The Beggar's Past

by J B Drake

  “What are you up to, my dear?” Naeve thought as she sipped once more.

  Taking it as a sign, Anise did the same.

  “Ugh!” she exclaimed, pulling a face and staring in scorn at her cup. “What is this?”

  “Chamomile.” Naeve grinned.

  “What?”

  “Chamomile,” Naeve repeated. “It’s very popular with the human nobles.”

  “It’s vile!” Anise exclaimed as she stared at her Matriarch.

  “It’s…an acquired taste?”

  “Why would you want to acquire this taste?”

  Shaking her head, Naeve sighed. “Would you like some whisperwood nectar?”

  Anise stared back at her cup. “I’d need a gallon to make this taste any better.”

  “Well, I don’t have a gallon, I’m afraid,” Naeve replied as she raised her cup to her lips.

  Anise stared at her Matriarch a spell. “Is this truly worth drinking?”

  “Try a few more sips, then see.”

  Staring at her cup, Anise raised it to her lips and sipped, then grimaced.

  “So you wish to go see Anise,” Naeve said before Anise could complain further.

  “Yes.” Anise nodded as she placed her cup upon its saucer.

  “Who’ll look after the Pens while you’re gone? Daniton has his hands full.”

  Anise nodded. “I intend to put Nabril, Kethar and Finam in charge. They’ve been underfoot since I took on Daniton’s role, nagging me to give them more responsibility, so…”

  Naeve smiled. “Careful what you wish for…”

  Anise grinned.

  “Something like that,” she said, then raised her cup to her lips, only to grimace once again.

  “How long do you intend to be gone?” Naeve asked as Anise placed the cup back upon its saucer.

  “Two months, three perhaps. I heard she’s in Kirsk now.”

  “Did you now…”

  Anise nodded as she raised her cup to her lips once more. This time, no grimace.

  Forcing a smile, Naeve nodded as she too took a sip, but her mind was still on edge.

  “I take it you intend to leave immediately?”

  Anise nodded.

  “And alone?”

  “Oh, no, Matriarch.”

  “Oh?”

  Anise nodded. “I intend to take Marshalla with me.”

  At the mention of that name, Naeve’s heart stopped. Keeping a firm grip on her smile, the elderly Matriarch fought to calm the storm within her as she kept her eyes upon her guest.

  Taking her Matriarch’s silence as a sign, Anise continued.

  “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumours about—”

  “What rumours?”

  Anise frowned. “The girl, Marshalla, she was planning on leaving.”

  With trembling fingers, Naeve raised her cup to her lips, this time drinking deep.

  “It’s because of me, Matriarch,” Anise continued, “and because of what she did in that storehouse. She’s just girl, in spite of all her posturing, and having blood on her hands, well…I should’ve been there for her, but I let my work get between us. So I’m thinking of taking her along with me.”

  Naeve simply stared. It was all she could do.

  “It’ll do her good, Matriarch,” Anise added. “It’ll do me good.”

  Bringing her emotions to heel, Naeve finally let go of her smile. Placing her cup upon the table once more, she stared intently at the woman seated before her. That she was lying was beyond certain, this Naeve knew in her heart. But why? And why bring Marshalla into this?

  “Have you asked her?” she asked.

  Anise nodded. “I came from the Pens. She’s reluctant, but she’ll accompany me.”

  Naeve nodded, then stared once more.

  “I spoke to Baern earlier…” Anise continued once the silence became oppressive.

  Naeve smiled at the Archmage before her. Baern. Of course. Words like Anise’s would’ve come from the old scoundrel. And his vile human friend.

  “…he thought it was an excellent idea.”

  “Did he now?”

  “Yes,” Anise nodded, then sighed. “ I must do this, Matriarch. Please. The Pens will—”

  “The Pens will do well in your absence, I’m sure,” Naeve said as she rose.

  Anise stared at her Matriarch for a spell, her mouth agape, then, grinning, she too rose.

  “Thank you, Matriarch,” she said.

