Riven (The Arinthian Line Book 2)

by Sever Bronny

  Servants

  Augum raced down the tower stairs, tiptoeing the last portion to avoid waking Erika’s pet. He shot through the oaken door and frantically searched through the barrel of remaining blankets. The blizzard roared in full force now, the cold absolutely blistering.

  Unfortunately, there were no blankets with red stripes left in the barrel. Frustrated, he began heading back when he spotted one on his palfrey. He snatched it, replacing it with an additional two blankets per horse. He also left them some beef biscuit to chew on. He then concealed the rucksack with their stuff before making his way back upstairs. He had decided, for safety and theft reasons, to leave Blackbite behind. He hoped that decision would not haunt him later.

  As instructed, he passed the bedroom they had found the orb in and went into the room above. It was a splendidly decorated round dining room with a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, its many candles flickering. The right wall had a preparation area with a cooking hearth, trestle harvest table, and shelves full of spices, flour, and herbs.

  Bridget and Leera were already hard at work baking and cutting, pink aprons strung about their necks, faces tight with anxiety. When Erika wasn’t looking, he saw them sneak a few bites.

  His mouth watered. He longed for some real food.

  In the center of the room, surrounded by eight exquisitely ornate dining chairs with royal blue seats, stood an elaborately carved ebony dining table. Fine silver candelabras sat on top, as well as pearly bone china, gilded flatware, and the finest crystal goblets and tumblers he had ever seen. There was a single velvet-curtained window at the back of the room.

  He gaped at all the luxury, wondering if this was what Castle Arinthian looked like before being looted.

  “Don’t just stand there, boy, put this on—” Erika threw him a fine crimson belted tunic. It looked like it came from a noble. He gladly pulled it over his robe for the added warmth. She herself had disposed of the fur-trimmed red robe in favor of a rose-colored, finely pleated square-necked dress.

  Erika pinched his cheek. “Oh, darling, now you look so handsome! You remind me of my dear nephew.” She batted her long lashes and dabbed at her eyes as if there were real tears there. “Ugh, I do miss that little brat, I do.” She composed herself and grimaced. “Why don’t you have a seat and polish my flatware, young man.”

  She shoved him into the captain’s chair at one end of the table and handed him a rag and a particularly lavish set of golden flatware, not unlike the set they saw in Ley. She then hovered over to Bridget and Leera.

  “No no no, not like that, you silly little girl.” She shoved Bridget out of the way. “Ugh, must I do everything myself? Shyneo.” Her hand burst in flame and she broiled the meat. It served to show her advanced spell knowledge, for no 1st degree warlock could cook with Shine.

  “Now don’t you dare drop it,” she said, handing it to Leera. “Wrap it up. That’s it now, that’s a good doggie.”

  “Not your dog,” Leera muttered.

  “What did you just say?”

  “I said I’m not your dog.”

  Erika stepped back and looked Leera up and down. “I won’t have some ugly servant girl talking back to me!” Her hand burst with rings as her voice turned into a low growl. “You’ll do the work and you’ll do it quietly, or I’ll throw you in the oven and have your friend roast you.”

  Leera reddened, nodded quickly, and redoubled her efforts right along with Bridget, not even daring to look at one another.

  We have to get out of here, Augum thought just as the window shuddered. Yet it’d be suicide in this blizzard. They’d simply have to wait until it died down.

  “Freckles needs an attitude adjustment, wouldn’t you agree, dear boy?”

  He stayed silent, pretending to be very busy with the last of the flatware. She leaned in close, her flowery perfume clouding his mind and making him want to gag.

  “You missed a spot. Here, boy—do it right!” she shoved a butter knife at him, pointing to a hardly visible speck. He polished it away with the cloth as she gracefully took a seat at the head of the table.

  “What are you looking at, freckles? Back to work! It’s a wonder your mother even kept such an ugly child around. Just look at your nose, ugh, really! You mark my words, girl, no boy will ever like you. You’ll forever be somebody’s filthy little servant. You’re gutterborn ugly with even uglier gutterborn parents, aren’t you? I bet your ugly parents are dead. They were so ugly they took their own lives, didn’t they? Or did they take their own lives because of how ugly you were?”

