Lady of Drith

by Chad Huskins

  Drea’s family and fortune had been taken from her, all that was left was Halorax and a handful of house slaves. Now, it appeared even those were gone.

  From his robe, Halorax produced a shimmering gold ring, and Drea recognized it at once.

  “This is your heritage,” he said, handing her the signet ring worn by her mother. On it was the sigil of House Kalder, the Red Wyrm of ages past. Along the ring’s band were the words of her House:

  Kalder does not bend

  “Take it,” Halorax said. “Hide it if you have to. But,” he added hastily, holding her face again in his hands, “for the sake of all the gods, Sia, do not lose it, and do not forget where you come from. It is the last proof of your family’s legacy. Do not forget.”

  Drea nodded tearfully. “I won’t, Uncle.”

  “And take this,” he added, handing her a small blade with an ivory hilt, sheathed in leather. “Use it if you have to, and…do not be afraid of death. Your parents wait for you there.”

  His meaning was clear. Do not let them take you alive.

  “Uncle,” Drea said, choking up. “Thryis…is she…?” She touched the bracelet on her hand again, thinking of her friend.

  “Thryis will be fine,” he assured her. “Don’t worry about her. She’s not your family, the Syphenus will have no reason to hurt her.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Yes! She’s too young to know anything useful to them.”

  “Perhaps I should visit her before I leave, just to make sure she’s safe—”

  “No, Sia! Thryis is your greatest friend, everyone in the Major Houses knows this. Her home will surely be watched. If you go there, and if the Syphenus find you there, it will be bad for both of you.”

  “If…if you say so, Uncle—”

  “I do. Now go, child. Halorax has his work to do.”

  She was torn. Thryis was her friend, the last person on earth besides Halorax who loved her. She couldn’t leave without saying goodbye…

  Another whistle blared from outside, bringing her out of her conflict.

  “Fedarus is dead!” someone cried.

  They all turned towards a window, and could just make out another golden-caped messenger running through the street, blowing his whistle and hammering on doors as he gave the news. “Fedarus is dead! The tyrant lies in his own blood!”

  Drea hid the blade away inside her cloak. She touched Halorax’s hands, feeling the wrinkles, sensing within them the years that he had spent looking after her, the cuts he had gained while picking her up from the ground, the calluses gained from scrubbing her floors. She kissed his hands, then turned quickly to follow Fritt.

  A welter of voices could be heard approaching, a mob both angry and frightened. The city was awakening to a terrifying new dawn. Their leader had been murdered by his own senators, and the future had never been more uncertain.

  All at once, her mother’s words returned to her from the dream: “Run now, flower. They are coming for you.”

  “Go now, Sia,” said Halorax. “Go now, while you still have—”

  Something boomed at the door. Fritt dropped his bags at once and drew his sword. Halorax placed himself in front of Drea, using his body as a shield.

  “Open up!” a voice cried. A girl’s voice. “Open up immediately, fools! A lady wants in!”

  Drea recognized the voice at once, and sighed. “Open the door.”

  Fritt looked at her questioningly, but then reluctantly did as she said.

  When it opened, a blonde-haired girl with a red stola and a clockwork leg came storming in. “Blessed days, what’s this, then?” shouted Thryis Ardenk, a girl renowned across the city for her obstinate will. “Spiriting Drea Kalder away and not bringing her life’s greatest friend with her? The very insolence of it! It is not to be borne and I shall have none of it! Smack your bottoms, all of you!”

  : The Formidable Thryis Ardenk :

  The friendship between Drea Kalder and Thryis Ardenk had long been established in the minds of both locals and those in the Major Houses. The relationship had been fearsome from the beginning, and could not be mistaken for anything less than the greatest of love and loyalty.

  The girls had met on the Street of Milliners a number of years ago when they had both been out shopping for hats and pallas with their mothers. Their mothers had been well acquainted, though Drea and Thryis had never had occasion to meet before that day. Not that they had been avoiding one another…well, perhaps they had been avoiding one another, for each of them carried with them the burden of a previous reputation.

