Souls of Aredyrah 1 - The Fire and the Light

by Tracy A. Akers

  Reiv glanced up and spotted Alicine staring dumbly. “So you are awake. Good. You are in time for breakfast,” he said.

  “Yes, I was just—I was just going to the room there,” she said, pointing to the door across the way. She continued to examine him as if she had never seen him before in her life.

  Reiv glanced down at himself, then back up at her. “What?” he asked.

  “Oh. Nothing.” Alicine felt her face go hot. “You look different, that’s all.”

  “Nothing that a little soap and water could not help. I have drawn you a bath,” he said, nodding in the direction of the lavatory.

  “A what?”

  “A bath,” he repeated. “You certainly are in need of one. How long has it been?”

  “Not that long,” Alicine declared.

  “I would think much longer.”

  “Well, you didn’t smell so sweet yourself yesterday.”

  Reiv frowned. “It was a bad day.”

  “Well, thank you for the offer, but I think I’ll wait until Brina returns.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  Dayn rose up on an elbow and assessed the exchange going on between his sister and Reiv. It seemed inconsequential, so he yawned and stretched, then kicked the blanket from his legs. Spying the door to the right, he rose and headed in that direction, but he quickly found himself competing with his sister for the comforts of the little room.

  “Fine, you go first then,” he grumbled. He turned and leaned against the wall, arms crossed, waiting for her to finish, and watched Reiv busying himself in the kitchen. “What was all that ruckus between you and Alicine?” he asked.

  “That sister of yours,” Reiv said, shaking his head. “I merely suggested a bath. You would have thought—”

  “A bath?” Dayn asked.

  Reiv glanced up. “Yes. A bath. You know what that is, do you not?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Well,” Reiv said, nodding in the direction of the lavatory, “there is one drawn in there. I suggest you use it. Your sister does not seem to want to.”

  “Use it? But I—”

  “—took one a week ago or something. Yes, I know. You’d best use it, Dayn. Brina will expect it and she will have my head if I do not see to it.”

  “What is it about Brina and our heads?” Dayn muttered.

  Alicine, finished at last, exited the lavatory. Dayn brushed past her and stepped through the door, eyeing the large cask of bathwater across the way. It did look inviting, and he was dirtier than usual. Besides, Reiv said Brina expected them to bathe, and Dayn didn’t want to risk angering her this early in their relationship. He stripped off his filthy tunic and trousers, then lowered himself into the tub and leaned his head back against the rim. His arms floated in the sudsy water as his mind drifted.

  A rap at the door brought him to his senses.

  “Dayn are you all right? Reiv says you have been in there a long time.”

  Brina! He bolted upright and covered himself with his hands, sending a splash of water over the side.

  “Don’t come in!” he shouted, scanning the room for the nearest towel. “God, what does she want to see now?” he said.

  “I heard that,” Brina said through the door.

  He slunk back down. “Sorry, Brina.”

  “Well, come out when you are ready. Food is on the table.”

  When Dayn arrived in the kitchen, he saw that everyone was gathered around an enticing breakfast of fruit, eggs, bread, and honey. He sat on the bench beside Alicine, grabbed a chunk of bread, and shoved it into his mouth. He glanced at Brina. She was scanning him with distaste. “What?” he asked between chews.

  “Reiv, have you not fetched him some clean clothes?” she asked. “A bath does little good if it is followed by such grime.”

  “No, Brina,” he said. “I have been too busy getting clean myself and, in case you have not noticed, this breakfast did not prepare itself.”

  “When you are finished, then,” she said. “Oh, and did you take care of—”

  “Yes,” Reiv said, “in the bath.” By his cool expression, it was clear he did not wish further discussion regarding the matter.

  With his breakfast downed, Reiv rose and cleared his dish, then headed for the door. “Dayn, I will find you something as soon as I get back,” he called over his shoulder.

  “Thanks,” Dayn replied as he followed him to the door.

