Authors: Alicia Buck
“Oh, don’t be silly. I am not ready tonight. But I will be in a few days if the king will allow it.” The lady looked at the king for consent.
“We will be honored to hear what you have uncovered,” King Verone answered. His lack of inflection made me think that perhaps he wasn’t really looking forward to the performance.
But the lady didn’t seem to notice. “Wonderful. I will tell my players of our luck as soon as we are dismissed from dinner.” Her eyes brightened with excitement.
“You must be Lady Aria,” I said, suddenly putting her comments together with what Breeohan had told me about her.
“Yes, oh, I am sorry for not introducing myself. It completely slipped my mind.” A huge smile lit her face. I found it hard to think of her as Rafan’s older sister. Her manner was so uncomplicated, and even as I talked to her, Aria’s eyes unfocused, looking above my head. She spaced out for almost a minute before she jerked her head back toward me, remembering that we had been talking.
“I hope you won’t be offended, but I am a bit scatterbrained at times. I guess I spend too much time in the archives and not enough with people. That’s what my husband tells me anyway. Oh, this is my husband, by the way, Zefan Kree.” She indicated the man to her right whom she’d been talking to before. He nodded in my direction after Aria tugged on his shirt.
“Nice to meet you, Zefan Kree,” I said. He nodded again and turned back to his food. I wondered if Zefan Kree spent a little too much time in the archives as well.
“I can’t wait for you to hear what we have been preparing. Some of the music I have uncovered hasn’t been played in generations. I have been recopying all the old manuscripts so that they will not be lost to decay. Do you play an instrument, Princess?”
“No, not since I was little.”
“That’s too bad. I would have loved to hear what Kirosan had to offer. Do you sing at all?”
“Unfortunately not.” I felt no guilt for lying.
“Oh well. I suppose I have enough to do as it is without getting involved in studying your country’s music.”
“I am sure that is quite a task.” I was starting to run on autopilot, having lost most of my interest in the conversation. Aria was nice, but I was worried about the ball, and it was hard to concentrate on the topic of music when questions like,
How do they dance here?
and,
What will be expected of a princess at a ball?
kept popping into my head.
I chatted pointlessly with Aria as food arrived and was carried away again, the whole time wishing I could talk to the king or Breeohan about what I’d need to know for this ball. However, the king was busy whispering to Breeohan, and it turned out Zefa Aria was anything but scatterbrained when discussing finding and restoring old music manuscripts.
I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open when the king finally stood to dismiss the courtiers. “I would like to announce that we will have a ball in honor of the princess in five days’ time. I hope you will all join me in making the princess feel welcomed,” King Verone said.
Chairs screeched against the floor as all the courtiers stood to leave. The king strode off with Breeohan, dashing my hopes of conferring with either of them. I stood slowly, not wishing to talk to anyone on my way out. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry to leave, so I didn’t have to wait long before the room was mostly empty. I waved good-bye to Aria and her husband as they walked off, then slowly slunk from the room, avoiding the few groups of people still gathered.
I had no energy to talk with Sentai as she helped me undress and take down my hair. I activated the cleaning lacing on myself, relieved to feel a makeup free face, then I toppled into the feather bed and fell asleep.
I
woke well before
the sun rose, having gotten used to little sleep on the road. I dressed in my peasant shirt, vest, and pants, since the only other pants I had were the ones that went with the dresses. There was no way I was going to wear a dress if I didn’t have to, so I settled for my familiar traveling clothes. I wandered around the palace for awhile, passing through one high vaulted hallway to another, occasionally glancing into open doors and stopping at particularly interesting wall hangings.
Several people in what I recognized as servant garb passed me once in awhile. I smiled and said hello. They looked startled and walked away without answering. I figured I was probably committing another Iberloahan social faux pas, but I didn’t care. I was in a good mood. My jaunt through the palace was invigorating. After awhile, though, I started to get hungry. I was just getting really lost when a servant passed by, toting a big tray of food.
