by B B Reed
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“Ah, a shame. Renaud is famous for blending folklore with biting satire. Most of his stories tend to be set in the northern provinces of Arram.” Dorian added, his stony features softening with his enthusiasm. He cleared his throat, pointing past Halena to the shelves situated under the rise of steps to the second level, “Ahem, you can find him in the section under the stairs behind you.”
His massive hand gestured over to the fireplace and the portrait looming overhead, “As I was saying, the Ravenwoods have built quite a selection. This is the former lord of the house, and Jeanne’s father, Nicolas Ravenwood. In life, he contributed to the expansion of the Manin College and its teaching of lower-born citizens of Arram and fought for the welfare of retired soldiers returning from conflicts abroad. Being a soldier himself, Lord Nicolas was awarded honors for strategically securing forts in the northern borderlands from Ymirkin invaders.”
Halena tilted her head, “I was always told there were only barbarians and thick woodlands at the northern border. Who are these invaders?”
“Hm, tis the crude label most choose to use to describe the northlanders. The barbarians they speak of are a group native to the mountains, hardy and… primitive in some respects. The Ymirkin are not a foe to be trifled with.” Dorian explained, his grizzly features stiffening.
“I see… Lord Ravenwood was a war hero and an intellectual. How long has it been since the knights were founded?” She asked, examining the portrait above the fireplace. The dark eyes of the late Lord Nicolas observed her as she asked her question, giving her chilblains.
“Six generations, and in fashion that remains true to her nature, Lady Ravenwood has broken convention. She’s the first woman in her family to lead the knights.” Dorian glanced up at the art piece.
“Is that so strange? She, well…” Halena stopped herself to mull over her words, “…Lady Ravenwood doesn’t seem to be the type to let much weigh her down. Her poise is amazing despite… you know…”
Rumbling chortles thrummed out of Dorian’s nose, “Yes, my lady is not easily discouraged. She is just as stubborn today as she was in her youth.”
“How long has she…?” Halena trailed off, pinning her lips together and looking down to scold herself.
The enormous butler nodded, “Tis a fair question, Miss Maris.” He beckoned with his hand for her to follow as he turns on his heel to take their tour elsewhere.
“Lord Nicolas was not the only soldier in the Ravenwood family.” Dorian began, leading their path to the dining room, “Lady Jeanne joined Arram’s military shortly after being knighted, roughly twenty years ago. She served the crown by day and slayed dark beasts by night. It wasn’t until about twelve years ago that she suffered her wounds.”
Halena opened her mouth to sate her curiosity and halted when she received a pointed look from the giant man. He shook his head, “I suggest you don’t ask her about the ordeal.”
The witch bit down on her tongue and nodded. He gestured to the doors at the far back corner of the room, walking towards the bustling sounds of pans being washed, “Through here are the kitchens. The stairs lead down to the cellar, though I don’t expect you to be making rounds through here.”
She peered through the cracked door at the staff, watching bodies move around to field dishwashing duties and make ready for the evening’s meal. The stairs to the cellar faded away with the musty shadow of the house’s underbelly keeping it hidden and cool. The hair on the back of Halena’s neck rose, the black serpent in her thoughts shifting the longer she stared down them.
Dorian pushed on the door to their right, leading to a small landing outdoors and held it open for Halena. Her eyes lingered on the cellar, then the door is closed, “Is there anything special Lady Ravenwood keeps down there?”
“Some stocks of wine and cheeses are kept down there until use. Otherwise, it’s used to stow away the occasional oddity or knick-knack my lady may have procured.” He explained, following the gravel path around the side of the mansion. With the kindness of the sunlight finally breaking the cloud cover of the morning, the yard of the Ravenwood property felt welcoming to the witch. Halena looked back along the fence marking the estate’s border against the Ravenswood, catching a glimpse of the old iron rods.
“Did Lord Nicolas make the pact with them too?” She probed deeper, curling her fingers over the cut on her palm, only a fading red line remaining.
