The Bard's Blade

by Brian D. Anderson

  Gertrude was stoic. “I will. And mind you keep well clear of Ralmarstad.”

  “I’ll do my best,” she promised. She leaned in as she took Mariyah’s hand. “I have always believed that things happen for a purpose, even if we can’t see what it is straightaway. I was meant to find you. Which means you are meant to be here. So be strong. And remember, there is beauty in this world, even though it’s sometimes hard to see.”

  “Goodbye,” said Mariyah, feeling an unexpected rush of gratitude toward Trysilia. “And good luck.”

  With a final nod to Gertrude, Trysilia left them.

  “Damn that woman,” muttered Gertrude a few seconds after she was gone.

  Mariyah was perplexed. “What’s wrong?”

  Her question raised a sigh. “Trysilia could go anywhere she wants, yet still she’s determined to return to the same pit she came from.”

  “Isn’t she going to be with her family?”

  “Yes, and that’s the problem. She’s from the western tribes. They live in lands close to the Ralmarstad border—a most dangerous place. I tried to convince her to remain in the north, where she’d be safe. I could even visit her from time to time. But she wouldn’t have any of it. Stubborn damned woman.”

  Mariyah didn’t know who the western tribes were. But she recalled Trysilia’s statement about her people running out of places to retreat. “Maybe she misses her family.”

  “To blazes with her family.” This time Gertrude could not hold back her emotion. “For all she knows, they’re dead. After all, it’s been ten years. At least here she was safe from those bloody Ralmarstad demons.”

  “I can understand why she would want to know,” said Mariyah. “My parents don’t even know if I’m dead or alive. Maybe it’s the same with hers. I would risk anything to see them again, if only to let them know I’m all right. Just a chance to say…” The sight of Gertrude’s tears caused her own to fall. “A chance to say I’m sorry.”

  Dabbing her eyes on her sleeve and wiping her nose, Gertrude smiled. “Look at us, blubbering away like this. You have an impression to make. We can’t have you all red-eyed and puffy. Lady Camdon would be most put out.”

  For the next several minutes Gertrude took great care in applying various colored powders to Mariyah’s face and around her eyes. Once finished, she held up a small mirror, looking most pleased with her handiwork.

  Mariyah gasped at what she saw. “I look…”

  “Beautiful. You look absolutely beautiful.”

  “No! I look like a … Oh, I don’t know what to call it.”

  The soft reds around her cheekbones and the deep purple around her eyes were ghastly. It was as if someone had attempted to paint her after drinking too much wine.

  Gertrude laughed. “Trysilia reacted the same way the first time. But I’m afraid it’s the style in Ubania.”

  “Do all women paint themselves here?” She had to resist the urge to wipe it off.

  “The men too,” she replied. “You’ll need to learn how to do it yourself eventually.”

  The jostling of the ship and the peal of its bells snatched their attention. They had arrived. Mariyah realized that she had forgotten to pack her belongings—mostly a few items of clothing Trysilia had given to her along with some other odds and ends.

  “I’ll pack for you,” Gertrude said. “You need to get going. There will be a carriage waiting at the end of the dock.” When Mariyah hesitated, she added, “Go on. I’ll be there shortly.”

  On her way above deck, she hoped to see Trysilia one last time, but was disappointed to encounter only the captain and a few deckhands. The ship was being tied to a long wooden dock, beyond which, as Gertrude had stated, was a white carriage pulled by a team of four horses. Instead of seeing the expected buildings and a bustling city, there was nothing but a road that wound its way over a steep rise. A man in a long black-and-red coat, a white ruffled shirt, black trousers, and a tall, flat-topped cylindrical hat was awaiting them.

  Mariyah’s heart raced as the crew extended the gangplank, allowing the man to board the ship. He walked straight up to her. “You are the new assistant?” His accent was odd, with long vowels, hard t’s, and rolling r’s.

  Mariyah nodded. “That’s what I—”

  “Yes or no will do fine,” he said sharply.

  “Yes.”

