful though I believe that to be, you will have many wounded slowing you down, for surely then you will be caught.”
“You seem to want this as little as I do Drake. I begin to wonder if maybe your threat is more bluster than truth. I noticed what happened when you tried to attack Licille, do those chains constrain you more than you let on?”
“I won’t hide the truth from you, they will not allow me to start the fight. No, that’s not quite right, they would allow me to start the fight, they just would not allow Sandrelessa to take part and assuredly it is of her you should be afraid. But if you were to attack us, then she would be free to respond. And though she would do things to add to my nightmares, I would not try to stop her.”
The witch looked into my eyes, trying to and maybe even succeeding in reading my thoughts. “You know, I believe you. Still I do not feel you offer a price as high as ours, for we will need to find new places to roam if we do let you go. Therefore, I want more, I want you to give us time to escape, to delay those who would chase us.”
“I would, but I cannot promise to be able to do so. Those who follow will not be mine to command.”
“Would you offer to attempt to do so?”
She could have asked for me to do a naked jig and I would have done so, this was nothing. “Aye I will try.”
“Then I accept your offer.”
“Mother!”
“Quiet Gillan, how can we say what we do is for our people, if it will bring them more harm than good?”
He stared hard at her for a moment, then looking questioningly at those around him his eyes settled upon a nodding Freido, and said, “Very well, I too accept the offer.”
Expecting the answer though I did, it still left me confused. Usually at this point of a deal, one side handed over some goods and the others payment, or you shared a drink to finalize it. Neither was appropriate here, between enemies. I said, “And I agree.”
With those simple words, it became time to tempt fate, to see if they would prove my faith in their words wrong. Slowly turning away from the witch and her son, I began to move toward our camp, the Post’s men cautiously following, blades still out and eyes darting about.
“Wait.”
Surprised, I turned and that surprise made my voice angry as I demanded, “What?”
“The dog, he is not yours.”
Only then did I notice that Eck was still at my side, so natural did he seem there. “You mean the beladin don’t you? He follows me at his own will, I do not coerce him. Why don’t you call him? Why is he not cowed like the imps?”
“A beladin? Is that what type of monster he is? I have long been curious about it, for he has been with me since I was young. It was in defending myself from its attack that I stumbled upon the magic to capture a demon’s soul. I would not part with him.”
“I will not force him to follow, but he seems to have attached himself to me and neither will I force him not to follow.”
Her gaze moved from me to the dog and then she sighed, “He was stubborn even before he became host to your beladin, going where he wanted despite whatever he was ordered. Being host to a demon did not change that, maybe the two of them are too similar, it would explain why they melded so naturally. So be it, go now before I change my mind.”
We did, moving quickly, though not at a run. The men, with me, trying to stare down each and every Roamer who met their eyes. Me, I did not look at anybody, not even a glance towards the girls who had acted as my friends, while preparing me for slaughter. Currently too focused to feel the betrayal, I knew that looking at them would bring it crashing in. And I could not afford that right now, we were still not free of the Roamers’ influence. They could still change their mind.
Back in our camp, the men began breaking down the camp, except for Jimi and Felix who with loaded crossbow in hand watched the Roamers as they began to move away from the bonfire to their own camp, many casting fearful or angry glances in our direction. Me, I headed straight for my pack, recognizing my dress was not suited for the travel required that night. There, not caring who watched, I stripped from boots and dress leaving my feminine curves minimally covered by my small clothes, before digging out my breeches and shirt. Wiggling into the pants and pulling on the blouse, I studied the dress. Dressed and deciding it was too pretty to leave here, I crammed it into the pack before moving to saddle my horse and to help get ready to leave.
We were fast, for the camp had been a temporary one, built with the knowledge that we would be on the road come morning. The one problem area was that our horses knew this as well and displayed their grumpiness at being saddled or hitched to wagons. But the old hands, with whom I traveled, soon dealt even with this. It was time to truly leave. At least try to leave.
It was in these moments that we most expected a flight of arrows to come slashing down at us. And so we did not yet mount saddle or wagon seat, instead in the shadow of our horses we began to move to the path leading out of the glade. Eerily lit by the still roaring bonfire, lanterns at each of the corners of the wagons, and the glow from my Roamer inspired jewelry, showing Sandrelessa’s continued interest, we moved further and further away. Though we saw watchers, they did nothing as we distanced ourselves from them, only mounting when Felix determined we were far beyond the range of even their finest archers.
Yet he did not allow us to gallop off in a panic. Sending three of the guards forward to watchfully lead our way, he kept Jimi, myself and hence Eck back to keep him company, looking backwards as much as forwards to see if the Roamers came after us.
