Each prominent family and many of the most respected businesses of Dor-Temerna had a presence in the parade, and Velsa saw Madam Blazar’s contingent in the middle of the chain of horses and carriages. The two Fanarlem girls who had not displeased their mistress were sitting in an open carriage with her, beautifully dressed in their frills and crowns of flowers.
Velsa spotted Alsamir walking nearby. She knew how much the shy girl had hoped to meet the prince. But she didn’t look regretful as she approached Velsa and gave a small bow. “Velsa—I met your daughter a little bit ago. She’s adorable. And very poised.”
“She’s always been very resilient.” She hoped Alsamir didn’t want to talk about her supposed motherhood for long.
“She seems to have so many friends here.” Alsamir glanced back at Madam Blazar’s carriage. “Did you see them? So puffed up with themselves. Work has been insufferable. But—I don’t suppose it really means that much to say a word to the prince. As if he’d remember me at the end of the day anyway.” She shrugged.
“I hope I didn’t make too much trouble for you all,” Velsa said.
“I’m not sorry.” Alsamir looked shy again. “Where are you working now?”
“Just in the garden at home,” Velsa said, sorry that she couldn’t give Alsamir a lead on some better place to work. “Do you want to watch the parade with us?”
Alsamir looked so happy that Velsa wondered if anyone had ever invited her to anything. “I would love to.”
Velsa introduced Grau and Kessily, and they chatted through the procession, although Kessily was uncharacteristically quiet. She kept glancing around.
When the prince reached the end of the parade route, he took a position under one of the flowered arches,and from this point on, the rest of the parade stopped in front of him to pay their respects. Men bowed from their horses, and one representative from each carriage stepped down to present the prince with a flower, which was accepted with the exchange of a few gracious words. It was a time-consuming process. Madam Blazar’s carriage was held up for a long time in front of the furniture shop.
When the end of the parade appeared at the beginning of the route, it was clear that none of the entourage of entertainers were part of the parade. Velsa would have to track Flower down. But she didn’t feel inclined to do it yet. Despite the grandeur of Nalim Ima, it was rare that she got to see such a spectacle as this.
The Fanarlem girls reached the prince. Eldisa was the one who stepped down to give him a flower. She bowed deeply, and the prince bowed in return. He said a few words to her, and she said something back, and rushed back to the carriage, stumbling on the way. A man sitting next to Madam Blazar helped her back to her seat.
“She got nervous,” Alsamir said, with some obvious glee.
As the procession came to a close, the town crier took the stage and announced the Gathering of Maidens. “Everyone who is not a maiden must step out of the square.”
Velsa suppressed an inward squirm, seeing all the young women of the town clustering up together, with flowing hair and dresses that bared tanned arms and legs, many of them looking nervous. The young men, meanwhile, strolled the perimeter, scoping out the offerings.
“This seems very contrary to Miralem equality,” she muttered.
“It always seems to work out,” Alsamir said. “I think everyone has good fun and no one seems left out. It’s funny watching the boys who grab all the flowers get stuck dancing forty times in a row.”
“Have you ever participated?”
“No,” Alsamir said. “None of the Fanarlem ever do.”
“But Sorla is…,” Velsa said, worried all over again.
“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Alsamir said.
Sorla walked by and waved at them, then shrugged like she felt a little silly about it all too.
“Are you all good?” Grau shouted at her.
She waved at him like, shut up, you’re embarrassing me, and turned away.
Grau patted his heart. “Well. I really feel like her father now,” he told Velsa.
“Those boys better be nice.”
“And those men better stay away from her,” he said, since more than half of the eligible males looked far too old for Sorla.
The prince approached the stage again. It seemed it was all about to start.
Dormongara came walking down the road, swatting some oblivious young men out of the way with his walking stick.
“Was that the only suspicious man you saw?” he asked them without preamble.
“Do you want to tell us what’s going on?” Kessily asked.
