Solstice 31: The Solstice 31 Saga, Books 1,2,3

by Martin Wilsey

  “But the food. It's the same as...it's what you eat.” Her chin began to tremble again.

  “I like the food,” Barcus said, as he shifted to common tongue. “Do you like the work?” The question caught her off guard.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you do a good job?” Barcus asked.

  “Yes, but...”

  “We expect your best work. Can we have it? That's part of the deal, too. Not the work of a slave.” His eyes fell to her chest where he knew she held the brand. “We can't afford that.”

  “And only half of your waking hours.” Po said this. “The other half belongs to you.”

  “And every fourth day is yours,” Smith added.

  “Have you taken a day yet?”

  “I have never had one before. I don't know what I would do.”

  “Start by sleeping as late as you want,” Po began. “Then eat, all you want.”

  “I like to walk, to look at something beautiful,” Smith said.

  “The top of the tower with a cup of tea is very nice,” Po added.

  “I like to clean my rooms. I do a little more to make it my home,” Smith added.

  “Spend time with friends or family,” Po continued.

  “Make something beautiful.” Grady added this.

  “Have some wine. Sing. I hear you have a beautiful voice,” Ulric said. “Olias has set up a tavern in the tower. The portcullis machine room.

  “Wine is the only thing to spend our money on around here anyway!”

  “When did this happen?” Barcus asked, amused.

  “The day the repair crew finished fixing the portcullis. At the end of the day, Olias showed up with a keg of ale, and we sat about laughing. Rose brought up a tray of food, and the next thing we knew, we were laughing and crying and singing.

  “The next night it spontaneously happened again.

  “Before we knew it, Olias had the tavern set up. Right there in the machine room, warning us that we'd be buying him drinks for a month to pay him back. You see, it was there he told us we were to all be paid the next day.

  “Rose and May have taken it on as the place to go for cold meals after hours. It frees up the night kitchen crew from distractions.

  “And they keep people from drinking too much!”

  “Except Keeper Ulric!” They all laughed for a moment and fell into comfortable silence.

  “So, Lea. You will take your pay and spend it on whatever you like. Or save it.” It wasn't an order, or a demand. It was a simple statement.

  The pouch disappeared back into her skirts.

  ***

  While everyone was told it was eight hours on, eight hours off and eight hours rest, they worked constantly during daylight. If not on their assigned job, they worked on improving their homes, the formal gardens or other things they enjoyed. The Portcullis Tavern had lots of volunteers to assist with construction. Rose fell into running it full-time, and May stayed on as well. Rose also made The Abbey's work schedule for everyone. She enforced it as well. Everyone was made to take a “fourth day,” even Barcus and Po.

  ***

  They took their first day off together. They met Par on the quarry road just after dawn. They brought a basket of food.

  “So, where are we really going?” Po asked.

  “I promised I'd tell you everything. It's easier to show you.” They were sitting down in Par’s first row.

  “Par, full open canopy,” Barcus said.

  The enclosure seemed to disappear. Par was moving in glide mode, smooth as could be, through a sky that was bright with high clouds.

  “We are going to a place I call Foxden. You will also get to meet another friend. His name is Stu,” Barcus said as she marveled at the view.

  “Is this friend like Em?” she asked

  “Yes and no. Let's say they are related. Stu has been making a few things for me,” Barcus said.

  “Stu?” Po asked.

  “Yes. His name is Stu.”

  “What was he making?” Po asked.

  “Hinges and tool handles, for starters. We have thirty-six ax heads with no handles. Axes seem to be our most useful tool, and real weapons.”

  “Why do we need weapons?” Po asked.

  “To be free. If we cannot defend ourselves, we are just pretending not to be slaves.”

  “Tell Olias. I think he has been salvaging weapons. Crossbows, swords, arrows, bows. He has burned bodies, not weapons,” Po said.

