The Lion of Ackbarr

by Erme Lander

  Mika wondered how her family was, whether her father had left home to resume his duties in Ackbarr and if he would visit her. Her mother would be in her garden, her brother and sisters playing. Alma would be missing her, when they weren’t staying at each other’s houses, they would write constantly. She could think of pages to write, most of it about her boredom and yet more about Rylan’s wants. That raised a smile as she paced the room, she imagined Alma’s wide eyes, the exclamations from her and the confidences they could share. She daren’t ask for pen and paper, admitting she could do sums better than Rylan was bad enough, but she also knew her handwriting was clearer.

  She wandered the small garden and watched the square outside. Life was passing her by. She longed to be stretching her legs, riding and laughing, mocking the other boys in her brother’s presence. Itchy all over with restlessness, Mika brooded over his brother’s disappearance, the swiftness of her wedding and her mother’s upset. Her normal personality had asserted itself since the shock of her marriage, she struggled to contain it and wondered why bother if she would be here forever.

  Rylan left to help his father on another trip. Mika suspected it was more listening than helping, but nodded her head as he’d proudly told her. He’d mentioned before leaving that she needed to start making the clothes for all the babies he intended her to have. She delightedly asked Ardi for the fabrics and threads, something she couldn’t be refused, seeing as it was a fitting occupation for her status. Her pleasure was short lived, she quickly remembered she hated sewing and it made her back ache. Reluctantly she started, anything to stop the boredom.

  Mika lived for her dreams at night. Stalking through the forest, alive. She thought through them during the day while sewing. Remembering her journey, adding the detail – colours and smells, until it felt more real than her waking life. There were times when she jumped as a servant walked into the room, having forgotten where she was.

  Delighted to have anything different happening, she greeted Rylan with enthusiasm when he came back. Even his clumsy claiming of her body couldn’t dampen it. His first question afterwards was whether she was pregnant or not. She shrugged. Could be, too early to tell. The thought of having something of her own had started to appeal to her.

  Walking past the Mekhi’s study that evening, she heard voices. She stopped in the hall, not intending to listen. It was Ardi, complaining about something, “… constantly trying to talk to the servants, distracting them. They’ll be thinking they’re as good as us shortly.”

  Mika heard him rumbling soothingly, “She’s a foreigner, give her a chance. They have different customs there. She’ll learn.”

  “One of them found her in your library, goodness knows what she was doing.” Mika could almost see Ardi waving her hands helplessly.

  “That’s easily sorted. I can lock the door and give you the key.”

  An anger began to rise, as she heard Ardi saying, “I can’t control her. She’s surly with me, I’ve tried my best...” The tone implied Ardi couldn’t do anything. She’d heard similar things when Ardi had her friends around. Her friends assuring Ardi that it was a dreadful thing to have a daughter in law that didn’t appreciate her.

  “Come here...” She heard the trader’s rumble deepen as the chair creaked under his weight and Ardi’s soft laugh.

  Mika crept away, not wanting to hear any more. She thought hard, had she been difficult? It was hard fitting in, it was a very different culture, but Ardi hadn’t tried to help either. She tried to look from Ardi’s perspective and failed, she wasn’t used to this, preferring to act rather than think.

  She pleaded for an allowance from Rylan. Taking her cue from Ardi, Mika had learnt to ask for favours quietly, with her eyes down and it pleased him to grant them. Hiding her distaste at having to ask in this way, she’d suggested it would be nice for her to choose the fabrics and skeins of thread for baby clothes. She showed him the clothes she’d made, pointing out they were too stiff for a baby’s soft skin. She’d twisted the idea, to include sewing for herself. Rylan agreed, he liked the idea of her sitting quietly doing domestic tasks.

  Delighted at the chance to get out of the house, she picked a servant and agreed to take a guard with her. Ardi watched, stone faced, as she left and Mika struggled to stop herself grinning. The cold winter rain lashed down, she wore her Cassai boots and held her skirts scandalously high to avoid them getting soaked. Even not being allowed to haggle with the stall holders failed to dampen her delight. The servant would do that for her, as a lady she was expected to point and allow him to do the hard work. The noise, being amongst other people, the smells and shoving intoxicated her.

  She bought a tiny amount of fabric, pretending to be overwhelmed by the choice. In reality, it gave her another excuse to get out of the house. Mika talked to the servants accompanying her, treating them with the little money she had. They opened up warily as she curried their favours. Carefully, while looking for the fabrics she needed, she explored the city, gazing at the big buildings, the temples and the curtain walls surrounding the city. Everything was so different from her home country. She could see why they thought Cassai was backwards. Cassai was based on small towns, the buildings tucked into the forest with large trees shading the streets. The Cassai population wasn’t big enough to support a city this size. They didn’t have statues of people, most were of animals or stylised renderings of the trees and plants.