  Back then, Drea had heard that Thryis Ardenk, along with the rest of the Ardenkus, were known to be stuffy and quite sure of themselves. It was one thing to be confident—Drea had been taught the virtue of this by her own mother and father—but House Ardenk was known to be particularly proud of their accomplishments. And it was said that Thryis’s haughtiness and confidence were the most formidable of all her family.

  As for Drea’s reputation, Thryis had heard multiple accounts of the girl sitting to herself, drawing and spinning wool for days on end, and rarely coming out to speak with anyone or entertain any guests.

  “She’s boring,” Thryis had been heard to say to her mother whenever the subject of Drea Kalder came up. “It sounds to me as though she lacks all semblance of a personality.”

  When the two met that day on the Street of Milliners, their mothers had gone into the particulars of their daily lives—speaking about the beauty of the last three-moon day, chatting about the weather, and sharing shreds of gossip about other women’s husbands.

  Drea had tried her best not to speak to Thryis Ardenk that day. She had averted her gaze to a beautifully-colored palla resting on the edge of a mariya shop’s table, aware that Thryis’s judgmental blue eyes were on her the whole time.

  Then, by some whim, their mothers had started walking and talking while shopping the Forum Proper. This left the two girls to suffer one another’s intolerable silence. When the women got too far ahead of their daughters, the two girls had drifted apart. It wasn’t until Drea accidentally bumped into a nest of male bullies—known around the neighborhoods as the Bunch—that the two girls’ relationship changed forever.

  One of the boys had rounded on Drea, and shoved her to the ground, where she spilled into a puddle and had her dress ruined. A dress her mother had spun herself! The lead boy of the Bunch had stood over her, reckoning that his great size would both intimidate and humiliate.

  He was wrong on both wagers. Quite wrong.

  The Kalderus rage was famous among those in the Major Houses. They knew of the soft-spoken men of House Kalder, who could, on a turn, become violent when provoked. What few people understood was that that rage had found its way into the blood of the youngest daughter in the House.

  Drea had stood up from the puddle and began shouting and shoving the boys. Three more imposing figures appeared, cornering her in a side alley and shoving her away from the Forum, so that they could be sure no adults saw their abuse of her.

  There were differing accounts of what happened next. Some people said that Thryis had grabbed a loaf of bread out of the basket of a passerby and smacked the boys all in the face. Others claimed that Thryis had kicked all their shins and spat at them until they’d run off.

  Whatever took place that day, the two girls had become companions after the fight, and the Forum scarcely saw a day when they were not walking hand-in-hand.

  They became as one, always there for one another, sharing in every joy and every sorrow. If one suffered a tragedy, they both suffered it. Drea was there when Thryis lost her leg, and Thryis was by Drea’s side when both her parents died. They had never ceased being friends, not even when the Ardenkus had fallen on hard times and Thryis and her father had been driven into poverity, and had to resort to working on the steam generators in the warehouse district.

  “So, explain yourselves!” Thryis said presently. “What’s all this nonsense about? And don’t pret
end with me, old Halorax! I’m on to you! And I’m well aware of the evidence in front of me, and I also know what’s transpired this day. Fedarus is dead, House Syphen is after all his allies, and these bags I see packed are for Drea, are they not?”

  “Thryis girl—” Halorax began.

  “Don’t ‘Thryis girl’ me, you know how I hate it.” She stomped her foot. “Smack your bottom. Taking Drea away without telling me. And Drea, you were going along with this? Smack all your bottoms!”

  Despite the ill news Drea had received this morning, and despite what she knew it might mean for her, she could not help but smile as her eyes filled with tears. And she threw herself at her only friend. “Thryis, my light,” she whispered.

