The Second Bell

by Gabriela Houston

  Miriat dropped the shuffle and looked at Tolan in open surprise. Her face twitched as she struggled to keep her voice level “I see. I wonder where she got a story like that.”

  “Alma said her son wouldn’t dream of going to Heyne Town himself, and that Salka…” He looked down and petted the lamb again, more to calm his hands than anything else. “…Begging your pardon, Miriat, but she said Salka was jealous of Dran and Emila and wanted to impress Dran. She said she can read between the lines, you know.” He spread out his arms as if to say he was not one to question his leader’s intuition.

  “That’s quite a tale. And what did you and Rida say to that?” Miriat said calmly, though anger was building up inside of her. “Surely you see it for the nonsense it is?”

  “Well, you know Rida. She dotes on Dran.” Tolan shrugged his shoulders. “She said that it was just like Emila to try to hide her friend’s guilt.”

  Miriat had her own thoughts on Emila’s selflessness but kept her mouth shut, not trusting herself to speak.

  “So, you see, Alma is saying that Salka put both her friends in danger and should be punished. And my Rida agrees.”

  “Punished?” Miriat stood up so fast she knocked over the loom. Tolan hurried to lift it off the ground while Miriat watched, her hands rolled into fists at her sides. “You would all pile the blame on Salka for the stupidity of your own children? Shame on you, Tolan! Salka acted stupidly but she is my daughter! Any punishment will be up to me to decide on! Not you, not Alma and certainly not that wife of yours!”

  Tolan rubbed his forehead. “I agree with you, my daughter is silly enough for anything. And true, Dran is careless of others enough to risk bringing two girls with him. But one thing that boy is not careless with, is himself. And so, I can find no reason why he’d risk his own life for the sake of a silly adventure. He needs for nothing.

  “As to Salka – I do beg your pardon, Miriat, I mean no harm – but there is a lot of sense in what Alma said. You know our daughters have been inseparable their entire lives. And I was glad of it to tell you the truth…” He stopped for a moment and ran his fingers through his hair. Tolan loved his daughter dearly, but he did not share his wife’s blind belief in Emila’s finer qualities. As some strigas went past he lowered his voice respectfully, “But Miriat, things have changed lately. They’re both grown now and Emila seems to have taken up with Dran… Well, you know, I have doubts, though Rida is encouraging it, if you can believe it.”

  Miriat could well believe it. Rida was the kind of woman who liked to think she made the best of any situation.

  Tolan continued miserably, avoiding Miriat’s gaze. “And in the last year or two Salka has grown more headstrong. And she… Well, Alma suggested that she might have a soft spot for Dran herself. He’s handsome and charming enough. Stranger things have happened than friends squabbling over a boy. So, I was thinking perhaps Salka wanted to seem brave in front of Dran. And… that maybe she went too far this time.”

  Tolan’s eyes lifted to see Miriat’s hard expression. “I don’t mean to say I agree with Alma. But perhaps… Perhaps Salka feels jealous? And that is only natural in a girl.”

  “Please,” Miriat said through clenched teeth, “do tell me what is natural in my daughter.”

  “Miriat, I–”

  “And you really believe Dran would follow Salka? In case he needed to save her? The great hero of the strigas, indeed!” Miriat felt her cheeks turn red. “You said yourself, Dran is not careless with himself. Why would he go after her? Or are you as blind as Rida? I thought better of you, Tolan.”

  Tolan reddened. “No young man wants to seem a coward in his girl’s eyes, Miriat. Especially a young man who already feels he has so much to prove,” Tolan spoke without anger, but his eyes were fixed on the ground, too ashamed to meet hers.

  “My daughter has no interest in Dran. Of that I’m quite certain. She’s the youngest of the three, so for them to allow her to take the blame… That’s just…” She felt tears of anger well up in her eyes. But she would not cry. She wouldn’t have her fury misunderstood.

  “Still, Rida insists on a period of… Well, they all need some sort of punishment, and perhaps Salka and Emila should spend some time apart? Keep them busy and away from each other, so to speak.”

