by Lawrence, J.
“Where are we going?” The man actually smiled at the prospect.
“If I am not mistaken, Ontar Hold.” Lars answered with a grimace, knowing the response before it came.
“Ontar?” The man shook his head in complaint. “That frozen shit hole? What could possibly…”
“Right now.” Lars cut him off.
“Why?”
“After last night, that frozen shit hole is the most important place in all of Arth.”
Lars forced himself to rise on unsteady feet. He dumped the rest of the strong cinnamon tea and kicked snow into the fire ring, extinguishing it in one screeching hiss. It looked like he might have to actually smoke some of that bitter local leaf after all.
Chapter 14
Dropped Platter
The ceiling of Ontar Hold’s great hall vaulted high above, supported by thick white arches, making Thaniel feel like he was inside the ribcage of a long dead great beast. Heavy crimson banners and tapestries, depicting all kinds of scenes, draped down majestically between the beams. The hall was filled with people. Soldiers, merchants, and craftsmen rubbed shoulders with servants and even slaves. Every bench was lined shoulder to shoulder. Where people couldn’t sit, they stood.
Like nothing had happened at all up in that dreaded chamber, Lisella Ontar, still in flowing festival attire, her bright blonde hair now exquisitely ribboned back in place, sat with the surly Irkhir beside her. By her casual manner you’d never guess there was a real live dra imprisoned in a cage of chain right in Ontar Hold. Irkhir’s eyes scanned back and forth in constant vigilance, as though an assassin might suddenly jump out of a slave’s skin. But, he always looked like that.
The hall hushed when Lisella stood. She had Thaniel, all trussed up in red, rise to his feet and be recognized. She said a few words about glory, the Caller this, the Caller that, or something. Thaniel waved, smiled his best, and felt like he won the idiot contest. People actually cheered his name. Lisella Ontar didn’t let him sit back down until after serving girls poured out of the kitchen, arms loaded down with trays.
Since then the food hadn’t stopped rolling out. Drop biscuits with honey. Dried fruit and nuts. Redcakes. Trays and bowls, overflowing with food, bounced constantly from one person to the next, hands darting in to snag whatever could be had. Everyone talked too loud, the way people did when they were gathered in any big room. He heard snippets of gossip, some about the dra statue, some of it about him… most just plain gossip. At least Thaniel’s sighs were completely muted by the din.
He had hoped to see Elycia when the serving girls came out. Probably for the best that she was nowhere to be found. But that bothered him too. At least Keriim was there where he could see him. The man had been glaring at him from the moment Thaniel had spotted him seated a few tables away.
It didn’t take long for the strong honeyed mead, heated wines, and ale to boost the ever-increasing volume of laughter and conversation. Cups clacked, silverware scraped, and armor clinked. People didn’t need much of an excuse to celebrate. They came by his table with all sorts of congratulations that he tried his best to be polite about. Someone he didn’t know hugged him. The man was one of many slaves that would be set free.
Bella, the rotund cook that usually chased him out of the kitchens, personally brought him three steaming bowls of stew. Real stew, with huge chunks of mutton, followed by two redcakes. Two! She actually stood there watching him eat everything before she turned away with a satisfied sniff from her bulbous nose.
Thaniel thought his belly would burst when someone else handed him another redcake, his third. Out of nowhere Jorel appeared and snatched it out of his hand, shoving the fist sized cake into his mouth in one smooth motion.
“Thanks, pal.” Jorel’s mouth spewed pieces of redcake as he laughed. Krant, a grown man that was smaller than most of the children in the hold and sitting across from them, was spotted with a hunk of the bright cake right between the eyes. The tiny man was about to say something when he glanced at Thaniel, and stopped, as if suddenly remembering something frightening. Had Krant been in the hall when the dra lit up?
“Nice outfit.” Jorel sucked at his teeth.
“It’s bad enough…”
“So, what is going on?” His eyes said he knew but wanted to hear from Thaniel.