Dorian nodded in confirmation, “All members of the family have sworn themselves to the lords and carried on the family legacy. Ser Nicolas, his father Ser Lark before him, and so on linking back to Ser Alberic Ravenwood, the first knight.”
“How can Lady Ravenwood be so candid about consorting with spirits? The public would put her to the stake for this.” She laced her fingers together in front of herself.
“I don’t believe she would have told you about the spirits if she thought you were a commoner.” Dorian’s old eyes scanned over the green lawn thoughtfully, “It’s internal, Miss Maris. The existence of the resting grounds is known only to the Ravenwoods. For the Ministry, what remains of the knights are my lady’s reserves from the Arram military and nothing more. The public gets what it can see in the daylight and we let the cover of night keep them blind to the true nature of the work we do.”
She looked up to Dorian, his gaze distant and nostalgic, a memory being relived in his thoughts. There was hesitation to break the spell in her voice, “That’s… very well said, Dorian.”
“I try to do the words of Lord Nicolas justice. Those wise words were spoken a lifetime ago it feels like.” He said, melancholy creasing at the corners of his eyes.
The coach house came into view down the drive as they walked, shouldered by what appeared to be a small two-story farmhouse, a gravel walk connecting the two.
Dorian cleared his throat before speaking with a showman’s clarity, “Ahem, here we have lodgings for the estate’s grounds-keeping staff and stable hands. Some are kept on seasonal contract while others are needed for more permanent positions such as caring for Lady Ravenwood’s horses. This is also where we keep the carriages out of the weather for maintenance.”
He turned to point down a dirt road that branched off from the main driveway circling the front of the estate, “About half a mile down that road, we have barns for the family’s horses. The woods have been cleared to make a suitable pasture for them to get proper exercise until they are needed for our trips between here and Arras Ando.”
Halena’s attention lagged, still trying to process the bunkhouse and its needs while Dorian filled in. She wrung her wrists in anxious ticks, “She really needs that many people? They’ll just live here…” Confusion wrinkled her brow, “They’re all paid to do this?”
Dorian inclined his head at the witch, then gave her a look, “Just like you are.”
He stepped forward to lead her around to the front drive of the mansion.
“Think of House Ravenwood as a small community, Miss Maris. In return for their services, Lady Jeanne ensures their safety and well-being. Nobody here goes wanting.” The butler assured her and they climbed the steps to the front door. His massive hand pulled the door open for Halena and he waited for her to pass through.
She chewed on the inside of her cheek while she processed the information following Dorian through the foyer to the back door.
They are all slaves. There was no choice, only servitude. Are you any different to her?
A pit welled up in her stomach, the words echoing in her head. They stepped out into the courtyard situated in the middle of the mansion, the fountain centerpiece bubbling with water that cascaded down the stonework. The courtyard sloped down into a lush personal garden, stone steps taking one down into the arrangement of greenery and bushes.
“Here Lady Ravenwood will hold outdoor gatherings as needed. She’s quite proud of the garden and the landscaping of the inner courtyard, but the changing seasons have robbed us of its true beauty. Once s
pring comes, you can smell the azalea bushes just by opening a window.” Dorian’s eyes scanned over the simple leafy arrangements.
“I wouldn’t say it was robbed. Fall still brings us the changing of the trees and there’s plenty to watch around us.” Halena offered, looking past the perimeter of the garden to the forest edge in the distance.
“Hm…” Dorian chortled once, his smile returning, “I look forward to it.”
He retrieved his pocket watch to check the time, “It seems we’ve finished up on time. Is there anything that needs clarity, Miss Maris?”
She shook her head, “No, I think I can find my way around. Thank you very much for the tour, Dorian.”
Halena imitated a formal bow to the towering gentleman, offering him a smile of appreciation.
He rested his hand over his heart and bowed in return, “The pleasure was all mine.”
The butler righted himself and turned on his heel to head inside. Halena was left alone in the courtyard, taking in the quaint bushes in the garden and the sounds of the breeze rustling them. The calming noise made her muscles loosen and she closed her eyes to savor it, then the rumbling bubbled between her ears.
