by D. E. Morris
The market was filled with little open-air shops where wares were hung and stacked on shelves to draw the eye. Many things glittered in the failing light of day, making the group's procession slow when Lilia had to investigate every little bauble. She was friendly as she chatted with merchants, and it wasn't until Connor saw her shake hands with every man or woman she spoke to did he realize that she was looking for the mark of the Keeper. Once he understood her motives, he became a little more patient with her and stopped trying to hurry her along, despite the grumbling of his stomach.
They ducked into a wood stand full of musical instruments, a place Connor found himself interested in as well. He picked up a small lute and held it across his chest, fingers plucking a few of the strings. “That one was just brought in a few days ago,” the dwarven shop keeper told him, adjusting his glasses. “Beauty, isn't it? Do you play?”
“No, but I'd like to learn. Every traveler needs something to play, right?”
Lilia raised a brow. “Outside of these past few days, when do you travel just to travel?” She turned to the shopkeeper with a smug smile. “He stays in his castle most days, playing with his-”
Rowan coughed.
“...dog,” Lilia finished, covering her embarrassment at her near slip with a little laugh. “He does love his dog.”
“A prince, eh?” The man all but ignored Lilia and eyed Connor's clothes. “An Ibayish one if I got the accent right.”
“That is correct.” He set the instrument back down gently. Other sets of eyes fell on him as the conversation was overheard by people shopping nearby. “How much for the lute?”
“Fifty gold crowns. She's barely used and has new strings that I stretched and dried myself. You won't find better.”
“I could get a brand new one for that in Siness for ten crowns less, probably made by the high king himself, too,” Connor argued.
The shop keeper scoffed. “Could you, now? Well my lute was made by elves and given to High King Brydion as a gift when...”
Something outside the shop caught Lilia's eye as the two men tried to out tell one another in stories. A woman moved past dressed from head to toe in simple white linen. Though there was a veil over her head, it did little to hide her dark golden complexion or the crimson tribal markings that appeared to be tattooed across her forehead like a circlet. Dark brown hair was left loose and hung over her shoulders in waves. She turned gray eyes to Lilia, and Lilia felt the ground sink away beneath her; time slowed and sped up all at once.
She knocked into Rowan who gave a yelp and was pushed into a harp that fell over with a mournful clang. The shop keeper surged forward as Connor moved for Lilia, both of them running into each other and cussing one another out. It was the strange woman who stepped into the shop and grabbed Lilia's arm to help steady her before she fell.
“Are you all right?” Her voice was raspy in the way Cavalon's voice was, but sweeter and much more feminine.
“I'm...I'm fine.” Lilia found her feet and gingerly pulled her arm free so she could check on Rowan. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?”
“Only a few of my toes,” she grumbled. “What happened?”
Ignoring the rising argument between the men, Lilia glanced at the woman. “I felt faint for a moment. I think I just need to eat.”
The woman studied her before looking at the two farther inside. “Beth sy'n bod?”
Angry, the shop keeper took a step back from Connor and jammed a finger into the middle of his glasses to push them further up his nose. He took a few breaths as though to calm himself before glancing at the woman. “Dim byd.” He tugged at his sleeves and straightened his jacket. “Dim byd o gwbl.”
She smiled, something both innocent and dangerous in the small exchange. “Da.” The shop keeper glared at Connor as he stalked past him to pick up the harp, muttering to himself as he inspected it for injury.
“Are you okay?” Connor asked Lilia, moving to her side. “What happened?”
“It seems your friend is in need of some nourishment.” The woman glanced at Rowan. “She is looking quite pale as well.”
Realizing the stranger was talking about her, Rowan looked up with a wrinkled brow. “I'm Ibayish. Pale is the only complexion we have.”