Nobody spoke, each now armed with cocked crossbow, we searched beyond the light, listened over the sound of hooves and wheels, waited to respond to an attack. Seeing or hearing little, I looked towards the dogadin, trusting his senses more than mine. Somehow guessing my thoughts, he moved away to trot around the edge of the light. A couple of times he stopped, looking back the way we had traveled, growling, sometimes even letting out a warning bark, causing us each to tense up for what we though was about to come. Yet each time his hackles would slowly lower before he would return to his patrol.
His reactions did confirm that we were being followed. But we did not know if it was to see that we kept our word or if they still planned mischief. Passing time seemed to point to the former reason.
I am not sure how long we were on the move before Felix called us to a stop. It was a normal thing to do, whenever one of the trains started out for a day, to have everybody step down and check if poorly tightened buckles or fastenings had begun to loosen. In this instance, the stop also allowed each of us to burn off some of the nervous tension built up as we had waited for attack from the dark.
Re-tightening the cinch of my saddle, I asked Felix, “How did you know?”
“What? Don’t you believe the story about my Grandpappy?”
“Not really.”
“It was when you came back to camp in that dress. I had only seen its like one time, back when I was still in the Militia. It was when the company, to which I was attached, became involved in a border skirmish with a pack of Fallosian raiders North of Sandbar. We were able to catch their group by surprise, making short work of a number of them, before chasing the rest back over the border. Well after that our Captain decided to set up camp and began to patrol against their return, this resulted in me and a few others scouting about to see if any more of the bastards were lurking. Doing this I came upon a band of Roamers also hit by the raiders.
“They were surprised to see me, I used to be able to move real quiet like, as I was almost in their camp before they saw my approach. Seeing my uniform did not calm them down much, probably because they were in the process of burying seven people killed in the attack. Hearing mumblings that I profaned their ceremony with my presence, I quickly moved on. But I never forgot the seven of them laid out on the ground in their finest, the two women wearing dresses exactly like the one you wore today.”
Remembering his reaction when he had seen me earlier that day, I immediately understood how inappropriate mine had been. If I had acted like the leader of the wagon train, instead of like a petulant child ignoring my elders, what followed may have never occurred. I admitted, “Sorry that I ignored your gestures to talk earlier. I made a real hash out of things.
“So you did see me?”
“Yes.”
“Well it is not guaranteed that it would have made things go better, and I am not blameless either. If I had not been so diligent in shirking my duties as senior-guard, you would never have thought I was worth ignoring. We are both lucky that our lesson was not more painful.”
Easy for him to say, for he did not feel my betrayal. It hurt, to be so rudely thrust aside by those who had welcomed me with a smile. Still I did not mention this to Felix, instead I agreed, “We were indeed.”
Little more conversations was allowed before we were again on the move, Felix reminding everyone not to relax, telling us that if he was in charge now is when he would attack, when we had begun to think that we were free of danger. Fortunately his counterpart amongst the Roamers did not have the same thoughts. Allowing mine to once more drift inwards, towards betrayal. Yet was it, what fealty did they owe to me, an outsider. Plus I had to admit I preferred the Roamer’s rather business like approach to my death, when compared to the calculated hatred of the Followers of Furigal. If only Filice and the others had not pretended to befriend me first, callously playing with my emotions.
“Blah blah blah, you do enjoy your black funks don’t you?”
Startled to have my thoughts broken into by Sandrelessa, I asked her, “What?”
“Well it seems that you enjoy putting yourself down. Now I can understand that thinking before we met, such a sorry specimen you were, but now, well that makes no sense. Look how much better life is for you since I came on the scene.”
“Yeah, right. I specially enjoy the regular attempts upon my life.”
“Bah, just some spice to liven up every day drudgery. As for being betrayed by your maybe friends of today, what else were they supposed to do.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well if you were ordered to do something similar by either of the Elladoos I would guess that you would do it.”
“Not to someone I liked, I wouldn’t pretend that.”
“Sure you would, just because you are someone’s enemy doesn’t mean you can’t like them. I like some of mine and I know all of mine like me.”
“Yeah, right.”
“No it’s true, I’m really quite likeable.”
“So you’re saying that Filice and her friends may have actually liked me and were only following orders?”
“Not at all, my thinking is that bunch of cows were happy to take us down because we’re prettier and better dancers than them.”
That actually made me laugh out loud, forcing from me a gesture to Felix and Jimi to ignore me, before answering Sandrelessa. “We are, aren’t we?”
“Of course.”
“Maybe it’s like what Marni said at the end.”
This time it was Sandrelessa who was confused. “What did she say?”
“About Eck and the beladin, how they melded so strongly. Maybe we’re like that.”
Her confusion was replaced by disgust, “You’re comparing us to a dog and a beladin?”