  Naeve nodded. “Go see your sister. And give her my regards.”

  Anise nodded. “I will.” Then, as she moved to leave, she stopped and turned back to her Matriarch.

  “What?”

  “Might I impose on you to keep this from Daniton?” Anise asked. “If he knows he’ll want to come, and I must do this myself.”

  Smiling, Naeve nodded. “Very well.”

  “Thank you, Matriarch,” Anise grinned, then she looked down at her tea.

  “No?” Matriarch asked.

  Raising her gaze, Anise pulled a face as she shook her head.

  “Ah well, at least you tried it.”

  Anise grinned. “That I did.”

  “So what now?”

  “Now,” Anise sighed, “I’d best go pack.”

  Naeve nodded. “Yes, you’d best.”

  Grinning once more, Anise bowed, then left. As the door closed, however, Naeve’s smile dimmed.

  “What are you up to this time, Baern?” she muttered as she sat. “What do you need Marshalla for?”

  Just then, another knock came at the door.

  “Come,” she called, and as the door opened she frowned. It was clear this was an issue she would have to address later.

  It was dark by the time Naeve was finally free once more, the affairs of state and Tower keeping her in her office till late, and as she sat before her dresser, her brush in her hand, Naeve sighed as she ran the brush through her hair, the silence about her helping her unwind. It was not long, though, before her thoughts turned to her meeting with Anise. Pondering the woman’s words in silence, the Matriarch turning the events over in her mind as the brush glided through her hair.

  Just then, there came a knock at her window. It was faint, barely audible, but Naeve heard it.

  “About time she showed up,” Naeve muttered as she rose.

  Walking over to the window, she unlatched it and returned to her dresser.

  “You’re late,” she growled as the sound of her curtain parting reached her ears.

  “Nice to see you too.” Amala glowered as she closed the window before readjusting the curtains.

  “So, when precisely were you going to tell me about Marshalla leaving?”

  Stopping, Amala turned to Naeve, her eyes full of deep disapproval. “Have you forgotten who you’re talking to, child?”

  Staring at the silver-haired girl in her dresser mirror, Naeve stuck her chin out in defiance, but kept her peace.

  “Don’t make me put you over my knee, Naeve.”

  “I’m Matriarch, Amala, or have you forgotten that?”

  “You’re never too old for a spanking, girl. I’ve warned you once and I’m warning you again, don’t make me put you over my knee. Now, compose yourself and watch your tongue.”

  Seething with rage, Naeve glared at her guest, but her glare was met with a cold stare, till at last, bringing her rage to heel, she lowered her hands to her lap and spun round to stare at Amala square.

  “You should’ve told me about Marshalla planning to leave.”

  “And what good would that have done?” Amala asked, crossing her arms beneath her bosom.

  Staring hard at the girl before her, Naeve gritted her teeth, but before she could speak, Amala continued.

  “She’s up to something, Naeve. Her leaving is a ruse, for sure of it, and I think it’s something to do with what truly happened in that storehouse.”

  At this, Naeve frowned. “You still think there’s more to that tale?”

  Nodding, Amala made her way to t
he Matriarch’s bed.

  “Now more than ever,” she said as she sat. “I’ve been trying to get her to open up, but that girl trust no-one.”

  Naeve smirked. “Or perhaps she’s just a good judge of character.”

  “Naeve…”

  Biting her lip, Naeve lowered her gaze.

  “Anyhow,” Amala continued, “I’ve been trying to find out what that something is, and I intended to tell you everything after I’d found out.”

  The Matriarch stared at her guest once more. “And have you?”

  “No.” Amala sighed. “And if I press any harder, she’ll become suspicious. She or her friends.”

  Sighing, Naeve turned to her dresser and returned to brushing her hair.

  “You didn’t call for me just for this,” Amala said after a brief silence. “What is it?”

  The tired Matriarch sighed. “Anise came to see me today.”

  “Oh?”

  Naeve nodded. “She wishes to make the journey to Kirsk.”