  “Oh, do not worry about that. I shall make certain that Salka does not have the opportunity to be a bad influence on your daughter’s fine character any longer.”

  “That’s not what I said, Miriat. Please understand… Rida…”

  “Oh, I understand. I understand very well.” She glared at him, making sure he was aware which one of the girls she thought would be worse off for the separation. “Now, excuse me. I intend to clear this up with Alma myself.” Miriat picked up her loom and put it inside the house, then drew the leather curtain shut behind herself without so much as a good-bye.

  Tolan stood up, disturbing the lamb in the process. It had made itself comfortable leaning against his leg and now jumped up in alarm. He stood there for a moment and then turned towards his own house, feeling he had badly mishandled the conversation. Then again, in the end, perhaps it would all be for the best. As he walked, his eyes met Salka’s on the way back to the house. He looked down at his feet and walked on without acknowledging her.

  Salka felt her heart sink as she pushed aside the curtain at the entrance. “Mother? I just saw Tolan. Did he come here to talk to you?”

  Miriat was tidying the hut furiously, something she did whenever agitated. “Did you get Trina to agree to take on the lamb? Good. Now take the poor thing over there. It must be starving!”

  Salka nodded and went to pick up the lamb, which was dozing off in the corner of the hut.

  “One more thing,” Miriat said, sitting down heavily. “Emila’s parents decided that you two are not to spend any more time together. For now, at least.” She wanted to look anywhere but at her daughter. She hated herself for that bit of cowardice and forced herself to meet Salka’s eyes. “I know it must be hard on you. But it is not a fraction of the hardship you could have experienced had the townsfolk discovered you. Your adventure… Well. It was a dreadfully stupid thing to do. And there are consequences. Though I wish they were different.”

  Salka’s lip trembled. She moved away from her mother, and without a word, left the house.

  CHAPTER 8

  Dola took a deep breath before entering Alma’s hut. She placed her hand on her belly, reaffirming her intent by feeling for the flutter of life inside. She wore a heavy coat that day, the one decorated with feathers around the hood and with small stones weighing down the hem. As she walked, she was followed by a clickety-clack of the stones hitting against each other. She pushed the door open without knocking. A Dola doesn’t have to knock, not even on the door to a striga leader’s house.

  She found Alma sitting by the fire, the air smokier than usual. The heavy smell of peat scratched at her throat. Alma looked up at her visitor, the irritation written plain on her face, though she didn’t go as far as voicing it. In one look she took in Dola’s ceremonial cloak and somber expression.

  “I welcome you, Dola. Let me heat some water so you may warm yourself.” Alma’s words were respectful, though her tone made it clear she resented the intrusion. She pointed to a reed-woven round seat next to her, and Dola sat down on it with some effort. She wondered if she’d be able to get up from it again with any dignity.

  A silence fell between them. Alma raised her eyebrow.

  Dola cleared her throat. “Your son and the two girls.” She said nothing more for a moment.

  Alma rubbed her forehead. “Yes. The matter is being dealt with. I’ve spoken with Dran, and Salka will be punished for her part in endangering them all. Though in truth I’m almost as angry at Dran and Emila as I am at the girl. They should have known better. Still, they managed to escape unnoticed.”

  “Is that so?” Dola let the words hang heavy in the air. Her fingers were picking idly at the edge of her seat. She str
aightened herself and folded the hands back in her lap.

  “What do you mean? I’m in no mood for riddles and mysteries. Just tell me what you know.” Alma looked at Dola from above the iron kettle she pulled out of the firepit with a hook. She folded a cloth several times before wrapping it around the kettle’s handle to pour the boiled water into the prepared cup.

  “A beautiful kettle,” Dola observed.

  Alma smiled. “My mother’s grandmother brought it with her when she left the town. It’s made countless cups of tea for us over the years.”

  Dola nodded. She was stalling, but there was no turning back now, no matter how much she wished for it. “Salka’s been seen. By a Dola, who chose not to betray the strigas.”