  “Em, you must know,” Barcus said

  “Yes. He has nearly 400 cached away. About 300 are in The Abbey already. Only a few of the people know how to use them,” Em said out loud.

  “Add a stocked armory to Olias's task list, and an archery range, maybe between the western wall and the orchards,” Barcus added.

  “You know it's forbidden,” Po said.

  “I now believe that living above the gorge is forbidden,” Barcus said. “Did you know that the Salterferry Bridge has been burned?”

  Po gasped. “What?”

  “That bridge was the only easy way to the south.”

  “Or to the north, FROM the south?” Barcus said, with a raised eyebrow.

  “Won't the High Keeper wonder what became of all his mercenaries?” she asked.

  “He won't care about them. He will only care about the Keepers he lost. Maybe not even then,” came his caustic reply.

  ***

  They arrived at Foxden well before noon.

  It had been months since Barcus had been there, and the spring did not seem as warm here as in The Abbey. The lake was still iced over, though it was much thinner at the center. If he had not known the shelter was there, they would never have seen it.

  The wind was constant from the west this morning. There was no snow on the rocky beach in front of the outcropping of stone that concealed Foxden.

  They unloaded their supplies and luggage, and Par quickly moved away. It was almost like she was uncomfortable in the barren open.

  Barcus opened the door and immediately lit the fire that was already laid in the large hearth. It was dry and smelled a bit dusty to Po as she entered.

  The contrast between the hard rustic nature of the shelter and the beauty of the fine rugs and furnishings was so well balanced, it stopped her short.

  Barcus looked up at her and smiled.

  “I expected...a Tracker’s hole,” Po said. “A bed out of the rain.”

  “It is that.” Barcus stood and went out to retrieve the cask of water and other supplies.

  When he returned and closed the door, Po was still standing in the same place. Slowly, she turned back to him and unclasped her cloak as he opened the shutters on the large windows to either side of the door. The room was warming.

  “I thought I'd have to clean.” Po was looking at him, not the large room.

  “This is your fourth day, Po.”

  “I thought we were to meet Stu.”

  “He will be along later, after dark.”

  Barcus walked up to her and instead of touching her, he reached into her ever present pouch and drew out her Plate.

  He walked to the fireplace and set it on the mantle, propped up behind a beautiful, silver candlestick holder.

  “Music, romantic,” was all he said, and it began to play. It was a soft, slow classical guitar piece, with Spanish undertones.

  “That's beautiful,” Po said.

  Barcus added another log and stirred it to life.

  “It's for you.”

  He returned to her and took the cloak from her shoulders. He hung both hers and his on the pegs by the door. And then he did something that surprised her. He took off his boots, socks and his belt.

  In bare feet, he filled the kettle at the sink and hung it from the hook on the swinging iron arm in the fireplace. He walked around the trunk that functioned as a low table in front of the oversized sofa and sat. He leaned back, slouching as he put his feet up on the trunk to soak heat up from the fire, wiggling his toes.

  �
��What are you doing?” she asked, still not moving from that spot.

  “Making tea. You?”

  She turned slowly towards the large windows. The stark desolation of the frozen lake had its own kind of simple beauty. An elk was standing in the bright sun, using its hoof to break the thin ice to drink. Its rack was huge and scraped. A few places were broken off, giving it even more beauty in a savage way.

  The music and the scene quieted her mind to every other thought as she watched and listened. When she spoke it was a whisper.

  “What is this?” she said.

  She had not noticed him walk up behind her until his hands came to gently rest on her shoulders. The thick carpet had hidden his footfall.

  “This is rest,” Barcus said.

  “What kind of magic is this?” She turned and looked up into his face.

  “The only kind that matters, really. Powerful for what it doesn't contain,” Barcus said.

  “I've never had a fourth day my whole life.”

  He reached between them and took up the end of her braid, untying the leather that held it. He slowly began to unbraid it as he spoke.

  “Pay close attention. If you do, you can return to this feeling, any time. And if you spend enough of your fourth days like this, wherever you are, the feeling will hold the rest of the days.”