The woman laughed softly. “Well that explains it.” She turned her gaze to Connor in examination. “You must be siblings. You have the same scowl.” Connor flinched and worked to even out his expression as her attention returned to Lilia. The way her eyes traveled over Lilia's body, pausing to take in her multicolored wings and her hair before settling on her face made the younger woman uncomfortable. Appearing to sense it, the woman looked down in a bow of apology. “Forgive me. I do not see many Volar here, and none have been as beautiful as you.”
Uncertain, Lilia said, “Thank you?”
“To whom do you belong?”
Any discomfort she might have felt disappeared at the question, an icy anger making her pulse quicken. “I belong to no one.”
Lilia's tone made the woman's eyes widen, and she bowed her head once again. “My most sincere apologies. Your accent is Caedian, though I also hear a touch of Sinessian in there. It is rare to see one of your kind here from so far north. Most are native Cierians or come directly from Braemar. Unless you belonged to a certain family-”
“The Volarim are a free people. We belong to no one in any country. We serve those whom we chose to serve if that is our decision. Those who live as messengers do so out of duty, respect, and loyalty, not because we are owned and have no other option.”
“Lilia,” Connor chided in a whisper, but the woman shook her head and offered him a small smile.
“No, she is quite right to state her truths. Often, when people are not close to one another, there are misconceptions and misunderstandings. That is all this is.” Though she sounded contrite, there was laughter in her eyes, as though what she said and what she believed were different things entirely. “Well, please do not let me delay you any further.” She made as if to leave the shop but stopped and looked toward the setting sun. With question, she turned back to the trio. “Do you have a place to stay?”
“We have rooms at the inn down the road,” Connor said without hesitation. Reaching back, he subtly took Rowan by the wrist and pulled her behind him. If the woman noticed, she made no comment. Instead, she gave them another mysterious smile.
“An inn is no place for children to stay, especially in this town where the tourists can get rather rowdy after a day of drinking. I have room for all of you, if you would prefer.”
“I am not a child,” Lilia stated.
“I'm certain we can handle ourselves,” Connor added.
Rowan wrested her arm free. “How much?”
All three of them looked at her, Connor and Lilia doing their best to hide their surprise and irritation at the question. “No charge,” the woman assured. She looked to the shopkeeper with a nod. “The people of this city will vouch for my hospitality.” Touching her fingers to her lips, she laughed quietly. “I have only now realized I have not yet given you my name.” She bent into a low curtsy. “Rhiamon Morwid, at your service. My village is just through the mountain pass. If we leave soon, we will make it before the sun has completely set. You can even sup with us, if you are hungry.”
Connor glanced at Lilia. “I don't know...”
Taking both her brother’s hand and Lilia's, Rowan directed her thoughts toward both of them. We wanted to check out the mountain village anyway. What's the harm?
We've hardly had the chance to search around this one, Lilia argued, long used to communicating through telepathy. She turned toward Rowan at the same time Connor did, all of them huddling together to make a show of discussing the proposal among themselves.
We can explore in the morning on our way back to Nyx. She'll stay put for the night, won't she?
Connor sighed through his nose. She listens to my commands at home. I don't see why she wouldn't here.
Lilia narrowed her eyes
at him once Rowan relayed what he had said. You're not seriously considering it, are you?
What harm can one night do? He broke the contact as Rowan relayed the message and turned around to extend his hand. “Forgive our hesitation.” Rhiamon slid her hand into his, and Connor raised her knuckles to his lips. “Connor McKane, at your service. This is Lady Lilia Arterberry, and my sister, Lady Rowan O'Cleary.”
“How very lovely to meet you all.” Rhiamon dipped her head. “Please, follow me. Everyone will be so pleased to have visitors.” She cast a smile that was warm toward the shopkeeper and bid him good night before sweeping a hand toward the street in invitation. “It is always an occasion when we have the honor of entertaining guests that have no family connection. It will be a treat for us all.”
