Medieval Rain

by J. D. Sonne

  “Oh, Winsla is a great cook!” Shad said, hopping along serviceably as she accompanied Rane to the waterwork site. “I think you will be well pleased. But organized and tidy? Not so much.”

  Rane shrugged and said, “Well, I doubt she can do much harm to your hearth in a day, but I am glad she happens to be a cook.”

  The crisp shadows that flitted below the canopy were sieved with punctures of light and Rane drew the smells of the forest into grateful nostrils. The longer she was in this camp, the more beautiful it became to her, and she found she was able to appreciate the wonders of her world more than ever before. As she peered into the woodland about her, she marveled at that realization. These forests looked no different from those of her sector. Shaking her head, she resolved to think more about it later. There was a comfort here that she had not experienced before, and she liked the feeling. She had to figure out how to retain that aura when she returned home. If she returned.

  She slowed slightly at that unprecedented thought. A question of her return home had never entered her mind. Even her cogitations the day before had not allowed such a possibility. She shook the idea from her head. She should be thinking about how to initiate Shad’s employ once they arrived at the site. She had a general idea that she wanted her to keep inventories of building supplies, but as to specifics, she had not gotten that far in her thinking.

  Too late. They had arrived. She would have to make it up as she went. To her relief, she saw an immediate chore for the female. Landman’s workers had already dragged the logs from their scouting expedition the day before to the edge of the site. Rane wondered if they had arisen early to accomplish the huge task. Well, this was exactly what she wanted Shad for—they would create a new inventory system here and now. Or more to the point—Shad would create an inventory system here and now.

  “Shad,” Rane began, “I will assign two viruls to you. With their help you will set up a system for keeping track of the new fells of logs. I want them measured, their quality determined and most of all, organized into a stock of inventory that the builders will have easy access to.”

  Shad’s face had taken on a look of intense concentration. Her brow furrowed, and her eyes sharpened into a heightened focus that indicated that she was more than up to the task. Rane snapped at two of the largest viruls near them and motioned them over.

  “You are to assist Lead Shad in any way she sees fit,” Rane said to the nearest virul. “She is inventorying the materials on the site.”

  “Shad is not a Lead,” the virul murmured.

  Rane turned toward him and was gratified that he seemed sorry that he had spoken. “Grothu, is it not?” At his nod, Rane said, “So, Grothu, you said something? About Shad not being a Lead?”

  “No, Lead Rane, I said nothing.”

  “What is going on?”

  Rane turned toward the friendly voice, and her heart turned at Landman’s approach. “I am just giving Grothu and umm, uh—”

  “Pagua,” the other virul said.

  “—Uh, yes, Pagua, here an assignment. They are going to assist Shad in her inventory.”

  “What do you mean? I have Buroth acting as counter,” Landman said. “Shad doesn’t have the skill to run a count.”

  Rane almost snapped, “Buroth doesn’t either! He can’t even keep his counts ahead of the work!” Instead, she forced herself to breathe in even draws and grasped Landman by the arm to draw him away from the others. She said, “I have seen Shad count her stores at camp, and she is more than up to the task. And you have to admit that Buroth is less than adequate in his counts. I will handle Buroth—I’ll tell him that I have more important work for him to do—”

  “Like what?” Landman asked. “Every task is filled.”

  “Every task is never filled on a site like this,” Rane said. “There are many assignments that I have thought about creating, and this will give me the chance to do so.”

  She watched Landman think for a moment and wondered if she shouldn’t just order it done with a loud bark and be done with it. Cajoling and reasoning were annoying at times. She was just about to start yelling when Landman spoke.

  “Very well. If you will deal with Buroth, I will allow Shad to make the counts, but she can only have one of the men to help, not two.”

  “Fine,” Rane said. She looked at both viruls and pointed to the largest one. “Can she have him? Pagua?”

  “Yes,” Landman said and motioned Pagua toward Shad.

