Clara

by Suzanna J. Linton

  They entered a large hall in which milled exquisitely dressed people. Conversations echoed against the marble walls and pillars, creating a cacophony of sound. As they weaved through the crowd, it seemed as if Jarrett hurried her. Behind them, Katerina protested but he didn't seem to hear as he pulled Clara along.

  Finally, they came out of the other side and Jarrett, glancing over his shoulder, said, “We seemed to have lost Kat. Before she finds us, I must ask, my lady, have you had any of the wine here?”

  It was a strange question and she shook her head.

  “I would firmly suggest you avoid the wine. It would not be to her ladyship's liking.”

  Frowning, her hand reached for her slate to ask what did he mean by that, when Kat emerged from the crowd.

  “There you are,” he said, smiling as if nothing odd had happened. “I was afraid we had lost you.”

  “As had I,” she huffed.

  “His Majesty's private dining room is just through here, my lady.” And he led them on.

  Jarrett left her with a bow in front of the closed door leading into the room.

  “Pardon my forwardness, I would be wary of him, my lady,” said Kat. “He is well-known as an incorrigible flirt.”

  Clara didn't think Jarrett had been particularly flirtatious but only nodded to show she had heard the maid. One of the guards flanking the room opened the door and stepped inside. Clara faintly heard him announcing her.

  The guard stepped back out and held the door open for them. When Kat failed to follow Clara, she looked back with a crooked brow.

  “His Majesty,” said Kat, “wished to have this time alone with you, my lady.”

  Apprehension clenched her gut, but before she could reach out to drag the maid into the room, the guard closed the door. Realizing there was nothing for it, she turned to face her fate.

  The small room was large and sunny, with bright rays pouring in through tall windows. Through the windows was a vine-covered terrace, small white blossoms waving in the wind, and beyond the terrace sloped a clipped lawn. Bertrand gleamed in the distance.

  The room itself was painted in rose and creams and matching rugs were scattered on the floor. King Marduk stood by a small cherry wood table by one of the windows.

  “Lady Clara,” he said, “I'm so glad you could join me.”

  His bright smile and easy manner gave her a vague sense of vertigo, as if she had stepped through a mirage.

  She crossed the room and sat in the chair he held for her. When he sat across from her, a servant stepped forward and lifted away the silver covers over their plates. Another servant stepped forward with a decanter of wine and, after filling Marduk's glass, went to fill hers.

  Suddenly remembering Jarrett's warning, she put her hand over the top of the glass.

  “Does her ladyship not like wine?” Marduk asked.

  She shook her head and pointed at the beaker of water on the table. Marduk nodded at the servant, who set down the decanter and filled Clara's glass with the water.

  “I hope you enjoy the food. I wasn't sure what you liked,” he said, cutting a piece of meat and sticking it in his mouth.

  They ate in silence. Clara looked out the window, watching the odd carriage clatter by. The room appeared to be situated near the main drive leading up to the Palace. The Palace itself was on the tallest hill in Bertrand. She wondered if the city extended around them on all sides.

  When they finished and the dishes cleared away, a servant set dishes of pudding in front of them. Clara glanced at the servant and jerked in shock, thinking it was Asher. But a heartbeat later, she realized he only had the same curly blonde hair.

  “Everything all right?” asked Marduk.

  She nodded, smiling sheepishly, and began to eat the dessert.

  “Have you enjoyed your morning thus far?” he asked.

  She nodded again.

  “Has Captain Jarrett contacted you yet?”

  Another nod.

  “He is a good man and you can feel free to trust him completely. And Katerina? Has she served you well?”

  Clara nodded, sipping the water, feeling no need to talk about her near faint in the hall.

  “That's lovely.” Marduk patted his lips with a cloth. “I suppose we should transition to more important, serious matters then. The first matter, and I am sorry to ask this, involves General Emmerich.”

  What good mood Clara had been in faded away. She felt her face go solemn as she looked at the king.

  “First, I must ask, was he in good health when you were taken away?”

