Oathtaker

by Patricia Reding

Rain fell, pit, pat, drip, drop. Guests ran inside as it grew heavier. The flash of far off lightning momentarily shone through the window, then abruptly died away.

  “So Erin didn’t make it?”

  Nina shook her head. A tear fell down her check. “No. I had to get away for the sake of my child, so I went without her—and I’ll never be able to forgive myself for that.”

  Mara shook her head. “It’s not your fault.”

  “I guess it doesn’t matter much. I escaped, then lost my child anyway.”

  “You did the right thing. You sought your freedom—and you got it.”

  “All right.”

  “No, I mean it. You have a purpose—with me now. With us. Reigna and Eden need you.”

  Nina pulled herself up from the softness of the goose down bed and made her way to the window. She pulled the curtain aside and peeked out. The rain came down in a torrent.

  “I had no use for the jewels, so I left them, but I took about half the coins, leaving the others for Krippet,” she said. “I reasoned that if he should return to Zarek’s palace with another load on another day, and if Erin could steal away with him, he still would have been paid handsomely for his help. If not, he was certainly well paid for mine.”

  She dropped the curtain and turned back. “I knew he was headed toward Mansk. At least that was nearer the border with Oosa, not further inward. I thought he might get curious when he was far enough from the palace to see what the purse held, so I wrapped the remaining coins up tightly, moved to the back of the wagon, and awaited a good time to make my escape.”

  Reigna started to fuss. Nina lifted the infant and breathed in deeply of her heady fragrance. It was a complicated, consuming scent.

  “When the wagon slowed sufficiently, I meant to jump,” she said as she sat back down, “but I was six months pregnant. I couldn’t jump far or run terribly fast. Some time later, Krippet stopped at a small inn in Mansk. When I heard him making his way down, I quickly made my escape. I don’t believe he ever saw me, and I never looked back.”

  “You must have been very frightened.”

  “Actually, ‘petrified’ would be a more accurate word.” The young woman smiled tenuously. “There isn’t much else. I used the coins for a change of clothing and foodstuffs, then purchased rides on carts moving through the countryside when I could. As I got closer to the border of Oosa, I discovered more soldiers, so I hiked the remaining distance, keeping hidden. My journey took me nearly six weeks.”

  She cuddled Reigna closely. The infant buried her face into her breast, communicating her hunger, which Nina was ready and able to assuage.

  “As you know, the Nix River and mountain range border parts of Chiran and Oosa. It was just after I crossed the mountains, on the last leg of my journey, that I lost my child.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Stillborn.” Nina looked away. “She was stillborn.”

  A flash of lightning peeked through the curtains. Thunder now mingled with it, rather than following several heartbeats behind.

  Neither of the women spoke for several minutes.

  Mara stood and stretched, then took in a deep cleansing breath. She cocked her head. “What is that?”

  “What?”

  “That . . . smell.” The Oathtaker’s brow furrowed.

  “I don’t smell anything.”

  “Can’t you smell that?” Mara sniffed. The scent grew stronger by the moment.

  “What does it smell like?”

  “I don’t know. I guess it smells like . . . hmmm . . . it smells like—purple.”

  “Purple?”

  “Yes, purple.”

  “What exactly does purple smell like? Grapes? Eggplant?” Nina smirked.

  Mara scowled. Then she touched her lip with the tip of her tongue. “I can taste it too.”

  “You can taste purple.”

  “Yes.”

  “Really. What does it taste like?”

  “Ahhhh . . . Well, I don’t know how to describe it.”

  “Wine? Plums?”

  “Stop it, I’m serious.”

  “All right. So what does it taste like?”

  “I don’t know. It tastes . . . rich. Yes, that’s it. It tastes rich. That’s the only way to describe it.”

  Nina shook her head. “Mara, I think you need some rest.”

  “Maybe.” The Oathtaker walked around the room, then toward the door. Whispering now, she said, “Come here.”

  The bed squeaked. Nina approached.

  “There. Smell that?”