  “And speaking of new assignments, I want Grothu to work at the stone yard,” Rane said, enjoying the look of chagrin on the mouthy virul’s face. “I need another mason over there and I think he would do very well. Orlac has been complaining that he has too few picks at work!”

  Landman looked a little confused, but seemed anxious to get on with his work. He nodded to Grothu, who slunk off to the quarry, a guarded sneer directed over his shoulder to Rane.

  Yes, Rane thought, just try it. Her new resolve to be fair to these viruls did not preclude her defending herself if needed and his surly attitude would slow Shad down. If Grothu wanted revenge on Rane, she was more than equipped to deal with him, if circumstances demanded.

  Rane turned to see where Landman had gone and saw him pick up some plans and head off toward the lake. Good, she thought. That very day she was going to start discussing the lake harnessing procedure. They had already determined the high point of the lake’s elevation and it was a perfect angle to allow downward force to ply the water into the troughs for the community. What they hadn’t begun was the architectural planning of the troughwork’s entry into the lake. She made a mental note to have the surveyors find a new source of pitch. The tar pit they had been mining was running low and she had to make sure they had a ready supply when it was totally depleted. The logs that would be supports in the bed of the lake would have to be liberally covered with pitch and allowed to dry for a few weeks before they could be used. That process would have to be initiated soon—probably this week. Another glance at Shad showed the female engaged in an amiable conference with Pagua, and after a final few words of instruction to the two, Rane set off after Landman, who had quite a head start.

  By the time she caught up with him, Landman was a dot at the pinnacle of the lakeshore cliff. The lake was not visible from where she was on the path, but she knew its stunning blue waters lay below Landman. She had never seen another formation like this on Maraquan. It was almost as if the cliff were the side of a giant bowl, its contents awaiting a gigantic monster’s thirst. She closed her eyes and imagined a great dragon thrusting its serpentine tongue into the drink to assuage its throat, parched with fire. She cupped her mouth and called.

  She saw the tiny figure wave and she found the switchback behind a particularly tall and dense wall of trees. She had to search for quite a few pours before she found the entrance, hewn just the week before for better access when work would begin. As the trail snaked closer to the escarpment, she quailed a little at the immensity of the task before them. The scaffolding that would hold the troughwork would have to be huge, and she hoped she and Landman had the architectural wherewithal to plan, let alone build, the thing. She wondered how many viruls would die constructing the work. Before, she would not have even worried about such a thing. Now, things were different.

  Huffing, she finally found Landman at the top and, although it was not a new sight, her lungs almost decompressed at the sight of all that blue. The shimmer of the water was almost impossible to behold, its brightness searing her eyes so that she had to squint.

  Landman had the plans spread before him on a flat rock. Without looking up, he beckoned her over and pointed to a spot on the parchment. “There!” He said triumphantly. “Look! It is perfect!” He looked over to his right at a lip of rock, forming the high place of the monster’s bowl. “And there is where we will build it.”

  Rane’s eyes found the spot and seeing that he was indicating the place where the shore could accommodate the entering trough, she ag
reed. “Yes. But we will still have to hollow out that rock, but I see that it can be done.” She walked to the rocky lip and climbed. Perched atop, she kicked at the lip, testing the rock’s timbre. It was solid and although it would take a lot of work, the grade of the stone would ensure a nice leakproof carve. She climbed across the pout of the lip to the edge of the cliff and peered over. “Many will die,” she said, sounding more matter of fact about the inevitability of death than she felt.

  “No,” Landman said. “We will use ropes for safety. They will be safe as long as they keep a rope around them as they work.

  Rane was surprised. She had not thought of slinging ropes around the workers. It had never been done for virul labor on heights, at least, not in her sector, and she felt a little ashamed. She understood immediately why ropes were never used. Virul’s lives are cheap. Or, were. She was glad she had not voiced the thought that almost found its way to her tongue: But won’t it waste time?