Thaniel laughed nervously.
“You gonna tell me what happened up there?”
He was about to let him know that the Ontar’s ceremony, by Irkhir’s command, was off limits conversation when Malby, the feisty little brown haired girl Jorel had supposedly given up trying to kiss, slid onto the bench between the two of them. Before Thaniel knew it she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
“Hey, he’s got a festival kiss.” Jorel bobbed his eyebrows and smiled, exposing a mouthful of red-cake-covered teeth.
“Disgusting.” She shook her head. “Besides, you already got your kiss, and you’re not the Caller. Thaniel is.” Malby teased, crinkling her freckled nose, and batting her eyelashes at him.
“Hey, Thaniel, speaking of kiss, where’s Elycia?” Jorel looked around. “Did you ever catch up to her?”
“Yeah.” Thaniel said sheepishly.
“Well, let’s have it. Does the Caller have a kiss?”
Thaniel winced, remembering.
“Why don’t you tell us about the first time you tried to kiss Malby.” Thaniel pretended he hadn’t heard the question.
“Yeah, Jorel, tell them about it.” Malby encouraged with her fist raised.
Jorel laughed and rubbed at his nose in mock recollection of when she had nearly broken it the first time he tried to kiss her.
“Seriously, where is she? Don’t tell me you never caught up to her. Not even I can outrun you.”
Thaniel grimaced, looking at Keriim, who still sat a couple tables away. The man was playfully feeding a young serving girl little pieces of bread.
Thankfully two more of the First stopped in front of his table right then.
“The code sings.” They said in unison, tracing two fingers across their foreheads. Odd that he hadn’t paid much attention to the strange white tattoos before. He had no idea what the whole finger thing was about, but the way soldiers were regarding him like he was some prized pig was as close to unnerving a thing as he had ever experienced.
Thaniel’s breath caught in his throat. Behind the hulking pair, he caught a flash of bright blonde hair and blue fabric. He dropped his cup, ale sloshing across Kant’s face.
“Elycia!” He called, knowing it was no use. The cacophony of the dining hall in full celebration swallowed his voice the instant it left his throat. Besides, if it was Elycia… There was no mistaking what he saw in her eyes after he called the dra. He couldn’t tell what she was scared of more, the dra or him.
“You’re not going to run off again are you?” Jorel asked sarcastically.
“Did you see her?” Thaniel turned and looked Jorel full in the face. He and Thaniel locked eyes for a moment. They were as good of friends as could be expected in a place like Ontar Hold. Good enough for Jorel to know there was more to the story and it was time to drop it.
Thaniel couldn’t help it as he glanced at Keriim, who was preoccupied with feeding his serving girl dainties.
“I really don’t see what we’re celebrating.” Thaniel said.
“Then you won’t be wanting this then…” Jorel reached forward as Bella handed Thaniel another redcake. He winced as he got a spoon on the back of a hand for his trouble.
“I’ve got strict instructions to make sure the Caller eats like a king, from Irkhir himself.” Bella’s cheeks shook with every word. She was taller than most men and twice as wide.
“Fine by me.” Jorel said, “Just pile it all right here in front of him.”
“So, Thaniel,” the rotund woman started, “Will you be leaving tomorrow?”
The air tensed.
“Where you going Thaniel?” Jorel asked with his mouth half full of stew.
Thaniel didn’t answer.
“Why, it’s all anybody’s been talkin about all day.” The big woman said. “Where have you been, Jorel?”
“Nowhere.” Jorel’s face didn’t flinch. He was purposefully not looking at Malby. It occurred to Thaniel that the two of them arrived pretty much together, and that Malby’s hair was a bit on the messy side.
“He’s free.” Bella said with a big smile, “They drew some lots for the rest of us already, but the Caller, he’s a free man.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “Word is that the Ontar will be announcing more names as the night wears on.”