“Could you show me the way to Princess Kasala’s room?” I asked. He nodded, glanced at me knowingly, and signaled for me to walk ahead of him. I wondered how he knew I was someone of importance in my ordinary travel clothes. His walking behind me was a nuisance because I couldn’t tell if he wanted to turn until I had gone too far, and he politely coughed at me. I would then have to wind my way back to him and walk ahead before he would start moving again. His coughs were just becoming the Pavlovian signal for me to attack when we reached my door.
“Thanks a bunch,” I said as I hurried inside, but he coughed once more. I controlled a sudden urge to hit something. “Can I help you?”
He held up the platter of food and nodded his head toward the inside of my room. He seemed to want to get it inside without actually giving it to me. But by this time I was fed up, so I just took it from him and shut the door. I felt a little guilty afterwards, but when I opened the door again to apologize he was already gone. Sentai was at my side by then, taking the platter from me. She ushered me to sit at a little table at the north side of the chamber, where she set the tray down. I plopped down, still feeling a little like a heel but famished from my morning’s activities.
“Do you want to join me?” I asked Sentai, restraining my hand from snapping out to the juicy fruit on my plate.
“It would not be proper.”
I shrugged, unwilling to argue. The food looked strange but tasted surprisingly good. It was a nice change after the breakfasts I’d experienced so far in Iberloah. I saved the strange fruit for last and savored every sweet morsel.
I couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable with Sentai just watching me as I ate. The silence seemed strained. I wiped my fingers. “So, what are your plans for today, Sentai?”
“I will do as you wish me to do.”
“What do you
want
to do?”
“Whatever my mistress wishes.”
My headache, brought on by the male servant and dispelled by food, started to reappear. “Well, I would like you to do whatever you want. I think I will go find the training general so I can start my lessons. Take a break, talk to your friends.”
“I will have the seamstresses make more clothes for you, if that is acceptable.”
“Don’t approve of my outfit, eh?” I had noticed Sentai’s look of dismay when I walked in with breakfast. “Well, I guess clothes are a good idea, but you don’t have to do it. I could go. Do I need to be measured or anything?”
“Forgive me, but it would not be proper for you to go. I will take your measurements now and order the clothes, if you will allow?” She gestured with a string.
I shrugged then stood, arms stretched out as she took my measurements. She knotted the string at each different length, and then bowed. “Do you require anything before I go?”
“Nope, I’m great. Thanks.”
She bowed again and left the room. I headed out the door as well, in search of the training general. Even though I didn’t want to get beat up, I was curious about what sort of weapons he would train me in, and I had nothing better to do.
I didn’t get quite as lost as I had earlier, but I still had to retrace my steps three times to find my way out of the palace. I walked from a dark hallway into searing brightness. The sun wrapped me with soothing fingers, and the open sky made me realize how good it felt to get out of the palace’s inner webwork.
I decided to go left along the outer wall of the palace since all I could see were palm gardens and cobbled walkways. I soon reached the entrance where I’d first entered the palace, and from there I could see the building I thought most likely to be a barracks. That place seemed as good as any to find people bashing each other, so I headed in that direction. I was hoping the sound of grunts and yells would assail my ears as I got closer so I would know which part of the huge building to walk to, but the place seemed eerily silent. Finally, I literally bumped into a guard in purple who was kind enough to show me the way to the barrack’s door, though I had to put up with walking ahead of him.
We walked in to a melee of shouts, grunts, the cracks of weapons, basically the sounds I had been listening for but wouldn’t have heard through the thick stone walls. There was no way I would hear any polite coughing to tell me if I was headed in the wrong direction once inside, so I just strode toward the practice court, looking for someone who had the air of a teacher.
I found him in the third practice ring of five spread throughout the building. There were narrow walkways to the side of the training platforms where wooden and metal weapons were stacked against the walls. The man I assumed to be the training general was wearing a loose version of the purple guard livery, as were all the other fighters, but he stood watching a pair of fighters with a commanding air. When one man hesitated with his long curved blade, he yelled an order to move faster. When the other man failed to strike properly, the broad-shouldered watcher commanded the offender to clean up his moves or risk losing an arm.