  She looked down again and could hear the faint hammerings of the work site. They were almost to the edge of the wood that led to the cliff’s base. She and Landman would have to stake the ground that led to the cliff and would also need to assess the cliff’s height. She would be working numeric formulas all the next day to determine the pitch of the support scaffolding and where the ascending supports would begin. She sighed. There was a lot to do, but at the same time, it was exciting to contemplate the new construction. She felt Landman settle himself next to her and join her in the dizzying view.

  “You will have to show me the formulas that you will use to construct the ascending scaffold,” he said. “I need to learn how to proceed, in case—“

  Rane felt her head drain of blood, and she could not keep the anxiety out of her voice. “In case what?”

  Landman did not answer, but turned on his side so he was facing her. She felt her blood come back into her head, and indeed warm her body at his proximity. He was unusually close, his eyes especially so.

  “In case you are rescued or escape.”

  Rane didn’t dare say anything, but the bald truth forced a few sputters before she gained control of herself. She became conscious of her breathing as her lungs, made greedy by anxiety, bellowed in and out, in and out until she became composed.

  She said, speaking to the smile--was it sad or smirking?--that formed on his lips, “If I am rescued, you will not need the formulas, because you will not be here anymore. It is you who will escape, or die or be enslaved.

  “And if you escape?” Landman said, moving even closer, his eyes filling hers. “I will need the formulas so I can finish building.”

  “I—I—” Rane’s lips were dry, her tongue a parched leaf in her mouth. “I have no intention of escaping—”

  The kiss was a surprise, but strangely, expected too, and Rane’s hubris evaporated in the heat that exploded when his lips covered hers. They struggled together for a few moments before a mutual embarrassment plied them apart. They dangled their feet over the cliff and shared the view of the forest’s canopy for a moment.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t—”

  “No!” She interrupted and leaned playfully against him. “I’m not sorry. And—” She put her arms around his waist and kissed him to prove it.

  The embrace lasted a long time—Rane would later remember it as the entire afternoon, but that was only in her memory. It was only a few minutes later that he leaned away from her, his arms still locked around hers, looked into her face and said, “So, now what?”

  Rane removed his arms and gestured down at the cliff, then the forest. “We build the waterwork! That’s what. Not ‘I’ but ‘us.’ ‘We’ will do it together. And, we will see where all of this takes us.”

  “Did you mean it when you said you had no intention of escaping? Or were you just caught up—”

  “What? In our moment of passion?” She teased, enjoying the crimson tones surfacing in his face. “No. I do not like to quit in the middle of anything, and that includes what just happened here. I do not know why my circumstances brought us together and me to this camp. But I feel like I am home. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I enjoy being a Lead. I loved my mother and home and life back at my sector. But, this feels right, and even though it turns everything I have ever known about viruls and females on its head. And,” She turned shy for the rest. “I want to be with you. Whatever comes.”

  He put his arm around her shoulder and patted it affectionately. “Well, if they come, you will wish you had never met me. If you think you’re confused now—”

  “What do you mean?” Rane said, pulling away, utter surprise filling her. “How did you know? About my confusion, I mean?” That he read her confusion so easily made her wonder if he could know other things—about Murman, for example. The thought terrified her. “I didn’t think—”

  Landman chuckled. “Oh, you are not as hidden as you think. I watched you interact with Chun, Terran, Bruse and even Scout. I saw your face when he told of his torture. I saw your face when I told you about the ritual I endured. Your affection for Shad is even an indication of your change. When you first arrived, your obvious disgust with the “viruls” was only matched by your disdain for the females. Females that you must have thought were supremely stupid for not realizing and taking advantage of their superiority. Your rude treatment of us back then was extremely telling, just as your recent caring is. You are not an unreadable wall, Rane! We are all of Maraquan. We are all servaquans!”