  Reiv put his hand on the latch. “Bolt this behind me and do not open it unless you are certain it is me. Understand?”

  Dayn nodded. “All right. Be careful.”

  Reiv forced a smile. “I was once fairly skilled at getting in and out of tight situations. Perhaps I still possess the talent.”

  Brina walked up, her expression speaking of gratitude. “Reiv . . .”

  “Do not worry. I know what I am doing.”

  “Just act normal,” she said.

  “Oh, and what exactly is that?”

  He opened the door a crack and peered out, then turned back to Dayn. “Remember, bolt the door behind me.”

  * * * *

  Reiv made his way down the narrow cobble street, scrutinizing every doorway, alcove, and alley. He dreaded the thought of meeting up with Crymm or one of the other guards he had confronted the night before. But if he did, he would need to be prepared. Gritting his teeth, he replayed the humiliating story he would have to tell.

  He rounded the corner and strolled to the stables. No one of consequence was in sight, but even if there had been, his presence would not have seemed unusual. He did, after all, spend a great deal of time with Gitta. For the past year she had been the only friend he had. Pushing open the double doors of the stable, he felt overwhelming remorse. He had sorely neglected the horse the night before.

  He entered the stall and felt the familiar joy he always felt at the sight of her. He wrapped his arms around her neck and buried his face in her mane. “Gitta,” he said. “How is my girl today?”

  She snorted and stomped as she moved to nuzzle his neck.

  He set a fresh bucket of oats down before her, and she put her mouth to them immediately. His remorse returned.

  “I am sorry, Gitta. Do you forgive me?” He grabbed a brush from a shelf on the wall, and brushed her with long, gentle strokes. She raised her head, snorted again, and turned her attention back to the bucket.

  “Well,” he said, laughing, “at least you are thinking about it.”

  A sudden rustling sounded in the adjoining stall. Gitta jerked her head up while Reiv paused to listen. All went quiet. “Probably just a rat, girl,” Reiv said. He patted her back and resumed his brushing.

  On the opposite side of the stall’s partition, Crymm crouched, silent and listening. He had spent the previous night drinking and gambling, and had found himself far too inebriated to make his way back to the bunks. He’d collapsed in a heap in the stables, barely caring about the consequences of the morning, when a familiar voice in the adjoining stall raised him from his stupor.

  He leaned back on his haunches and blinked his crusty eyelids. Could he be dreaming? he wondered. Pressing his cheek against the boards of the stall, he slanted an eye between the crack. His heart took a sudden leap. He couldn’t believe his luck—it was the princeling!

  “I am sorry for the neglect last night, Gitta,” he heard Reiv say to the horse. “You know I had to tend to our guests.”

  Crymm’s ears pricked up. He huddled closer to the wall and peered between the slats.

  “They were not as bad as we thought though,” Reiv said. “Maybe we could get to know them better.”

  Gitta nudged her face against Reiv’s chest and pushed him gently.

  “Whoa, there, girl. I understand your concern.” Reiv continued to brush, his brow furrowed in contemplation. “Perhaps we could make more effort to go to Pobu. I know, I know. We are not particularly welcome there.”

  He placed the grooming brush on the shelf and stood with his hands on his hips, watch
ing Gitta devour a second bucket of feed. “Gods, girl, if you continue to eat like that you shall be the fattest horse in the stables.” He laughed and ran his hand along her back, then said, “Well, I will leave you to it. There are things I must do.”

  The horse paused and stared at Reiv as though awaiting an explanation.

  “Do not worry,” Reiv said. “All will be well.” Then he turned, walked out of the stall, and headed for the street.

  Leaning around the partition, Crymm watched as Reiv exited the building. He rose on stiff knees, then realized the poor state of his uniform. He ran his fingers though his hair, combing out bits of straw, then tugged at the tunic now stained with manure. But there was no time to freshen up. An unexpected opportunity had come his way, and he could ill afford to let it pass.

