by Stuart Jaffe
Before Canto could refuse, Fawbry said, “I don’t see why that should be a problem. We have plenty of space. We could offer temporary housing. Though Canto is correct that there are those who don’t like you, they are even less fond of me, but I’m doing well enough here. Besides, there are plenty who love us for what we risked.”
Malja appreciated what Fawbry had attempted. By spouting off such an offer, Canto would be embarrassed to not follow through. Though he held his lips tight, Canto said, “Very well. We shall provide you a place to stay for a few days. But you must provide us something in return.”
“Which is?”
“Our morale is low. Despite my misgivings, Sheriff Fawbry is accurate — many here will be thrilled you are back. So, your return is an excellent excuse for a celebration. Even those who fear you, even those who harbor hatred — none will turn down a fine drink and a dance. They’ll pretend it isn’t for you, and they’ll grumble about you, but they’ll still enjoy themselves. I know you don’t like to be treated this way, but if you let us throw such a party in your honor, then the housing is yours.”
Malja tried not to look anything but pleased. “You have a deal. When should we —”
“Tonight. Before anybody can argue. We will start the preparations at once.” To Fawbry, Canto added, “Set them up in one of the homes on Red Street.”
Fawbry popped to his feet. “Happily.”
As they headed toward the door, Canto said, “Make sure, Sheriff Fawbry, that you know where your loyalties are. Your words were out of turn, and I only tolerated it because of your long-standing friendship with Malja. But if you cannot be loyal to the people of Carsite, then you cannot be our Sheriff.”
Fawbry frowned. “No need for that. There’s plenty of room for me to serve you both.”
Malja stayed quiet, but she knew what Canto thought — for she thought it as well. Eventually, this would become a problem for Fawbry and he didn’t know it.
Chapter 5
The Carsites desperately needed this party. Well before nightfall, they had transformed the town streets into a full-blown festival. Spicy foods sizzled while musicians tuned their instruments. Children darted from stall to stall, looking at toys and clothes and whatever people decided they could drag out and sell. Laughter rolled across the growing crowd like a distant thunderstorm.
Malja stepped back from the second-story window of the apartment Canto had loaned them and faced Fawbry. He sat on the edge of the narrow bed that occupied most of the small, plain room.
“I am sorry,” she said.
“It’s not like you planned for Harskill to show up and offer to whisk you away.”
“Was Tommy upset?”
“More angry than anything else. But he adjusted. Probably made him a little stronger.”
“And you?”
Fawbry sighed. He looked at his hands and rubbed his thumb over the back of the other. “I never expected to be partnered with you for this long. I always thought that one day I’d awake and you’d be gone, so when it happened, I was fine. Maybe even a little relieved.”
“Relieved?”
“Life around you is dangerous. Exciting and adventurous, yes, but oftentimes life-threatening, too. I was looking forward to being Sheriff in this little place. Finding a lovely woman and becoming part of this community.”
“You say that as if you’re no longer looking forward to that. What changed?”
Holding an open hand toward her with an incredulous frown, he said, “You, of course. You came back. And you brought those people with you.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t —”
“It absolutely does mean that. I’ve known you long enough now. This can only bring trouble.”
“She’s a little girl. Innocent and unsullied by the worlds. Should I have let her be a pawn in some stupid game? Should I have let her die?”
He shook off the conversation and headed for the door. “We’re about to have a party. Let’s try to get in a festive mood. The rest of this ... it won’t go anywhere and we can always argue about it tomorrow.” Fawbry froze, his shocked and confused expression locked on something down the hall.
Malja pushed him out of the way. The Artisoll’s room was only a few steps down at the end of the hall. Her door stood ajar, and inside sat Tommy and a young woman. Malja burst into the room and saw Stray sitting on an end table in the far corner.
“Where’s the Artisoll? Who’s this?”
Tommy and the young woman held their hands up against each other as if staring into a mirror. They both wore stunned expressions, seemingly amazed at the touch of their palms against the other. But Stray looked equally amazed — no, Malja sensed more pride than amazement.
“By Korstra, somebody tell me what damn thing has happened to the Artisoll.”
Stray pointed to the young woman. “She’s right there.”
Gripping the young woman’s chin, Malja inspected her face. “How’s this possible? She was a child only a few hours ago.”
“Unhand her,” Stray said, standing with his hands resting on the hilts of his swords.
Malja let go. Not from fear, but from Stray’s reaction — he left no doubt in her mind that this woman was, indeed, the Artisoll. “I don’t understand this. Is she going to keep rapidly aging and then die?”
“No.” Stray settled back in the corner. “The Artisoll doesn’t age like that. She manifests her outward appearance based on her own needs and the needs of those around her. Being a child benefited her for all the years I have known her, and in the normal events of our home, she would have remained a child until the day of her rising. But our situation has drastically changed, and so, she has as well. I never thought I’d see such a thing. I’d only been taught that it could happen. This is a rare and privileged experience.”
Fawbry poked his head over Malja’s shoulder. “Looks like Tommy and her have something going.”
