by Liam Reese
“Here, you’ll copy the lines you just read so I can judge your handwriting.” He pulled out the dainty, cushioned chair behind the desk. “Sit and write.”
Croenin did so, carefully picking up the engraver and beginning to transcribe the words on his own sheet of parchment. Lothaire watched over his shoulder, humming in approval as he finished.
“Good,” he said, crossing his arms. “You’ll do fine as a tutor to the children.”
“Tutor?” Croenin asked, heart sinking.
He had hoped that he’d be working here, in the small library, with access to the hundreds of books around him.
“Yes,” Lothaire responded. “Eudys, my brother, wants his children to be literate like I am. I’ve been teaching them decryti these past few months, but I have other responsibilities that take precedence over my current role as tutor. You’ll be taking over that responsibility so that I can focus on other things.”
Croenin nodded slowly. “When do I start?”
“Now. It is nearly time for the children’s lesson, and I’ll be guiding you this first time through where they are in their studies and where they should be by the end of the lesson. Under my guidance you’ll be teaching them all I think they should know. Come.”
He followed Lothaire up a small, spiral staircase feeling as he walked up the shimmering white steps that he was walking through the inside of a seashell. They walked up to the top of one of the palace’s towers, where the staircase opened into a nursery with three beds. Toys were strewn about, finely-carved wooden swords and cloth poppets littering the floor. Battling with two wooden sabers were two small boys, watched by a young girl holding onto the skirts of an overworked nurse. When Lothaire entered the room with Croenin, the boys dropped their swords and ran up to the large man, tackling him in a hug.
“Papa!” The larger of the boys exclaimed as Lothaire swung him up into his arms.
Lothaire grinned. “These are your pupils. My own son, Aemis is nine, and his cousins, Eudys’ children, Theudic and Osaene, are eight and seven.”
Osaene looked at him shyly from her nurse’s skirts, and Theudic smiled widely at him, glad to have someone closer to his own age as his tutor. Aemis, however, frowned.
“You won’t be teaching us anymore?” he whined.
“I’ll be overseeing your lessons, and I may pop in from time to time, But Croenin here is more than capable of teaching you all to write and read.” He put his son down. “And he’ll be reporting to me as far as your behavior during lessons.”
The young man sulked, sticking out his lower lip and looking up at Croenin from under thick, black eyebrows. Croenin tried to smile, already feeling overwhelmed. He had never been around children very often, most children in his village having been told to avoid him when he was growing up. He could already see that this young boy would give him trouble, and was worried about failing at being a tutor before he even started. I shouldn’t worry too much, he told himself, trying to instill more confidence in his abilities. I won’t be here long once I find Ayne. However, he wasn’t so sure about that. Even if he found Ayne, he knew that there was no telling whether she would allow him to confront her head on or if he would be teased even more, with her prolonging their confrontation to throw him off guard.
Either way, the other two children seemed to take to him almost immediately, and with Lothaire by his side, the lesson went quickly. Croenin, under Lothaire’s guidance, took the children through tracing letter’s in decryti’s blocky script. The lesson passed quickly, thankfully, and Croenin thought he would be free to explore the castle afterward. As he made his way to the staircase, Lothaire stopped him.
“As a member of this household and tutor to the children, you’ll have many freedoms others do not. But as you have only just joined our household, we cannot let your roam freely just yet. Jehayne will show you where you’ll be staying shortly, and for now you shall remain in my employ. It will be useful to have someone else who can read and write by my side, and you’ll learn how this castle runs.”
Croenin nodded, disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to find Ayne just yet. He followed Lothaire back down the spiral staircase to the small library. “And what will I do when I’m not with the children?”
“You’ll do whatever I need of you. My brother and I have been consolidating power here for quite some time, and ensuring that we know all the happenings in our region takes quite a bit of work. It’s growing to be too much for me alone, and, as you gain my trust, you’ll be given more and more responsibility. You’ll report to me tomorrow morning, after the servants’ breakfast.” He turned away from Croenin, looking out one of the glass-paned windows of the library.
