Medieval Rain

by J. D. Sonne

  “Well, my lodge should be interesting tonight with Shukad under punishment. I’m sure mother will have a few things to say. I think I’ll stay out of the way.”

  “Wise! See you tomorrow,” Saruah said, shrugging into the robe proffered by her virul.

  The water’s increasing tepidity decreased Rane’s enthusiasm for lounging and she soon emerged from the bath to the awaiting towel of the closest virul. Her house virul stood at attention with a neat folding of clean clothing and solemnly produced each article as Rane dressed herself. She did not as some Leads like Saruah who had viruls actually dress them; she was too independent for that. She toweled her hair dry so that it assumed its usual rag-like quality—no matter what she did, her hair was a disorganized jungle—and stretched, enjoying the feeling of clean, dry skin and clean, dry clothes. She descended the bath’s rough wooden steps with a jaunty hop and found the cobbled path that led home, her virul following behind.

  A feeling of magnanimity brought on by a successful shift induced her to beckon her virul forward so she could engage him in conversation.

  “So, squirrel. What is the word amongst you about rat? I heard he came out of infirmary today.”

  “Yes, Lead Rane. That is what I heard as well,” squirrel said carefully, keeping his eyes down.

  “And?” Rane said.

  “And, they say that his wounds are healing—“

  “Squirrel!” Rane said impatiently. “I do not want to hear what ‘they’ say. I want to know what rat said to you.”

  Squirrel cowered along, falling behind her a pace. “Rat does not speak to me, Lead Rane.”

  Rane turned and lay a swift, flat hand across squirrel’s face, then grabbed him and made the hand a fist not an inch from his eye.

  “But,” he sputtered, dangling by his shirt, “I did hear him say to another virul--as I kept close to him as per your orders—that there would be a change and he would be its author!”

  Rane dropped squirrel who cringed away from her, rubbing his chest. Rat. She almost laughed. A virul changing things. Unheard of, yet, the words should be taken seriously. But a thing to be reported? She wasn’t sure about that.

  “Squirrel. Oh, and I am sorry about that,” she said nodding toward the welt coming up on his chest. She had learned to alternate brutality with kindness with the virul. “I promise many sweets from my plate if you will but become rat’s friend.”

  “But, Lead Rane,” squirrel said rubbing his chest, a pettish tone having crept into his voice, “he is not stupid. He knows I am your house virul. He will not trust me. He will probably even beat me up if I approach him.”

  Rane sighed. Why were viruls so cowardly? She continued kindly. “Come on, squirrel. I have seen you persuade people! Did you not manipulate Saruah into giving you that old warrior charm of hers? Why don’t you tell rat that you are sick of being a virul, too? You could enter his confidence that way, couldn’t you?”

  Squirrel’s face took on a real agony. “Lead Rane! That is too dangerous! What will happen to me if I am implicated in what he might do?”

  “Squirrel? Don’t you trust me? I will not let any harm come to you. In fact, I will reward you! And, the rewards will come steadily over the next few months as you cultivate him.”

  “Cultivate him? What do you mean?”

  “Just be his friend,” Rane said, reaching out and patting the little virul’s shoulder. “That is really all you have to do—”

  “—And, if any of the other viruls get any notion of what I am up to, I will end up dead in a ditch, every bone in my body broken.”

  “You are being his friend! That is all! Just report everything to me. That will be the thing that will keep you safe. But I mean everything. Keep nothing from me. That will keep you safe. But betray me—”

  At this, squirrel backed away from her shaking his head back and forth in a frenzied motion. “That I would never do, Lead Rane!” He cried between great gulps of air.

  “Yes, yes, I know,” Rane said reassuringly. “Now, run ahead and tell my mother I am home, and tell the kitchen viruls that I want supper as soon as I step in the door. I hunger.”

  “Yes, Lead! Yes, Lead!” Squirrel said bowing as he ran backwards up the path.

