Medieval Rain

by J. D. Sonne

  His words made Rane stop her brushing and for the first time, she really looked at Otter. She was touched by his open face and his kind, blue eyes shining out like bright candles against the slightly leathered, brown face. This was a connection she would never have made before her experience with Landman and the others, and it was not a connection she wanted to lose. She put a hand on his arm and said, simply, “Thank you, Otter. That means a lot.”

  Looking at her hand a little nervously, he beamed, but it was the fawning smile of a slave and not that of an equal. She vowed that someday she would see that smile turn, no matter the implications. It was important that Maraquan see its inhabitants, regardless of their gender, come together as free people working together, not as one enslaved to the other.

  The thought surprised her. Wasn’t she angry at all viruls? Hadn’t Landman and the others rejected her? Did viruls deserve an existence equal to that of a Lead or Titled? As she looked into Otter’s face, she thought she saw the answer.

  “Lead Rane, you look a little tired,” Otter said, guiding her toward the door. “I will see to it that Treefall gets his exercise. Don’t you worry about that!”

  “I am a little tired,” Rane agreed. “Thank you, Otter. And, I will put a good word in for you to Titled Tollichet!”

  “Thank you, Lead Rane!” Otter said, bowing profusely.

  As she walked away from the stable, Rane wished she could have told Otter to drop the ”Lead” from her name, but knew she didn’t dare. She longed to be called just “Rane,” by a man again. It just seemed natural--the way it was intended by the gods or nature or whatever force put servaquans on this world. But, it wouldn’t do to put Otter in danger like she had the others. Not that she was the author of the rescue, or even her abduction—but she still felt responsible, nevertheless.

  When the house came into sight with its stained lodgepoles and awnings, it made her think of the money that must have gone into all the renovations. The stable was more like a lodge than a horse shelter and it made her wonder why Shukad had put all the work into its facelift. More importantly, where did she get the money? Tollichet was well-off, of course, being one of the leader Titleds of the sector, but she knew her mother to be frugal, almost to a fault. There was no way she would have authorized what she would undoubtedly view as ostentatious frippery. Whatever Shukad was up to, Rane was sure the scheme was some type of ill-gotten graft, and she promised herself she would get to the bottom of whatever it was. Maybe she had gotten involved in the fake water share scheme again.

  Wearily trudging up the front stairs to the lodge, she actually had to sit down on the top step and rest. Otter was more right than he knew, she was exhausted. She heard the front door open, clanking on its heavy hinges and turned around, her stomach draining of humor. If it was Shukad, she had to gird up for a fight, or at least a healthy argument.

  “Daughter! I didn’t think you were strong enough to be out of bed, although I am glad to see it! Where have you been?”

  Rane was so grateful that it was Tollichet rather than Shukad that she actually struggled to her feet and gave her mother a huge embrace. “Oh, mother! I love you! I missed you!”

  Her mother, surprised at the unusual outburst, went a little rigid in Rane’s embrace, but seemed to relax a bit as the contact aged a bit. They patted each other for a moment, and Rane said, “Sorry, I’ve got to sit down. Sit here with me, Mother!”

  Tollichet was usually not given to sitting at ease when there was work to do, but she gamely sat down on the step. “So, what have you been doing? If I had known you were off wandering, I would have made sure squirrel accompanied you!”

  “I visited Treefall in the stable. Those are some impressive improvements to the stable. Otter said that Shukad oversaw the building and renovation?”

  “Yes, your sister found a good investment in water rights a couple of sectors over and took advantage of the windfall--at least that is how she explained it to me, Tollichet said easily. “I do not follow such matters, as you well know. Well, she got it in her head that the place needed a little fixing up.” She gestured the entry and the house. “You see the results! It is beautiful, but I would rather she put more money into the village center, or even the virul cabins. But, your sister said that they were her next venture.”