As he did, Jehayne entered the room, turning to Croenin. “Are you ready?” She asked him, and he nodded and followed her out of the small room.
They descended the spiral staircase, and entered a long hallway that opened into various gardens and courtyards. Croenin walked, staring into the small gardens containing fruit trees, fountains, and small ponds where multicolored fish swam. He had never seen anything so elegant, and the sights shocked and amazed him. This palace made Gallys’ obsidian castle seem so brutal and unsophisticated. At the end of the hallway, they entered a separate wing of the palace, where the servants lived. Though in the same light and airy style as the rest of the opal palace, this wing seemed much humbler, and Croenin was quickly ushered by the ever-busy Jehayne to his small, spare room near the end of the line of rooms.
“You are to stay here until the dinner bell rings shortly,” she told him. “Settle in, and should you need anything more, find me at dinner.”
With that, she left, and Croenin was left to his own devices. He surveyed the room and his stark white surroundings, the simple cot and his small table with a hairbrush, lye soap, and towel. He opened the drawers of the table, finding parchment and an engraver, and wondered if Lothaire had requested he be provided with such things. High on the wall opposite the door was a small, round window, and he hoisted himself up, using the small stool under the table to peer out of it. He could see the sloping edge of the green field behind the castle giving way to a sandy beach and a stark blue sea behind it. He frowned, realizing that the beach, though somewhat distant, looked familiar.
Dropping down to the floor once more, he wondered if anyone would notice if he left his room and decided to chance leaving it before he heard what he assumed was the dinner bell ring. Shrugging, he walked out into the hallway, following a line of servants at the far end of the long, white corridor who were heading to what he assumed was the dining room. He joined the line, walking behind two servant girls who were gossiping about another servant. He eavesdropped on their conversation as he walked, listening as they discussed the scandalous actions of a young stable-boy. He soon tuned out of the conversation, hearing nothing of interest, and instead scanned the small dining hall for his sister.
He was quickly disappointed as he looked around, seeing no one who even merely resembled Ayne. He sat at one of the long tables in the low-ceilinged dining hall, scanning the room for Rozaelle and Bruta. He spotted them just as they entered and waved them over, and once they sat, he leaned in conspiratorially.
“Have you seen her?” He whispered furtively.
“No, I’ve not,” Bruta answered. “Roz and I brought up linens to some of the ladies of the castle, but none of their maids looked like her.”
“I even hung around and waited to see if she’d come when they all gathered to play instruments and sing for Eudys, which earned me a scolding from the laundress,” Rozaelle complained. “Nothing.”
“I thought maybe she’d be serving Eudys’ daughter, but she’s only a child,” Croenin said.
“We still haven’t seen our master’s wives,” Bruta offered. “One of them might be the young girl some of our members saw her serving in their visions.”
Croenin frowned. “You think so?”
“Well we won’t know for sure until we find her,” Rozaelle said.
“But I wouldn’t give up hope yet. I doubt she’d leave after all you told us about how she’s been playing with you. It doesn’t seem likely she’d flee the castle after all that.”
“Or she might be hiding in plain sight,” Bruta said. “Finding her might be another one of her games.”
As dinner was served, they ate in silence, wondering what Ayne might be up to. As the maids of the ladies living in the palace filed into the dining room, Croenin and the girls kept an eye out for Ayne, but she did not enter the dining room. Croenin leaned over to the young man sitting to his right.
“Are all of the servants here eating dinner? It doesn’t seem like there’s many of us for such a big palace.”
The boy raised his head from his bowl of soup, looking around lazily. “Aye, I’d say we’re all here.”
Croenin nodded and glanced at Bruta and Rozaelle, raising an eyebrow. Both girls shrugged. It seemed that before they could help Croenin carry out his destiny, they would first have to find his sister. They ate quickly, and Croenin left the girls as they headed back to the laundry below the castle. As he tried to sneak out of the servant’s quarters, he was stopped by a shrill voice yelling his name. He turned sharply, seeing Jehayne quickly making her way down the hallway behind him.
