Storms Over Open Fields

by G. Howell

  “Mikah,” Chaeitch hissed and I realized I’d been gawping. I shut my mouth and went where my hosts led me.

  The doors were huge and made from bronze. Highly polished and elaborately-cast things. Every inch of the two-story portals were covered with figures of Rris bodies, interlacing so the gap between one figure’s legs became another’s arm. Not carvings tacked on later - each door looked like they’d been cast in one piece. I eyed one of the panels as we passed through. The craftwork was of a stunningly high standard. I had to wonder how much time and effort each one had cost. I also had to wonder how much they weighed and what the hinges were made from.

  The vestibule beyond was roughly circular in plan, finished in white marble and lit by chandeliers hanging from braces in the stained-glass dome three floors above. Alcoves in the colonnaded walls contained busts of Rris carved in stone and wood. Some of them were old, really old, split and gnarly looking things with barely discernible features.

  Beyond that was a great hall, an atrium with another arched, leaded glass ceiling. Wrought-iron railings ran along second and third floor galleries where curious Rris faces lurked and stared. Staff, I noticed. Servants trying to be unobtrusive about their curiosity.

  The air was cool, the scents faint ones of woods and spices, potpourri and the dusty scent of Rris and the underlying presence of chamber pots. Indoor plumbing was still a new idea. Claws pattered on the inlaid floor, accompanied by the faint clink of buckles and armor and equipment as our guide led us down the hall toward the double doors at the far end.

  “Her highness is awaiting you in the Sky Chamber,” Chriét was saying. “We hope you will forgive the simplicity of the reception. Given more time we could have prepared something a little more elaborate.”

  “Quite sufficient,” Rraerch said. Oh yeah, our hosts were trying to impress.

  “She has been looking forward to this meeting,” the Host went on. “As have many others. We thought you may be fatigued after your trip, so we ensured the invitations for tonight were limited to select few. Later on, after you’ve had time to rest and refresh, more appointments will be granted. Those have been drawn up and submitted to your embassy.”

  “Ah Marasitha will wish to peruse them, merely for formalities sake. I’m sure everything is quite satisfactory,” Rraerch said.

  “Of course,” the Host said. “If there are any difficulties, please don’t hesitate to inform us.”

  A low underlying susurrus had been getting steadily louder as we approached the doors. When the doormen swung them open the noise peaked, sounding like a gust of wind through autumn branches, then died. I felt my heart lurch into overdrive.

  If it was the Sky Chamber, it was aptly named. We were standing on steps leading down into a ballroom that was like looking out from the middle of a Faberge egg: powder-blue satin wallpaper elaborately flocked with darker curling patterns that could have been stylized trees; ornate plaster molding almost rococo in its extravagant scrollwork climbed the walls and spiraled across the ceiling to the central dome of wrought iron and glass. Huge chandeliers of crystal and silver hung from the dome, flaring with hundreds of candles, their light reflecting from the dome above, from the polished floor, from the gilt and silver in the room and in the crowd below.

  The crowd. A sea of Rris faces turning to stare at us. At me. A crowd of Rris in fine satins and linens and leathers and glittering metal. My first thought was ‘this is a select few?!’ The nobility and the court of Open Fields, there to see just what all the fuss was about. Just as their counterparts over in Shattered Water had done. It was a situation I’d experienced before, and not all of those experiences had been good. Some of that had been due to my own carelessness, some of it Rris attitudes.

  In order to get through I had to put on a careful act and watch my every move, and that wasn’t easy. These were Rris who didn’t know me, many of whom had no idea I had different mannerisms and that some of those mannerisms, while innocent, could be construed as hostile. These Rris were powerful, often arrogant and used to getting their own way, and could be quick to boil over if they perceived something as a slight. And it wasn’t so easy to put the lid back on.

  I really didn’t like those situations.

  But the others were looking at me, wondering why I’d stopped dead. I saw Rraerch’s ears lay back and knew I was emoting something strong enough for them to pick up on. I swallowed hard, put on my best poker face and descended into the throng.

