Medieval Rain

by J. D. Sonne

  “Are you sure you don’t need one of my viruls to attend to you? You look a little unsteady!”

  “No, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Rane said. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Perhaps you can stay for supper tonight. I know Sondrae would like to get to know you better.”

  “That would be nice,” Rane said, almost gagging at the thought. “Again, thank you!”

  As she wandered off toward the outbuildings, that before now had been mysterious, she steeled herself for seeing them, her erstwhile friends. The last contact had been less than congenial. She had no idea what to expect today. What were the cells like? Would they be clean? Would the prisoners be shackled, bloodied, beaten? She would know soon enough, and her stomach pitched and rolled.

  Lounging outside a chinked log building was Sondrae inspecting and picking at her nails as if bored. When she saw Rane, she brushed her hands together and gave a friendly wave. Probably the most difficult aspect of her infiltration was the daily contact she had to endure with Landman’s former torturer. Sondrae was pleasant enough, but every time Rane ventured a look at her eyes, all she saw was an emptiness that made her shudder.

  Rane waved back and as she approached the entrance, she surveyed the outbuilding with great interest. It had no windows—none at all--and was entirely square, except for the tented wooden slats that formed the roof. The log work was almost the best she had seen, and the structure was very elegant in its design, for all its simplicity in form. Along the eaves under the roof, she saw something familiar; the carvings that ran along the entire perimeter of the outside—at least from what she could see from her vantage--were the same as the ones Shukad had commissioned for their horse stable. Rane guessed they had been carved by the very same craftsvirul. The beauty of the carvings did not mitigate the dread that the windowless box inspired in Rane.

  “We have been waiting for you, Lead!” Sondrae said in mock severity. “How are we going to get any planning done around here with you out gallivanting? Ha,ha! Come on in.”

  Although Rane was very loath to do so, she obeyed.

  The blackness inside was like a drape, a contrast against the bright Maraquan sunlight, and Rane ceased walking to keep from running into unseen obstacles. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the sight of a long hall and followed the sound of laughter, propelled occasionally by a gentle push from Sondrae.

  A room opened to her left and she entered to shouts, curses and loud laugher that accompanied the gambling game, Rislurd. It was a contest where the participants would toss their iron coins into a dipping pot and lay wagers on each other’s successes or failures.

  “Five to one odds against!” Shukad yelled as Guthla tossed her coin. It landed just short of the target and the loser paid Shukad the winnings. It was all done in loud, good humor and when the players saw Rane, those happy spirits flooded toward her.

  “Sister! I thought you would never come!” Shukad exclaimed, grabbing her upper arm and embracing her. “We need your input!”

  Rane returned the embrace and made the rounds with the rest, patting shoulders and shaking hands, actually reveling in the acceptance she had never felt from this group, having endured their derision for years. As the younger sister of Shukad, she had always been the recipient of barbs, insults and downright beatings, and she decided this acceptance was a nice change. However, distaste always accompanied the camaraderie because of her duplicity in cultivating their good will. She realized this feeling was nothing new. Once while eavesdropping on her mother and other Titleds conducting state business at their lodge, she heard stories of spies being sent to infiltrate rebel groups or even the gatherings of political opponents. She remembered the Titleds worrying about the spies and the emotional wrecks they often became after their missions. Now she understood. Her head felt a little crazy when she had to display such friendship with people who had always been her enemies. And now that they were so accepting of her, it made it even harder.

  “So, what is this input you need so badly?” Rane asked, sitting down and picking up the parchment where Shukad had been taking notes before the gambling game had intruded on their discussion. Looking closer, she saw it was a diagram of some sort.

  “That,” Shukad explained, “Is the layout of the wilding exhibition and execution venue.” She pointed at a box to one side of what Rane recognized as an arena. “This is where you will sit with the dignitaries from the other sectors. Can you believe it, Rane?” Shukad breathed excitedly. “You will be presiding at the event! And, if you put in a good word for me, maybe I’ll even be there, too!”