“For us as well,” Connor affirmed. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
“It is my pleasure.” They followed her through the streets, Lilia taking silent note of the way people looked at Rhiamon as they group passed. It was subtle, something that would have been easily missed had she not been looking for it. Something in the silent interaction between the older woman and the dwarf had set her on edge, and she was taking extra care to keep her wits about her. Because of this, she began to pick up on the subtle withdrawal of all who saw her, the quick aversion of eyes in the way of the courtiers at Altaine whenever Ashlynn walked the halls and was clearly in a mood. It was a submissive act, passive as it was, and one that spoke not of respect, but fear. Whoever this woman was, she was a great deal more important that her clothing and the way she spoke let on.
As the residential area thinned, the mountains felt as though they had moved closer than possible as the group walked. A path had been carved through the rock, one that was blocked off by a small wooden gate, something anyone could break through or even jump over with little to no effort. A tall lamp stand stood beside it. A lantern hanging from its high hook already glowed, despite the abundance of sunlight still left over from the day. On the other side of the gate, eerily still, was a cloaked figure. He was dressed in long linen robes of sage green, his white hair and beard so long that they nearly touched the ground.
“Noswaith dda,” Rhiamon greeted as they approached. The old man nodded but said nothing as he unlatched the gate. “Diolch yn fawr.” He nodded once more, waiting until they had passed through before closing the gate and returning to his post.
Lilia glanced at Connor, her stomach tightening in nervousness. As though sensing her feelings, he took her hand in his free one, holding onto Rowan with his other, and positioned himself between them as they followed Rhiamon. The path they walked was twisted and turned so sharply at times that it was impossible to see too far ahead. All were silent as they progressed, not even a word spoken through telepathy, but the girls held tightly to Connor. When Rhiamon glanced back, she looked at all of them but smiled only at Lilia, making the younger woman grip Connor a little more tightly. She'd never wished she had been Gaelic until this moment. Most of the time, Connor was silly and could be quite immature, but she longed to reach out to him with her thoughts in the hope of him having an encouraging word or two for her.
As the light continued to fade around them, lanterns that hung in trees arching above them began to glow softly. Looking back, Lilia saw the light continued for only a little way, and then was snuffed out again. It was as though the light was both following them and leading them, giving them only what they needed to see, nothing more and nothing less.
It felt like they had been walking for hours, always up and around. Though it was certainly a much easier route than the one they'd taken on Dragonspire, it was wearing on and on, and they were beginning to feel as though the road would never end. “Are we close?” Lilia asked after a time, trying to keep the whine from her voice. Her feet were throbbing from so much walking already that day. If she had her way, it would be food and then bed, though she knew there was still work to be done and exploration to see to in their new location.
Instead of answering, Rhiamon cast a mysterious smile to Lilia and rounded yet another turn. Lilia was about to give voice to an exasperated sigh, but when they turned the corner, everything opened up before them. The forest peeled back to reveal a plain that was glowing in the orange light of the sun. Small structures of daub and wattle with dark wooden lattices and thatched roofs littered the area before them. It felt like stepping back in time, before homes were built with wood and stone, and where people dressed in the simplest of clothing. Every woman they could see, from the age of a young child up to the varied stages of adulthood, wore simple linen gowns just like Rhiamon. The few men to be found, just as diverse in age as the women, wore much the same robes as the gatekeeper, though they were dyed to be either gray or brown with a few green spotted among them. They moved around one another, interacting as though it was nothing more than a large homestead full of kin rather than a village.
As Rhiamon made her way forward, all motion stopped but for anyone in her way to step aside and part for her to move without obstruction. “Welcome to Cynefin. Welcome to my home.” She turned around to face the trio and extended her arms. “Everyone, please welcome our guests.”
It was as though they were celebrated champions come home from a long campaign; cheers rose to the sky from several people in the village while others hurried away with the look of one in the middle of an important task about them. Many greeted them in the strange language Rhiamon and the dwarf used. The enchantment of it all significantly lowered the walls of defense Connor and Lilia had built up around themselves. A young girl presented Lilia with a crown of flowers. When the winged woman bent, the girl placed it on her head as gingerly as if she were crowning a queen herself. When a second crown was brought forth for Rowan, Lilia whispered into her ear what was going on, prompting Rowan to give a slow, uncertain bow so her head could be adorned. Connor was given no special treatment, but was captivated by the multitude of beautiful women around him. Most of them were darker skinned like Rhiamon, though it seemed the village was a friend to every race and skin-tone. He saw pale elves, dark tattooed Nagin, and even a few from far east.