“Not really, I’m just saying that maybe we are more similar than I had thought.”
“It is possible, we do both enjoy the dance.”
“True.”
“And being pretty.”
Though I would not admit it to another, with her I agreed. “True as well.”
“And killing things.”
“No way.”
“Yes, you would prefer to talk your way out of things. In fact talking seems to be preference for most everything. What do you think of Felix?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well have you been thinking about knocking him out of his saddle and having your way with him. Hmm, maybe even if in the saddle.”
“Gods no!”
“See we’re not alike at all. And you really like all that merchant stuff, you’re always reading from those boring annals.”
“Their not boring.”
“I’ve been around a lot longer than you and all the wisdom I have gained tells me that yes they are. So see we’re not really all that similar, though you are beginning to loosen up under my guidance.”
I decided not to dignify that with an answer, “I don’t think the Roamers are going to do anything.”
“No, they are likely running as fast as they can. Which means that my presence is no longer needed on this long boring ride, I think I will go to sleep.”
“Umm...okay. Thanks for the help tonight.”
“You can pay me back by letting me out to dance.”
Getting the last word, she was gone, and instantly I felt lessened, I missed her. Nor was I the only one, her departure leaving our way lit only by the lanterns on the wagons and the often cloud covered moon and stars, my companions, including Eck who now appeared nothing more than a dog, looked in my direction. “She grew bored with the ride.”
Felix nodded his head, as if in understanding. But for the next while all our attention was drawn to the closer borders of darkness. Then it turned into a tired plod forward, me wishing that like my companions I had taken the opportunity to get some sleep in the afternoon instead of gallivanting about with those who would betray me. This is where Felix showed even more worth, as he rode extra miles between us, trying to keep us awake and watchful of our surroundings, calling for breaks, or having us dismount to walk for a time. And it was because of his efforts that those at the front of our train heard approaching hoofs, giving us time to stop and build a barrier of our wagons, everybody behind waiting to see if those who approached were the ones we hoped for or if they were the ones we feared.
The brightness of the torches, that each man in their party carried, brought relief upon their arrival, Sergeant Hussel being recognizable even before he stopped to shout greetings to us. “Caling’s shiny balls, it looks like you need our help after all. And here we were all looking forward to having a few words with that dickhead Felix for making us go on an ass-busting, night ride. Can we come forward?”
“Please do.” I shouted.
Dismounting beside a waiting Felix and I, he demanded of the Senior-Guard, “So what in the name of Furigal's three-pronged prick happened? Sammel came riding pell-mell into the post early this evening shouting as if the Dark One and his horde rode with the Roamers.”
Happily I let Felix explain, although this did not last long as the Sergeant dragged me into the conversation after cursing the two of us long and hard for our lack of communication. At the end of our joint explanation, he thought about his options for a moment before saying. “My gut tells me we have to go after them, no telling what other mischief they will get into.”
“I don’t think that is a good idea.” I said, and not just because of my promise offered to Marni.
“Quiet you, I don’t need one of Asolde’s tarts telling me how to do my job.”
I was tired and that pissed me off. “No you listen here Sergeant. Despite some mistakes, we were able to extract our entire train, with no injuries from a hostile situation in which we were drastically outnumbered. All that can be done by your rushing off to hump at Aredente’s leg is needless deaths. Don’t you think they will be waiting for you, each armed with bow and sharp arrows, hoping to avenge their embarrassment at our escape. The only thing that held them back was their fear of Sandrelessa, who has now gotten bored and left. So unless Master Elladoo gave you explicit orders to relieve me of command of this train, then you and your men will join the escort and get it home.”
“Have you truly weighed the options on Turin’s rusty scales Girly?”
“Yes, I have. The Roamers have backed themselves into a corner. Better to sic the Militia on them, it’s their job to deal with law and order on the Peninsula. It’s ours to protect our goods and bring them safely back to the post.”
Staring at me for a moment the Sergeant broke out into a grin, and said, “I agree completely Girly. I’d sooner stick my pecker in a wasp’s nest than challenge a band of Roamers that have had their honour injured.”
“Then why?”
“Blame it on your position, we are all to test an apprentice when appropriate. I wanted to see if you put your honour before duty. And by the bloodied eye of Jiringel, you more than passed, you were down right ferocious. I particularly enjoyed the humping at Aredente’s leg line, you don’t mind if I use it, do you?”
All of it, this final test, my exhaustion, what we experienced in the camp, our escape, and the knowledge that the ordeal was all but over crashed down upon me. It was all I could do to stop myself from breaking out in tears, both of frustration and relief. Jimi, my protector, seeing the look on my face, jumped to my defense. “Damn it Sergeant that was an assholish thing to do. It has been a long and trying day already, without those who are here to make it better turning it worse.”