“Word is a bunch of people are banding together, gonna make it down the pass come spring.” Krant held up his lot. It had a big black dot on it. He was grinning ear to ear. Maybe that was why he didn’t make a fuss about getting spit or spilt on.
“Wait,” Jorel hastily swallowed a mouthful of food, “Free, like as in, not a slave? Free to leave Ontar Hold? That kind of free?” Jorel looked at Bella so intently that it was painfully obvious that he wasn’t looking at Thaniel.
“Yes. Free.” She answered him, “So?”
Thaniel stared at Keriim.
“I’m not going anywhere. Not without Jorel, or…”
Lisella Ontar stood again. People everywhere sat and the place hushed.
“Where is the winner of the gate race?” She called out, holding up a lot with a large black dot on it.
Jorel rose.
“The gate race winner is free.” She pronounced.
Jorel’s eyes went wide. With his mouth agape, he watched the lot pass from person to person, and stared at it unbelievingly when it finally ended up in his open palm. When he looked up at Thaniel he beamed. Then realizing all the people that sat around him that didn’t have a lot in their pocket, Malby being one of them, he sat down.
The night wore on. The drinking continued, followed by courses of various kinds. A bit of a ritual developed. From time to time Lisella Ontar would get up. The names were called, the lot was passed, they would nod at Thaniel, and then sit down.
The night was almost over when she stood up for what everyone figured was the last time. Silence hovered as everyone wondered who would be the final name.
“There is one more person who shall go free. I did not draw this lot. I choose it. I choose it because when I saw the two of them together, I saw love.”
Necks craned everywhere as people tried to locate the last person who would be going free. Lisella Ontar looked right at Thaniel and smiled.
“I proclaim, Elycia, to be free, as the Caller’s eternal kiss.”
From the kitchens, the sound of a dropped platter broke the silence.
Chapter 15
Silence
He finished with a shuddering growl. The second he was done he shoved her off and wiped himself clean on her tattered skirt. As he tucked himself back in, arranging his clothes and armor plates in quick jerks, he sighed. He wasn’t satisfied in the least.
Women always wanted Keriim. In fact, he had three riding him the night of the festival like he was some prized stallion. The problem was that he just couldn’t enjoy himself unless they looked like the crying whore bent over in front of him.
“Stop your sniveling. You wanted it.”
Keriim realized why he was so angry. He liked it better when they looked at him with their scared little woman eyes. How dare she look away from him? Hadn’t he told her not to do that? Keriim took a fistful of the woman’s brittle yellow hair and yanked her head back until she was face to face with him.
“Did I tell you to look away?”
“My Lord…” She started but never finished the sentence. When she opened her mouth to speak she ruined everything. She was missing most of her front teeth. Elycia, the girl he would have had instead of her, had a full set of straight white teeth.
He was so close… if it wasn’t for that damned messenger’s meddling.
After he set off the glowing dra, what could he have done? He had no choice but to ride out the next couple days in agony. Every moment he had to be around either Thaniel or Elycia was another nail in their coffins. Not only did he want to kill them both, but he intended to take his sweet time about it.
How the little bastard managed to evade the dra was dumb luck. He paid the blacksmith a lot of money to be slow about throwing that lever in hopes that if the beast came, it would eat the scrawny bastard. That would have been fun to watch. But when it was clear that wasn’t happening right away, Hobb was supposed to accidentally throw the lever and crush him instead. Getting his money back from the big oaf didn’t even come close to making it better. That cost the blacksmith a finger. Keriim smiled as he patted the little lumpy leather satchel. The man had a big finger.
After hours of fuming, he came upon the wretch carrying a pile of kindling. Keriim couldn’t contain himself anymore. He didn’t even look at the woman. He just shoved her in the closet. Keeping the image of the little blonde in his mind, he didn’t remember much of it. But now that he was past the moment, the thought of having to settle for this whimpering wretch infuriated him even more.
“Shut up, or I’ll have my way with your eye sockets next.” Keriim adjusted the axe at his hip and let his hand rest on the heavy weapon. The woman looked up at him, knees quaking.