  Everywhere was the talk of Ackbarr, how Cassai was defying it over the exporting of the timber needed for warships. Mika felt a surge of pride, their trees were the best, tall straight hardwood that would last. Their craftspeople were the best at making the long lean ships that cut through the waters. In theory Cassai was a duchy of Ackbarr, but one allowed to rule itself, another thorn in the side for the people of Fenin. But Cassai had never been truly conquered, it still had its royal family, its own way of governing. She caught people’s startled glances when they noticed her features and accent. The talk around her going quiet for a moment, then hurriedly starting again.

  She asked the servants about the buildings and statues that they could rarely answer. It frustrated her when they shrugged away their indifference to the sights around them. She couldn’t ask her husband, they’d moved beyond the market at that point. The servants didn’t care where she went and would stay quiet. While they followed her, they didn’t have to work.

  Rylan went on another trip with his father, leaving her with Ardi. The explorations and the money were stopped, despite her protests. The servants looked apologetic when she tried to go out, barring her way. Ardi smirked and flounced off to see her friends.

  Chapter 5

  Mika heard a clatter in the courtyard and ran to the window. It had been another month. Rylan was in the bath, Mekhi downstairs. They weren’t due to leave for a few days, so it couldn’t be the mule train. Stocky horses milled down below, built for endurance rather than speed. Her breath caught, a flash of pale hair as someone pulled down a hood. Cassai. Her father, the passes must finally open from the winter snow.

  She almost flew down the stairs to meet him and then caught herself. She wanted to run into his arms, feel his familiar embrace, height and smell. Wail into his shoulder that she was unhappy and missed everyone. She felt her stomach tighten. She couldn’t. She was married. They would be watching her. She stopped, tears prickling behind shut eyes, she felt sick. Mika wondered if her mother had ever felt like this, unable to do as she wanted. A noise from the bathroom, Rylan had heard the commotion and wandered out naked. She averted her eyes, still not used to his lack of inhibition.

  “Who is it?”

  “My father.” Her voice was curiously flat. He nodded and got dressed, walked down with her.

  She gave her father a subdued greeting, inhibited by everyone watching. All through the midday meal Mika was tense. Her father made polite conversation with both Mekhi and Rylan, charming Ardi into giggles. Mika felt sick watching her and tried to hide it as she saw her father notic
e.

  After the meal her father begged their forgiveness and asked for a few minutes with her alone. They were left in the dining room, her father requested the servants leave them and shut the door. He was at ease with ordering them around she noticed.

  “You will be staying tonight?” Her formality belied her need to have him stay.

  He shook his head, “I can not. I need to be in Ackbarr and I made a detour to get here.” He shrugged, “Business. Are you happy?” He’d caught her out, she couldn’t reply, simply looked away. He leaned against a table, “It’s not easy, trying to assimilate into a different culture.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at the shut door, “It’s killing me Papa.” She’d not used that word in years, it all burst out in a strained whisper. “I can’t do anything here.”

  He held out his arms and she finally flung herself into them sobbing. He let her cry for a while and then peeled her off, wiping her tears away. “It would have been difficult in any marriage for you, even if you had married within our country. You’ve had far greater freedoms than most girls even dream of.”

  “Do you keep Mother captive?”

  Her father looked startled, “Can you imagine me doing that?” Mika blinked and thought, for all her soft words, her mother ruled the house. The amount of time her father was away, she had to. He continued firmly, “Your mother chooses to stay where she is, no more. I would not keep her against her will. We had arranged for your brother to marry in Fenin as well, you would not have been so alone...” He trailed off and stared at the wall. His face was set in the neutral mask which meant he was concealing strong feelings.

  He touched her face. “Prove to me that you are my daughter. You must learn how to deal with the differences, accept what you can’t change and work to change the things you can.”

  She nodded, her vague dream of sneaking away with him shredded.

  “I have a few things in my saddlebags for you, including letters.”

  Mika brightened, a letter from her mother? A knock on the door interrupted them, a quiet voice saying they had to leave. She wiped her eyes and tucked her arm into his as they walked out to the courtyard. Mekhi spoke a few words, while Ardi steamed in the background. Her father winked at Mika as he kissed her cheek, handing her a large parcel. She clutched it.

  “I will drop in again on my way back.” This was addressed to Mekhi, who nodded looking important, as though it were he who her father wanted to see.

  Mika pulled herself together to wave him out the archway, ignoring Ardi’s hissed whispers to Mekhi. She pleaded to go upstairs to their rooms to open her parcel in privacy.

  Upstairs, she jealously took her time, opening the parcel slowly. A scarf, embroidered clumsily by her little sisters was wrapped around everything, a small wood carving from her little brother, several letters and a couple of books. She opened the larger of the two carefully, it was one of her favourites. The folk tales of her country, the stylized prints of animals and plants every few pages as important as the text in telling the story.

  She ran her fingers down the pages lovingly as the door opened and Rylan came in.

  “What’s that?”

  “My father gave me a copy of my favourite book. Look, it’s beautiful.”

  Rylan frowned, “You should not have that.”

  “Why not? It’s in Cassai, I could read the tales to you. You might enjoy them.”

  “You can read?”

  “Yes, both in your language and mine.”

  He looked uncertain, “I should not let you have it. People will talk if they see you with it.”