  The rustle of Rris whispers was picking up again around the back of the crowd. Whispers and soft chittering orbited the room while the crowd stirred in curiosity. However, they kept their distance and parted before us like the Red Sea. A moving cordon of guards kept the bystanders back, never touching their weapons but keeping the Rris crowd back with just a bit of attitude, armor and the promise of sharp metal.

  Chriét led the way through the crowd and I followed, somewhat relieved that they weren’t just cutting me loose in there, although if there was a point in parading me past the entire court I didn’t get it. So I walked along behind the guards, taking deep breaths and trying to keep my racing heart under control.

  The crowd was a continuously shifting mosaic of sound and details. Multitudes of eyes: amber and orange of all hues, rarer flashes of green. Fur in shades of ochre, brown, sienna, tawny, grey, cream, black stripes and speckles. Gaudily colored clothes; lace and satin; ruffs and bloused sleeves; gold and silver filigree woven through fur dyed and shaven in abstract and geometric patterns... The crowd was all around and I couldn’t look everywhere at once, so I focused my eyes ahead, at the point where the courtiers were stepping aside to let our party through.

  “... is it?”

  “Red tie me! Frightful!”

  “...one they were talking about.”

  “Not Rris?”

  “...like the [something] in....”

  “...serious?!”

  Fragments of dozens of conversations and exclamations tangling in the air around us. Nothing I hadn’t heard before.

  And our escort led us right through that room and that crowd. Right through to the double doors on the far side. Footmen opened them and we entered a hall, an antechamber rather, with another set of doors ahead of us and a single door to each sided. The room was brightly lit with gas lamps. The walls were red velvet and the floor was inlaid with a cheerful parquetry mosaic of a Rris dying of grievous and graphic bodily wounds while being succored by a small distressed-looking group. I’d seen a statue a great deal like that in Pinnacle Square back in Shattered Water. Beside the inner doors a pair of guards stood watch, looking our way but otherwise not reacting when we entered. The doors behind us swung to and the white static of the crowd was muted and I was able to breathe again.

  Damn. I thought was growing accustomed to situations like that: I’d been through enough of them at receptions in Shattered Water and whenever I had to walk the streets in public, but they were still stressful. Especially in an unknown room in a full of strangers.

  “You all right?” Chaeitch murmured. I realized I’d relaxed with an audible sigh, but he was the only one who’d picked up on it.

  “Thought I was used to that,” I whispered back and he flicked his ears.

  “I’m sorry?” Chriét looked around. “Everything is all right?”

  “Oh yes, perfectly,” Chaeitch said.

  “Groovy,” I smiled. It felt forced.

  Chriét blinked, appearing momentarily puzzled, then he ducked his head. “Very good. Now, if you would please, her highness would be pleased to meet with you. Your escort... they will not be needed in there.”

  Marasitha hesitated, then nodded at our guards. They quietly stepped aside to take up positions along the walls. The Open Fields guards opened the other doors and we walked through, onto deep carpet. It was a big room, and it was blue. I’d thought the
outer hall was the sky chamber and I’d obviously been wrong about that.

  The wallpaper in the room we entered was a deep blue trimmed with gold across the scotia and the concave ceiling was a deep purple in which gleamed hundreds... thousands of little points of light. Pinpricks in the arch of the ceiling, backlit to produce a representation of the night sky. There were bookshelves around the walls, well stocked with old volumes. Down the far end of the room cushions were arranged in a semicircle before a low desk. A single figure sat there, hunched over paperwork in a pool of light from a single lamp sat. Behind us, the sound of the crowd vanished entirely as the doors closed again and the only noise was a low scribble from the scratching pen of the figure at the desk. There was a final flourish of the quill, then furry fingers carefully laid it aside to dry and she looked up at us.

  “Welcome to Open Fields,” Lady H’risnth aesh Esrisa smiled cordially. “I hope your journey was a good one.”