She elbowed him lightly in the gut. “Don’t you have to be Sheriff? Go watch the Carsites set up.” To Stray, she asked, “Is this anything to be concerned about?”
“It is a miraculous event. The Artisoll’s magic at work before her rising. She honors us all by allowing us to be present.”
“I don’t like being honored.”
“But isn’t that the point of this evening — to honor you?”
“Just because it’s the point of the party, doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.” She snapped her fingers at the two young people. “Tommy. Time to go get ready for the party. Let the Artisoll be. I’m sure you’ll see her again tonight.”
He hesitated. Then, to her shock, he grinned at the Artisoll and the Artisoll blushed. After he left, Malja slammed the door closed and stormed off to her room. She threw her own door shut and kicked a hole into the wall.
All she had been trying to do was save the life of a child in need. Like she had done for Tommy long ago. Yet the sensation churning inside told her well enough that things were spiraling out of her control. This girl, this Artisoll, had a lot more underneath the surface than simply being able to shift her appearance, and Malja wanted nothing to do with it.
But I saved her life. I’m responsible.
Except maybe she hadn’t saved the girl at all. Stray seemed to indicate that the street war she had interrupted was part of normal political maneuvers. Maybe so. But Malja had encountered enough politicians in her life to know that none of them were any good.
Even Canto.
Through the war with the Scarites, she had seen much good in the man, but she could not forget her first meeting with him. He had been engaged to the daughter of the head of town, and he knew what privilege came with that. He exploited it as long as possible.
And now, when she returned in need of his help, he had to be pushed in order to give his consent. She had to parade herself about at this ridiculous festival just so he could maintain control. The Artisoll’s life was in her hands, and she had to bargain with Canto for it.
Ridicul
ous.
Malja peered out the window at the activities below. At least, after concluding whatever uncomfortable pageantry Canto had planned, she’d be able to get drunk. Maybe even find a man to lie with for the night. It had been a long time since she last enjoyed such an evening. If it had to be forced on her, she might as well find some pleasure in it, too.
Rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands, she tried to push away all thoughts of the Artisoll, her magic, and all Stray had implied about what had happened. They had a party to enjoy. Besides, even if she could solve this squabble tomorrow, the next day would be engaged in some other fight. That was the way of her life.
On the bedside table, she noticed a wide-toothed comb clearly made from the sun-bleached bones of a local creature. She sat on the bed, undid her long braid, and combed her hair. Each stroke that pulled through her knotted, unattended hair felt satisfying and relaxing. The sensation of the comb against her head as well as the hair tugging from her scalp allowed Malja to empty her mind of the incessant jumbling thoughts and focus on this one simple pleasure. At length, she braided her hair once more, washed her face with water provided in a small bowl, and walked downstairs to join the celebration that had already begun.
The crowded streets buzzed with excitement. People wore their traditional wide-brimmed hats and dressed in their finest robes — a stunning variety of colors and designs. A musician playing a whining, stringed instrument weaved her song throughout the people while the high pitches of a fluted instrument could be heard from one street over. The food that had been cooking for the last few hours now filled the air with hunger-inducing seductiveness.
Unlike her earlier arrival, this time all the faces looking upon Malja smiled and laughed. A few that she recognized from their final battle against the Scarites dared to slap her on the back. She endured it as they led her through the thickening throngs until they reached the town center.
A square had been marked out with large stones and three chairs lined the back end. Canto sat one chair to the right of center. Tommy sat one chair to the left. Malja knew they expected her to take the center chair.
As she crossed the empty square, she could feel the pressure of the people that filled the town center, pressing against each other right up to the stone line. Each person wanted as good a view as possible. Elsewhere, no doubt, groups gathered to mock the festival and complain about Malja, but as Canto had predicted, they would gladly partake in the food and alcohol. When she sat in the designated chair, Canto sprang to his feet and raised his hands.
“This evening we honor a great warrior, one without whom we would never have achieved the prosperity that awaits. She freed us from a cycle of war and destruction, and through her courage, we have found our own. Join me, dear people of the great town of Raxholden, in showing Malja our appreciation.”
Like a trained army saluting their leader, the people all placed their hands on their stomachs and bowed their heads.
A moment later, Canto removed his hat. “Let our evening begin!” The Carsites cheered as Canto returned to his chair. He leaned towards Malja. “We have a short program for you and then the rest of the evening will be an open party. I hope that’s not too much trouble.”
“It’ll be fine.” She tried not to scowl, though she knew that he only said these things so people would see him talking closely with her.
A loud, steady drumbeat broke through the crowd’s noise and captured their attention. Eight performers, four women and four men, entered the cleared square. They wore tight-fitting clothes that allowed them freedom to move. Their faces had been painted drastically — two stark white, two thick green, two deep red, and two rich blue.
As they walked forward, their steps timed with the drumbeat, Malja recognized one of the dancers — Hirasa. That girl was astounding. She had fought hard on the battlefield, had risked much for the lives of her fellow people, and now showed a level of grace and artistry that filled Malja with pride as if the girl were her own. No matter what happened to these people, no matter what fool they allowed to lead them, Malja knew that as long as they had individuals like Hirasa around, they would be fine.