  “Kirsk?”

  Naeve nodded once more.

  “Wait,” Amala said, rising. “Isn’t that where Arenya settled?”

  “The very same.”

  “She’s not looking to stir up trouble for her sister again, is she?”

  Naeve shook her head. “No, she’s looking to end the hate between them.”

  “Come again?”

  Spinning round, Naeve nodded. “She came asking for leave to go see Arenya to, in her words, close the rift between them.”

  Amala frowned as she stared pointedly at Naeve. “Anise Fairweather wishes to end the ill-will between her and Arenya. Has she forgotten the last time she tried?”

  Naeve nodded. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  “So, what did you say?”

  Naeve shrugged. “What could I say? I gave her my blessing.”

  Amala moved to speak, her frown deepening, but as she bit back her words, she shrugged.

  “Perhaps she’ll succeed this time,” she said, then frowned once more. “But tell me that’s not why you sent for me.”

  The Matriarch shook her head. “Anise wishes to take Marshalla with her.”

  “Come again?”

  Naeve nodded. “You heard right.”

  “Why?”

  “She claims there’s now no love lost between them on account of her ignoring Marshalla. She wishes to use this trip to heal the rift with the girl, too.”

  Nodding, Amala sat back down. “I can vouch for that rift, Marshalla feels abandoned by that woman.”

  Then, Amala frowned. “And yet you still gave her leave to go?”

  Naeve nodded.

  “Does that mean your heartache for this girl is finally over?” Amala grinned. “I can now spend my time on something more deserving?”

  “I think there’s more to this, Amala,” Naeve replied, “and I think Baern’s behind it.”

  Amala shrugged. “So?”

  “So, he’s planning something, something he doesn’t wish me to know, and Anise and Marshalla are integral to his plan.”

  “So?” Amala demanded as her frown deepened. “Forgive me, Naeve, but isn’t that part of his task as your Magister?”

  Naeve shrugged as she turned to her dresser once more. “It’s just that…well…if he doesn’t wish me to know, it must be something dangerous, truly dangerous and…”

  But her words failed her, and with a sigh, she lowered her brush, her eyes upon Amala’s reflection in the dresser mirror.

  “Why am I here, Naeve?” Amala asked at last.

  “I was…hoping you’d shadow her,” Naeve muttered, “make sure she comes to no harm.”

  In the silence that followed, Amala held the Matriarch in a cold stare, her features as if set in stone.

  “You’re supposed to say something,” Naeve said when the silence became unbearable.

  “When you asked me to take on this fool post, I told you I’d do it on one condition.”

  Lowering her gaze, Naeve nodded. “I know.”

  “Peace. That was my condition, Naeve…”

  “I know, Amala.”

  “…peace within these four walls. No hunting, no battles. Peace and a place to feed in safety and secret. You promised me that.”

  “I know.”

  “This is not part of our arrangement.”

  “Our agreement was you keep her safe,” Naeve replied. “Seems to me you owe me for letting her almost get killed in that storehouse.”

  “I owe you?” Amala exclaimed. “Naeve, I’m not the girl’s shadow! And in case you hadn’t noticed, our friendship isn’t such that I can simply follow her around all day. You asked for subtlety. No-one was to know what I was up to, not even your Magister. So how in the hells am I then supposed to be watching her every step? You tell me that!”

  “Yes, well,” Naeve said, “it’s just…nevermind.”

  Shaking her head, Naeve began brushing her hair again, except this time her hands moved faster.

  The silence returned, suffocating both women in equal measure.

  “Here.” Amala sighed after a spell, banishing the silence as she walked over to the Matriarch with a hand outstretched. “Give it to me.”

  Turning, Naeve frowned at her guest, but soon handed over the brush.

  “Turn around,” Amala gestured as she stood behind the Matriarch.

  As Naeve stared, her frown turned to a smile, then she did as Amala had asked, and as Amala began to brush her hair, Naeve closed her eyes and sighed. It was such a pleasant experience, the care with which Amala ran the brush through her hair unlike anything she’d felt in many a long year.