At that moment, a horn blew to signal the beginning of the chase, and a stampede of young people rushed by them, screaming and shouting, without any care as to who stood in their way. Grau put his arm around Velsa protectively, but he was the one who winced as a stray elbow jabbed his back.
“I’m fine,” he groaned.
Velsa’s eyes darted around, checking for Sorla, and didn’t rest until she saw her running hand in hand with one of her female friends. The other friend was obviously going a little slow so Sorla could keep up. Sorla had Velsa’s old skeleton and Velsa knew well that it wasn’t built for running. One of Ruven’s friends snatched a flower from her hair.
Dormongara had taken Kessily’s hand and whispered into her ear. She drew back, shocked.
“Dar checks out,” Dormongara said. “He’s been training some of the other soldiers in the use of firearms, and seems legitimately grateful to the royal family for giving him a job. Not the brightest of stars, I would say. Perhaps everything is all right…here.” He scanned the crowd. “Don’t bother with your task. I don’t think any of these women would suit me anyway.” His eyebrows raised at Kessily, and when she only looked exasperated, he bowed briefly and left.
Kessily looked at Velsa and Grau, and Velsa understood that she wanted to talk to them in private.
“Alsamir,” Velsa said. “It was so nice to see you. I think we’d better go sit down. Grau is still recovering from an injury.”
“He just told me that the heir to the throne was likely assassinated,” Kessily said. “And the prince hasn’t been told yet, because they don’t want a panic. Apparently both princes and the princess went to different cities in the kingdom for the festival, so he’s concerned that it might be a plot to wipe them all out while they’re divided.”
“I hope it wasn’t Daramons,” Grau said, sitting down and wiping sweat from his brow.
Kessily shrugged. “He said it’s hard to say who the culprit is. The world is just a chaotic place right now. Although, not here.”
Velsa put a hand on Grau’s forehead. “Maybe it’s time you go back to bed.”
“I was hoping to dance with you.”
“You’re not dancing with anyone tonight. Rovi’s orders! I think you have a fever and here you are wandering around. If I’m a marsh toad, you’re an stubborn donkey.”
He kissed her hand. “Fine. I’ll go back to Rovi’s. But come see me before you go home.”
Velsa watched him walk away. He seemed to be holding up well enough to make it home. She probably was overreacting; she knew most people had to work through fevers and injuries occasionally, but it was foreign to her and she felt better knowing he was in bed.
Meanwhile, the prince appeared to have left the flower chase, probably having shown a few girls favor. The square had mostly cleared out by now as the chaos diluted in all directions, but the chase was ongoing, with young men pursuing young women down streets and even up a tree in one case. The food vendors were once again doing a brisk business, to beaming couples; girls who had already given away all their flowers and were now strolling with their favored beau.
Velsa didn’t see Sorla anywhere. She wasn’t as easy to locate with telepathy Grau was, but it worried Velsa not to see her since the chase began.
While strolling around with Kessily looking for her, she spotted Flower across the green—and—oh no. She was speaking to Eldisa and Mee
rsha.
“Her husband? He hasn’t been feeling well,” Eldisa was saying. “I think he’s been at the healer’s off and on since those bandits attacked.”
“That’s her,” she hissed to Kessily. “And how dare those girls talk about Grau!”
“Flower?” Kessily had heard the whole story by now.
“I’m going to confront her.”
“I’ll back you up.”
As Velsa approached, the other Fanarlem girls fanned out to face her. Flower had a superior expression on her pretty face, which had changed a bit since Velsa last saw her, looking more youthful and innocent. The other two had their familiar expression of curiosity, like they thought Velsa would do something scandalous.
Velsa had lost the element of surprise, thanks to the other girls. “Get out of here,” Velsa told them.
They backed away a little, timid even now.
“Velsa,” Flower said. “Well, well.”
“You tried to kill me,” Velsa said, getting right to the point. Dar didn’t seem to be around, and she didn’t want him to have time to appear.