  He turned to where the captain was standing near the entrance to the main cabin. With a snap of the fingers, he held out his hand. “If you please.”

  The captain scowled, clearly not liking being ordered about. He removed a chain with a blue orb attached from around his neck and handed it over. “Here. Now get off my ship.”

  “You do understand what you are meant to do?” he said, unmoved by the captain’s words and aggressive posture.

  “I know. You don’t have to tell me.”

  “Should anything befall her, you will be held accountable. Am I understood? She is to arrive safely and precisely where she tells you.”

  “I said I did, didn’t I?”

  “Then I hope you will not object to accepting this?” Reaching into his jacket, the man pulled out a sealed parchment. When the captain didn’t take it, he added, “If you are forthright, and intend on delivering Trysilia home safely, this should not be a problem. However, if you choose to say no … as I understand it, my mistress holds the bond owed on this vessel, does she not? A small delay. But I’m sure we could find another willing to do as she requires.”

  The captain fumed, veins bulging from his forehead. “You can tell Lady Camdon that”—his shoulders sagged as he finally forced himself to take the parchment—“that I accept.” Without further ado, he broke the wax seal. This produced a popping sound along with a flash of red light. A puff of smoke hovered over where the seal had been, then drifted up into the captain’s nostrils.

  “Satisfied?” he spat.

  “Quite.” The man turned to Mariyah. “Now, if you will follow me, the Lady awaits.”

  Although confused by his exchange with the captain, Mariyah thought it best not to ask any questions. Stepping onto the dock, a new problem arose as she stumbled forward, only just preventing herself from falling to her knees. It had taken her days to grow accustomed to walking on a surface that was in constant motion. Now back on solid ground, she found herself having to deal with the same predicament in reverse.

  “Is this Ubania?” she asked, after steadying her footing.

  “This is Lady Camdon’s private dock,” he replied. “And you would do well to keep your questions to yourself until you have been evaluated.”

  Aside from a few trees and some small bushes, nothing about her surroundings appeared in the least remarkable. Only the carriage stood out, elegantly decorated with a gold-and-blue pattern painted on the doors and around the windows. The driver was equally resplendent in a bright red suit with gold buttons up the front and polished black boots.

  Mariyah turned back to the ship. “Where’s Gertrude?”

  “My wife will be along shortly,” he replied.

  “Your wife?”

  “Yes.” He gestured to the carriage. “Now, if you are finished…”

  Mariyah was startled to see the door open on its own when they drew near, though the man seemed to accept this as being perfectly normal. Inside were two seats facing each other, both spanning the entire width of the coach. They were soft, and warm to the touch, and the scent of oiled leather was pleasing.

  Just as it had opened, the door closed spontaneously. Mariyah sat facing the front, the man in the seat opposite. A moment later there was a sharp crack of a whip, and the carriage lurched forward.

  “My name is Marison,” he announced, with what to Mariyah sounded like exaggerated formality. “I am in charge of staff and maintenance. Privately, you will address me by my name. Publicly, I am to be called sir. Is that clear?” Not waiting for a reply, he continued. “As for other servants and staff, you are not to address them publicly unless it pertains to your duties. Pri
vately, you may speak freely.”

  “How many others like me are there?”

  “Was I not clear when I said to keep your questions for later?”

  Mariyah nodded. She was not liking this man. Not one bit.

  “As for Lady Camdon, you will follow her directives to the letter and will not speak until given leave. She will explain in detail what is expected of you and how you are to behave.” He folded his hands in his lap.

  When he said nothing more, she asked, “Is there anything else?”

  Without a reply, Marison reached beneath his seat and produced a bound notebook, which he placed in his lap. Shifting slightly and crossing his legs, he opened it and ran his finger across the page, his lips moving ever so slightly as he read.

