Nobody's Goddess (The Never Veil)

by Amy McNulty

  “Ow!” Master Tailor rubbed the back of his dark curls.

  “Go home!” barked Alvilda.

  “What?” asked Master Tailor quizzically. “I’m excited about Noll’s Returning, too, of course. Nissa has been so helpful in making the lord’s new garments. Not that they’re much different than the usual garments he orders, but Nissa does such a good job, they look better than—”

  Alvilda crossed her arms. “Out.”

  Master Tailor shook his owl head and stood up from the table. “Sometimes I wonder if you think you’re my goddess instead of Siofra.”

  Alvilda tapped her foot. “That’s a disturbing thought. At least you can choose whether or not to obey my orders. Although I do suggest you choose wisely.”

  Master Tailor waved his hand lazily in her direction. “I’m going, I’m going.”

  “Mistress Tailor asked me to tell you to come home,” I interjected.

  Master Tailor tensed and moved so quickly out the door that I could hardly believe he’d had time to cross the room.

  Alvilda shook her head and filled the seat that Master Tailor had just emptied. “You have to watch how you word your orders from a goddess to her man. They’re almost as effective as direct orders from the woman herself, so long as they have a basis in truth.”

  That was true. I felt a little guilty messing around with that kind of power, even if I hadn’t intended to. “Sorry.”

  She shrugged and began playing with her fingers, concerned with picking out some of the sawdust stuck under her nails. “So,” said Alvilda, finally giving up her futile quest to clean her nails and slapping her palms against the table. She picked up my half-block, half-rock piece of wood and examined it. “How goes the carving?”

  I thought back to the ruined sculptures and other blobs of wood that looked no better than the piece Alvilda turned over in her hands. “Spectacularly,” I lied.

  Alvilda put the wood back on the table. “And how goes the carver?”

  I waved a hand. “He’s the same as always.”

  Alvilda shook her head and grabbed my hand that rested on the table. I flinched. “I meant the other carver in the family,” she said.

  I started bawling.

  Alvilda got up from her seat and swooped in to embrace me, but that only made me cry harder. She let me cry a few moments more before she took my face in her hands and put on her most stunning smile. I wondered if this was how Jaron saw her when he first knew she was his goddess, and my heart ached for the pain he must be feeling even at that moment, to know that he would never hold her in his arms as I did.

  “So, what would you like to do today?” asked Alvilda. I hadn’t actually told her I was going to come over.

  I glanced toward the work area of her home and the fallen chair leg. “Don’t you have work to do?”

  Alvilda shook her head and began shoving a few buns, some cheese, and a bottle into a picnic basket. “Nothing that can’t wait another few days,” she said. I noticed with some pleasure that her picnic basket’s handle featured what I thought might be swords and daggers.

  “A picnic sounds wonderful,” I said.

  Alvilda’s choice spot for a picnic wasn’t my own, but I imagined she didn’t want me to head back home before I had to. We enjoyed the meager meal in silence under a tree just a ways from the commune. My eyes guiltily wandered over the moaning, wretched men sprawled out on the ground or walking about, lifting one foot after the other slowly, aimlessly. It was an odd choice for my last day of freedom, but I had no place else I’d be welcomed. After a little while, Alvilda went inside her home to grab my chisel. She gave me a new block of wood, and I’d started carving a flower. A lily.

  It felt good to eat, to carve, and to not think. To feel less alone but to not have to answer to anyone.

  The feeling didn’t last beyond a few hours.

  “Siofra sent me!”

  I craned my head behind me lazily to see Master Tailor half jogging, half walking from the village toward our shady retreat. The closer he got, the louder his panting grew. The owl mask blocked his features from me, but I could almost imagine the strain on his face. He doubled over as he reached us, resting his hands on his thighs.

  “What is it, Coll?” asked Alvilda. Her hand had tensed around the picnic basket, and she looked ready to jump up and run.

  Master Tailor waved impatiently in Alvilda’s direction. “Siofra sent me … ”

  Alvilda rolled her eyes. “Yes, we got that part.”