  Thryis took her in her arms, and hugged her while looking at the men in the room with suspicion. “Now see, look what you’ve done. Why have you brought my Drea to tears?” She impaled Fritt with a glance. “You. You have the look of a mercenary. If you’ve hurt her—”

  “I was just about to spirit her away from this place, little girl,” Fritt said. “As per the wishes of her wise uncle.”

  “Then I’m coming with you,” Thryis said. There was no hesitation, and her tone was intended to brook no argument.

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “You most certainly are not.”

  “I most certainly am.”

  “You are no position to negotiate.”

  “I’m in a position to kick you.” She tapped the metal shell of her false leg, which was a clockwork construct that had been a most expensive purchase her father had made just weeks after Thryis had her real one amputated. “And my kicks hurt, you rogue.”

  “Only one little girl on this trip,” Fritt said. “Two just makes it more difficult to hide.”

  “Drea Kalder goes nowhere without Thryis Ardenk. Every fool knows this.”

  Fritt sighed heavily, and looked at Halorax like he was ready to abandon this partnership right here, right now.

  It was Drea who brought the room’s boil down. She separated herself from Thryis and took her friend’s hands in hers. “Thryis, listen to them for just a moment—”

  “I’m not in the habit of listening to foolishness.”

  “It’s not foolishness! Halorax is wise, and if he says that Phaedos Syphen and his people will suspect me and my friends of conspiring with the Imperator, then we must believe him.”

  “Halorax is wise enough at times,” Thryis allowed. “But he can hardly know the minds of all the Syphenus.”

  “I don’t need to know them all,” Halorax said. “I only need to know the mind of the patriarch. Lord Phaedos Syphen is a senator, and he’s in control of all the businesses and assets of House Syphen.” He took on a grave look. “And he’s said to be a fell-sorcerer. His nephew, too—Daedron the Diviner, they call him. They say he practices Divination, he can see things before they happen. These are not men to be trifled with—”

  “Then you’ll go directly to Lord Syphen himself and tell him that you are a Lady of Drith, and that of course you had nothing to with any conspiracy your father had cooked up with the Imperator,” Thryis said to Drea.

  “Easy for you to say, little girl,” Fritt said. “It’s not your life on the line.”

  “If Drea Kalder dies, Thryis Ardenk dies. Every fool knows this, which makes you less than a fool.”

  “If you weren’t so stupid, you would see how much danger your friend is in.”

  “And if wits were paddles you’d be stranded.”

  Fritt blinked. “I’m not even sure that makes sense to me.”

  Thryis held Drea’s hands to her chest and squeezed them. “Drea luv, listen to me—”

  “We’re not even in water right now,” Fritt mumbled.

  “Drea luv, I will go with you, of course. I will vouch for you—House Ardenk is not what it once was, but our name still means something. And I’m sure House Dustrang would be glad to speak on your behalf, for they’ve long been business partners with House Kalder.”

  Indeed, this wasn’t a horrible idea. The Dustrangus were one of the Four Patron Families of Drith, they had been here since its founding, had laid the first stones, and been long associated with the Kalderus. In the past, many men and women of their two Houses had married. They were practically family.

  “Not even the Dustrangus will stick their necks out now,” Fritt said. “Not now, and not for the last girl of an extinct House.”

  Thryis eyed him. “If you go with this man, if you flee Drith, you make yourself look guilty. I beg you not to give in to fear. You are the daughter of a Patron Family, and that makes you a Lady of Drith, with all rights and respect due your station. Let diplomacy and justice work—”

  Fritt threw his head back and laughed. “Diplomacy and justice! Tell that to Phaedos Syphen, whose hands are even now stained with the blood of the Imperator!”

  “The man will see justice. In time.”

  “And who will give it to him? You?”

  Thryis touched a blue amulet hanging from her neck, which was made of stygian bluestones and gave off the soft glow of darklight. “Loraci alone brings justice.”

  “Oh? And when will the goddess of justice bless us with her grace?”

  “When her scales demand to be balanced,” Thryis said. “And not before.”