“In Daramon territory, I tried to kill you. In the Miralem lands, I believe forgiveness is the order of the day,” Flower said.
“Do you have my crystal?”
“I sold that a long time ago,” Flower said, but Velsa thought she might be lying.
Tell me the truth. She spoke to Flower’s mind.
Flower rubbed her head. “Oh, you’re going to compel me now? Telepathic abuse?”
“I’ll be happy to take it up before a judge,” Velsa said. “They’ll see what you did to me.”
“I tell you, I don’t have the crystal. I gave it away.”
“Who has it?”
Flower shrugged vaguely.
Velsa grabbed her wrist. “Tell me.” She squeezed her mind against Flower’s, trying to force words out of her mouth. Prying into Flower’s mind was like stepping into a barren wasteland; her emotions felt as hollow as Dormongara’s servants, only worse. All that was left there was a harsh sort of hunger, an anger that thrived on seeing other people suffer as she had suffered. Even now, a part of Velsa wanted to try to shed light on the darkness, to heal Flower from the inside out. Was it possible to be so far gone that you could never reclaim the innocence and happiness of youth?
Flower shoved a memory at her. Lieutenant Archel, grabbing her jaw. You’re mine. Scream and I’ll stuff your throat with rags. He tied her arms behind her back and shoved her face down into the covers of the bed since she didn’t have to breathe. For a moment, Flower gave the sensations to Velsa.
“Stop it,” Velsa gasped, not wanting to feel what came next.
“You want inside my mind?” Flower laughed coldly. “Take it, Velsa. Take my memories.”
Velsa was shaken. The shadow of what might have happened to her, what might have become of the girls she had grown up with, was never far from her mind. And yet, some tiny part of her remained preserved and hopeful, that maybe—people weren’t really that cruel.
Of course, that was naive. And Flower’s memories might shred her innocence. But she’d had too many nightmares about this woman to give up this easily.
With renewed force, she tried to wring answers from Flower. Flower was full of bravado but had no real power to back it up; she started to tremble at Velsa’s intrusion. She shoved more memories at Velsa; Archel offering her up to a leering, dirty man in a bar somewhere, Archel stitching her mouth shut. Velsa tried to let them roll past her, not to feel them as if they were her own. There was a time for compassion; this could not be it.
Give me the memory I really want, Velsa insisted.
“Three-Tongues,” Flower gasped.
“So—you are the Fanarlem girl he was talking about,” Velsa said. “You’re married to Dar and still taking up with bandits?”
“Oh—what horror for your morals,” Flower said. “I hope someone rapes you.”
Flower’s body was suddenly flung back toward the nearest tent, the force knocking her to the ground. Kessily was holding out her hand, wielding a gust of wind. “You are really despicable,” she told Flower. Tomato landed on Flower’s head and kicked at her hair like a scratching chicken.
Just then, Velsa sensed a feeble telepathic cry.
Meirin…!
Chapter 13
Sorla? Sorla, where are you?
Down the main street… Sorla answered back. To the west…
It felt like Sorla was crying. “Damn it,” Velsa said. “I’m not done with you, Flower. You owe me something.”
As angry as Velsa was at Flower, the other concubine nevertheless fell to the back of her mind as she started running across the square. She had been a little worried about Sorla since she first heard of this competitive custom. How many boys in town wanted to share a dance with a Fanarlem girl? Her circle of friends might be good to her, but Velsa had only seen four boys in that group. It would be bitter indeed to stand alone and undesired while all the other girls were chased for their flowers.
She had never run so fast in her life, and her bones felt thoroughly jarred, her stuffing shaken a bit out of place, by the time she reached the street. Sorla, I’m here…where are you?
In the alley…
Velsa followed the beacon of Sorla’s mind to a spot tucked between two nearby buildings, where vegetable peels had been tossed in a pile to rot, near a stack of broken wooden crates. Sorla was crouched in the dirt as far from the compost as she could manage—it looked like she had crawled away from it—her dress soiled, one leg missing. Her hair was still neat, with five flowers pinned in her curls.