  Master Tailor took a few more gasps of air through the horribly confining small hole that opened over his mouth. I wondered briefly if death superseded a goddess’s commands or if a command gave a man the strength to overcome even death to see the order followed through.

  “Take it easy,” she said. “You can’t follow your goddess’s order if you’re dead.”

  Master Tailor nearly choked on his breaths mixed with laughter. For a moment, my muscles relaxed, but Master Tailor’s troubled laugh still made me nervous.

  “Mistress Tailor sent you?” I asked, rather impatiently.

  Master Tailor took a great swell of breath and stood erect. “There’s been an earthquake.”

  My stomach churned. Alvilda looked as panicked as I felt. With Ingrith gone, who would dare look at the castle?

  Master Tailor continued, oblivious of the discomfort of his audience. “We were sewing. The kids were helping out.” He nodded his owl head. “That Nissa’s going to be a fine tailor. I’m so happy Luuk found the goddess in her.”

  “Coll,” said Alvilda. “The earthquake.”

  Master Tailor pointed east. “We heard a tremendous noise in the direction of the woods. It was like the earth was groaning, and we could feel it moving beneath our feet. It caused Siofra to drop the shirt she was sewing and tumble clear off her chair.” Master Tailor paused, perhaps in pain at the idea of Mistress Tailor tumbling, even though he was under orders to continue speaking.

  I had more pressing concerns. “Who looked at the castle?

  Master Tailor didn’t respond to my question. “We went outside, and Siofra told me she saw a black carriage come out of the woods and stop in front of the woodcarver’s home. I wanted to go check on Jurij and Elfriede, but Siofra stopped me. She said I had to explain what happened to Noll first, and then tell Noll to go.” He directed his owl mask at me. “Go.”

  If Mistress Tailor hadn’t worded her commands exactly right, he was liable to scream at me to go like a crazy person without any further explanation. If Alvilda thought it odd that her brother would turn into an unthinking being to speak Mistress Tailor’s tale, she didn’t indicate it. I wondered if Mistress Tailor often used her husband as a sort of messenger.

  The black carriage. But it was too early in the day for it to come, waiting for its passenger.

  Waiting for me.

  But someone had caused the earth to shake. Elfriede wouldn’t have been so foolish, would she?

  Alvilda started gathering the basket and blanket. “Let’s go.” She shoved the items unceremoniously at Master Tailor, and he scrambled to catch them. “Drop these off at my home and then go comfort your wife. I’ll send word as soon as we know that Jurij, Elfriede, and Gideon are well.”

  Master Tailor stood silent for a moment, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He was finally free to do as he pleased, and he clearly seemed uncomfortable with the idea. Alvilda stepped up to fill the void that Mistress Tailor’s fulfilled command had left behind in the man. “You’ve done as Siofra asked,” said Alvilda, although she didn’t turn to look at her brother. She grabbed me by the wrist and started dragging me toward the village. “Get going.”

  I wasn’t entirely sure Alvilda didn’t have as much power over him as his goddess because Master Tailor got his second wind and parted from us, jogging toward Alvilda’s home.

  As we entered the middle of town, Alvilda let go of my wrist and put an arm around my shoulders, pushing me slightly forward so that I could keep up the
pace. The closer we got to the Tailors’ at the east end of the village, the more people were out of their homes and shops and murmuring to one another. Almost every one of them would glare at us as we passed, a few whispering to their neighbors. I suddenly felt protected under Alvilda’s tight grip on my shoulders.

  “If someone looked at the castle by my house, why would the ground shake this far out?” I asked Alvilda quietly.

  Alvilda shook her head. “I’m not sure. It seems that the farther east we get, the more people were affected.”

  She was right. The crowds grew larger as we moved on, and we had to fight our way through the center of the road, sometimes only able to shove our way through after a few curt exclamations of “Excuse us!” from Alvilda.

  At last we broke free from the village horde, nearing the Tailor Shop at the very end of the line of houses. There stood Mistress Tailor in the open doorway with Luuk, Nissa, and Bow.