  “You can count on it, Sister!” Rane said, with more enthusiasm than she felt. “Oh, and, everyone, Titled Larad said that it would be OK if I got a look at the prisoners! I hope you aren’t treating the dogs too well! But where is this venue? I don’t remember seeing one like this in our sector.”

  “As strange as it sounds, well—yes we are treating them well,” Sondrae said, standing up from the table and beckoning them toward the door. “The Titleds want them in as good shape as possible for the wilding, especially. In fact, they are even going to turn it into a contest, of sorts. A rigged contest, to be sure, but still a contest! And, as for the location of the venue, you’re in for a surprise.”

  Shukad said, “Yes, and one of our best healers has been administering to them daily, as a matter of fact—a waste of resources if you ask me!”

  As they exited the stifling room, the Leads chuckled at the weak joke and Rane asked, “I agree with Shukad. Why waste a healer on them if they are going to die anyway? And, a contest? What kind of contest?” She tried not to put too much hope into her question.

  “The Titleds are still coming up with the details, but it should be quite a show. People will converge on our sector from furlongs away.”

  As the gaggle of Leads followed Sondrae through the labyrinth of halls presumably leading to where the prisoners were being held, Rane’s mind was alight with possibilities. Dread had almost consumed her up to this point worrying about the condition of the prisoners—the news that they were being fed and even their wounds tended filled her with great happiness. Her plan to rescue them would be much easier to carry out—whatever its incarnation—with healthy rather than depleted prisoners. But, a pit filled her stomach as she remembered her last semblance of a conversation with them. The problem may not be in getting them out of here, but in getting them to engage with her, Rane, who they obviously thought was their enemy.

  Sondrae paused at an iron gate that had an imposing lattice of bars, crossways, vertical and horizontal, so that it looked more like a solid door than a grate. She lifted a metal knocker and pounded it against the plate under it four times. The plate slid aside and the squinting eyes of a guard Lead appeared and after darting about, found Sondrae. The plate slid shut and after a series of heavy clanks popped in succession, the gate swung open, the immense hands of the huge Lead gripping the pull.

  As they moved past the gate into a seating area set into a loft with a row of enclosure cells below them, Rane steeled herself for the possibility that everything the Leads had said about the prisoners’ health was a lie. That what would meet her eyes was a tortured Landman, a depleted and enervated Landman, his fellows nearer to death than life.

  It was more like an arena with cells attached than it was a true jail. And the cells were more like part of a sumptuous lodge with all the accoutrements of easy living. The entire area was open with walls separating the various rooms. There were clean toilet rooms, a hot steam room, a cold plunge and a larger room with tables and chairs set among sturdy yet soft, quill-down beds. It was at these tables where she saw Landman and the others and amazement filled her, for they had never looked so healthy. Color infused their cheeks and strength from good food coursed through their sinews. They no longer looked like hunted viruls, but er hearty and robust men. Before her abduction, she would have wondered at such good treatment, having thought healthy viruls would be a fight and flight risk, but
now she rejoiced at their hale condition. Then, a thought struck her.

  “This is the venue,” Rane said. “This is the arena!”

  Sondrae clapped her hands together, delighted that Rane had guessed correctly. “Yes! You’re right!”

  Very carefully, she set her face hard. She wanted no emotion to betray her anxiety, fear, worry or any of the other impossible feelings she was experiencing at the sight of him. Landman.

  The prisoners looked up with disinterest until Chuan elbowed Landman and pointed at her. Immediately the catcalls began.

  “Traitor!” “Liar!” “You murdered us!” “Our females!” “How do you feel that whole families are dead because of your lying, deceitful arse of a mouth!”

  These yells came from most of the prisoners and went on for a long time. In fact, the Leads seemed not to have expected this violent reaction to Rane and Sondrae had breathed to the others, “I’ll get my bow and quiver!” Rane probably could have warned them, but she had hoped that perhaps her anticipation of their anger and vitriol was overblown, and that her old friends would have come to a more reasonable conclusion that she was not involved in their capture. That she was just as surprised as they at the rescue.

  Finally, Landman, who had not engaged in the verbal taunts, rose and held his arms out to the others for quiet. He stepped away from them and looked up at the Leads. Sondrae came puffing in with her weapons, but Shukad stopped her with a gesture and pointed to Landman.