“Meirin,” she said, in a quivering voice, before bursting into sobs.
Velsa’s mind buzzed with anger, but she managed to keep her voice fairly gentle as she put her arms around Sorla. “What happened? Who did this to you?”
“Some older girls, I—I don’t know them.”
“Why?”
“The—prince—has one of my flowers—“ She looked up, stricken. “Has the dance started?” And then, “But it’s not like I have a spare leg hanging around and the bone’s broken anyhow…”
“Show me who took your leg and maybe we can find them.”
Sorla gave Velsa a mental image of three blonde girls, although it was a bit of a violent muddle of chasing and flying hair, shouting and grabbing. They were fairly plain, no noticeable features. Maybe they were sisters, but then again, maybe not. Objectively, Miralem looked more diverse than Daramons, and yet sometimes they still all blurred together to Velsa.
“They attacked you because they were jealous.”
“Yes,” Sorla said, with a hint of pride. “Prince Seldon stopped me and said he’d never seen a Fanarlem girl join the chase before and I must be pretty brave, and I said ‘Or pretty stupid’, and he laughed and said ‘Never’ and took one of my flowers. It was the greatest moment and now it’s…” Sorla wilted in Velsa’s arms.
“I’m so sorry… I don’t know what to do. Let me see your leg.”
Indeed, Sorla’s knee was intact. It was the bone beneath that had been broken in two. “Were those girls carrying weapons?”
“They had a big rock with a sharp edge. I guess they picked it up from the ground. And they’re strong. I think they’re farm girls. Ruven probably knows them. But I didn’t call him. I don’t want my friends to see me like this.”
Velsa tried to think. “How about if we get you home and I’ll try and speak to the prince. You never know, maybe he’d pay a quick visit to the house in lieu of a dance. He really does seem like a nice man.”
“I guess…”
“I know. I’d be disappointed and furious too. But it’s the best I can do. It’s already been quite a day. At least you’ll have even better bragging rights if he does come by the house.”
“That’s true…”
“I can help you get home, kiddo,” Kessily said. “I think Tomato is hungry anyway.”
Kessily was stronger than Velsa. She supported S
orla’s shoulders, helping her stagger toward one of the side lanes. Their house was a fair distance away, but Sorla waved Velsa on. “I’ll be okay. Talk to the prince.”
Velsa returned to the square once again. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to shake the feeling that she had been separated from her friends one by one on purpose. Of course that was not the case; Grau’s sickness had nothing to do with Sorla’s injury, but—
The sun was setting rapidly, day descending into dusk. Fireflies blinked in the grass. The chase seemed to be wrapping up. A few boys had as many as twenty flowers pinned to their jackets. Velsa wondered how they kept track. Maybe the girls tacked their names inside the flowers—but half of these people can’t read, can they? Well, perhaps they can read names.
A long table had been set up on the green in the short time Velsa was gone. The prince was easy to spot at the head, surrounded by guards. It appeared that a feast would soon begin, but the table was empty except for centerpieces of flowers and flasks of wine. Dormongara was milling around nearby, but Velsa didn’t want to bother him.
Clearly, the dancing would not occur until the royal party had eaten, so Velsa could get back to other business. She headed for the rows of performer’s tents. She wasn’t sure which one belonged to Flower, but now that she had the area narrowed down, she could spare a little telepathy to search for her.
It was quieter here, away from the commotion. The night was growing cool now. This far north, it seemed they would never have a warm night. Some of the entourage had built fires and were making their own food. It reminded Velsa of the patrol camp where she had known Flower originally, and she paused to close her eyes and inhale the scent of summer grass and flowers. This was a very different place than the camp. This was Velsa’s home.
She felt Flower’s presence in the tent ahead. Dar was with her now. No surprise there, but Velsa could handle him too, now that she was prepared.
The Sorcerer's Equal (The Telepath and the Sorcerer Book 3) Page 17