  Tollichet’s nonchalance in her answer was extremely telling to Rane. There was no way that Shukad would care about anything not directly benefiting Shukad. And, Rane was certain that there was a lot more money than her mother thought in her sister’s hands. Otherwise, she never would have taken the trouble to do something as intelligent as upgrading the estate. But, again, she probably figured the estate would be hers someday, so this was just another investment that would fill her pockets as time passed. Now, Rane just had to figure out where the money came from. The only reason Shukad was getting away with a likely theft was her mother’s extreme distractions of government and state: her inattention to, as she put it, “such matters.”

  Rane stayed silent, so her mother put her arm around her shoulder and lifted her to her feet. “And you, young Lead,” she said, turning Rane toward the door, “are to take it easy the rest of the evening. I’ll have squirrel bring you a hot drink to your chair at the hearth and stoke up the fire so you can put your feet up.”

  She allowed squirrel to fuss over her, swaddling her in cozy blankets warmed by the blaze of the hearth. Warming her in her favorite chair with her hot mead, the crackling fire made her think of other hearths far away, now destroyed. And, in its flames she saw the faces of her friends, yes, they were her friends, some dead, some imprisoned. About the dead she could do nothing, those imprisoned--now, that was something else again.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Rane waited and waited for the repercussions from her encounter with Shukad. Not that she was anxious about its outcome, because anything that Shukad remembered and, more importantly, tried to verbalize could be easily explained away. Squirrel had deposited her sister in her own bed, even dressing her in her nightclothes for good measure (he shared that with Rane, expecting extra perks which she was more than willing to give in measured portions), reporting that he did not hear her stir until late the next morning. Rane reasoned that her sister would wonder about the headache and knot on her forehead and perhaps that would be the end of it. A problem might arise if she remembered being in Rane’s room, but even so, Rane would have no trouble feigning ignorance if Shukad brought the matter up. And, in the unlikely event that the matter did come to a head, Rane could truthfully say that she didn’t touch Shukad, which indeed she didn’t. And, if it were pressed further, if the fact came to light that Shukad had knocked herself out, she doubted that her sister would like that indignity noised about.

  Her strength was returning, more slowly than she would have liked, but soon she was actually able to go riding on Treefall. Not venturing out into the wild as usual, still a little chary after the kidnapping, she opted instead to gallop her mount to the village center hoping to run into some of her friends. Although she missed the camaraderie, she was more interested in hearing what was being said about her rescue and especially where the captives were being held. Since her friends, Saruah included, were daughters of the most powerful Titleds in their sector, Rane thought they would be her best source for information.

  She slowed Treefall to a light canter upon seeing the outskirts and stopped, dismounting when she saw one of the town grooms at the horse station. Handing the reins to him so he could stall and water Treefall, Rane set off for the Termonos Fountain, a favorite hangout for her friends when they came off their shifts of waterwatching. She was not disappointed, for there they all were, lounging around the fountain in various poses of recumbence.

  “So! You are finally awake!” Saruah was the first to see her and threw her arms tightly around her friend. “Every time I would come to visit, your mother said you were asleep!” Saruah let the rest of their cadre swarm Rane as they offered their congratulations at being rescued
from the stinking virul camp.

  “So, tell us all about it!” Saruah said, rubbing Rane’s shoulders affectionately.

  “Yes,” Ranath jumped in. “Did they make you couple with them?”

  “Ranath!” The rest of the girls chorused. “That is disgusting!”

  “No,” Rane said, laughing, “That’s all right! Actually, they had enough females to do that for them, so they left me alone!”

  “You idiots! Don’t ask questions like that!” Saruah said, even stepping in front of Rane and opening her arms in a defensive gesture. “She’ll tell us all about it when she’s ready! Huh, Rane?”

  “Of course!” Rane answered, grateful for the shield. She really didn’t want to share too much, yet, if ever. But, she knew she had to give them a little gossip so that the conversation about the prisoners and their fates could commence.

  “The females acted just like viruls!” She said, “They fetched firewood, stoked the hearths, cooked the meals—”

  “Like in the old times?” Ranath asked. “The Leads served the viruls?”