  There is an art to obeisance, Rand thought idly, wondering at squirrel’s servile contortions he effected even as he ran up the steps to her house.

  Chapter Two

  Being a Lead, Rane experienced much luxury in her existence, but nothing compared with the comfort and well-being she enjoyed in her family’s lodge. He mother had contracted the finest builders to erect this beautiful wood dwelling, and as she entered through the massive arched wood gate that brought her through the huge enclosure surrounding the lodge, she felt the safety of the grounds wash over her like a warm rain. It was fitting that her name was a homonym of her favorite weather phenomenon, for she evoked it whenever she needed a metaphor for being safe. And here, she was safe.

  The scurryings of the viruls signaled that one of the daughters was home and male hands extended warm cloths, drink, a platter of her favorite fruit and even slippers to shield her feet from some of the imagined splinters of the hewn floors.

  “Where is my mother?” She asked squirrel, who enjoyed a measure of status among the other viruls as Rane’s personal servant, as evidenced by his lack of scurrying.

  “She is in her study,” he said, bowing her along and indicating a direction she knew well.

  “Have my dinner served in there,” Rane said. “Has mother eaten?” At squirrel’s negative, she added, “Brings hers along, too.”

  Tollichet hunched over the great oaken desk, parchment scattered in disheveled heaps obscuring its fine grained surface. She looked up and ran a hand over the untidy wisps of hair rebelling against the immense knotted braid down her back. Rane always envied mother her hair and patted absently at her own ragtag locks.

  “Sit down, daughter!” Tollichet pushed the parchment away and tossed her quill into the ink cup. “I hope that doings at the canal were uneventful.”

  Rane related the events in a rather cursory manner, forgetting that such abbreviation only encouraged endless questions from her detail-driven mother.

  “Did you make sure the pitch adhered to the joist?” and “Did you notify the next shift of the event?” and “Did you make a full report to the Water Lead?”

  “Yes, yes and yes!” Rane said, trying to keep impatience out of her voice. “And Saruah was able to get a turn in at minding the flow when I left my post to check the sector.”

  “But, should you have done that?”

  Rane practically had to mentally turn her eyes into steel to keep from rolling them—a reaction that would have certainly earned her a lecture about disrespect, etc. She succeeded, however, and attempted a change of subject. Also, the serving viruls had entered the study with supper.

  “Saruah had to go to the healer today with her mother.” Rane said, immediately cursing herself for the switch. Shaking her head at her stupidity, she dipped her bread into the onion sauce and pronged a piece of meat with her fork, lifting it to her mouth.

  “Your turn will come soon enough,” Tollichet said, giving a cursory glance at the food the virul placed on her desk, then returning to her parchment and quill. “After you have had six monthly issues, you will visit Titled Garlamon.

  Rane gave an inward, silent groan. She did not like to think about her innards being prodded by the old woman. She couldn’t believe her foolishness in bringing the healer up to her mother, even if it were for the sake of breaking a previous subject.

  “In fact, we need to start looking for an intelligent and sturdy virul for you to couple with. Do you have any ideas?”

  Luckily, her mother’s attention was on the documents again so she could not see the horror on Rane’s face. She knew, of course, that every Lead on Maraquan had an obligation to get with child, but it did not mean that most Leads relished the idea. It was true that one came across those few who lusted a
fter viruls—all to no good end—and chose to participate in the twelve-month cohabiting period, but such Leads were viewed as weak and given to histrionics and illogic. And, usually, such behavior did not sit well with those reviewing their dossiers for later service and promotions.

  Rane was so distracted by her thoughts that she did not notice that her mother was appraising her with a shrewd eye. “So?” A twinkle accompanied the query.

  “Mother, I have been too busy to think of such things. And, no, I have not come across a suitable virul.”

  “Some leads just pick a virul from among those in their houses. That way they can get it over with quickly.”