“Calm down Jimi, its just part of her training, similar to how I will be bonking you on the head during our next sword practice to remind you not to speak out of turn. But I am sorry Miss Drake, why don’t you climb aboard one of the carts, maybe you can get some sleep while we make our way home.”
After all that I had endured that day, I did not feel like ending it being treated like some spoiled princess, I sniffled and said, “That’s okay, I can ride. Let’s mount up and head out.”
Matching actions to words I climbed wearily into my saddle, and sat waiting for the others to follow suit. On the road again, the Sergeant circled our original band with his troop of twenty. I saw no need to protest this, in fact it did not take long before my thoughts turned to wishing I had not refused his previous offer, for with worry gone it proved difficult not to nod off, finding myself time and time again startling awake as I began slipping out of my saddle. The ride became a battle of will, one barely won. Never was I so glad to see the walls of Elladoo Post.
***
It grows late. Or should I say it grows early, for when I look out my window my eyes spot the first rays of the sun creeping upwards to herald the new day, the day my wagon train leaves Glanlies. Barely have I met my commitment, to tell you of my day with the Roamers. Yet the end result leaves a number of questions, some of which are yet to be answered even to me, others which may only be answered if I continue to wed stylus to paper, but some have answers I can share now. And since I am at the point that the little sleep available would leave me in worse shape than just getting on with the new day, I will try to answer them.
After all, I have somewhat outgrown the need to prove myself. Happily will I climb aboard wagon seat to steal sleep this afternoon, when tiredness has me slipping from my saddle. But let us hurry to the answers, before time runs out even for them.
The first is to say what happened to the band of Roamers, with whom we had our run in. The simple answer is, I don’t know. Master Elladoo agreed with me, being only too willing to put the matter in the hands of the North Fort Militia. They in turn did not rush forth seeking justice, allowing regular patrols to discover that they seemed to have disappeared, doubtless to roam in new and safer territory. Instead, they were replaced by a new band of Roamers, ones with an absence of magic users and against whom we did not hold the actions of the brethren, for they brought skills that made life in the North more enjoyable to live. Never again did I meet Marni, Kailie, Filice, or any of the others.
But the two girls, more than the grandmother, continued to have an impact upon how I saw myself. They had unlocked something that I need not hide away. No longer did I begrudge putting away breeches and shirts, before changing into the skirts or dresses worn about the post. Nor were the holes in my ears always filled with simple steel hoops or hair twisted in a simple braid. I began allowing myself to accept some of the simple pleasures of being a girl.
Secondly there is Eck, who made himself right at home. Marni being correct in her statements that he would do whatever he wanted, he followed me about but rarely my orders. Still, based upon the number of wolf-houndish looking pups found on the post as time passed, he doubtless enjoyed himself.
The third question is also quickly answered, as it deals with my attempt to convince the master to let me manage the dispersal of the herbs and such brought back from our trip. He answered a firm no, it being a task always trusted to a rather prickly family member. However, the master did set it up so that I could accompany and learn from the man, who seemed to only accept my presence in order to stare at the cleavage produced by the bodices of my Glanlies’ styled dresses. Despite this, I learned much from the lech.
Lastly, you likely wonder if I ever paid Sandrelessa back. Well I thought nothing of it for three entire days and then that night, caught up on my rest, I found it hard to sleep, memories of our last discussion playing in my head. Finally giving up I crept forth from my room, in nightgown with candle in hand, down the stairs and outside. Met by an apparently waiting Eck, we stole into the bin that Master Elladoo used as his magic workshop, there I lit the wall sconces and placed the candle on the table. Then nervous about my plan, recognizing that if not forbidden few would think it wise, I moved into the rhombus, reasoning its protective magic would make it the best place to be if things went wrong. But I was committed to this action.
So I began to perform the steps taught to me around the pool by the Roamer girls. And though more gracefully done than that afternoon, my worry was that without music it would not be enough.
I was wrong. It was. In an eye-blink Eck and I weren’t alone anymore, the windowless workshop growing suddenly bright.
Sandrelessa said nothing, though I sensed her amusement with our location. Instead she flowed into me, taking over arms and legs, hands and feet. But she did not spring into the Dance of Blades, instead she caused a much gentler tune to enter my mind. To this we began to sway, our feet moving not at all, slowly more and more of our body joined, taking on slow, yet exaggerated, movement. And, when finally our feet took us from that spot, it was not with speed and power, but with grace and softness. It was as if we floated, our night-gown billowing outwards as we leapt and spun. Gently, gently like the music. Opposite to what we danced in the Roamer`s camp, but just as wonderful. I wanted more.
But when the dance slowed to a conclusion, she went away just as quickly as she came. Offering the promise of more, but only if I asked.