  The young woman sniffed a few times, then inhaled deeply. “I don’t smell anything. What do you think it is?”

  Mara drew closer to the door, then turned back. “It’s just as I said—I smell purple.”

  Nina giggled. “Mmhmmm, I know. But it makes no more sense this time than the last time you said it.”

  “No, listen, it’s true. And I smell and taste yellow too. It’s very faint . . . it’s not nearly as strong as the purple.”

  “Really, what are you talking about?”

  Mara’s expression turned serious. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but it’s true.”

  “What does the yellow taste like? Banana? Lemon?”

  “No, it’s more like . . . light.” The Oathtaker’s head shot up. She looked toward the door, then back to her companion. “Remember that woman sitting at the table near us at dinner?”

  “Yeeesss.”

  “She was wearing purple and yellow. The others with her were dressed in blue.”

  “Yeeesss.”

  “I smell blue as well.”

  Nina’s eyes opened wide. “Mara—”

  “Look, I’m not making this up. The blue tastes like . . . I don’t know. Fresh air?”

  Nina burst into quiet laughter. “I could have guessed that. Gosh, Mara, what do you think ‘brown’ tastes like? Dirt? Or perhaps—”

  “Don’t say it,” Mara warned.

  Nina giggled.

  In spite of her frustration, the Oathtaker grinned. “I was hoping maybe—chocolate.”

  Nina laughed.

  “And there’s something else. It’s a delicate scent. It’s not a color.”

  “Maybe it is chocolate. Or ‘brown,’ I mean.”

  “Stop it. I’m serious. You know that woman at dinner? She kept looking at me. That’s why I suggested we rush.”

  “But people do not smell color. And they don’t taste it either.”

  “Well maybe Oathtakers do!” Mara growled in response.

  Nina looked deeply into her eyes. “You really are serious.”

  “Of course I am.”

  “All right. So what does it mean?”

  “I don’t know. Oh, gracious Ehyeh, I wish Dixon was here. There’s just too much I don’t know, and I really could use his help.”

  “Here.” Nina directed Mara to a chair, then sat next to her. “So, let’s say it’s true.”

  “It is true.”

  “All right, it’s true. What does it mean?”

  “It means the woman and the two young men who sat at the table near us at dinner are standing outside our door, that’s what it means. And I don’t know if they are friend or foe.”

  “All right then, let’s think about this. What’s the worst case scenario?”

  “I take them out, I guess.”

  “Can you do that?”

  “If I must.”

  “What do I do?”

  “Stay here. I’m going to open the door. If they’re there, I’ll surprise them. If not—”

  “What’ll you do to surprise them?”

  Mara grasped Spira, confirming it was in its sheath and was loose should she have need to use it; an Oathtaker’s blade was an extraordinary weapon, not to be used lightly. Grabbing her pack, she found the blade she’d purchased in Polesk. Her fingers ran over its stunning scrimshaw.

  “All right, I’m ready.”

  “Stop. What about me?”

  “Put the girls d
own there,” Mara pointed to the floor in the back corner, “and then arm yourself.”

  “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “You can. If it’s you or them, you can. If it’s the girls or them, you most certainly can.”

  “All right.” Nina placed a blanket on the floor, then gently laid the twins on it. Then she pulled the blade Mara had given her after their escape from Polesk out from the place where she kept it hidden inside her boot. She held it tightly.

  “You know how to use that thing?” Mara asked, her brow arched, as she watched her move the knife around in her hand.

  Nina grimaced. “Stick it in the bad guy?”

  The Oathtaker’s eyes lit up with her smile. “That’s right. Just make sure you use the right end.”

  “I think I’ve got it. Pointy end in. Right. Now, go!”

  In spite of the possibility of danger, Mara chuckled. She held her knife in her left hand. Then she made her way to the door, walking lightly on the balls of her feet, and yanked it open. In a flash, she stepped back, crouched, and reached for Spira.

  At the door stood the woman in purple and yellow. Flanking her each side, stood the two young men dressed in blue.