  Alma let the kettle down so heavily a drop of hot water splashed onto her hand. Swearing loudly, she rose up. “She was seen? When? I knew nothing of it!” She picked out a jar from the shelf.

  “Let me help,” Dola said, shuffling closer to Alma. For a moment, Alma looked like she was about to refuse, but she held out her scalded hand. Dola opened the jar and spent a few moments gently patting a thin layer of ointment onto Alma’s skin.

  “Well?” The old striga was losing her patience.

  Dola glanced up. When she decided Alma was just about rattled enough, she spoke again. “It’s been discussed among the Dolas of the two Sister Mountains.” In fact, there had been no such discussion at all, and Dola hoped Alma would not see the blush spreading across her face. “It was decided the strigas would not be considered in breach of the truce…” Alma held her breath. Dola let the full weight of her words sink in as well as the implicit threat they carried. “…But the girl must be made an example of to discourage others from any such adventures in the future.”

  Alma nodded as she considered Dola’s words. “I take it the Dolas have decided among themselves already which punishment would be best suited?” There was no hiding the bitterness in words.

  Dola nodded. She steeled herself before she spoke. There was no turning back now. She pushed the image of Miriat and Salka out of her mind. It couldn’t be helped.

  “Three months alone at the Windry Pass.”

  Alma leaned back in her seat, as if trying to create more space between herself and Dola. “You can’t be serious?”

  Dola straightened herself and said nothing. She knew she had to be more than the young woman Alma had known her whole life in that moment. She was a Dola and her authority could not be questioned.

  “She’ll die out there. Winter is nearly upon us,” Alma said with a stricken expression. “You can’t possibly ask me to send a young woman away in Heyne winter.”

  “And yet, that is exactly what’s required to uphold the truce,” Dola said.

  Alma closed her eyes for a moment. “But…” She licked her lips, as if steeling herself to the unsavory thought which she felt she had to voice. “You know the other danger there. If I send her – alone – she might… Without her tribe’s vigilance and support, she might listen to the other heart. You know it’s true.”

  Dola nodded. “That is a risk we are aware of. But, ultimately, that is a question of how well the girl has been taught to control herself. Should she stray, that will be a matter for the strigas to address. But there is a larger issue at stake here.” Dola looked Alma in the eyes. “We’re aware your son has gone to the town too, Alma…” It was a cruel thing to do, Dola knew, but she let the unspoken warning sink into Alma’s mind. “Yet only Salka has been seen. The truce has been broken, yet the Dolas choose to keep it secret so the peace might continue. But there is a price.”

  “And Salka will pay it,” Alma said.

  CHAPTER 9

  Miriat marched across the village with her head held high, though she could feel the eyes of all her neighbors on her back. Munu landed on her shoulder, startling her. It was a rare thing for him to accompany anyone except for Salka, and Miriat appreciated the simple comfort of his presence. There was a whisper behind her, and he swiveled his head, giving out a piercing shriek: as clear a threat as any animal ever uttered. Miriat stroked his head gently and wondered at how alike Salka and her bird were in their sudden fury. The falcon had an almost human intelligence about him.

  She came to Alma’s house and paused for a moment at its door. As a non-striga, she never felt entirely welcome, and this time was no different. But it was her daughter they were spreading lies about and she’d be damned if she let herself be cut out of the conversation. She ran her fingers across the string of wind chimes hanging from the roof to alert Alma to her arrival, and after a polite pause, she pushed open the door.

  Alma was sitting on a rug with her legs crossed, grinding something in the mortar. The house was filled with a sharp aroma, and each movement of the pestle made a crunching sound. Her shadow hovered above her head, its fingers playing with the bunches of herbs hanging from the rafters. As Miriat entered the house, the shadow slithered down to the floor and took its place by Alma, so quickly that Miriat almost missed it. Alma’s face remained unmoving.

  “Can I help you, Miriat?” Alma asked in a weary voice. She didn’t stop the grinding nor did she look up and the rudeness of it was not lost on her guest.

  Miriat decided to be direct: “We need to discuss our children’s trip to Heyne Town.”