  Inspiration hit her, “We could say it’s yours. A present from my father. That you are reading it to find out more about our culture. It might help if you are dealing with my people in the future, you never know what information might help.”

  His face tightened and he said stiffly, “I can’t read your language.”

  “I could teach you.” She wheedled, desperate not to have him take the book away, “I’ve learnt so much from you over the last months. These are only folk tales, but a Cassai trader would give you more respect if you knew what he meant when he talked about the mouse in the grain house for instance. It would impress your father too.”

  Greed won him over, he nodded and Mika tried not to show her relief. She wondered if this was how her father felt, negotiating as an ambassador of a small country. Ackbarr could choose to invade her country at any point. She’d realised over the last few months of listening that it was simply not worth it at the moment. She’d been sheltered, despite her father’s status, or perhaps because of it. He wouldn’t have wanted her to know that he might be in danger.

  Mika set the book on their table that evening, she copied out the letters for Rylan and showed him how to sound out the phonetic Cassai language. They spent the evening pouring over the book with Rylan learning and Mika trying to control her impatience with his slowness. They laughed over the story of the lascivious little bat and the lamp in the moon. The bat trying to see into the lady’s dressing room, flitting and twirling while she changed her dresses. The lady teasing the bat, sometimes leaving her light on and sometimes pulling the drapes to shut the moon out.

  They began to spend every evening together, after he’d done his work for his father. Rylan still wouldn’t let her see the sums he struggled with, but he started to talk about his day and she asked him questions, making her suggestions as innocently as possible. She had to stop herself from dancing with delight when he mentioned doing something that she’d suggested and how it had worked. She began to feel more content, her dreams of the forest now a habit rather than a necessity and she would curl up to listen to Rylan instead of pacing impatiently.

  Mika showed him how to read the pictures he’d scoffed at, how they tied in with the story. She deliberately stumbled over the words, making him feel better about his slow progress and lied, telling him that she knew the stories by rote, that reading them was far harder.

  Realisation hit him one evening, as she smothered a tired yawn. “I’ve seen this picture before, on a building.”

  “We have them carved into walls of our buildings, children learn from them. Adults are reminded of the stories.”

  “So, every picture is a story?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought they were just pictures.” His own face was a picture as he realised what he’d been missing.

  She tried not to smile, she remembered her father saying how foreigners missed so much about their culture. “Any Cassai will be delighted to tell you the story if you ask. Especially if you can figure some of it out for yourself. Have you seen the carving on the temple walls?”

  He nodded, “All the birds in the trees.”

  “It talks about the devotion the birds show to the sun every day when it rises. Look, here’s the story, see the same picture?”

  They talked on, Mika trying to show him how a Cassai thought. Rylan was faster than she thought he would be at times. He did look at the world around him, but dismissed much of it, absorbed in his own superiority. He was very like her brother in that respect.

  The conversation had changed to Cassai later that week when Mekhi had several fellow merchants at their house. Ardi and Mika had been invited to entertain the wives. One of the merchants had become drunk and made a rude comment. To Mika’s surprise, Rylan spoke up, defending her country. Mekhi blinked at his son’s views and Rylan having caught the look, stumbled in his explanation.

  Mika dared to comment, “My father gave Rylan a book on our culture.” Mekhi’s gaze swung to her in surprise at her speaking up. “My father said you can never learn too much about a different country. Rylan’s taught me so much.” It felt to her that she was laying it on too thick. Mekhi merely nodded his agreement, muttered something to his colleague about his foreign daughter in law and changed the subject. Rylan gazed at her with more respect. Ardi scowled at her plate as Mika smiled back at Rylan.

  The letters she took her time re
ading and re-reading, carefully smoothing them down each time. One from her mother, one from Alma, a few words from her siblings. She stole a single sheet of paper from Rylan’s workbook, tried to figure out what she could and couldn’t write down. Things were better between her and Rylan. She was in a quandary over her writing, she wasn’t supposed to be able to write well. She decided to write anyway and give the letter to her father when she saw him next. In keeping with his advice, she decided to write only positive comments, then promptly ran out of ideas after describing her journey.

  Her mother had included several sachets of her favourite vineflower, dried and then stitched into little pockets. Her mother would often slip one under both Kaylan and her pillow for sweet dreams. There was always some drying in the house, holding onto its scent for months at a time. Mika tucked them into her clothes. Rylan flinched when Mika showed it to him and she laughed, pressing them to her own nose and inhaling the odd peppery citrus smell with delight.

  Mika was curled up in a chair one evening, vaguely wishing her period would hurry up. She was fed up, feeling tired and grumpy. Her stomach had been blown up for the last few weeks, feeling tight and uncomfortable. Rylan had made a comment about the amount of food she’d pinched off his evening snack plate when the look on her face stopped him.

  “What is it?”

  Mika had started counting and bit back a word Kaylan had taught her and she knew Rylan wouldn’t approve of. “My period’s late.”

  He started to recoil, something he didn’t want to know, then realised that maybe he did. “You mean...” A smile started to spread over his face.

  “Maybe, it’s too early to tell.”