  The woman’s mouth opened wide in surprise. She stepped back. “You won’t be needing your blade, Oathtaker.”

  Mara squinted. “Oh?”

  She nodded. “You can put it away now.”

  “Is that right?” Mara grasped Spira more firmly.

  “If I may.” Slowly, she moved her hair behind her ear. Then she turned to the side revealing that she bore a sign of the Select—a third. She looked back at Mara.

  “Who are you?” the Oathtaker asked as she rose.

  “My name is Therese.”

  “Therese, you say?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  Mara’s guest, moving with extraordinary grace, took a single step inside. Her dark mink brown hair was burnished with highlights of copper. Her skin, creamy with a hint of rose, was flawless, but for a small jagged scar across her forehead. She stood with her hands loose at her sides, exhibiting no fear.

  Mara could still smell and taste, faintly, the colors purple, yellow, and blue. The lingering scents reminded her of cooking smells left hanging in a kitchen hours after a meal had been prepared therein. As they dissipated, she made out another—it was the one she’d earlier identified as delicate. It was a soft combination of water lily, apricot, amber, apple, guava, mandarin, wild tuberose, vanilla, tiare flowers and—yes, very vaguely—dark chocolate. It was the woman’s scent of the Select.

  In a glance, Therese’s eyes took in the details of the room.

  Again, Mara noticed something vaguely familiar about her.

  The two young men remained at Therese’s sides. They might at first glance have been mistaken for twins, due to their similar size and coloring. On closer examination, their features actually shared little in common.

  The woman gestured to her right. “This is Jules.”

  He nodded. His sandy blond hair was cut short around his ears and was squared off at his neck. He sported a square jaw, a broad nose, and eyes the green of a peacock feather.

  “And this is Samuel.” She nodded to her left.

  Samuel’s deep brown eyes were flecked with gold. Like Jules, he wore his hair clipped short. His muscles tense, his jaw set, he nodded at Mara, then at Nina.

  “What can I do for you, Therese?”

  “I wondered if I might speak with you.”

  Mara hesitated. Meeting the woman’s gaze, she said, “Go on, then.”

  “Jules, Samuel, I’ll find you back at our rooms shortly. I think this young woman may feel more at ease without you in attendance, and I’m perfectly safe with her.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, they left. Therese closed the door behind them, then turned back.

  Mara gestured toward a chair. “May I interest you in a glass of wine?”

  “Thank you, no. Not just now.”

  “So . . . you’d like to speak with me?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s on your mind then?” Mara didn’t intend to be impolite, but the woman made her uncomfortable.

  “I noticed you and your companion,” Therese said as she looked toward Nina, “and the infants,” she continued as her eyes shifted toward the girls, “in the dining room this evening.”

  “Yes?”

  She sat forward, elbows on the table, touching together the tips of her fingers. She tilted her head to the side. “I thought you might be a trained Oathtaker when I noticed how carefully you surveyed the room—how aware of everyone you seemed.”

  “Yes?”

  “And,” she hesitated, “I noticed your reaction to the news of Dixon Townsend.” She leaned in. “Tell me. How is he?”

  A knock came at the door. The chambermaid inquired whether there was anything further they would require for the evening.

  “Would you mind asking for a fresh pot of tea?” Mara asked Nina.

  “Not at all.” Nina spoke with the maid. “It’ll be sent over directly,” she then said as she resumed her place on the edge of the bed.

  “And your name is?” Therese asked Mara. “And hers?” she gestured toward Nina. “And the infants’ names?”

  “It seems to me, Therese, that your seeking me out is rather unusual. I understand you are Select, and you’ve rightly identified me as an Oathtaker, so you’re aware I’m no threat to you. But that doesn’t mean that I can trust you—or that I do trust you.”

  Mara placed her hands on the arms of her chair. “So, before I answer any of your questions, I have a few of my own.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “You say your name is ‘Therese.’”

  “That’s right.”