  “Very good, ma’am,” Marasitha replied. “And a spectacular reception.”

  The Lady was a young Rris. My briefings had had more than a bit on her, but we’d already met once before. I knew she had one cub and Chaeitch had told me she was considered very attractive by Rris standards. Her pelt was light tawny color and quite long, a trait inherited from her grandmother who, from accounts, hailed from more northern climes. Visible through her ochre velvet sleeveless vest, her belly fur was a pale cream, dotted with salt and pepper flecks that must’ve trailed around from the larger dark speckles on her arms and down her tail. Her eyes were that amber color so common to Rris, so inhuman to me. She ducked her head. “It was the least we could offer such esteemed guests. Ah R’y, wonderful to see you again. I have to thank you personally for making the trip. It wasn’t too strenuous?”

  It took me a second to realize she was talking to me directly; that was my name using Rris conventions. “Please ma’am, just call me Michael,” I said, then corrected: “Mikah. It’s easier for everyone. The trip was fine. Very restful. And from what I saw of your city it seems very beautiful. I look forward to seeing it in the light.”

  She graciously smiled and gestured affirmative. “It is, and we shall afford you every opportunity. I understand you have an interest in seeing some museums and galleries.”

  How the hell had that snippet of information gotten to her so quickly? “Yes, ma’am, very much. If there’s time.”

  “I’m sure there will be,” she assured me. “If there is anything you would like to see or do, please just ask.”

  “Thank you,” I said and had to glance up at the ceiling again. “This... this is the Sky Chamber?”

  I thought I heard Chaeitch sigh but the Lady looked unmistakably amused. “It is. Aptly named, I think. Supposedly an exact depiction of the sky at the time it was created. Fifty six years ago I believe. It is a quite exceptional work.”

  “Ah,” I agreed. I’d wondered why the background color was deep purple, then had to recall that Rris couldn’t see that color: to them it was the same as black. “It is.”

  “You must see the Dawn Room sometime. It’s designed by the same artist. When seen at the right time of the morning it is quite spectacular.”

  “I would like that,” I said.

  “It will be arranged,” her face pursed in amusement again. “Now, I expect you’re all discomforted after your journey. I have rooms prepared for you. Also food and refreshments and staff. I know you want to get down to business, but it is late, and since you made such excellent time, there’s no rush. In the morning we can discuss business, but for now, please; rest, relax, enjoy our hospitality.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Marasitha bowed.

  She gave him a look and twitched her ears, then turned to me and grinned. I heard intakes of breath from my companions and flinched myself, but I think I recognized it for what it was before they did: An imitation of one of my smiles. “Mikah, I think the next few days will prove to be most interesting indeed.”

  ------v------

  I wasn’t given a room. It was an entire suite, a wing separated from the rest of the palace, accessed by a vestibule guarded by Land-of-Water guards.

  Chriét showed me in through open doors, into an antechamber of white marble. Fine-veined white marble on the floor, in the polished walls, up to the vaulted ceiling. Opposite the door an alcove housed a gnarled and weathered piece of wood. On either side stood a plain white vase, each containing a small bundle of artfully arranged dried bullrushes.

  Rris were waiting in there; A row of seven standing at nervous attention, but they weren’t the military sort. Their clothes were neat, but not expensive. I saw ears go back like a row of dominoes, one after the other as soon as they laid eyes on me. The staff who attended the suite, and therefore me, Chriét informed me. There was Hiesh, the steward of the suite. Then the attendant, the trio of chambermaids, the waiter, and the personal groom. Those individuals weren’t introduced by name, they were just servants. They’d probably been hand-picked and extensively briefed, and they looked more than a little nervous of me.

  “If you need anything,” Chriét told me, “Anything at all, just ask. It will be provided.”