  “They did not think of themselves as Leads, but yes,” Rane answered, “and what’s more, they enjoyed it. I was the only female who got out of the domestic chores and went to the worksite.”

  “Worksite? What worksite?” All of the Leads chorused the question, their queries staggered.

  Rane paused. She really hadn’t wanted to divulge that she had worked on the waterwork, or even that one existed. She still didn’t know if her rescue party had discovered the immense project; it may have been that their mission only included the rescue and no reconnaissance of the renegade virul community. Her lending her expertise to a traitorous band of viruls to help them become self-sufficient was not something that the Titleds or even the Leads of her sector should know. If they were aware of the waterwork, it was just a matter of time before they debriefed her about it, and she vowed she would be ready for any questions they may ask. Her involvement would be easy enough to explain away. But, if they didn’t know and didn’t ask, so much the better.

  “The viruls had a quarry where they broke rocks!” Rane chuckled even as she said it.

  “Broke rocks?” Saruah said, laughing. Soon the others joined her. “Rocks for what?”

  “Well,” Rane lied. “They were trying to quarry the rocks to build shelters—but they were so stupid that they didn’t know how to make the rocks square. All that came from their endless hammering and chiseling were great, misshapen, squat boulders—useless for building. I was so bored that rather than stay in the camp with the females, I was chained near the quarry where they let me break rocks.”

  It was a lame lie, Rane worried. Why would she opt to sweat at breaking rocks rather than laze about in camp? From now on, she would be more guarded in the information she shared so as not to have to lie too much. That way she would not have to keep track of the falsehoods that could trip her up in later stories. There was a reason her mother had always told her that truth was easiest.

  The Leads, though, seemed satisfied with the story, and they were content with Rane’s further descriptions of the various characters in the camp, especially those that detailed the foolishness of viruls as they tried to lead the community. She almost shared the story of her murder of Murman. Although that would have endeared her to the Titleds and given her bragging rights among the Leads, she didn’t want that story to get back to Landman and the prisoners. For all her ambivalence toward the captives, she didn’t want them to think her a murderer.

  Not that she had thought before about the flow of information between the captives and their captors, and by extension, the community at large. What made her realize that a gossip network could flourish between prison and the free world was a question that squirrel had asked her after she had been back for a day.

  “Is it true that the viruls and females of the camp had switched roles?” He had asked.

  The question had shocked her and although she demurred an answer to squirrel, she realized that she would have to be extremely careful not only what she said here with her friends, but at home with her mother, sister and house viruls.

  Her ambivalent allegiances made conversation a rather tense affair. She shared a few more stories about the viruls and their females, but the exchanges led to topics that exploded out of her control. Her friends, Saruah included, vilified the viruls so thoroughly that Rane found she could no longer enter the conversation. Every barb about viruls’ stupidity, laziness, immorality, and duplicity twisted her gut until she actually had to place a hand on her stomach hoping the paltry warmth would stifle the pain growing there. Their insults and vitriol began to feel like a personal attack, so tied to her captors was she. Finally, as the ribald laughter about virul hygiene and supposed sexual practices crescendoed, Rane found she could not stomach the increased attacks as they made her queasy. She excused herself on the premise that she was still a little weak from her ordeal and needed to go home to rest.

  As she walked away, she cursed herself for being so weak--not physically, but emotionally. The only way she was going to get information about where Landman and the others were being held and to figure out a way to free them was to develop a thicker skin.

  “Rane! Wait up!” Saruah had left the group and hurried after Rane. She fell in alongside of her friend and to Rane’s relief, resumed the chattering topics that she had just left at the square. Perhaps there was still a chance for Rane to get some enlightenment.

  Saruah could be a true chatterbox at times, and soon Rane’s ears were ringing with the incessant banalities of her dealings with the Titleds at school and the Leads’ imagined intrigues with one another. It didn’t take long before Saruah’s monologue became so annoying that Rane lost all semblance of attempted subterfuge in getting information. Ironically, she wanted to steer Saruah back to the subject of the captives.