  Silent tears began streaming down Leera’s cheeks. She sped up her work.

  Erika turned to Augum with a simpering smile. “There should be some kind of rule, you know? Disallowing ugly girls from attending the academy, that is. Though—” she chuckled and leaned back, “I never really got along with girls. They should have all been expelled—except for me of course.”

  “I think her nose is pretty,” Augum mumbled, shrugging.

  Leera half-glanced over, beet red.

  Erika’s eyes narrowed. “Servants are like rats—you don’t talk about them. We’re going to have a civil, proper supper, and that means the foul bratty missies have to serve and prepare. You, my-dear-boy-that-reminds-me-of-my-noble-nephew, are my guest of honor. So—” and she gave him a cold smile, “enjoy yourself. I’m sure you’ve been thinking this entire time anyway that the girls needed to serve you supper sometime, haven’t you, sugar?”

  “No, definit—”

  “Oh, come now, precious, you can level with Auntie Erika …” She leaned forward, placing her chin on her fists, ears jingling. He was really beginning to detest that sound. “Admit it—you like having the girls wait on you, don’t you? It’s the first thing a husband should learn, you know—how to put his servants to good use, and how to put them in their place when they step out of line.” Her face changed, as if she was reliving something in her past. Bitterness crept into her voice. “Girls need to know their place, especially the ugly ones.”

  All he wanted to do was grab the girls and get out of there. Well, maybe let Leera punch Erika once in the nose, if she could get away with it. Bridget would probably like a turn too, for that matter. He decided the best thing to do for now, though, was to change the subject.

  “Would you mind if I asked what happened in the burned room below?” He braced as Erika only stared at him for a moment.

  “Very deft, my dear boy, very deft indeed. A conversational pivot worthy of a noble in the king’s court. To answer your question, sweetie, it was like that when I got here. Truth be told, I haven’t stepped into that room since I laid eyes on it. You understand of course—it’s simply filthy.” Her head snapped to Bridget and Leera. “How is that soup coming along!”

  “Almost done—” Bridget said, while Leera muffled a sniffle. Both girls were frantically working away.

  “You are to address me as m’lady. Is that understood, my little lowborn squirrel?

  Bridget kept on working as she answered. “Yes—I mean, yes, m’lady.”

  “Good. Just because you think yourself cute with that pert little nose doesn’t mean you may take liberties.” Erika turned back to Augum, raising an arched brow. “See that, my dear boy? You must command women. Women are put on Sithesia by the gods to be commanded. Now you try it. Go on, Nephew, command them to bring the soup here.”

  “I’m not your nephew, and I won’t—”

  Erika suddenly shot out of her chair, breaking a crystal goblet on the floor. Rings of fire burst around her arm as her face swelled like a bullfrog. Her head tilted slightly. “Do it. Now.”

  He swallowed, fearing she was going to torture one of the girls if he didn’t. “Please bring me a bowl of soup.”

  Bridget carried a steaming bowl over giving him a particular look he translated as just go with it. Of course, it could also have meant don’t do anything stupid, she’s crazy.

  “Here you are, sir,” she said, curtseying p
roperly like Mya would have. “And yours is coming right up, m’lady.”

  Erika’s brows rose. She seemed genuinely surprised to find rings around her arm and promptly extinguished them. Then she adjusted her dress, giving a nervous chortle. “Oh, my darling … I forget myself sometimes. You must forgive Auntie Erika. And just look at my silliness, I seem to have broken a goblet.” She snapped her fingers sharply a few times.

  Bridget bent down and placed her hands over the broken crystal. “Apreyo.” The goblet reformed. She polished it and set it back on the table with a curtsy, keeping her eyes low the entire time.

  “Now that’s more like it. I have to say, it’s nice having servants who can actually fix a thing or two around here. I am so oft used to bumbling idiot girls who don’t know the simplest cantrip. Now fetch me my soup, girl.”

  Bridget curtsied, hands in front, and returned to the counter beside Leera.

