Back again on the Astraea’s sanded deck. Ala Estival’s return brought uncertain news. But uncertainty spurred preparation for the worst, so women were sent to the gundeck and the Anemones assembled.
That was not the only thing we brought, for seated behind me on Litzia’s back, bound and gagged, was a stranger to the crew. Rugged she seemed, her tunic bloodied and grimed, and the strong shoulders drooped as we led her aft.
Halal, Xenon’s criminal, observed the activities on deck with the calmness and resignation of a sentenced convict, though her face quickly darkened. She saw women setting war upon her people, sails pointed in her city’s direction. A bloody combat it could be. But before it would come to pass, someone must bring the news to the captain.
“You two shall come with me,” Gladiola told Litzia and I. There was a wavering in her usual sureness.
“Why?” Litzia asked without reserve. She had been in a foul mood ever since our return, and even before then. “Is it not the leader’s duty to report? And besides, you promise that man to protect this person.” This she said with a hesitant glance at our prisoner. It would be cruel, for his fate had been well destined since she released the ballista’s bolt – an offense to the captain’s crew is an offense to herself.
“I promised to do what I could,” she said with marked irritation, “Unfortunately, what I could is of little avail. The captain may not be moved by a warrior’s oath, for her pride is greater than what favor my stature may afford.”
“Then why made such an empty promise? I do not see you as one to deceive.”
“And I deceive not, for I knew of one last way to keep his life, my Ala-sister, though it depends not on my capabilities. Take this as an order if you are not willing to do it for a friend, Litzia, Aster. I know the captain looks at you two favorably, and that might yet salvage this situation. I wish not the blood of the helpless upon my blade, commanded though it might be by my mistress.”
That was a strange observation. The captain did look at us, but I daresay not in the way Gladiola implied. And if taken from Litzia’s own perspective, it might well be the opposite.
Litzia didn’t answer directly, “I would rather not, but if that be an order, what choice have I? What of you, Aster, will you come? Though I know well the answer.”
“I will, but not by an order. I will do what I can, Gladiola, only I fear you misjudge the captain’s disposition for us.”
“A warrior does what she can, and tries what she cannot without risking her life. Let us go, but stop by the sickbay on the way.”
She wished to have the prisoner looked at by our healer, Salvia. It took but a moment for the old woman to accommodate the request and assert there was no more than flesh bruises that would heal with time.
“Whoever had roughed him up didn’t seek to injure him in earnest,” she added, “Obvious to the eyes, Valerian could have confirmed this as well as I can.”
Gladiola nodded, and so it seemed the answer was already predicted. “Lend us this place for a while, ma’am healer. I promise it will not be long.”
At this hour the sickbay was deserted save for the old healer. Only empty beds in the back housed the seriously wounded women who had been lying there since the hunt.
Salvia bid us do what we want, but to bring it outside should our interrogation progress into violent form.
Presently Gladiola took us to a corner of the room, and ungagged the prisoner. She sat now on a white bed, dark complexion and grimness all the more prevalent in contrast to her surroundings.
“You heard our talk,” Gladiola said, “I promised your commander justice, none more. Now I have to first determine your just fate before sending you to my mistress. Hark, Halal of Xenon. Why assaulted us, messengers who came in peace? Be reminded, ignorance is no excuse for crimes, but in warrior laws, an arrow loosed with intent to kill is no different to murder, true or erred.”
The woman curled his lips, as if on the verge of sending blasphemous spit at my Prima Alae, only to think better of it. “Since you asked, girl, I released the bolt with intent to kill, nothing less, and I stand then and I stand now by my actions, commanded not by men but by conscience. What is it you seek from these lips, that I shot by chance and accident, or for harmless warning and make-merry, like one shriveled coward?”
“No, I do not, " I asked but in search of malice. Sides, even if you deceive me and my alares here, what hope will have you and your soul before the Dragon? But do you think us warmongers, though we came as a fraction of the Dragon’s might, and sounded no trumpet of war? Do you claim ignorance?”
“It is no secret that the Last Dragon delights in war and bloodshed, for her enemy or larks that catch wrongly her eyes. So what are you if not warmongers? Still, I would willingly grovel so long as she bothers not with my people. But I know better: Absalomese dogs came to our door led by the Black Prince’s beloved hound, upon his brow they said flashed the stone of Xango; that is your captain’s treasure! His might with the Dragon’s aid smote walls and razed cities! Is then the death of my people not loud enough trumpets? Ignorance is it then, to slay the murderer of one’s brothers and sisters? But no, I will speak no more of this and entertain your tyrant’s whim.”