“Where do you think you’re going?” She demanded, hands on her hips.
“I was just going out to one of the courtyards to relax,” he lied.
“I have strict orders from Lothaire that you remain in the servants’ quarters when not fulfilling your duties. You check in with me before you leave each morning to report to Lothaire and once again when your lessons with the children are done.” She cocked an eyebrow. “That won’t be a problem, will it?”
“Of course not,” Croenin mumbled.
“Good.” She dropped her arms. “As you prove your trustworthiness, you’ll be allowed more freedom, but for now, you remain under the same strict rules as other servants.”
Croenin nodded, making his way around her plump figure and returning to his room. He dropped onto his bed with a sigh. He was so close to finding his sister, yet every time he seemed to be closer to fulfilling the prophecy, there seemed to be another obstacle. As he lay on the bed, his mind began to wander once more to what Ayne had told him weeks ago. What if there is some way around the prophecy? He wondered. Or was Ayne just trying to trick me? He closed his eyes, resting a bit, before deciding to try to see beyond himself. Show me Ayne, he mouthed, and felt himself being pulled out of his body. Yet, almost as soon as he felt himself leave his body, he was roughly slammed back into it. Croenin slowly sat up, feeling as if he’d been kicked in the solar plexus. It seemed Ayne was still blocking him, even more forcefully now that he was nearby. He groaned, stretching, and coughed a few times before lying back down.
His first week in the castle continued much in this way. Croenin woke each dawn, ate with the other servants, and immediately went to find Lothaire. Once with the man, he was set to work transcribing faded and damaged books of love poems and other unimportant works. Occasionally, he was sent by Lothaire to read some of these poems to Eudys’ wife, Mylesant, something he loathed. The poor woman always looked so uncomfortable and annoyed when he announced his arrival from Lothaire’s office to read to her selections Lothaire thought she might like. Even he could see that the love poems were an awkward attempt at flirting with his brother’s wife.
Croenin had recognized her as soon as he first saw her, the olive-skinned woman with the curling hair from Old Haega’s scrying, the one Ayne was serving. Yet, every time he visited, his hopes of seeing Ayne were dashed. His sister was never there when he went, Mylesant always having just dispatched her on some errand. Croenin didn’t understand why she allowed him in her quarters each time and was thankful for days Lothaire forgot to send him on this task.
The rest of his time was spent reading and tutoring the children. Theudic and Osaene, Eudys’ children, loved his visits and were incredibly eager students. He quickly grew fond of them and was impressed with how quickly they progressed in the first week. Aemis, however, seemed to loathe Croenin’s very presence. He sulked as soon as Croenin entered the nursery, the first two days sitting in the corner and refusing to come near. It took much coaxing, but by the end of the week, Croenin had gotten the young boy to start participating in lessons. He could tell the boy was struggling, having a much harder time with decryti than his cousins, and he sulked through the lessons Croenin had prepared under Lothaire’s guidance. Overall, he was an incredibly exhausting pupil, who took up much of the time Croenin had with the children. It was after his final lesson with them that first week that Croenin truly felt the exhaustion of his past week catching up to him. He returned to the servants’ quarters, flopping down on his bed to take a quick rest before dinner and sleep quickly overtaking him. He was asleep for only a few minutes before a scream erupted through the castle.
8
The castle was in a frenzy. Servants were rushing about, trying to reassure the kings’ relatives, as well as make sure their own friends were alright. Croenin and those who had gone into their rooms for the night slowly filed out of the servants’ quarter, and he looked around for Jehayne, spotting her standing with Lothaire and who he assumed was Eudys across the main hall of the palace. The second man stood even taller than Lothaire, tan like his brother with the same shock of grey hair. Though that is where the similarities ended. Where Lothaire was strong and powerful, Eudys was grossly fat, eyes a dull grey to Lothaire’s stark green. The huge man stood, arms crossed over his belly and face pale with fear. He was listening intently to something his brother was saying. Croenin couldn’t hear.