  She nodded.

  “I only ask because my sources within Candor have said he's made no public appearances since the fall of the city. All of the day-to-day duties and taking control of the city has been handled by his first Captain, Asher.” Marduk watched her carefully as he continued. “Captain Asher who, I believe, was appointed to be his successor?”

  Clara shrugged. Emmerich had made no mention to her of appointing a successor.

  “Hmm. Still, I think it might be safe to assume Emmerich is either ill or dead?”

  Looking down, she made no move to reply.

  “I understand if Emmerich became a friend of yours during your, ah, tenure with his army. If he is dead, you have my most sincere condolences.”

  She nodded. On impulse, she wrote, “What's to become of Gavin?”

  He sighed. “Gavin is a traitor, even if he was misled. I'm afraid I cannot change the law in this regard. There is only one punishment for treason: death.”

  Her mouth dropped open as tears filled her eyes. Vehemently, she shook her head.

  “I'm sorry, Lady Clara. I have no choice.”

  The chalk scrapped loudly on the slate as she wrote. “Can't you keep him imprisoned for life? Or exiled? Please? For me?”

  He sighed, his fingers idly playing with a fork. “I can bring it before the Council, but I can make no promises.”

  Seeing that there was nothing more she could say, Clara cleaned her slate even as she fought back tears.

  He fell silent for a time as he finished his dessert. She had lost her appetite. A servant cleared away the bowls and refilled their glasses. Once they were alone again, Marduk leaned forward, clasping his hands on the table in front of him.

  “My lady, I want you to know that I will not force you to do anything you do not wish to do. But, now that you know the truth, I ask that you consider being of service to the country of Lorst and help me to stop Emmerich.”

  Slowly, Clara wrote, “Did you ever catch the assassin that murdered King Tristan?”

  “No. I'm afraid we never did find the man. Nor were we able to locate the conspirator behind it. Whoever it was—and, yes, I believe it was Emmerich—he was very skillful in keeping himself hidden.”

  Clara slowly wiped her slate clean again, trying to ignore the bitter taste in her mouth.

  “My lady, you need not make a decision right away. You've been through a lot in these last few days alone. Rest. Explore the Palace and Bertrand. When you have made your decision, let me know.”

  She wrote, “Katerina told me about a ball in my honor?”

  “Ah, that. Well, if you choose to leave, it will be your going away ball. If you choose to stay, it will be your formal introduction into the Court. If you have yet to make a decision, it will be simply a ball.” He laughed. “Courtiers don't care for the reason to make merry as long as they have the opportunity.”

  Clara smiled weakly as she let that sink in, gazing out through the window once more. Finally, she wrote, “I will try to give you an answer soon.”

  “That, my lady, is all I ask.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The afternoon stretched before Clara after leaving the King's dining room and she didn't know what to do at first.

  “Why not a drive through Bertrand?” suggested Katerina as they strolled away. “We can visit one of the basilicas, if you like, or a bazaar.”

  She considered that for a moment and
then nodded. She obviously wasn't a prisoner, so why not enjoy herself?

  “I shall inform Captain Jarrett immediately. If her ladyship will wait here.” Katerina walked away, leaving Clara in the hall full of the glittering, beautiful people.

  Suddenly feeling shy, she stood by a pillar and tried to blend in. Listening to the surrounding conversation, she didn't hear anything about the Rebel Army, or Emmerich, or anything of greater importance than the latest fashion or next garden party. Clara felt confused. Didn't courtiers help run the kingdom?

  It seemed to take a long time for Katerina to return. “If her ladyship will follow me,” she said.

  Katerina led her down the hall and out onto the front steps. A black coach with the royal arms emblazoned on the door awaited them. Mounted guards in scarlet garb, with the double-headed eagle on their chests, awaited them as well. Two stood before the carriage and two were behind.

  Clara bit her bottom lip. Was this really necessary?