  “Alvilda!” cried Mistress Tailor. Her voice had a frightening quality to it, one I wasn’t used to hearing from the taciturn woman. She broke free from her grip on Luuk’s hand and rushed forward, practically shoving me aside to embrace Alvilda.

  Alvilda jumped, and her arms hung to her side limply. Her eyes flickered from left to right and then focused over Mistress Tailor’s shoulders at the kids and Bow. She gave Mistress Tailor a quick pat on the back.

  “Coll told us,” she said. She gripped Mistress Tailor’s shoulders, and she pushed her away so she could look at her. “He’s on his way back.”

  Mistress Tailor’s eyes glistened wet with tears. Her face seemed almost girlish. She stepped back and cradled one arm tightly against her chest. No sooner had she done this than Master Tailor’s voice came booming from the crowd behind us. “Excuse me!”

  Alvilda grabbed me by the wrist. “Come on!”

  As we made our way up the first hill, Alvilda’s ashen face turned a more sullen shade of olive-gray. I tugged my wrist free and ran in front of her.

  My lungs, though ready to burst, inhaled the cool air imbued with an eerie fog that appeared as I came over the hill. The fog burned in my throat and likely kept the castle entirely from view. I was too afraid to check.

  When my home emerged through the fog over one last little hill, I nearly stumbled forward. Arrow gave a low-toned growl from the mist beside me. The poor pup was tied to a tree at the very edge of the woods a few yards away, his muzzle wrapped in what appeared to be fine black silken twine. But more arresting than poor Arrow’s plight was the black carriage blocking the doorway of my home.

  On top of the carriage in the driver’s seat sat one of the specters with his cloud-white hair tied neatly into a tail, a few curls framing his face, which at first glance appeared to be eerily alluring, but on closer inspection, was flawed and wrinkled. The men may have been much older than I had first guessed them to be. Still, his hair was not the gray, dirty white of the older men in the village. It was a pure, unblemished white hair that retained its youthful silkiness.

  The specter looked forward, his hands tightly grasping black silken reins. He didn’t so much as glance in my direction. The four pitch-black horses that stood erect in front of him were surprisingly silent. I hadn’t seen many horses, not outside of the livestock, but I knew that I ought to hear snorts or whinnies, see them shuffling their feet or shaking their manes—something to indicate that they were bored just standing around. These horses gave me the impression that they were above showing such crassness, or perhaps they viewed it as weakness. How have I never noticed before?

  Arrow let out a pitiful whine. For a moment, I thought of going to free him, but my heart was pounding, and I was eager to get inside.

  I walked past the coachman without a word. Circling the horses, I stepped back as another specter appeared before me. The red in his eyes overwhelmed me, but just for a moment. I moved to step around him. The specter anticipated the movement and stepped to block me. I moved back to push through on my original path. The specter blocked me again. Daring him to try again, I stared into his blood red eyes.

  “Let us through!”

  Alvilda sprinted up behind me. I hadn’t realized I’d put so much distance between us. Her face contorted in fury, and she breathed hard as she slipped in beside me. “What’s going on here?” she snapped, taking a quick look at the carriage, the horses, and the specters in turn.

  The specters said nothing. But I knew they wouldn’t.

  “They won’t answer you,” I said, as much to myself as to Alvilda. I didn’t tear my gaze from the red eyes of the specter in front of me, waiting to see if he would prove me wrong. He didn’t move. He didn’t blink.

  “This is the young lady’s home,” said Alvilda, slowly and with a hint of threat behind each word. “Let us in.”

  The lord’s servant didn’t move. Alvilda and I did the dance with him again, trying to move as one past him, but he blocked us. We gave each other a barely noticeable nod, split apart, and tried to pass by the specter via both sides at once. He moved to block me. Another specter appeared like a phantom from the mist at the side of the coach and blocked Alvilda.

  “This is ridiculous!” shouted Alvilda, throwing her hands up in the air. She stood on her toes and attempted to shout over the specters’ shoulders. “Jurij! Gideon! Elfriede!”

  A lump formed in my throat. Somehow I knew Alvilda’s impassioned screaming would prove useless. It was my words that were needed.