  Rane was not able to conceal her horror at this, and her mother chuckled gently. “Oh, Rane. I am joking. That does happen, but not often. You will find a suitable male for this duty. And, I assure you, the process is not without its—distractions. And, you are a strong enough girl to avoid the silly emotional entanglements that some get themselves into. Do not worry.”

  “Worry? Why should I worry?” Rane said, sounding a little more irritated than she should while conversing with Tollichet. “Just when I feel like I’m figuring out my life, I have to take on the responsibility of a child. I do not even like children.” Rane thought of all the Leads ahead of her in age, waddling around pregnant, and how weird they acted for months after birth. They blamed it on the humours the babies brought into their blood, but Rane just blamed it on head illness, temporary though it may be.

  “Children are not so bad. And remember, I will help you with your Lead children. The virul children you have will not even be a concern. You will simply birth them, and the breast nurse will take them away to the farm, unless you decide to give him your own breast. It is not that bad,” Tollichet said, laughing at Rane’s shudder. Even virul babies have their charms—remember your brother? And, you did not see him again after speech started. He was sent to training just like all the others, thank the gods, and then it was nice to have order again.”

  “Why did we not keep him as a house virul?” Rane asked, having never thought of the question before, as this type of conversation with her mother was quite rare.

  “I know of some who do that,” Tollichet said, thoughtfully. “And at his most charming, I sometimes wanted to keep Chuan, but the Titleds who kept their virul offspring after their speech always, and I mean, always, regretted it. They couldn’t be part of the family, really, but also didn’t fit in with the house viruls as they had acquired a sense of importance having been mothered by a Titled. They would be sent to training, then, and the leave taking was chaotic and destructive, both to the virul and to the house. No, you would never keep your offspring virul after his speech set in.”

  Tollichet sat back and gazed at the ceiling. “It was, I admit, very difficult to let the baby virul be taken away just when he said his first word. But it was so much easier that way.” She picked up a piece of meat and as she placed it on the bread, she said, “Attachment has been a destructive thing to our world, except that between a Titled and her daughter lead. All other bonds lead to unnatural yearnings and violence. Letting go of a baby male is a small price to pay for order on Maraquan. “

  Rane was a little bored. Her mother often went on like this. She wished now she had not asked the question. Letting go of a nasty baby virul would be a pleasure, Rane thought, as she could not imagine liking or even loving any baby, even a female. And the process one had to go through to have a baby, ugh. Some girls coupled with viruls and never got pregnant but were obliged to try for two years. After that, if no child appeared, the Lead could move on with her life and would not have any messy children to worry about. The coupling would be bad enough, but Rane prayed to her god every night that she would not get pregnant when the coupling started. That would at least take some of the onus away from the whole distasteful affair.

  Her mother was again etching with her quill, having finished her musings, and Rane felt like she was dismissed. She offered the pleasantry, “Health to you, Mother! And love!” and stood to leave.

  “Health to you, also daughter,” Tollichet murmured into her parchments. “I love you.”

  Rane closed the door quietly after her mother’s words were finished.

  “I’m home! I’m home! I’m home!”

  Rane laughed when she heard her sister’s ringing announcement and decided not to find offense with Shukad this day. It would be an excellent exercise in self-control. At least there was the promise of Shukad’s punishment for the fake water notes. As soon as her mother knew her sister was home, the punishment would be underway, so Rane felt she could afford to be a little charitable in the exchange.

  “So, how did little sister do at the troughs this morning?” Without waiting for an answer, she went on, “Security was very satisfying, I can tell you. Why did you not follow me into the force, I wonder? That would be much more interesting than mucking about a waterwork.”

  “You’re probably right,” Rane agreed and noted with glee the suspicion that immediately entered her sister’s face at her unusual acquiescence. “Security is much more challenging for the mind.”

  The sarcasm eluded Shukad and she said, “Well, maybe I could put in a good word with Titled Larad. Although I doubt you are tough enough.” She went on without reply, “Where is mother?”

  Rane smiled at the insult and threw an eager thumb toward the study. She leaned against the wall, folding her arms as her sister hurried by.