  A sudden recollection of a dream from the night before startled Mara. It had seemed so real—the darkness of a woods, the mist from a waterfall, a skittering hare, hushed voices she could just make out from what felt like a hiding place behind a nearby tree, the almost tangible feel of danger. She’d thought little of it when she’d awakened. But now she closed her eyes for a moment, drawing forth the details. Then she looked back at her visitor.

  “Tell me, Therese, where is your Oathtaker? I take it you are not the charge of either Jules or Samuel. They are bodyguards. Yes? Not Oathtakers.”

  She fidgeted.

  “No, wait, I’ll tell you,” Mara continued as she held her hand up, palm out. “Basha is your Oathtaker,” she whispered. “Currently she is at the palace in Shimeron, and she believes you to be dead.”

  Therese’s mouth dropped open. She closed it, then pursed her lips.

  “Rowena is—that is she was—your sister. You rather look like her, actually.”

  Therese said nothing.

  “How am I doing so far?”

  “How do you know these things?”

  Mara held her hand up again. “Stop. First, would you care to explain why you’d leave Basha in the dark like this?”

  Nina rose as the attendant called out that their order had arrived. She took the tray, closed the door, and then set the tea and fixings on the table. Then she poured three cups. The apple-like scent of chamomile filled the air. She gestured toward Therese, inviting the woman to help herself to the small cakes.

  “It’s a long story,” Therese finally said.

  “Yes, I imagine it is.”

  “How do you— How do you know about Basha?”

  The Oathtaker shrugged. “Let’s just say I have my sources. If your story rings true to what I know, then perhaps I can answer some of your questions.”

  If her dream had been true in the details Therese had just confirmed, then perhaps it was true in other respects as well. It had been so vivid, so real. It was less like Mara had summoned the thoughts while sleeping, and more like she’d physically experienced the place and events.

  Therese tasted her tea, then added a spoonful of sugar. She stirred it in slowly. Tasting again, she nodded her approv
al.

  “Well, you know some of the story. I’m Therese, a third. My Oathtaker was—I mean is—Basha.” Her eyes locked on Mara’s. “I miss her. She’s been more than merely Oathtaker to me. She’s family, sister, friend. I want to be with her, but . . . I can’t just now.”

  “And why is that?” Mara blew gently on her tea to speed its cooling, watching her visitor over the edge of her cup.

  “It’s a long story, and a bit complicated.”

  The Oathtaker placed her cup back on its saucer. “I’ve got time.” When Reigna stirred, she picked her up and placed her in Nina’s arms. She never took her eyes from Therese.

  “Is that your child?”

  “No. No. No.” Mara held her finger up, moving it back and forth with each word she spoke. “No questions from you as yet. I’ve given you the rules of our engagement. If you want answers from me, I’ll first require answers from you.”

  “Sorry.”

  “So, you were saying?”

  “It’s a long story, but it really comes down to this: someone tried to kill me. The arrow didn’t hit me, but it did cause me to fall from a cliff. When I landed, I must have hit my head on something. For a long while I didn’t even know my own name.” Therese closed her eyes, apparently calling forth her memories.

  “I was washed a long way down a river and was later found by some kind people who nursed me back to health. When my memory returned, I wanted to go home—to the palace at Shimeron.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Many among the people I met were Oathtakers. When they found me, they feared I’d been the target of an assassination attempt. They begged me to allow them to investigate the facts quietly. Together we worked to get people placed strategically in and around the palace in an effort to learn as much as we could.”

  “How dreadful,” Nina said.

  “Yes,” Mara agreed. “Then what?”

  “Some time passed. Eventually we learned that my sister, Rowena, and her Oathtaker, Dixon Townsend, left the palace. The popular story was that Rowena feared someone there.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No, but we believed the stories that my sister was in danger, were true. The first family—my family—thought me dead. In the end, it seemed that whether Rowena had reason to fear someone at the palace or not, I was safer from the reach of an assassin if the story of my death remained. So as much as I miss Basha and my home, I took what seemed the most reasonable action and stayed away.”