  Katerina saw her hesitation and said, “The King doesn't wish for any harm to come to you. And Captain Jarrett has taken his job very seriously ever since...” She cleared her throat, looking away. “Ever since he succeeded his predecessor.”

  They descended the steps and a footman opened the carriage door, setting out a footstool. Clara climbed in first, surprised to see Captain Jarrett already there.

  “If the ladies don't mind, I think I will accompany Lady Clara on her first outing,” he said.

  Katerina hesitated in the doorway. She looked from Jarrett to Clara. “Does her ladyship object?”

  It seemed like nothing and she shook her head. She rather liked Jarrett, despite his cryptic warning. Katerina climbed in and sat next to Clara. The door closed and, after a moment, jerked into motion.

  No one spoke as they went down the winding drive. They passed through the Palace gate and down into a residential section.

  “This is the High Circle,” said Jarrett. “The most noble of the families have their homes here. Cousins of the Royal Blood also stayed here but, unfortunately, they all mysteriously died. An illness peculiar to them, I believe, wasn't it, Katerina?”

  “It was,” she said coldly, giving him a hard look.

  He chuckled. “Kat here thinks I'm uncouth for bringing that up.”

  “It certainly isn't fit for polite society.”

  “If her ladyship isn't offended, why should you be? Are you offended, Lady Clara?”

  Clara smiled and shook her head. Jarrett's manner reminded her of Gavin's. She liked hearing him speak.

  “See? Lady Clara, if I should offend you, feel free to brain me with that slate.” He laughed at his joke and turned back to the window, pointing out some of the houses and talking about their inhabitants.

  Soon, they left the High Circle and passed two more residential sections before entering the commercial section of the city.

  “Would her lady like to take in one of the markets?” asked Jarrett.

  She nodded excitedly, having forgotten for a moment that she should be worrying over Emmerich and the fate of Gavin.

  Leaning out the window, Jarrett yelled at the driver to stop at the next market. It was a cloth and jewel market. Many soldiers milled about, keeping an eye on the more expensive wares. Jarrett got out first and helped Clara and Katerina out. He took Clara's arm and led her through the crowd, Kat following close behind.

  They went from vendor to vendor, looking at the beautiful cloths and jewelry. Clara paused to examine a bolt dyed a deep purple.

  “Does her ladyship like it?” asked Jarrett.

  She nodded and mimed sewing.

  “You can sew? Would you like to use that to make a dress?”

  She nodded but patted her waist, where a money pouch would have hung.

  “No worry, my lady.” Going to the vendor, he began to haggle for the cloth. Clara tried to stop him by pulling on his arm but he only patted her hand.

  “Her ladyship is right to protest, Captain,” Katerina interrupted. “It's not proper for you to buy her such an expensive gift.”

  “Kat. You worry too much over what's proper.” He winked at Clara and turned back to his negotiations.

  “I do wish you would stop calling me that.”

  Clara grinned as she turned from them, looking across the courtyard. Something green caught her eye and she froze, staring. A young boy in tattered clothing stood at the mouth of an alleyway. He stared back at her. From beneath his tunic swung a large green tail.

  Their eyes met for a long moment before he turned, disappearing into the darkness, the tail whipping behind him. Clara tugged on Jarrett's sleeve again and pointed frantically.

  “What's the matter, my lady?” he asked as he handed the merchant some coins.

  Taking out her slate, she wrote, “I thought I saw a boy with a tail.”

  When he read that, he covered the slate with his hands before Kat (who was distracted by a nearby necklace) could see. In a low voice, he said, “I would keep such remarks to yourself. Quick, my lady, erase that. And do not speak of it again. Not even to His Majesty.”

  His cold, serious look frightened her and her hands shook as she scrubbed the slate clean. When Kat turned back to them, she frowned.

  “Are you all right, my lady?” she asked. “Do we need to return to the Palace?”

  Clara nodded again, wanting to get away from the strangeness that surrounded her.

  The bolt of cloth was delivered to her rooms but Clara didn't have the heart to work on it. Instead, she directed it to be taken to a room she would turn into her workroom. It had lots of natural light and several tables. When she found it after returning from the market, it made her feel at home while also frightened her that Marduk could guess her hobbies.