Instead, he scanned the room, watching for any sign of the girls or Ayne. He spotted Rozaelle and Bruta as they entered the room with a thin woman with a large nose and thinning hair, the laundress. Rozaelle waved to him, and he walked over as the woman left them to go and gossip with one of the other older women serving in the palace.
“What happened?” He whispered once near.
“I’m not sure. We all heard a scream and came up to see where it came from,” Rozaelle answered, glancing at the other girl. “Bruta said something is very wrong.”
Before Croenin could ask how she knew, two guards entered, carrying a body wrapped in a sheet. The room immediately grew silent as they passed, laying the body at Eudys’ feet. The bleary-eyed man blanched an even paler color, and Croenin feared he would pass out. The portly man held on, though, and ordered all of the servants out of the room.
“To the servants’ quarters! All of you!” Lothaire added.
As they slowly congregated near the archway closest to the servants’ quarters, Croenin glanced back, watching as Lothaire pulled back the sheet to reveal a young, woman’s pale face. He pulled the sheet further, and Croenin knew from the top of her velvet dress and the intricately braided style of her auburn hair that she must have been one of the ladies of the palace, a relative or friend of Eudys or his wife. Bruta had been right. Something was very wrong.
As the servants entered their wing, most began to congregate in the dining hall, emboldened by Jehayne still being with the king and his brother.
“Did you see her face?” Croenin heard a young man ask.
“That I did,” a short woman with a lined face said. “It was Rysandre, Mylesant’s sister.”
“The one that was betrothed to marry Lothaire?” A girl asked.
“Oh yes, that very one.” The short woman replied.
Huh, Croenin thought, thinking of Lothaire’s attempted wooing of his brother’s wife. That’s convenient for him.
“Did they say what happened?” One of the footmen asked.
“She was fine when I’d just seen her,” one of the housemaids said. “I’d just brought her a tart from the kitchen.”
She glanced to her left, and all eyes turned to the cook, a short, stout man with a thick, black mustache.
“Don’t look at me! It was the same fig tarts that the other ladies
ate earlier! She wasn’t the only one who asked for them, and they were under my watch the whole time…at least until I handed them off to Sancta.”
The housemaid who spoke up, Sancta, blushed angrily. “I didn’t do a thing! I just carried it up to her room.”
“Well, then. Don’t start pointing fingers,” the cook said crossly.
There was a moment of silence, then, before a hall boy, a young boy of twelve, spoke up.
“Was Rysandre the one that screamed?”
“No, I doubt it,” said another one of the housemaids. “Didn’t sound like her.”
“You know who found her? I bet they were the one who screamed.” A scullery maid spoke up.
“Oh, what if her sister found her, the poor thing!” the laundress wailed.
Croenin and the girls listened as the servants went on and on making conjectures. Jehayne still hadn’t returned, and Croenin wondered if they could sneak back out of the servants’ quarters without seeming suspicious. He glanced at Rozaelle, who, by the look she gave him, obviously had the same idea.
“Stay here,” he whispered to Bruta. “See what you can find out.”
She nodded, and off they went. No one noticed as the two slipped out of the doorway back into the hall, and they left the servants’ quarters with ease. The courtyards between the main part of the castle and the servants’ wing were eerily quiet as they tiptoed along the stone path and through the archway back into the main hall. The hall was deserted, with no sign of Eudys, Lothaire, or any other important members of the household, and Croenin and Rozaelle slipped across, entering the archway on the other side that led to the stairway he climbed each day to Lothaire’s office.
Up the stairs they went, stepping quickly but quietly up the white steps. Croenin peeked out of the doorway to the stairs and, seeing no one, ushered Rozaelle into Lothaire’s office. The large man jumped as they entered, and glowered at the two young people. Croenin gulped, and Rozaelle was confused. She opened her mouth to ask why Croenin had brought her here, when Lothaire spoke up.