  Mariyah frowned but held her tongue. Looking out the window, she could see that they were now passing through a thinly wooded area. The road was paved with red bricks and was bordered by a white fence on either side. They passed a few small houses—each one virtually identical in their single-story design, well-kept lawns, and flower gardens planted beneath the windows and along the base of the porch. She wanted to ask who lived there, if for no other reason than to irritate Marison. The impulse was resisted. Until she knew more about Lady Camdon, it would be foolish to tempt fate. And there was the not inconsiderable fact that the man was currently holding the charm that controlled her anklet.

  After a time, the forest gave way and the sea reappeared in the southern-facing window. From this vantage point she could see that they were near a high bluff, although how high exactly was impossible to tell. The carriage slowed, and she heard the squeaking of metal hinges. A moment later they passed through a tall gate made from what appeared to be pure silver, though given its untarnished surface, she thought it must actually be steel.

  At this point she could glimpse only a corner of the manor, but even this restricted view was sufficient to make her catch her breath: four stories of the purest white marble that even at a distance shimmered with gold veins running throughout. As for the road, this was made from a black stone with gold bricks along both edges. The front garden was equally spectacular, with hedges shaped into the forms of great birds and beasts, some looking as if they were doing battle, surrounding tall crystal fountains shooting thin streams of water dozens of feet into the air. Flowers of an uncountable variety were spread about everywhere, at first seeming random in their placement. However, the more Mariyah gazed at them, the more purposeful and exact their design appeared.

  As the carriage curved to the right, the full splendor and scope of the manor came into view. A colonnade on either side of a promenade ended at a staircase atop which was a pair of silver doors as tall and broad as the gate. The top floor boasted several balconies with carved balustrades, all of them easily able to accommodate a dozen or more people. For Mariyah, the amount of labor, time, and wealth it must have taken to build a home of this magnitude was almost impossible to comprehend.

  The carriage halted and the door opened. Marison stepped out first and extended his arm toward the manor doors.

  “Lady Camdon awaits. You will be taken to her immediately.”

  Mariyah stepped out, eyes wandering about in awe.

  “Did you hear me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sir. We are in public.”

  “Yes, sir.” Taking a deep breath, she started toward the front entrance.

  “One more thing,” Marison called after her, his softened tone barely noticeable. “Good luck.”

  Mariyah gave him a slight bow. “Thank you … sir.”

  She wasn’t certain what to make of Marison. Was he as cold as he presented himself? While passing through the colonnade, she could hear him telling the driver of the coach to go back to the dock for his wife. It was difficult to imagine someone as good-natured as Gertrude being married to such a man. They seemed an unlikely match. Of course, after only one meeting, how could she really know? She hadn’t thought very much of Gertrude in the beginning, either.

  Upon reaching the top of the stairs, just as with the coach, the doors opened spontaneously. Beyond the threshold, once again Mariyah was struck by what she saw. The ceiling of the foyer was at least thirty feet high, with delicate crystal threads suspended from what appeared to be fist-sized rubies. The floor was polished white tiles embedded with emeralds and veined with weblike gold strands that twisted and crossed in a way similar to the flowers in the garden: at first sight random, and yet within a larger deliberate pattern. A pair of winding staircases were situated straight ahead, and on either side of these as well as in between were tall archways. Directly above the center arch hung a great banner on which was painted a gold brazier with black fire rising from within.

  A woman appeared from the archway on the left, her blouse, knee-length skirt, and shoes all black. In contrast to this was a white belt with a gold buckle cinched around her waist. She appeared young, in her late twenties perhaps, and her dark brown hair was wrapped in a swirling bun on top of her head. Like Marison, her expression was blank.

  “You will come with me,” she said in a flat tone. Without waiting for a response, she spun around and disappeared down a hallway to Mariyah’s right.

  Mariyah had to run to catch up, causing the gems in her shoes to dig into her feet. At a quick clip they continued on through a long series of massive chambers, all lavishly decorated and each clearly designed to be as awe-inspiring as possible. The furnishings were finer than anything Mariyah had ever seen. Not even the best craftsmen in Vylari would have been capable of creating such masterpieces. There were also tapestries, paintings, and sculptures of extraordinary detail and vivid colors set on display in a way that made them impossible to ignore as one passed by. To Mariyah’s mind, there was little doubt that this show of wealth and power was intended to deliberately humble and intimidate anyone who visited.