“My Lord, I… I wouldn’t say anything.”
She was about to say something else when he realized he couldn’t stand to look at her anymore. He backhanded her onto the stone floor watching with a mixture of anger and satisfaction as she slid across the stone.
Keriim stood over her watching her cower in a ball. He raised his boot and smashed it down on her neck. Bones crunched and the old wretch wiggled about like a strip of crackling pork. Keriim stared into her eyes, watching with fascination as the light of life faded away. They always looked so pitiful when they went limp. Hastily he took up one of her hands and grasped one of the fingers and twisted. It broke away with a delightful snap.
“Silence please.” He grinned.
Chapter 16
Soon
Clist, the scraggly old man that took care of the messenger birds shifted to one side of the hall as he passed the limping servant with an eternally stupid grin. No one liked to notice the broken people. It was the quickest way to be ignored by humans.
“Watch where you’re walking, Ghile.” Clist barked, but the old man never even gave him a second look as he disappeared around a corner. Clist was all cleaned up and heading for the noble’s quarters. That must have been where he was going because he wasn’t draped in his excrement covered tunic. The man wore that thing everywhere but there, and in Bella’s dining hall of course. The woman would beat him with that rolling pin of hers for that. He might like to see that.
Ghile listened for sounds of someone coming before he unlocked the door and slipped into the pigeon aerie. Once he locked the door behind him, he straightened, gaining nearly six inches in stature. He let his leg untwist and allowed his face to relax. Relief.
Messenger pigeons cooed in alarm.
How Clist lived and breathed in this room he couldn’t possibly imagine. The aerie stank of bird excrement so much that even his eyes watered. Feathers and straw were strewn about the place, even though every bird had its own little wooden perch.
Lucky piece of work that the Caller turned out to be Thaniel, one of Ontar Hold’s only two messenger boys. Since a new one hadn’t been appointed yet, a lot of people were running their own messages. It would take old Clist an hour or better to make it all the way down to the noble’s quarters and back.
Regardless of the time he had, he moved quickly. With the bent lilting gait gone, he darted through the aerie with stealth and speed. It felt good to move again.
He slid a small scrap of paper into the message tube, snapped it into place on the right pigeon’s leg, and tossed the bird out the window. The sky around Ontar Hold was bright blue, but dark rolling clouds walled the horizon in all directions. It would take an extra day or so
in the weather that had kicked up out there, but his masters would get the message. He would let them decide what to do next but it was obvious what was going to happen. They would want him, of course.
Ghile smiled in anticipation. He had served obediently. He imagined the reward would be great for the service he had rendered here. More than that, he was looking forward to being rid of the dreadful place.
He moved quickly back through the aerie and enjoyed one more moment of erectness before he slipped on the idiot, and out of the room.
“Ghile, you wretch, what were you doing in there?” A woman’s voice scorned from behind.
Damn. He hadn’t checked the hall before he entered it. Everyone knew only Clist was allowed in the aerie alone and that he never left it unlocked. Darla had a big mouth. She would make half the hold aware of his transgression by the time she made it back to the seamstress lofts.
“No.” He exaggeratedly clamped a twisted hand over his own mouth. “Me… I made promise…” He made a show of kicking at the stone wall with his twisted leg and wincing in fake pain. “I won’t blabber out no surprise.” He shook his head vehemently.
“What? News?” She looked at him with her head cocked to one side. “Spit it out you lump…”
“No.” His face screwed up and twitched when he spoke. He gestured at the door adding, “Ask him yourself, I… promised.”
She looked at the door, eyes narrowing. He shrugged and started limping away, leaving the door open.
Hooked.
“Clist, you old dog, where are you?” She called as she stuck her head through the door. Eager for her little piece of gossip, when she didn’t hear anything right away, she went in looking for him. Humans were so stupid. Quietly he shut the door behind him as he slipped inside.