  “This is nonsense—”

  Thryis stomped her foot. “Smack your bottom! This is nonsense? Let’s ask Drea what she thinks is nonsense. How about that? She gets a choice in her fate, doesn’t she?” Thryis turned and looked deeply into Drea’s eyes.

  Drea had often felt herself at odds with those eyes, and in more ways than she could articulate. Oftentimes, whenever she held Thryis’s hands, Drea felt grounded. So much had transpired in the years since they had gotten to know one another—Drea had lost two parents, and Thryis had lost one—and they had survived the shock of the plague that had taken Thryis’s right leg.

  At times, life had felt like a storm, pushing Drea this way and that way, the winds tying up her sails or else ripping them to pieces, then carrying her off in random directions without her permission.

  And yet always, whenever she looked into those blue eyes, Drea felt like the storm calmed. Thryis was an anchor, a safe harbor where she could moor and rest for the night. And there was warmth in her. Others didn’t see it, but Drea did. Each time Thryis’s thumb rubbed the back of her hand, she felt it…

  “Drea luv,” Thryis finally said. “Tell me, and don’t worry about upsetting either me or these men. What would you like to do, blessed goddess? Will you flee Drith, or will you go and negotiate with Lord Syphen?”

  Drea had listened to everything they were saying, and her heart was torn. On one hand, she had two adults telling her what to do, and one of them she had known her entire life and had never led her astray. However, Thryis was also remarkably wise, and the constant stubbornness she’d shown, though a vice in the eyes of many, belied a wisdom that Drea knew was buried within.

  Drea bit her lip, considering her options.

  At last, the decision bloomed in her heart. It was what she wanted. “I don’t want to run,” she said. “I don’t like running when I know I did nothing wrong.”

  Thryis smiled and nodded. “That’s my girl. A fighter!” She turned and looked at the men. “You see, gentlemen? This is what a Kalder looks like. They do not bend.”

  The two men exchanged dour glances.

  “Sia,” Halorax said, “if this is your wish, then I cannot make you do something you don’t want to do. That is, I could. I could very easily have Fritt tie you up and throw you over his horse, but it would do no good. You would never get beyond the Wall of Nadis. The Lictors would see a bound girl and know at once something was amiss, so…if this is your wish—”

  “It is,” said Drea.

  Halorax sighed wearily. He looked defeated, like he’d just witnessed the death of his last friend on earth. “Then so be it.”

  Fritt snorted
. “I still expect to be paid, old man.”

  Halorax waved the mercenary aside. “I’ll go with you. Halorax must be with his Sia when she faces the monster Syphen.”

  “Of course, Uncle. And…I thank you.”

  But as soon as Drea had uttered the words, she began to regret them.

  Yes, she agreed that it was best not to run, for running only made the runner look guilty. But just because it sounded like the most sensible argument didn’t mean it was the most realistic. If what Halorax said was true, and Phaedos Syphen had indeed led a cabal to assassinate the Imperator, then what would it mean if he found the daughter—the last daughter—of the Kalderus on his doorstep? After all, she was the woman meant to solidify the bonds between Imperator Fedarus and Drith.

  If Halorax and Fritt were correct in saying that the Imperator’s assassins believed House Kalder had been part of some conspiracy to allow the Imperator to overthrow all of Drith, then was it really sensible to turn herself in to the patriarch of House Syphen?

  Now that she thought about it, Drea’s heart began to race with the dreadful possibilities. She might be taken in shackles to Old Queen’s Dungeon and tortured. She might be pilloried and whipped publicly in the North Square, and forced to commit the Act of Contrition. She might even be thrown into the Den of Beasts, where she would face horrible creatures.

  I might even suffer all those torments. Old Queen’s Dungeon first, then the pillory, then the Den of Beasts…

  It would not be unheard of for a person found guilty of treason. And that’s what Drea would be if Phaedos Syphen decided not to listen to her petitions and pleadings of innocence. The last of the Kalderus would be wiped off the face of the earth, their name lost to the ages, erased.