  He skulked past Gitta’s stall, his cold blue eyes fully focused on the door. But the horse suddenly reared and thundered her hooves to the ground.

  The gate rattled as if it would burst from its hinges. Crymm staggered back, hissing and swearing. “Foul creature! When I have taken care of the princeling…” He eyed a whip that hung on a nearby peg. “If only I had time.”

  He crept to the stable doors and peeked out. Glancing to his right, he caught sight of Reiv’s red hair weaving between the growing crowd of blond Tearians. More and more residents were making their way to Market and this, he knew, could work in his favor.

  Dodging between shadows and shallow doorways, Crymm kept close to the buildings that lined the streets. On more than one occasion he found himself diving for cover as the red head paused and turned around. But the boy never appeared to have seen him, and each time turned and continued on.

  Reiv rounded a corner and stopped before the Jecta dormitories, a cavernous two-story structure made of gray stone blocks. He glanced from side to side, then disappeared through the front door.

  Crymm crept over and inched along the wall toward an open window. Strangely, the prince was making his way to the women’s bunk area rather than to the men’s. What in the world could he be doing there?

  Reiv looked around, then hurried to the nearest bunk. Opening a large wooden trunk resting at the foot of it, he peeked inside and frowned. He took nothing and closed the lid before moving to another trunk nearby. The lid opened with a creak. Reiv winced and threw a glance over his shoulder. He reached in and pulled out a red and gray patterned sarong, then took a coin from the money pouch at his waist and tossed it in. He closed the lid and headed out the door.

  Crymm’s mouth curled to a grin. I have you at last, you arrogant prince. First you harbor thieves, now you have become one. But, just in case there is any doubt. . . His eyes narrowed; his brows met. The plan was in play.

  And this time he would not fail.

  Return to Table of Contents

  Chapter 16: Culture Shock

  Reiv leaned his head against his front door and muttered a prayer of gratitude. How long had it been since he had thanked the gods for anything? He couldn’t even remember. He glanced over his shoulder, then tapped on the door. “Open up, it is me,” he whispered loudly. He leaned his ear in closer. Muffled laughter could be heard in a distant part of the apartment. “Gods,” he muttered. He ground his teeth and rattled the handle.

  The door opened a crack and a blue eye peered out. “Yes?” the voice behind the eye said.

  Reiv shoved his way in, banging the door against Dayn’s arm. He stormed across the room, tossed the bundle onto the table, and wheeled to face to his now disgruntled cousin.

  “This is no time for jokes, Dayn!” he barked. “You have no idea what is going on here, do you?”

  Dayn massaged his aching elbow. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, “but I knew it was you.”

  “Listen, this is serious business and you need to treat it as such!” Reiv rubbed his temples and scrunched his face with exasperation. How in the world was he going to make him understand? As he looked into the wounded, boyish face of his cousin, he realized Dayn was just that—a boy. Though they were nearly the same age, Dayn had obviously not been forced into manhood as quickly as Reiv had.

  “Assaulting your cousin again, Reiv?” Brina said as she swished into the room and made her way to the bundle flung onto the table.

  “Brina, he has no idea—” Reiv started to say.

  “Of course not, dear. Did you expect him to?”

  “But—”

  “Reiv,” Brina said, shooting him a look, “try a little patience, will you. Now, what did you bring us?” She untangled the bundle and held up the sarong for inspection.

  “Where is Alicine?” Reiv asked, noticing she was not in the room.

  “She is in the bath. I finally managed to convince her. Such modest children these two.” She laughed. “Reiv, would you please go find Dayn something to wear now?”

  “Oh, of course,” Reiv said, realizing the quest for clothing was not yet complete.