  “So, what about the prisoners?” Rane interrupted. “Have they been punished yet?”

  “No.” Luckily Saruah’s brain at that moment was not as active as her mouth so she didn’t even pay attention to the oddity of Rane’s interest in the monsters who had kept her captive. “The Titleds are following your advice about a public wilding with the execution following. It should be quite the show! Everyone is looking forward to it! But I don’t think it will take place for a while.”

  “Why not? I wouldn’t think they’d wait very long.” Rane ventured.

  “Well, for one thing, word has gotten around that you’ve been sick or having trouble recovering! The Titleds wanted to wait until you are feeling better so you can preside at the event. Rane, think of it! You sitting over a wilding and execution! That will be so good for your career!”

  Bile rose in Rane’s throat at the thought, but now that she had loosed the spigot of information, she was able to form her questions a little more carefully. “I imagine they are being held at the jail off of the square.”

  Saruah looked at her crookedly. “Well, no, actually—they are being held at Titled Larad’s estate.”

  “What?” Rane exclaimed, excitement filling her. “Why? How can such a site be secure?”

  “Don’t worry,” Saruah said, mistaking her reaction. “You are safe from them. They won’t get out because her punishment facility is much more secure than the jail.”

  Rane was silent, mulling this information. She knew of some Titleds who kept such a facility, but Titled Larad? That surprised her, but she didn’t let on, feeling a little foolish that she hadn’t known her favorite teacher managed her viruls thus. Titled Larad always urged refinement in disciplining viruls, as Rane had found out when she put rat—Scout—rat (her ambivalence regarding viruls was still strong) in the infirmary for a week. She admitted to herself that before her time with Landman and the others she wouldn’t have thought twice about such a facility. If she had grown up to inherit her mother’s estate, she might even have built such an accommodation. But now, the idea of a building whose sole use was punishing male servaquans sent viole
nt shudders through her flesh. And, the idea that Landman, her brother and even Bruse were in such a place made her knees buckle a little.

  But Saruah went on, “Another reason is that one of the viruls was hers. In fact, he was to be coupled with her daughter, for a while, that is. He ran away, I guess, when the coupling contract was rescinded. He was in love with her, apparently.”

  This reaffirmation of the truth of Landman’s and Sondrae’s story buckled Rane’s knees further and she sat down hard in the dusty path.

  “We need to get you home!” Saruah said, grabbing Rane’s arm to lift and steady her. “You’ve had way too much excitement for today. Your mother will kill me for keeping you out so long.”

  Rane allowed herself to be led as her consciousness spun, needing to affirm Saruah’s information. She managed to croak out a terse question.

  “I think it was the leader—the one who calls himself Landman—ridiculous the names they come up with for themselves. His name used to be badger—more fitting, it sounds like! Anyway I think his contract was with Titled Larad’s daughter, Sondrae. Weird, huh?”

  She broke away from Saruah, grabbed a tree near the path, and while leaning against its sturdy trunk, vomited loudly into the underbrush.

  “Oh, my friend,” Saruah said softly, rubbing her back. “I am sorry we overdid.”

  Rane cleaned her mouth with the sleeve of her jerkin and said wearily, “I’m OK. it’s not your fault. But, I really think I need a bed right now!”

  “Let’s get you home!” Saruah admonished.

  Although her stomach had cleansed itself of bile, Rane still felt sick, but was a little better able to think more clearly. So now it was known by her associates that Sondrae was to couple with Landman, and the story about her performing the ritual on Landman was likely confirmed by this fact. Not that Rane doubted Landman’s story, but this second source of information was very important to her. And, it went a long way to cure her ambivalence Landman and even viruls in general. But, it still didn’t answer the question of why she had never seen Landman around the sector; if he had been a virul on the Larad estate, surely she would have seen him at one time or another. She thought and thought. Why had she never seen him? She was quite well acquainted with all the viruls in the various estates around her mother’s property and it strained plausibility that his face had not been familiar to her.