Trappings of a wealthy manipulator. You’re going in too deep, frail flesh. She owns you.
A frown hung on her lips, the pit in her stomach growing deeper. The demon’s tone, like bugs being mashed into a fine paste, faded with the clack of the door shutting. She snapped her gaze to the source of the noise, startled. Inka had stepped outside, waving to Halena, “Finished with Dorian finally?”
The witch let out a relieved breath, “Yeah, we just finished the tour. This place is immense. I think he was right, it’s almost like being in a small village.”
“Ah, he gave you the ‘Ravenwood estate is like a community’ line too? As cliché as it sounds, he’s not far from the truth.” Inka folded her arms, stepping down from the porch.
Halena struggled to maintain eye contact with the scholar, words caught in the anxious knot in her core. The silence between them worsened her anxiety and her eyes wander over the garden, “It’s a lot of absorb at once, like my head is spinning. I’m…”
Inka paused, tipping her head up at Halena with an expectant gaze.
“I’m… impressed with the garden Lady Ravenwood keeps.” The witch corrected her words, forcing them out.
Reserved sympathy colored Inka’s smirk, “These things take time.”
The lingering fog of the demon’s influence faded with the simple reply. Her apology finally reached her lips, though Inka had already turned heel to retreat into the mansion.
In the days that followed, Halena kept to herself. Her work in archiving and cataloging Lady Jeanne’s great library started immediately. Dinner was a task rather than a break, the arrangements of silverware still puzzling the witch. The maids became reluctant to clean her room after learning their new tenant slept with one eye open or would lie in wait for them to step inside for cleaning in the mornings. Seeing candlelight from under her door into the wee hours of the night brought forth rumors and mutterings of worry and concern on top of her troubling temperament. After a fortnight, while Halena worked on a section in the upper tier of the main hall’s library, Inka climbed the stairs to watch her. She leaned on the banister, entertained by the witch’s archiving process.
“You could make a good librarian if you had the right attire. Some glasses would make a nice touch, if they didn’t clash with your tattoos.” She commented with a toying smirk.
Halena kept to her work, answering Inka while taking down another book title, “I think I’m getting by without.”
“Be that as it may, you could always broaden yourself.” Inka replied dryly, “You’re still free to read Jeanne’s books. Reading the same thing over and over has to grow dull.”
A chill licked up Halena’s body and she paused. She set her stack of books down to look back at Inka, “I know. I haven’t, ah… found one that catches my eye yet.”
The needles of her passenger pricked along her neck, her nerves electrifying with anxiety. Inka sighed, “Perhaps you should begin by treating Lady Jeanne’s home as your home. You need to relax.”
“Oh…” She frowned, “I didn’t realize I was doing something wrong.”
“No rules were broken but going on like this is not doing us any favors. I’ve heard talk from the staff about standoffs and hostility from you. Have you been treating Lady Ravenwood’s maids poorly?” The scholar pressed further.
Halena deflected, “I’m only trying to keep track of my belongings. They shouldn’t be handling my property without my permission.”
Inka was unimpressed and pushed off the banister, stepping into Halena’s space, “This is not a boarding house, an inn, nor a hostelry. Your belongings are safe. I didn’t invite you here to simply help Lady Jeanne with her duty. You have to trust us and stop this secretive game.”
The witch’s heart quivered with pangs of guilt and she bobbed her head, eyes lowering to the floorboards, “I’m sorry, Inka.”
Her wilted posture cooled Inka’s incensed words, a regretful twinge pulling at her lips like she had scolded a frightened animal. She offered a sympathetic smile, “They’re working just as hard getting used to you being here as you are. Give the maids some time and you’ll just be another room on their daily rounds.”
“Of course, I’ll keep that in mind from now on.” Halena sighed with relief and tilting her chin up to meet Inka’s face.
“Take a little time for yourself and read from Lady Jeanne’s collection. These books aren’t going anywhere if you walk away.” The scholar teased as she made her descent down the stairs and out of the main hall.