I turned back to see the guard still behind me. “Is that the training general?”
“Yes, Princess. I will fetch him for you.”
“No, don’t interrupt him. I’ll talk to him when he’s through with the pair . . .” It was at this point that I noticed he hadn’t heard me in time and had already rushed off to whisper in the training general’s ear.
The general looked sharply at me, his mostly golden eyes lined with a smidgen of brown around the rim. Their shape and color were very much like the king’s eyes, and I tried to picture the pedigree chart in my head to remember where the training general fit. He had gray in his hair and a few crow’s feet extending from his eyes, but this only gave him a look of weathered steel. I felt intimidated, despite my efforts at nonchalance. I took an unconscious step back, wishing I’d found some other activity to occupy my time.
He shouted a halt to the pair he was observing, and they dropped their swords to their sides with the speed of exhaustion. The training general dismissed them and walked over to me.
“You really didn’t have to do that,” I almost yelled so I would be heard over the crashing.
“You are Princess Kasala.” It was a statement. His look had none of the deferential behavior I was begrudgingly starting to get used to, but instead of comforting me, it made me even more jumpy. It was far too intense.
“Yes,” I said too quietly to be heard, but he shocked me by bowing at my reply. It was the bow of a prince to a princess, and I remembered hearing the king mention that he was Prince Sogran. I bowed back, awkward in my movements, and had to straighten up quickly so I wouldn’t embarrass myself by stumbling.
“Come with me to a private training room. We will be able to hear each other better there,” he said. I knew his wish for more quiet was to spare my own voice, for I could hear the training general perfectly despite the noise. He had the kind of voice that carried without effort. It boomed with authority without being deafening. I turned, unsure of where I was supposed to be hierarchy-wise in the leading/following tradition of Iberloah. The training general relieved my worry by taking the lead in a brisk manner. Had the king told him who I really was? There were so many things that I didn’t know yet. I felt panicky.
He led me through a door at the end of the building into another room with a lone practice area. The door shut, and I was shocked by the sudden silence. I wanted to scuff the floor to make some sort of sound, but I didn’t want to do the wrong thing. So I stood, hands behind my back, staring at his purple shirt rather than at his face, feeling stupid for acting so cowed. I remembered that the king had called the training general “Sogran,” but I doubted anyone else dared call him by anything but his title.
“The king has informed me that I am to help you prevent a ride with the winds by training you to fight with weapons. I saw your fight yesterday.”
I looked up into his face and was shocked to see a slight smile form on his lips. I wondered if he always regarded people with such intensity. It was as if my face was a foreign text he intended to decipher.
“You did well. I have never seen a style of fighting quite like yours. I will teach you because the king has asked it of me, but I would hope that you may show me some of your methods as well.” He still had a slight smile on his face, and I couldn’t decide if it made him look less formidable or not. I was leaning toward not.
“Um, sure,” I said.
“Let us start then.” He lifted one of the wicked-looking curved long swords I had seen the men in the practice arena using.
“Could we maybe start with wooden swords, or something a little less sharp?” The words popped out before I thought about how the steely man would react. He laughed. I almost jumped.
“Verone mentioned that you were unused to our ways. You will need to learn to adjust if you want to survive here.”
I was still getting over the shock of someone in this culture calling the king by his name when the second part of what he said struck me. “Survive? I thought the mages could heal any injury one might get from fighting in the jova courts.”
“Not everything.”
That sounded ominous. “What can’t mages heal?” I asked.
“Sometimes when a weapon bites into the skin and a mage heals the wound, the wounded man gets a high fever and dies. No one knows why, other than it has something to do with old or dirty weapons. Sometimes weapons are poisoned. There has been nothing found that can heal such cases unless the mage knows what poison was used and the pattern of that poison. So you see, you must be better than your attacker and not get cut. In order to overcome your attacker, you must practice with the actual weapon. If we practiced with a wooden sword, you would not learn to handle the heft of the real blade. You would misjudge your moves.”