  “I remember when I used to do this for your mother,” Amala said after a spell.

  Opening her eyes, Naeve grinned.

  “I remember too,” she replied. “You’d stand near the bed, Mother would sit on one of those low stools, and I’d sit on her lap. You’d brush Mother’s hair, and she’d brush mine.”

  Amala smiled. “Yes. Then you and she would start making those silly faces.”

  Naeve chuckled.

  “And I’d tell you both over and over to behave, but neither of you would listen.”

  “And do you know why?” Naeve grinned.

  Grinning herself, Amala nodded. “To drive me mad.”

  Chuckling, Naeve nodded. “And it worked. Every time.”

  “Evil, the pair of you,” Amala replied. “Pure evil.”

  Naeve chuckled once more, throwing her head back as she giggled.

  “Why is this child so important to you, Naeve?”

  All at once, the laughter died in Naeve’s throat.

  “You’ve yet to give me an answer,” Amala added.

  “I…I don’t know, Amala, and that’s the honest truth. Ever since I let Thuridan sink his claws into her, I’ve felt…something…in here.” Wincing, Naeve patted her heart. “At first I thought it was guilt—”

  “Nonsense,” Amala said. “You’ve sacrificed more for less.”

  Naeve gritted her teeth. “You make me sound so callous.”

  “Not callous, just…Alright, perhaps that did sound a mite callous. You don’t feel guilt, though, surely.”

  Naeve shook her head. “No. Only, I don’t know how I feel. It’s as if the gods are telling me something.”

  “Are they now?” Amala asked, raising a regal eyebrow.

  “Laugh at me all you want,” Naeve shook her head, “but that girl and I are…our fates are intertwined somehow. But damned if I know how.”

  “Damned if you know?” Amala repeated.

  Sighing, the Matriarch nodded.

  “The old blood sings, yet you can’t hear even it,” Amala whispered.

  “What was that?” Naeve frowned.

  “Nothing.” Amala shook her head, then handed the hairbrush back to Naeve.

  “What did—”

  “I’ll shadow her, Naeve, if that’ll make you happy.”

  Naeve grinned. “It will.”

&nbs
p; “Though I warn you, I will still need to feed.”

  Naeve rolled her eyes at this. “I’m not stupid, Amala. Just, no innocents this time. Do I have your word?”

  “Oh, don’t start that again.”

  “Do I have your word?”

  “Very well.” Amala sighed.

  “Thank you.” Naeve bowed.

  “I’d best go pack, then,” Amala sighed once more, then turned towards where she’d entered.

  “That shouldn’t take you long,” Naeve quipped.

  “Gods, you can be such a cow sometimes,” Amala muttered as she reached the curtains.

  “I heard that!” Naeve snapped.

  “You were supposed to,” was Amala’s reply.

  Shaking her head, Naeve turned back to her dresser.

  “Bitch,” she whispered.

  “I heard that!” exclaimed Amala.

  “You were supposed to!” was Naeve reply, and, smiling, she began brushing her hair once more.

  *****

  Standing by her bedroom window, the Archmage Anise Fairweather watched the rising dawn in heavy silence. Mere days previous, had anyone told her she’d be embarking on a journey into lands she’d once sworn never to return to in search of answers to a secret she’d have once considered her solemn duty to share with her Matriarch but was now hiding from the Tower, she’d have happily planted her fist deep within their throat. More than once.

  “And yet, here you are.” She sighed. “How in the hells do you get into these things?”

  Shaking her head, she turned to her bed and stared at her bags. It had taken no small measure of effort to talk Maline out of giving her her own weight in supplies and food, and as she recalled the flustered face of the woman she’d once thought beneath her, Anise couldn’t help but smile, though her smile was brief. The journey would be long, with no guarantee of success, but that was no reason to tarry. The die was cast, she had to see this through.

  “Might as well get on with it,” she said, then headed to her bed.