Halena turned back to her work and scanned the shelves for a worthy pick from the collection until a green spine captures her attention. The volume is carefully peeled from the shelf and she cracked open the first few pages to reveal the title, Whispers of Winter Jasmine. A few minutes spent skimming the first chapter was enough to make her cheeks turn rosy and hot, a steamy volume of romance. She snapped the book shut and padded her way down the stairs to the first floor of the grand hall, pausing to consider other tomes to take. Halena turned on her heel to pore through the shelf under the stairs until she found the name she was looking for. Renaud’s The Buck on Ala Reykur came out and she hid the love story beneath its cover.
Both went away with her to the courtyard to be read in peace and continued to follow her around the house as she steadily chewed through each volume. A pattern bloomed, Renaud’s work was opened during the day to color her afternoon thoughts with the witty odyssey of a woodsman in the north, and the sweeping tale of romance by night before bed, helping to ease her unquiet mind with the pulses of emotion and exaggerated love. Her black tome safely tucked away in her bag also got its own time of undivided attention for Halena’s study sessions in the evenings. However, it no longer dominated as her sole source of literature.
The peace of reading was tenuous over her first month at House Ravenwood, more and more rumblings in her thoughts distracted her reading. She stopped to listen each time they thrummed to life, straining her mental hearing for the dark passenger’s voice. Mumblings, hissing, the writhing of worms, yet no words formed. It troubled her, the noises seething with contention, even anger. While the fall weather still held, Halena took to walking off the bitter sounds on the estate grounds, though they were strong enough to cloud her thoughts. While enduring a spell of ghostly hisses, Halena’s distracted path collided with Lady Jeanne. The noblewoman was hardly bothered by the accidental bump, but her retainer gasped, frightened as if she had been snuck up on. The witch went pallid and Jeanne tilted her head, “Calm down, I’m fine. Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I’m… sorry. I must have been lost in my thoughts.” She apologized with a short bow.
Lady Jeanne raised a curious eyebrow, her dark eyes studying the witch, “You seem to have a knack for that, dear. Why don’t you get some fresh air? You’ll be pacing
the house enough once winter sets in.”
“Right.” She hurried past Jeanne, making for the dining room and going out the back door. Her nerves screamed as she wandered down the path and she clenched her eyes shut. Halena felt Lady Ravenwood’s gaze still analyzing her even in the yard and the rasping laughter only made it worse. A short walk was not going to cut it this afternoon and she turns off from the path to the coach house down the long stretch towards the stables. Leaves had begun to pile up along the forest edge and wrapped around the fence posts along the gravel path. Grass struggled to peer up between the litter, vying for territory with other fall season herbs. The witch slowed her pace, specks of violet catching her eye and she detaches herself from the road to investigate. A small patch of lavender in the ditch drew her closer, Halena stooping down to examine the quality of the plants. Her anxiety loosened, her brain shifting over to the calculating survey of the herbs. To the untrained eye, it may have appeared to be a self-contained patch, until she spotted the small blooms of sage nestled against the growth. Her nimble fingers got to work, and she plucked out the best sprigs and stalks, adding them to the front pocket of her dress.
She looked up from the patch down the road, the tops of the stables within view some distance away. A snort followed, “What I wouldn’t do for some fresh cloves to go with this.”
Halena rose from the patch, satisfied with her samples, and continued on her way. Searching for more herbs to stock up on kept the intrusive thoughts and mumbling subdued. She dipped down to inspect mushrooms attempting to reclaim a fallen beam from the fencing, then again farther down for a few more chance pickings of fresh sage. She drifted from another patch and inhaled a deep breath of the fresh autumn air, with a strong hint of horse stalls souring the drag. She tucked the last handful of herbs into the pouch in the front of her dress and meandered up to the stable yard, watching one of the older horses loiter in contentment while it chewed on grass. Voices rang from inside the stalls and she crept inside to investigate, nudging the barn door aside.