  “Do we?” Alma raised one thin eyebrow. She carefully transferred the contents of her mortar into a clay pot, before getting up to put it on a shelf. “Well, you came to talk, so talk you must, I suppose. I expect you came here to offer an apology on behalf of your daughter?” She said this with a smirk indicating she expected nothing of the kind.

  “Hardly.” Miriat narrowed her eyes. “Tolan paid me a visit, blaming my girl for our children’s lack of judgement. I came to clear that up.”

  “There is nothing to clear up. Salka put my son and Emila in the path of danger and I expect her to be punished accordingly. I intended to speak to you on this matter in any case.”

  “She is the youngest of the three! And you are telling me… what? That she dragged them all to the village by herself?” Miriat fumed, as Alma calmly watched her.

  “Dran and Emila wanted to go see the Hope Tree. Once there, Salka sprang on them her ridiculous plan. When they objected, she went anyway – they had no choice but to follow her. Would you rather they had left her there, alone?”

  “That’s a lie!”

  Alma turned to face her guest. Miriat was taller than her, but Alma seemed unperturbed, as she squared up to her threateningly.

  “Be careful what you say, Miriat. Remember, you are not one of us. And you’re here only because I allow it.” Miriat was going to open her mouth but Alma stopped her with a raised finger. “Your child put mine at risk, girl. Don’t forget that.

  “Now however you choose to discipline your child, I will not intervene. But what she did has repercussions for more than just herself. Actions have consequences.” Alma turned her face away from Miriat. She took a deep breath and Miriat could see the striga leader tense her shoulders before she spoke again. “She is to be stationed on the east side of the Windry Pass for the next three months.”

  “You can’t be serious!” Miriat looked at Alma in shock.

  Alma continued, ignoring the interruption. “She can stay in the hut we have there for the summer goatherds. She can hunt and trap in the woods. After that time, she might better appreciate the safety and comfort of our village.”

  “Are you trying to kill her? She’s little more than a child!”

  “She is a striga, and she must learn to abide by our laws. Because if she does not, the consequences will be both brutal and permanent,” Alma said. She tried not to look at Miriat’s stricken face, for fear of seeing her own shame reflected there. “And one more thing. You may not go with her, lest you wish to not come back at all. This is to be a taste of banishment, make no mistake. I won’t soften the punishment for fear of wasting the lesson.”

  She raised her hand as Miriat tried to speak, cutting h
er off. Munu flapped his wings lifting off Miriat’s shoulder for a moment. Alma’s shadow moved quick as a lash and faced the bird, separating as it did so for a moment from the wall of the house. Its sudden fury matched Alma’s.

  “Did you think she would get a slap on the wrist?” Alma spat as she talked, her face turned red. “For dragging my son into danger? What did you imagine? Extra herding duties? Laundry? The girl will learn to follow our laws. As will you.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Salka walked up the forest path, the frosted moss giving way under her feet with a gentle crackling. Miriat had cried the whole night before Salka’s departure, her hands working tirelessly to finish Salka’s new cloak, as Salka pretended to sleep.

  In truth, when Miriat told her of the banishment, Salka felt little aside from relief. She did wrong, very wrong, to heal the lamb. She knew that, but she was alone in the knowledge of what she’d done, she was certain. If Dran had suspected anything, he would have told his mother. If anyone found out…

  But nobody did, and there was a little relief in that. She had to live with the burden, she alone. They looked at her as if she was still one of them: a good, decent striga leading a good, decent life. And the banishment felt like a way to atone, to wash off the stigoi blemish and start again.

  Munu shrieked overhead, letting Salka know he was there. She shifted the strap of the heavy sack she carried her supplies in. There was dried fish and cured meat, and she had no doubt she’d be grateful for both in the coming weeks. Multiple cheese necklaces hung from her neck. Trina had generously shared her own supplies, as Miriat had only what she managed to barter for with the other strigas. It was a kindness that Trina could ill afford, but Miriat had accepted all gratefully, hoping it would be enough.