  “Well hurry up already, haven’t you learned that a course is supposed to be served at the same time!”

  “Yes, m’lady, it’s coming.” Bridget hurried back with Erika’s soup before returning to make the rest of the meal with Leera. He saw her whisper something encouraging to Leera, stopping as soon as Erika raised her head.

  “Not bad, though a bit more salt would be prudent. Freckles, did you hear me? SALT!”

  Leera jumped and fumbled a fork. It fell to the floor with a clang.

  Everyone froze.

  Erika smiled kindly. “Oh, you desperately poor thing. It’s all right, Auntie Erika won’t be mean. Go ahead and pick it up.”

  Leera slowly picked up the fork, never taking her eyes off Erika.

  “Now do be a dear and bring auntie the salt.”

  Leera promptly brought a silver bowl of salt to the table.

  “Well don’t just bring it here you silly goat, put it in my soup! There now, is that so hard? And don’t overdo—THAT’S TOO MUCH!” She suddenly slapped Leera so hard she was sent sprawling to the ground. Augum jumped out of his chair but Leera shot him a halting look, face marked with a new red welt in the shape of a hand. Erika stood glaring, daring her to try anything, arm poised ready to flare up.

  Bridget helped Leera pick herself up off the floor, gesturing for Augum to start a conversation or something, anything to get Erika distracted. He actually thought of casting Centarro and doing something crazy, but Erika was too paranoid and dangerous. It was just too risky. He hoped Leera could hang in there and slowly sat back down. His knuckles were white under the table.

  “So, uh, what was that orb in your trunk, Auntie Erika?” He had to force a polite tone.

  Erika’s face hardened. “You mean the orb you tried to steal earlier?”

  “No, we were just—”

  “Oh, dear young man, you certainly are an easy mark, I was merely jesting! I’m sure it was nothing but young, unadulterated curiosity.” She cleared her throat and graciously took her seat again. “Ah, to be young again. You know when I was your age I got into all sorts of trouble. First year at the academy and all that.” She sighed, eyes misting over, before glancing back to him. “Sorry, hon, what were we talking about—?”

  “The orb, Auntie Erika.” He’d rather swim in a rancid sewer than keep calling her that.

  “Right you have it, kiddo. It’s a seeing orb, kind of like a speaking orb, but better. Neat little thing I … discovered once.” She flashed a twisted smile, giving him the impression she stole it, and didn’t care too much if he knew that.

  “It’s quite the clever and amusing artifact, really. Set it up anywhere and you can see and hear through it. It’s indestructible, locks in place so no one can carry it away, and for fun, you can let the people know you’re watching, as you yourselves experienced.”

  He remembered the way a giant eye opened inside the orb, almost lizard-like.

  “I once amused myself by watching a merchant road with an unsavory reputation. Lo and behold, a group of imbecile bandits took interest in the orb. You should have seen it—there was this great big fat oaf that just wouldn’t let it go. He tried everything, using sticks, rocks, and even a monstrous cudgel.” She tapped at her temple. “Not the sharpest blade in the armory. Anyhoo, the entire time the bandits talked, and I heard every word of their plans. Hours of entertainment I tell you, not to mention a nice payoff in the end.”

  Bridget served a sliced loaf of hard bread and curtsied, face, hair and apron stained with flour. When Erika spotted the apron, she just shook her head. “Filthy servant squirrel … hey, you know what, dear nephew? That’ll be her name—Squirrel. So we have Squirrel and Freckles. How quaint.”

  Bridget’s face reddened. “Will that be all, m’lady?”

  “You watch your tone, princess. And no, that will not be all. Fetch me a glass of Titan wine and squeeze out some juice for my waiting nephew here.”

  “Yes, m’lady.” Bridget curtsied and returned to the prep area, before abruptly turning around. “Pardon, m’lady, but, where are the oranges and the wine?”

  “Oh, for—oranges in the basket under the table, wine in the corner cabinet!” Erika shook her head, earrings jingling, before turning back to Augum with a sweet smile. “I really have no patience with incompetence, something I’m sure we share, dear nephew.” She played with her empty goblet, watching him, while Bridget uncorked a bottle of wine and poured Erika a glass.