  “Elfriede! Father!” I called, my voice trembling. “Jurij!” I stomped my foot. “Oh, let me through!”

  The specters parted.

  Facing each other inward, they extended their arms nearest the door to my home to point the way. The mist cleared in the pathway and the door parted slightly.

  I stepped forward. The specters quickly took their places again behind me, blocking Alvilda’s path.

  “Let me through!” she snarled. She forewent all hope of decorum by launching herself at the specters, wrestling with them as best she could. Sadly, it looked about as effective as a kitten attacking a mountain. The specters barely moved in response to her attack, other than to continue to block her.

  “It’s all right,” I told her, more confident than I felt. “Wait here.”

  Alvilda stopped struggling and grunted. “Just scream if you need me.”

  I laughed quietly. I didn’t think she’d been able to reach me even if I was screaming as if my life depended upon it, but I didn’t tell her that.

  I stepped forward, willing strength into my legs to keep me steady. They still ached from the run, but there was more to my body’s apprehension than mere exhaustion. The walk from the path to my doorway took an eternity, but eventually I found myself standing before the front door, my shaky hand on the surface. I pushed forward.

  I didn’t know what I expected to see inside my home, but it wasn’t what I found. The fire roaring, the pot of stew still boiling. Elfriede stirring the pot, ready to serve the same stew for dinner that she had for lunch. I caught Jurij’s eye as I entered. The knuckles of his hands atop Elfriede’s shoulders were almost as white as the specters’ skin.

  Father sat at his usual place at the table, as if he hadn’t moved since I’d last seen him. His hands were gripped tightly together atop the surface. His gaze was locked in front of him. Elfriede, even over her stirring, stared at the same place. Only Jurij would glance in my direction, but his eyes kept flickering back to the table.

  A man sat there.

  As if “sat there” were words enough to describe the effect of his presence. Two more specters stood at either corner of the man’s chair, unblinking and unmoving.

  “Olivière,” spoke the lord. “I have been waiting for you.”

  He was as still as the specters around him at first. Eventually, he unfolded his hands and gave what appeared to be an attempt at a welcoming gesture, a diminutive open embrace meant to indicate that I sit in the chair across from him.

  “Well?” The lord’s hands tapped impatientl
y on the table.

  I raised an eyebrow and looked from one person in the room to the next. Only Jurij’s eyes would meet mine, albeit briefly. He seemed as puzzled as I.

  Only I wasn’t entirely puzzled. I hadn’t gone to him in months. So he had come to me—even if he claimed he couldn’t leave the castle. Well, that was obviously a lie.

  A loud clang. Father, Jurij, and I all turned to look at Elfriede. Tears ran down her cheeks as she swooped down to pick up the ladle she had dropped, spilling bits of the stew across the floor. Jurij bent down quickly to join her.

  The lord and the specters did not turn.

  “That will not be necessary,” said the lord. He raised one hand. “Please clean up that mess.”

  His voice was so arresting, I almost moved to help Elfriede clean the mess myself. But the words were not yet fully spoken before the two specters were bending down to mop up the mess with rags they pulled from within their jackets. Elfriede and Jurij stood up and backed away warily, clutching one another’s hands for support, the ladle back in Elfriede’s possession. One of the specters withdrew a miniscule broom and a small metal pan from his jacket and briskly brushed the floor once the stew chunks were missing. The other pulled out a black, silken sack and emptied his pan and the rags into the sack, almost soundlessly.

  The first specter restored the broom and pan to his jacket and pulled out a new rag. He grabbed the ladle from Elfriede, eliciting a small whimper from her, wiped it clean, and handed it back to her. Elfriede took it but required Jurij to wrap his free hand around hers to support the ladle in her grip.

  The specters glided back into place behind the lord. It had taken longer for me to understand what had happened than for the actual event to take place. The specters seemed unchanged from mere moments before; the only difference now was that one stood holding the silken bag slightly to his front as if it were a freshly caught rabbit. There were surprisingly no visible wrinkles to the bag’s smooth surface.

  “Olivière,” repeated the lord, a force not unlike a blast of blizzard air behind his words, “be seated. Please.”