  The rest of the day was spent with her wandering through the wing, looking at the rooms. Katerina's presence became so annoying, that she ordered the maid to leave her be until she needed her. It was something Lady Maria would have done, but Clara needed solitude. Finding a barren room that hadn't found a purpose yet, she stayed in there, staring out the window, until she heard Kat searching for her. It was time for the evening meal and the King again requested her presence.

  Feeling bold and moody, she sent word that she was ill and could not attend him. After poking at the meal brought to her, she washed and went to bed, only to toss and turn for several candle marks. The image of the strange boy with the tail, as well as Jarrett's words, would not leave her.

  Giving up on any hope of sleep, she climbed out of bed and dressed in one of the lighter dresses, foregoing the corset entirely. Rudely plaiting her hair, she shoved her feet into the first pair of slippers she came across and opened her chamber door. The hall was quiet and dark. To her left stood the doors of the wing itself, on the other side of which stood the guards.

  But perhaps it wouldn't be unusual if she went for a late night walk? She couldn't very well climb out of a window, so going through the entrance seemed her only option.

  The guards turned to her in confusion when she pushed open the door.

  “Is all well, my lady?” one of them asked.

  She nodded and pointed down the hall. With two fingers, she mimed walking.

  “One of us should go with you, my lady. Captain Jarrett wouldn't–”

  “The Captain,” interrupted another, “instructed us to let her go whenever she pleased, even without escort. In case she had a vision.” The guard looked at her squarely. “Have you had a vision, my lady?”

  Catching on, she nodded.

  “All right,” said the first reluctantly. “His Majesty will no doubt be in his observatory.” He gave her directions to it. Clara nodded her thanks and scurried away.

  The candle mark was very late and she came across no one in halls or stairs as she traveled to the ground floor, save for the odd soldier. No one tried to stop her.

  Going out onto the grounds in the front, she tried to decide her next move. Seeing a footpath that went around the Palace, she
followed it, looking around with interest. The only sounds were her footsteps, crickets, and the occasional owl. After what seemed an age, she rounded a corner and stopped short.

  A dark shadow slipped through a cellar door in the side of the Palace. It seemed an odd place for a cellar door and, after the shadow disappeared, she approached it. The door sat ajar slightly. She pushed it open to reveal a downward slanting hallway lined with smokeless lanterns.

  As she descended, the door swinging closed behind her, a feeling of foreboding grew within her. Her skin crawled and it was everything to keep her from bolting. She forced herself to focus on her gait.

  At last, she came to another door. Two guards stood there. Horror filled her as she saw they had catlike eyes. They regarded her for a moment.

  One of the said in a sibilant voice, “The King bid us to let you pass when you came, my lady.” She glimpsed fangs as he spoke. “Please let us know if we can be of any assistance.” He opened the door for her and they bowed her through, the door creaking closed behind her.

  She stepped into a large room lit by a giant witch light burning overhead. The room was full of cages and tanks. Creatures shuffled and moved in them. Something large snorted in the one to her right and she jumped, turning.

  A giant boar stared at her. Shaggy fur edged its throat and spikes crawled up its spine. Hard plates like scales covered its sides. Giant tusks protruded from under the snout. But what sent a shiver through her were the eyes. The eyes gazed at her with all the intelligence and sorrow of a person. The eyes looked right through her.

  Turning, she found a second boar to her left. To get away from their uncanny gazes, she moved on.

  Each cage contained another animal. Some looked like great cats while others resembled dogs. A few were equine in appearance. But they were all two or three or even four times the size of their natural counterparts. All of them had spikes and shaggy fur. All of them looked upon her with the same soulful eyes.

  She came to some large tanks and she gazed into them. Seaweed grew from a dirt bottom and normal fish swam by. It seemed serene enough. But something moved in the murky depths. Slowly, Clara stepped closer, placing her hands on the glass.