  After what seemed like a mile of walking, they stopped in front of a set of double doors.

  “Were you taught how to pass through the wards?” the woman asked.

  “I was given a list of words. But I don’t know how to use them yet.”

  “I see.” She faced the door. “Unorium anon.” The doors swung outward. “Lady Camdon is inside.” She then started back the way they had come.

  Mariyah’s heart pounded furiously as she entered. With several couches and chairs together with an assortment of tables between them, the room was clearly a parlor of some kind. On her left was an unlit hearth, above which hung a painting bearing the same symbol she had seen on the banner in the foyer. It wasn’t as extravagant as the other chambers; the impression was one of comfort rather than opulence.

  Sitting with legs crossed near a bookshelf opposite the hearth was a woman dressed in a plain white silk blouse and a pair of loose-fitting black pants decorated with a bright red floral pattern. Her ice-blue eyes contrasted strikingly with her dark complexion and straight black hair, which was accented with streaks of white and fell around her shoulders. Even sitting, Mariyah could see that she was tall, and although thin, did not appear frail. Despite the gray of age in her hair, she looked to be no more than in her forties.

  “Come,” she said in a smooth but authoritative tone, gesturing to a chair placed in front of her. “Sit.” She wore the same indifferent expression as everyone else Mariyah had met thus far.

  Trying not to look nervous, she did as instructed, knees and feet together, hands folded in her lap and her eyes fixed on the floor.

  “You’re not timid, are you?” asked Lady Camdon.

  “No, my lady,” she replied.

  “Then look me in the eye.”

  Mariyah looked up.

  “Are you afraid?”

  “No, my lady.”

  “Good. Now tell me about yourself. I need to know what I have to work with before you’re welcome here. Where are you from?”

  “I am from Vylari, my lady. My parents own a vineyard. Most of my life I have helped them maintain it.”


  Lady Camdon leaned an elbow against the arm of the chair, her chin resting on the tips of her slender fingers. “Did Trysilia send me a simpleton? Or do you think I am one? Vylari is a legend, girl. Nothing more. Now, I’ll ask you once again. Where are you from? Lie and you can go back to where Trysilia found you.”

  “I’m not lying,” she insisted, her tone a touch too aggressive. “I am from Vylari.”

  With poise and grace Mariyah had rarely seen, Lady Camdon rose and crossed over to a chifforobe, from the top drawer of which she removed an onyx box. Very deliberately, she lifted the lid, casting Mariyah a sideways smile as she did so.

  “I do not abide liars to live in my home. And as I gave you a second chance to tell me the truth…”

  She removed a marble-sized red gem, which she held up to her lips and whispered to softly, too softly for Mariyah to hear the words clearly. The gem emitted a pulsing light from within its facets. “You should know that, had you been honest, this would not be required.”

  Fear gripped Mariyah as Lady Camdon approached, the gem pinched between her thumb and index finger. “I swear that I’ve told you the truth,” she insisted.

  “We shall see. Hold out your hand.” When Mariyah hesitated, she frowned. “I said hold out your hand. This will not hurt.”

  Reluctantly, Mariyah did as instructed. “What is it?”

  The gem was pressed firmly against her flesh. “It guarantees honesty, though not in the coarse and painful way that the anklet you wear does. You see, Trysilia was told to find me someone very special. And someone from the mythical land of Vylari would be special indeed. But I have to ask myself, did she do as I said? Or did she take a particular liking to you and fall for this story of yours unwittingly?”

  She returned to her chair. “My responsibilities demand that I be selective when it comes to my household, and the position I need filled is one of great complexity and significance.”

  The gem felt warm. It had occurred to Mariyah that Lady Camdon could have easily commanded her to speak by making use of the anklet. Why then would she go to the trouble of using this gem instead? Was she really concerned that the anklet was painful? She didn’t come across as being a caring or considerate woman.