  Rane wanted to squeeze her eyes shut, knowing what was coming. She was sure that he was going to rip into her for her treachery and that she would lose the calm that she had forced into her face and indeed her whole body. She kept her eyes open, however, and hoped her body would not reveal its weakness by shaking. Attempting to breathe deeply and not be obvious about it, she waited for the assault of words.

  “This prison may keep us. We may even die here. But the idea of equality will never be shut in by a mere cell. Prepare yourselves, Leads. For you will not be “Leads” forever. The servaquans of Maraquan, male and female alike, want freedom, and they will have it. They do not need your cooperation.”

  It was a simple speech, and not about her at all. If fact, she felt rather small for thinking that she was as important as what they were seeking. No one person was as important as this big idea.

  “Our cooperation?” Shukad was the first to retort. She looked around at the others, at Rane, and shrilled, “Oh, you’ll have our cooperation—to send you into the waters of the next life! As PAINFULLY as possible! Did you think you could steal a LEAD, my sister, and not have to pay with your worthless, sorry lives? I knew viruls were stupid, but really!”

  The Leads collapsed in their river of mirth and did not recover for a long time. Rane uttered a few weak barks of laughter to join in, but found she couldn’t. She simply doubled over as if she were immersed in the same hilarity. She was actually afraid she was going to vomit. Oh, the seas—that would be awkward. Instead, she straightened a little and forced herself to breathe in and out, in and out and tried to watch Landman.

  He didn’t say anything for a long time and just watched the Leads laugh, his face as stone. The other prisoners had stood and moved behind Landman, a wedge of support and Rane thought they looked quite imposing for all that they were at the feet of Leads in that vile enclosure. In fact, a fantasy entered her mind that they looked quite capable of charging the loft and subduing all of them.

  The same thought must have occurred to the other Leads, for their laughter died suddenly and they backed away from the railing which they had been gripping during their cachinnate display. Sondrae pulled the bow off her shoulder and reached back for an arrow, nocking it at the ready. Of course, there was no way the viruls could jump into the loft, but a show of force couldn’t hurt.

  “Stand down!” She yelled. “Or one of you will get a shaft in your chest.”

  Then it was the men’s turn to laugh. This time Rane had to grit her teeth over her lips to keep a smile at bay.

  “Oh, the powerful Leads! Afraid of men in a pit! Hahahaha!” Landman yelled, clapping the other prisoners on their backs. “Be careful! We may sprout wings! Hahahaha!”

  “Or our legs may grow two troughlengths!” Bruse yelled.

  “Or the gods may spirit us up on a magical spray of their water!” Chuan called.

  The men stopped and looked at Chuan, shocked at the bawdy reference of the gods urinating. Chuan looked worried, thinking he had gone too far. Then Landman started up again, actually howling in laughter, which, of course, made them all open their throats in a braying, baying series of laughs, unable to stop—even falling on the floor, supporting themselves on one or two knees as they clutched their stomachs in mirth.

  Red fury on her face, Sondrae looked as if she really wanted to loose the arrow, but Shukad put a hand on her arm and pulled her out of the door that led away from the observation area. The rest of the Leads following, Rane hung back until she made sure the others had left and approached the rail that ringed the seating area, grasping it with both hands. The men had stopped laughing by now and were joking with each other until Landman noticed her presence. He moved away from the group and stood alone, looking up at her. She said nothing, willing her good thoughts toward him, hoping that he could read her mind as well as her heart. He stood, his head slightly cocked as if listening.

  “Traitor! Murderer!” Bruse yelled once more.

  Rane let go of the railing and sauntered out.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  “Why, Rane, Why?” Saruah asked, spearing her hands at her friend. “Why all of a sudden are you hanging around with those troglodytes? I know—I KNOW you can’t stand them!”

  “Oh, they’re not so bad,” Rane said, dragging her hand through the water to test its flow. Although she was making herself available to the securities whenever they needed her, she still fulfilled her watches at the waterwork. She had asked Saruah to accompany her to one of Shukad’s and Sondrae’s gatherings, but she had refused saying, “I will never hang out with those subaquans! And neither should you!”