The dance was entertaining enough. It began with a depiction of the people’s central myth — the story of the brothers Carsite and Scarite both falling in love with the beautiful Pali, how they each struggled to win her over, and how Pali chose a tragic end to save them all. As the dancers went through their highly stylized routine, filled with graceful yet sharp movements, the audience reacted with admiration and surprise as if they did not hear this story numerous times every week.
Out of politeness, Malja tried to pay attention, but dance had never interested her. She noticed a scuffle in the back and her hand tightened into a fist. But then she saw a multi-colored robe enter the fray, and moments later, Sheriff Fawbry had broken up the fight. He did it smoothly, quietly, and with such authority that after he left, those causing the trouble straightened up and respectfully watched the dance.
Guess he’s learned a few things over the years.
The dance shifted from the Pali myth to something far more serious to Malja — a depiction of her arrival and the events leading up to and through the war with the Scarites. She tried not to look uncomfortable, but the dance portrayed her as some kind of heroine. As far as she could tell, all that really had happened consisted of her trying to save her friends from the trouble they had created and then trying to stop Harskill from the trouble he created. But to watch the dance, one would think the Brother Gods themselves had sent her on a noble quest to right the wrongs done to this poor people.
Finally, the performance finished, the dancers bowed, the audience cheered, and the party resumed. People stepped over the stone outline of the stage to congratulate the dancers. Others took the stage to dance with their friends or lovers. A small band of musicians kicked up a raucous tune while chatter and laughter filled every empty space of air.
Canto patted Malja on the arm. “Thank you. You’ve done a good thing here. Look at them. They’re smiling. They’re happy. This was exactly what they needed.” Without waiting for a reply, Canto joined the mass of celebrants.
Malja scanned the crowd — not looking for trouble or problems, but merely looking. Canto was right. They were happy. She had been to many parties before, but rarely were the people so engaged and joyous. Often the parties followed a battle, and though they celebrated a victory, there always remained a somber, morose current flowing underneath.
But here, the Carsites had been free of war for several months. They were rebuilding their lives. They could dream of a future for their children. They had hope.
Her eyes stopped on the stage which had now become a dance floor. Tommy and the Artisoll walked out on the floor and faced each other. Their fingers locked together and their eyes twinkled. She wore a traditional Carsite robe but with an untraditional, bright orange sash. And Tommy — he had actually attempted to appear neat. His wild hair had been tamed down with something that kept it stuck in place, and he wore a light robe, free from any sign of dirt.
The townspeople stared at the Artisoll — some shocked, some horrified. If not for the fact that she danced with Tommy, they would have reacted much stronger. Perhaps chasing her out of town for fear that she was the Pali Witch. Though the witch had died, killed by a Carsite named Javery, the legend surrounding the evil being lived on. The people expected her to return someday, and seeing a woman who had been a girl only hours before constituted witchcraft.
Off to the side, Malja caught sight of another young woman. A pretty girl that had been Tommy’s main focus when Malja had left. Her name was Lynoya, and the look of betrayal in her eyes told a different story but one common enough.
I’ll have to have a serious talk with Tommy, Malja thought. Except, what could she say? She had avoided the complications of love throughout her life. There always had been more important matters to deal with — surviving at first, revenge at second, and lately, saving people. As Fawbry h
ad pointed out on several occasions, she had no authority when it came to these matters. But she knew enough to see that the drama unfolding in front her was wrong. Tommy should not mistreat Lynoya and he certainly shouldn’t be flirting with the Artisoll.
Stray settled in the chair next to Malja and watched the celebration. “This is a fine party.”
She glanced his way, wondering what his reaction would be to Tommy dancing with the woman he was sworn to protect. He appeared unperturbed. Maybe he hadn’t noticed. Not likely. No matter what happened, Malja knew that Stray would keep one eye on the Artisoll always.
With an awkward motion that encompassed his entire torso, Stray leaned closer and stuck out his hand. “Would you care to dance?”
“I don’t like dancing.”
Stray exhaled and slumped in his chair with a broad smile. “Thank the Queen and all the Holy Men who serve her. I dislike dancing as well. I just saw you sitting here alone and thought that since this is all in your honor, it would be wrong for you not to be asked to dance.”
“Why are you suddenly acting nice to me?”
“Two reasons. First, my job is protecting the Artisoll. Here, I see the way the people look at us, and I think she would be in great danger if you weren’t on our side. Second, you’re a good fighter. I don’t like any of what has happened, but I believe you have the honor of a true warrior.”
Lynoya burst into tears and dashed off into the crowd. As she left, Tommy showed no sign of noticing.
Pointing to the Artisoll, Malja said, “Is that a problem?” She felt a twinge of guilt, but she figured if Tommy wanted to behave this way, he should be willing to deal with the consequences.
Stray shrugged. “I protect the Artisoll. I don’t dictate her choices.”
“You don’t care if they sleep together, but you threaten to kill me if I touch her?”
“She chose to touch him. There’s a difference.”