  “I thought fourth days were to, be simply, sleeping off hangovers.” She smiled.

  “Did you bring a hair brush?” He was almost through unbraiding her hair. She nodded.

  “Get it.” He readied a beautiful, delicate teapot and unmatched mugs, selected for their size, on a wooden tray. She dug out her hairbrush. It was the silver one that Olias had salvaged.

  He set the tray down on the trunk and gestured for her to sit on the carpet in front of him.

  He gently, leisurely, brushed her hair as they made tea and listened to music. They had a cold lunch of hard spicy sausage, bread with butter, cheese and apples.

  “So this is how Keepers eat?” Po asked as she dipped a slice of apple into the honey pot. They were both sitting on the carpeted floor now.

  “Keepers should be so lucky.” She smiled at his words, but the smile faded.

  “So many things are forbidden. In the south it is much worse, where the world is 'civilized.' Did you know Rose was raised there, in Exeter? She says that everyone has the hammer over their head there. Everyone lives under threat of the anvil. No one is innocent.”

  “It's because you cannot rule the innocent.” Barcus said.

  “But you do.” Po added. His eyebrow rose at this.

  “I rule no one. I'm just a gatesman in a ruined Abbey, full of refugees.”

  “You do lie to yourself, Barcus. I have learned since I met you that when one is free, that is the first freedom we embrace.”

  She continued. “But I see you. I am beginning to understand the way you see others.”

  “What I see is not the gatesman of the hermitage. I see Barcus, man of Earth.” She paused. “The Keepers are justified in their fear of the men from Earth if they are all like you. You are the nightmare under their beds. You have all their magic and more, far more. And they have no idea you are here.

  “I'm glad the Salterferry Bridge is burned. I don't want them to wake the Man from Earth. I have seen him awake, more than once.”

  “I am just a man, Po. Nothing more,” he argued.

  “Just a man?” she asked, incredulous. “Smith is just a man. Give him a hammer and measure him again. Give him a hammer and his people and measure him again. And if not for you, he and all the rest would be dead. If not for you, how many mercenaries would be left north of the gorge?

  “I have seen you on the wall or in the tower or even your study looking into the distance. I know what you are doing. I can see it in your face. You hunt them and kill them, in your mind, with magic, all of them. I know the day, the hour the last of them fall. Because you come back to us then.”

  “They must be stopped.” He whispered as he remembered. “Don't you see? I am just a man... Different tools. Skills. Different desires. But still just a man. Par and Ash and Stu are just tools. I have been trying to tell you.” He drew the handgun from its concealment and laid it on the table. “Just a tool.”

  “A bow can be used to feed your family or to murder them,” Po paused. “An anvil can be...”

  “Our anvil makes nails,” Barcus interrupted. “What are you trying to tell me?” Barcus asked.

  “I am trying to tell you, whether you like it or not, you are leading these people. You, not Ulric. Everyone knows it, everyone except you. Right now, even today, you are leading by example. If you had not taken a fourth day, no one would have.

  “Why do you think Olias paid you during dinner last night? It wasn't a joke. Even he knew. The gatesman gets paid. Just like everyone else.”

  “Does Ulric get paid?” Barcus asked.

  “He is the one paying us all. Otherwise it's forbidden.” She smiled.

  “Does he know that?” Barcus laughed.

  “Saay and Kia have thanked him repeatedly, I'm sure,” Po smirked. “Why does he get the big suite instead of you?” she asked.

  “He is the Keeper, and I am just the gatesman,” Barcus said

  “Yes you are.” She climbed into his lap, facing him, her legs wrapped around him.

  Their faces were close to each other. Her fingers traced the scar on his face. His hand gently caressed her back.

  “Tell me something I should know. Something Magic,” Po said.

  “Can you keep a secret?” he asked.

  “Yes. I swear.”