  “Mother, you’ll never believe what Titled Boshru did today. . .”

  The door closed before Rane could be enlightened any further, so she remained ignorant about Titled Boshru’s assault against Shukad’s sense of justice. Not that Shukad had any impulses that were remotely judicious, being one of the most brutal Leads in their sector. Rane did not bother listening at the door as she decided that she did not need to know what the infamous Boshru did to pique Shukad’s wrath, nor did she want to be around when Shukad found she was to be punished for the forged notes. What she did need was to go riding. She left her mother’s office, ran up to her room, donned her riding leathers, hurried down the regal and rustic staircase and pounded out of the door. There was still plenty of light left in the day, and her lack of riding had relegated her favorite horse to exercising with a groom for the last week.

  Wombat had informed her that the east meadow on the property had not flooded for the past week, and now Treefall’s hooves pounded with a satisfying and solid gallop through the huge expanse of wildflowers and grasses reminding her of her love for this particular corner of their estate. Acres and acres fell away under her horse’s fetlocks as Rane’s head weathered both the wind and her thoughts. It seemed that she had not been successful in her resolve not to be offended by her sister. Shukad’s rudeness had won again.

  It was not so much her sister’s almost complete disregard for her existence that bothered her, but more that someone so opposite to all Rane’s joys, avocations, stresses and character could even be related to her. They did not look alike, for all that they shared a father, a relative anomaly in a Titled’s offspring. Where Rane was dark, her skin and hair tending more to the swarthy range of servaquans, her sister ‘s color was alight with an ivory complexion, her hair a burst of red, run through with auburn eddies. At least her sister’s appearance had given them a hint about what their father must have looked like, as Rane’s coloring reflected her mother’s almost exactly, with the exception of hair texture, of course. They used to joke about that when the two sisters still liked each other in their early lives. After all, they were only two seasons apart and for a while enjoyed a symbiosis that should have endured a lifetime of experience. Shukad’s entry into the security force ended the sorority, replacing it with that more of a superior officer and her underling.

  She pulled up her mount at the edge of Lantern Lake, its shore marking the eastern border of their lands, and leaned on the pommel. As she scratched her horse’s withers, pulling at the strands of mane, her eyes scanned
the wavelets reflecting the shimmer of sunset. She had just enough time to get back before dusk, so regretfully pulled at Treefall’s reins for the return when her eyes caught at something.

  A glint of movement undulated down where water and shore met, and she laid her head alongside the horse’s neck to steady her gaze. Leaning forward, she urged her mount down the sand cliff so she could get a better look.

  She hopped off and crouched, still holding the reins, not knowing exactly what to do. A virul was half-submerged in the lake, his body still afloat, his hands grasping at a bed of reeds in his struggle to keep his head above water. Although she was a mere ten feet away, he did not notice her as he fought to keep from drowning.

  Why does he not pull himself up? She thought and looked up at the sky. Dusk was descending and she had to decide what to do with him. She could just leave and let the lake have him. No one would know and it was not as if he were of any import. He was just a virul. Then, she became curious. What was he doing out here? The nearest habitations were on the other side of her property from the direction she came. Across the lake was only the Silvan Waste. Could he have swum from there? That did not make sense. There was only one way to find out. She hopped down from Treefall.

  At least she had on her oiled boots. She liked them for riding since they rose well over her knees protecting her legs from chafing against her shaggy horse. She slid down the bank, cursing when she fell on her butt, and after rising and steadying herself, slogged out into the reeds. Grabbing hold of the virul’s hair with one hand and the neck of his jacket with the other, she pulled him through the miasma of plant, mud and lake water up on to the sand. He yelled only for a moment at first, then seemed to faint. She stood up and panted for a moment, then reached down and turned his head to the side so his face was no longer pressed into the sand. Then planting her foot on his back, she applied pressure in alternating bursts using his lungs and stomach as a bellows to expunge the water from his system.