Silent, Rhiamon stood back and watched it all with a small, unreadable smile on her face.
“I wish I knew what they were saying,” Lilia breathed. With each person who spoke to her, she began to feel more and more at home.
They're all saying some variation of 'Welcome,' or 'Hello,' Rowan told her, grasping Lilia's fingers. My da didn't teach me much Cierian, but I remember some.
Lilia pulled her hand free from Rowan, laughing lightly. “We're safe here, Rowan. It's all right.”
“I would like to know your definition of safe,” muttered Rowan.
Rhiamon waded into the ever-shifting crowds to drop an arm around each of the girls. “Come, you must be weary from all of your travels. Let my girls help you to relax before we eat.”
“What about Connor?” Lilia asked. As in answer, Rhiamon turned her head to show Connor being led away by men in robes, already more than a hundred feet away. “Where is he going?”
“The men and women are housed separately,” Rhiamon explained, “especially the maidens.” She trailed a finger under Lilia's chin. “And which house will you choose, my dear?”
Usually, a question as probing as that would have set Lilia's cheeks to red and her temper flaring, but she found she could only laugh. “As I am yet unmarried, I can promise you that my virtue is intact and that I am still a maiden. Perhaps at my age, I should be called an old maid.”
“Nonsense,” Rhiamon chuckled. “To the House of Maidens it is.” She released her hold on the girls and beckoned some of her ladies forward. They were sweet and gentle as they took Rowan by the hand and hooked Lilia by the arm, leading them both deeper into the village.
“It is so beautiful here,” Lilia gushed, looking around. Just like the ones she saw on the walk through the mountains, she found lanterns hung from the trees that surrounded them, all of them glowing with soft light. The
re was a stream that ran through the back of the village that babbled and splashed as it rushed by. Woven baskets of linens looked to have been abandoned on the shore. There were tall, flowering trees that had been left standing sporadically throughout the village, each of them dripping with pale pink and purple blooms that fell in tiny showers and left a blanket of petals at their roots. “I want to stay here forever,” she said dreamily. “Oh, Rowan, I wish you could see all of this.” The younger woman said nothing, but kept her head down as she was led to her unknown destination.
“We could use someone like you,” said the girl whose arm was linked with Lilia. She was a thin little thing, with strawberry blonde hair that she wore in loose waves, and big brown eyes.
Lillia cocked her head to the side. “I never realized how similar a Cierian accent is to a Sinessian one.”
“I believe it is the region,” the girl answered with a giggle. “Some are like the Ibayish, others like Caedian. Of course, to us, it is all the other way 'round. You all sound like us.”
Lilia laughed as though the girl had just said the most charming thing she'd ever heard.
“Where are you taking us?” Rowan asked, not at all amused.
“To the House of Maidens,” one of her two escorts told her. “We will help you bathe and give you fresh clothes-”
“I can bathe myself.”
“But you do not have to.”
Rowan's pale eyes narrowed. “I can bathe myself.”
Lilia looked back the way they had come from, her brow furrowing. “Why are there so few men? It seems like there are women everywhere, but very few men in comparison.”
The girl at her side let her go to take a few broader steps forward, reaching for the door to one of the larger dwellings. This place was made of finer stuff than the structures that were at the front of the village. Here the walls were made of gray and white marble. Each door and window was tall and arched, and towering pillars etched with pictures of people and stars could be found both inside and out. “This is a house of purity,” the girl told Lilia as she looked around. “None may dwell here unless they are as yet untouched by man or have pledged themselves to the gods.”