  “I am 91 years old,” Barcus said. “I have never told anyone that. Where I come from, it is very impolite to talk about age. Because it doesn’t matter.”

  “No one in my caste ever gets that old.” She wasn’t taken aback as he had expected. “The high born might get that old, but by then they are gray and...old.” She ran her finger down the scar. “Only the High Keepers never age. It’s part of the magic.”

  “That magic is called longevity serum. It’s a drug. It prevents cellular replication errors.” He touched her face now. “I only need it once a year or so now. It slows the aging process.”

  “I’ll die an old woman while you still look like this?” The idea seemed upsetting to her suddenly.

  “No.” he reassured her. “I will now age along with you. We’ll die together, gray and wrinkled.”

  “How many years will you lose? Being here?” She asked.

  He almost put the topic aside, but he had promised to answer her direct questions. “Probably 200 years. It’s worth the trade to be here with you.”

  She looked like she was going to cry again, so he just said it.

  “I love you, Po.”

  They looked into each other’s eyes for a long minute. Slowly she reached up to the button at the base of her neck. Instead of letting it fall, she swept it off over her head, onto the floor in front of the sofa.

  “Now I will tell you a secret,” she said. “I can always tell when people are speaking the truth.”

  She was naked, straddling him on the sofa. The fire was blazing, lighting her from behind.

  “Maybe not the truth. But what they believe is true,” she said. “It seems to have a tone. I never told anyone that because I thought it was magic.”

  “It is magic. Everything is,” Barcus whispered.

  She was working his tunic up slowly. Soon there would be nothing between them.

  “I am done asking myself why this is happening or how,” she said as his tunic came free and was over his head, joining her clothing on the floor.

  “I love you, my Lord, my Equal. I always will. No matter what.” With those words she reached down between them and guided him into her.

  ***

  “I could get used to these fourth days,” she said. She was spent, lying on his chest, sideways in bed. They had spent all afternoon there. A food tray, empty wine bottles and a cold empty teapot were
all lost somewhere in the pillows.

  “It will be dark soon,” Barcus said, looking at the window.

  “And then I will meet Stu? Where has he gone all day?” This thought made her nearly fly out of the bed. He watched her retrieve a basin and pitcher. She was never shy in her nakedness.

  “It has been easy getting used to bathing,” she noted. “I can remember going years without a good wash. You get accustomed to being filthy.”

  He watched her as she washed herself. When she was done, she washed him. It was very relaxing.

  They dressed fully, and Barcus led her outside and around to the left where Par stood in the moonlight. It was a large, flat rocky place. Barcus saw in his HUD that the STU was initiating startup sequences. It wasn't a fast startup. But all the systems checks flew by quickly. It was a few more minutes before the Grav-foils came on-line.

  The first indication that anything was happening was sound, a deep rumble that she could feel more than hear. In the moonlight, the ice began to bow and then all at once, fracture in a small explosion, like a thunder clap in the distance. Out of the lake rose a massive black insect-like shape. It was like the absence of light, it was so black, as black as Par and Ash. The only sounds were the great slabs of ice still crashing back down to the lake.

  Several small wings fanned out and gently articulated. Mist rose up from these wings, as if the water was falling from it in the wrong direction.

  Finally, everything became still.

  Without a sound, the STU drifted toward them. Po realized that it was as big as a house and that it was going to settle in the flat just beyond them.

  Silently, it flew directly over them and settled on five large legs as its carapace-like plates shifted and expanded and an opening the size of a barn door slid away.

  Lights came up inside as Barcus advanced up the slight ramp, catching Po on her heels. She began to advance when Par also began to move.

  “Par, please transfer all the 3D printer objects to your hold for transport. Add to inventory. We're going up.”

  “Barcus, wait,” Em said. It was one of the rare times she spoke out loud instead of via his implants. “You need to know... I...” She paused and then appeared in his vision, as if she was standing there. “We were unable to...clean the decks.”

  Barcus froze with one foot on the ladder already.