  He headed to his bedchamber and to the pile of clothing he had tossed to the floor the night before. He had not yet returned the trunk to its rightful place and made a mental note to do so later. Rummaging through the tumble of clothes, he searched for something that would fit Dayn’s larger frame. This time of year most Jecta men wore loincloths, but he knew his cousin would never agree to it. He pulled a faded brown tunic from the pile and held it up for scrutiny, then shook his head. The fit would not be a comfortable one.

  Reiv strode from the room and handed the tunic to Brina for her approval. Holding it up, she glanced from the tunic to Dayn, then back again.

  “Here, Dayn,” she said as she tossed him the tunic. “Try this on.”

  Dayn held it up, examining it, then glanced at Brina.

  Brina sighed, turned her back to him, and resumed her inspection of the sarong.

  Dayn watched Brina from the corner of his eye as he yanked off his filthy tunic and replaced it with the Jecta-styled one. Rubbing his hands down the front of the surprisingly conservative top, he surveyed himself, a look of relief blanketing his face. The tunic was short and it did fit a bit snugly, but at least it wasn’t a loincloth.

  “This isn’t so bad,” he said.

  Brina looked him over. “Those—off,” she said, pointing to his trousers.

  “Wha—Off?”

  “Dayn,” Brina said, “you need to dress like a Jecta.”

  “But what about . . . ?” Dayn glanced at Reiv’s bare legs, then back at Brina.

  “What?” Brina asked.

  “Breeches!” Dayn said.

  “Breeches?”

  “Trousers. . . bottoms!” Dayn grabbed hold of his pants leg and shook it.

  Looking over her nose at the increasingly exasperated Dayn, Brina said, “Jecta do not wear bottoms, dear.” She then turned her attention back to the sarong.

  “But what am I supposed to wear under this?” Dayn cried, lifting his arms in the air. He gaped down at himself. The hem of the tunic was pulled almost to his hips.

  “What are you wearing under those bottoms now?” Brina asked, gesturing toward his pants.

  “Now? Nothing, but—” Dayn turned to Reiv, his eyes begging for support in the battle over fashion.

  Reiv stifled a laugh.

  “So, what are you wearing under that?” Dayn demanded, pointing to Reiv’s tunic.

  “Well, not nothing as you are,” Reiv said. “Come with me. I may have something you can wear. I don’t normally share my bottoms, as you call them, but under the circumstances…”

  Grabbing Dayn by the shoulders, Reiv spun him around and pushed him toward the bedchamber. “Well, look at it this way,” Reiv said as he entered the room behind his cousin, “at least you will not have to wear the boots.”

  “Alicine, dear, here is a change of clothes for you,” Brina said through the closed lavatory door.

  “Don’t come in,” Alicine called from the other side.

  “I will not enter if you do not wish me to, but how am I to get these clothes to you? Would you prefer I send in yo
ur brother?”

  “No! Wait!” Alicine shouted. How could the woman even suggest such a thing!

  Alicine scanned the room and was relieved to spy a bath sheet hanging on a nearby peg. Keeping one eye on the door, she raised up from the water, both hands clutching the rim. The sides of the tub were somewhat high for someone of her stature, but she managed to escape the slippery tub with a small degree of grace. She tiptoed across the wet, tiled floor, arms wrapped around herself, then grabbed the sheet and pulled it around her naked body. She flung her long, wet hair behind her and crept toward the door. Opening it only a crack, she peered out at Brina, who waited patiently on the other side.

  “Here, dear,” Brina said, threading the sarong through the crack as Alicine pulled it through from the other side. “Let me know if you need any assistance.”

  “Thank you . . . yes . . . I will . . . thank you,” Alicine said. She closed the door, almost catching the end of the garment in it.

  Alicine held up the sarong. It was nothing more than a long swath of cloth intended to be wrapped around one’s body and secured. But with what? She had never seen a garment such as this and had no idea what to do with it. She twisted her face with disgust. There was not much to the thing, certainly not enough to cover her body appropriately. And the color—what was Reiv thinking?

  “Brina,” she said through the door, “I will not wear this thing. I simply will not.”