  The rest of the suite was through an archway to the right and down a couple of steps. They opened out onto a drawing room, or living area. It was luxurious. By anyone’s standards. The floor was carpeted in intricate patterns of woven green and gold; the paneling on the wall lacquered white and embellished with carvings and scrollwork and gilt. There was a writing desk, there was a table and polished leather cushions, Rris sculptures and artwork scattered around. A cold fireplace lay below a huge mantle embossed with plaster grapes, above was a mirror in a gilt frame, a big one. It must’ve been worth its weight in gold, given the laborious process that glassmaking was here. Drapes were drawn over the high windows along one wall, the light coming from the glowing flames of new coal gas lamps. The candles on the hanging crystal chandelier were unlit.

  Then there was the bedroom. It was big, with a similar color scheme and decor as the outer room. The paintings hanging on the walls had a feeling of age about them, and the mirror opposite the bed reflected the light of more gas lamps. The bed... well the huge bed with its satin spread looked about the right size to double as a parade ground. No pillows though. My luggage was neatly laid out on a bench just inside the door, and while I wasn’t about to check there and then, the green wax royal seals looked to be intact.

  The ensuite wasn’t exactly usual, not here. The Palace wasn’t a new building and most of the sanitary facilities ranged from communal bathrooms to chamberpots, a personal bathroom was swanky indeed. The one adjoining that suite was new: all fine white and cream tile, green and gold trim, and silver fixtures. At one end of the room was a huge bath on a dais, at the other water continuously trickled into a basin from a spout shaped like a silver swan head. The toilet... that was one of those convoluted Rris saddle-affairs against the far wall. No door or curtain. I’m still not used to the Rris laid-back attitude to bodily functions.

  Chaeitch, Rraerch and Marasitha had lodgings in the same wing, but their quarters, while plush, weren’t on the same palatial scale as mine. The guards in the corridors were the Land of Water personnel who’d come with us. Obviously they were going all out to be hospitable, and probably to impress me. The rooms were extravagant in the extreme and the extras like the gas lighting, the mirrors and the indoor plumbing were the latest word in Rris amenities. They probably never realized that to me they were not only mundane, but expected. I wondered how long ago they’d been installed. Was it just for my sake?

  “Is it to your satisfaction?” Chirét was asking.

  I had to ask. “You’ve got cable?”

  “Sir?” The confusion on his faced was mingled with a flash of what was almost panic.

  “Sorry,” I sighed. “It is fine. Really, it’s most satisfactory.”
/>
  “Yes, sir.” He still looked decidedly uncertain. Would inroads be made in trying to find out exactly what ‘cable’ was? “There will always be someone attendant to your needs. If anything is required, at any time, simply inform them. Hiesh,” he gestured at the steward lurking in the background, “will endeavor to fulfill your needs.”

  “Thank you,” I said and the Host ducked his head, took a couple of steps back and turned and stalked away across the room toward the antechamber. Hiesh bowed his own head as his superior passed and then stiffened again. Okay. Severe pecking order. And the servants were probably under strict orders and even... I hesitated and looked at the big mirror over the fireplace, considering it for a while. Then I shook my head: No, that would be ridiculously clichéd. Besides, it backed onto the flue. I shrugged, then headed on back to the bedroom and stopped in the doorway.

  “Hiesh,” I turned to the steward.

  “Sir,” he flinched.

  “You can relax too,” I said, studying the Rris. I couldn’t guess his age, but he was elegantly groomed and obviously aching to do right. “How much did they tell you about me?”

  “Sir?”

  “Is that all you can say? Loosen up a bit. I’m pretty informal and I don’t bite or scratch. They didn’t tell you anything about me? I find that hard to believe.”

  “Sir, they said to treat you like highborn. Sir.”

  “They did, a?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Okay, first thing: Did they explain about my smiling?”

  “Smiling, sir?”

  Ohboy. They hadn’t told them. “I can’t smile like a Rris. Different ears, different face.” I gestured and then shrugged. “When I smile sometimes I show teeth. It’s not a hostile gesture, it’s just the way I am. Understand?”