  The ripple felt clean and Rane stood up. She looked out toward Mount Termonos and wondered if she would have trouble finding the camp again. An idea was forming in her mind, but its successful implementation would depend upon her being able to locate not only the community but also its scattered inhabitants. Had they cleaned the camp and moved back in? There was not much left after the Titleds and Leads razed it. The hearths were at least left intact, and if they had fire, that would do for a few days until they rebuilt some crude shelters. Part of her plan involved Saruah, which was one reason she was back at the waterwork. Not only did she need her friend’s help, but she had also missed her, especially after hanging around with her sister and her friends.

  Establishing her place with the securities had been harder than she thought. Not because they didn’t accept her—they actually enjoyed her company now that they realized that Shukad’s snooty little sister was actually quite funny, not to mention intelligent. No, it was the fact that she had to spend time with them: a debilitating exercise to say the least. Their gatherings were a terrible churning of negativity, darkness, a need to punish viruls or anyone they deemed inferior, little self-promotion dramas with each other, and a constant spew of various versions of their downright evil take on life. But, that she had been able to find out where the prisoners were being held, not to mention see them in the flesh, made it all worth it. In the beginning, it had even been nice to actually have a relationship with her older sister and be accepted by her friends, but the wicked miasma that seemed to circle the group had begun to affect her well-being and she found herself often in a plunge of depression. She had never been prone to such black feelings before, and she added her sanity to the reasons for a quick and decisive implementation of her plan.

  Saruah called for a pitch virul and pointed to one of the joists located under the next watch platform over. Both Leads leaned over the railing and watched him
as he carefully slathered the pitch to the offending joist. “I think we are going to have to get that one replaced,” Saruah warned. “There has never been a good build on it.

  Rane nodded in agreement, and the two watched the water companionably for a few moments. Suddenly an idea formed in Rane’s mind, and she said, “Saruah, I need to get out of here! What with the upcoming event and well—I just feel out of sorts. What say we go on a walk-away?”

  “A walk-away? Now?” Saruah asked, leaning away from her grasp on the railing and staring at Rane. “Isn’t there too much going on? I mean, not for me, but for you. You have to ready yourself for your part in the punishment. Not only that,” she said, shaking her head. “You know your mother would never let you go!”

  “Saruah! When did our mothers ever let us go? Maybe once. The other times, we just arranged sleepovers at each other’s houses, which we never had, and our mothers were never the wiser.”

  Saruah looked thoughtful. “I don’t know, Rane! It just doesn’t seem like the right time. Back then, our mothers didn’t worry about us. My mother, after your kidnapping, has kept me under her vulture eye—all your fault! I have hardly any freedom. And, I know that your mother has you under close watch, too. Probably the only freedom you have is when you are with your sister and her friends. By the way, what does your mother say about your being with them so much? Even my mother thought it was strange when I told her.”

  “My mother likes that we are finally ‘friends.’” Rane said, laughing, and went on in her mother’s husky voice, “’I always wanted my Leads to get along! I think it’s nice that you and your sister are doing things together!”

  “Well,” Saruah said skeptically, “Mothers are like that, I suppose. But most Leads don’t have a sister like Shukad!”

  Rane couldn’t help but laugh. She so dearly wanted to explain everything to Saruah, but knew it wasn’t safe, yet. But, if she was able to get her friend on a walk-away, out in the pristine and open landscape of Maraquan and gone from the sector and its corrupting influence, she might be able to tell Saruah the truth about her experience and that viruls and disenfranchised females should have equal standing with the Titles and Leads of their planet. Rane even wanted to find the camp again so she could show the waterwork to Saruah. She hoped that by sharing the whole episode with Saruah, she might be able to sway her into helping her with another rescue--that of the incarcerated prisoners at Titled Larad’s estate. There was no way she could do it alone, and Saruah was the only person on Maraquan whom she could trust—well, maybe not yet, but after she were able to explain things, she was sure that her friend would see things her way.