  “Well,” Rane countered. “You’ve got to give me a little credit—after all, you had kidnapped me, tied and gagged me. Not exactly gentle treatment.”

  “Think, Rane. Could it have happened any other way? The only way to keep you from killing me was for me to kill you, and that I was not prepared to do. And then when your sister discovered us, I was forced to attack her and take you.”

  “But why not just kill me?” Rane asked, captivated by this discussion, these taboo topics, “That would have made it much easier than dragging me along with you.”

  Wrapping his arms around her, Landman kissed her again. “I want to say that even back then, I felt a kinship, but I would be lying.” Waiting for Rane’s wave of laughter to recede, he went on, “Leaving your sister unconscious and bleeding was bad enough, but if I had killed you and left your body, the tracking of your leads and titleds would have been relentless enough that they likely would have found our camp. As it was, I think that your disappearance was a little confusing to them and that they didn’t know exactly what to do. Perhaps I did kill you and hid the body, or you ran away with me, or you got lost in the forest.

  Rane almost scoffed. She get lost? Not likely. But her mind was busy with a million tendrils of thought inspired by this conversation. Her sister was the unknown quantity in all of this. Was she dead or even permanently maimed from Landman’s blow? And if she was not injured, what would be her explanation for a virul being in the pipehouse? Or would she even mention the virul? Maybe to protect herself from undue scrutiny, she may just say that she fell somewhere to explain the injuries. Rane did not doubt that her sister would create any story to benefit her own interests. She and her sister disliked each other intensely, even Landman sensed that remarked on it all those months ago. Perhaps her sister would lie and say that Rane ran away to keep them from launching a rescue, since with Rane gone, all the inheritance and Title rights of her family would go to Shukad. That would explain the lack of a rescue all this time.

  Rane nodded and said only, “Well, let us hope that they stay confused—at least until we get this waterwork finished!”

  Landman’s reaction was a huge guffaw, but Rane’s laugh was not quite as hearty. The wonderful and fulsome twist on her and Landman’s relationship was firing down at the thought of her sister and what schemes she could be effecting in her absence. She hadn’t thought about her sister for a long time, and the untidy lack of knowledge regarding her old life was disconcerting, to say the least. One thing was certain: anything Shukad w
as concocting was not in Rane’s best interest.

  That doesn’t matter, anyway, Rane said to herself. I have thrown my lot in with Landman and his—our people, here. This is my home, now.

  And, she believed it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The scaffolding rose like a giant’s skeleton resurrecting itself from the understory of the forest, pressing its bony frame against the gigantic cliff. Viruls scurried on the catwalks that had been constructed between its ribs, lashing, hammering and fitting sinews and tendons of rope into multiple work platforms. Compared to the exacting troughwork through the jungle, the scaffolding was easy work (unless one suffered from an aversion to heights), with no mandate of polish, most of it destined to be discarded after the switchback of troughs reached the bowl of the lake.

  Rane enjoyed this spate of building better than the slog of construction through the forest. The viruls—men—she firmly reminded herself with her new notion of belonging, seemed at home swinging and dangling from the scaffold, becoming more simian every day. One would have thought their origins were in the trees rather than the blue water of their world, and she marveled at the impossible feats the men performed as they added log to plank to pole in the build.

  That was not to say that the work was free from perils. As Landman had decreed, each man was fitted with a harness for ease of safety, but some of them had become so acquainted with the freedom of height that close calls with gravity often marked each day if not each hour. Rane found herself lecturing them at least once a day to adhere to the protocols Landman had set up for safety.

  It was on a day that marked the end of an uneventful week. No near falls, no scaffold collapses or even arguments had marred the worksite all that time. Rane was standing at the worktable that had been set up on one of the wide landings, and she hunched over a revised set of plans that Landman had proposed for the approach over the lip of the lake. Walking her caliper over Landman’s angles and drafts of the upper trough supports, she scratched her stylus across the parchment as she checked her figures against his.