  The wine made him think of his mother. Before she wed his father, she was Terra Titan of the Titans of Sierra, hot lands of the south. That side of the family made wine from giant grapes and owned a vineyard. One day, he hoped to visit it, see if there were grandparents or cousins he could get to know. Strange how there he was, in the middle of nowhere with some crazy woman, and she drank wine that had a connection to him.

  Erika brought out the silver mirror and began fussing with her hair. He wondered if now was a good time to ask which route was best to take on the way to the Northern Peaks, presuming she’d even let them go, something he tried not to think about.

  After a while of Augum failing to supply Erika with a steady stream of conversational material, her look soured. She raised the goblet of wine, swished it a while and drained it, gesturing impatiently for Bridget to pour her another. She drained that one too, the veins of her crooked nose reddening along with her cheeks. Her eyes narrowed as she watched Augum.

  She began tapping the table. “What’s on your mind, cupcake?”

  The room went quiet.

  “Nothing—I was just thinking about how nice this—this dining table was—”

  Erika stopped tapping a moment before her words tumbled forth in a rush. “Don’t make a fool of me, boy, I’ll flay you raw—!”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  Erika’s chair kicked back as she shot out of it, charging over, pleated dress billowing like her reddening cheeks. She put her face right into his. He held his breath from that ghastly perfume. “You aren’t thinking of escaping my little domicile, are you now, sweet nephew?”

  “No, it’s quite comfortable here …” He was always a terrible liar, and this time was no exception. Erika’s face hardened and she slapped him hard, not once, but thrice, each time grabbing his jaw and returning it forward, so he stared into her eyes while she did it again. With each strike, Bridget and Leera gasped. He felt himself getting hot all over as involuntary tears welled from the sting. The beginnings of wild electric arcanery stirred within. He noticed her hair statically stiffen a little. If she had just slapped him one more time, something might have happened, but as it were, she let go of his jaw with a spiteful jerk, took a step back, and crossed her arms.

  “So you want to leave, do you? After all the courtesies I’ve shown you? After everything I’ve done for you, bringing you in from a murderous storm and feeding you—?” She dabbed at her dry eyes with a cloth, batting her lashes. “I hope you know that hurt me more than you. Such ungrateful little brats …”

  She made a show of sniffing while he touched his tender cheek,
trying to calm down and not say anything that would make things worse. When her gaze returned to him, it was ice cold.

  “You listen carefully, kiddos. You—are—not—going—anywhere. You’re going to work hard for me, oh, yes you are. I need servants to cater to my needs—the floors need scrubbing, shoes need stitching, china needs cleaning, shelves need dusting, and there’s certainly plenty to fix around here. When you’re done, this will be a proper noble tower fit for a queen, and I will make proper servants of you, by gods I swear I will.”

  Her hands straddled the arms of his chair as she leaned into his face.

  “Don’t think for one moment I’m going to let you just mosey right out of here. Nobody knows you’re here, understand me? Nobody! And no one’s going to miss you either if you should suddenly, let us say, disappear …”

  He stared into those ice eyes, knowing she meant every word of her threat.

  Her voice dropped to an almost inaudible whisper. “Now are you going to be a good boy and work hard for Auntie Erika, or will you force your poor aunt to do something she might … later regret?”

  He hesitated just a moment before nodding. “I’ll work, I’ll work—”

  She ruffled his hair. “That’s a good boy,” and slithered back to her chair. If by then Bridget and Leera did not see how dangerous the situation was, they certainly saw it now. He spotted them exchanging looks before hurriedly getting back to preparing the final course.

  It was almost worth taking their chances out in the storm. The way she looked at him though, it was as if he was an open book to her. He suspected she could read every traitorous thought that went through his head.

  She’d make a fine pairing with the Blade of Sorrows …

  Erika gestured for her wine to be refilled, took a swig, and began sipping at her soup. Augum picked up his spoon and mechanically did the same, tasting nothing, mind frantically working away.

  Erika finally shoved away the empty bowl. “Next serving, you little wench. Well come on, hurry it up, Freckles!”