Gladiola nodded, and signaled us to escort the prisoner after her. “Very well, I determine you guilty by warrior laws, for you rebelled for personal vengeance. But as human, I do not fault you for taking vengeance upon your people.”
As she had said, the woman spoke no more but hung his head low. And we made our way straight to the captain’s citadel. Her dwelling place is at the very top of the Citadel, where, whenever she’s within, the Alares of Ala Hiemal are never far off. At the present, two pairs of that Ala were placed sentinels at the oak doors leading to her chamber. Shortly, our presence was announced, but not the prisoners. The fact of the matter, to the guards and the captain herself, was that the woman proved no threat, and warranted no acknowledgment.
As we waited for our summon, I gazed upon famous tales depicted in carvings on the wood. A dragon, in her true monstrous form, rises above a cloud of grayness, whose dark wings cover the earth entire, her claws perched on the great stone tower foolish men have built in defiance of divinity. Ruinous debris of its likes strewed the earth.
There was Litzia of course. I stole a worried glance at her face, thinking to find one restrained, conflicted, or moody expression. But there was not, almost nothing, for all her deep hatred for the captain. The flawless mask had been again raised, forbidding all, even I, from gaining even a glimpse of the light or shadow within. For my part at least, with Gladiola on our side, the prospect of standing in her private chamber seemed not so bad. But what my Ala leader had said before carried a bad omen. If the captain looked at Litzia and me, favorably or not, it was a source of trouble. I would rather not catch her eyes at all. And as Halal had said, to catch her eyes wrongly is a sentence to doom. Last time it went well with the hierogram of Lost Azure, but I dreaded to be in her grace again natheless.
Of course, our prisoner had a greater cause to be worried about her head. Which, as far as I may be concerned, was as good as lost. Though I did not wish to see her die, it was, undeniably, by her own words, that she sought to kill us, and had no remorse whatsoever for her action, if only regret that she could not bring us along to the Underland. In that regard, I could scarcely comprehend Gladiola’s respect for him. She had strange notions of the warrior codes or whatever it was, and was the paramount example of an honorable Anemone, that is, the opposite of what I was. Yet she expected Litzia and I to do her part and plead justice for the man. I wondered if I should be able to put my heart into the act. Now the one who could do it, and would be willing to do it, for pride and rebellious will towards the captain, was Litzia. It was chiefly Litzia of course, that the captain, if indeed she did, regarded favorably. The event after our first assault on Sheol came to mind, where this hateful wyvern had openly defied the captain, yet had not been so much as rebuked for it.
To bear such deep rage and hatred, I could not understand the two people now standing by my side, that prisoner and my wyverness. Doubtless their hearts had been wounded and corrupted unwillingly to this state of ugliness. But even as I saw still beauty in the fettered Litzia, Gladiola saw something in this vengeful, unreasonable man, whatever it might be. So how they lived with darkness engraved, I could hope only to understand someday and offer my hand for aid. That is not my responsibility, nor my great desire, but a thing rather like Gladiola’s sense of honor, though not perfectly in the way she meant, I suppose. A thing so affecting and incomprehensible, that for it, even I, this failed being, could wish to erase all sins and dark thoughts within the wyverness. And if that be impossible, to bear it, to endure it, to take what is loved and forgive inevitable flaws, was something at this point I thought I was prepared to do with no question asked. For almost no reason at all. I wonder about this feeling. Is it pity still?
At last, by some unseen signal from the captain, the Hiemal alares bade us enter. My last thought before venturing inside was of the wisdom behind the decision of not bringing larkful Hortensia along.
Back again on the Astraea’s sanded deck. Ala Estival’s return brought uncertain news. But uncertainty spurred preparation for the worst, so women were sent to the gundeck and the Anemones assembled.
That was not the only thing we brought, for seated behind me on Litzia’s back, bound and gagged, was a stranger to the crew. Rugged she seemed, her tunic bloodied and grimed, and the strong shoulders drooped as we led her aft.
Halal, Xenon’s criminal, observed the activities on deck with the calmness and resignation of a sentenced convict, though her face quickly darkened. She saw women setting war upon her people, sails pointed in her city’s direction. A bloody combat it could be. But before it would come to pass, someone must bring the news to the captain.
“You two shall come with me,” Gladiola told Litzia and I. There was a wavering in her usual sureness.
“Why?” Litzia asked without reserve. She had been in a foul mood ever since our return, and even before then. “Is it not the leader’s duty to report? And besides, you promise that man to protect this person.” This she said with a hesitant glance at our prisoner. It would be cruel, for his fate had been well destined since she released the ballista’s bolt – an offense to the captain’s crew is an offense to herself.
“I promised to do what I could,” she said with marked irritation, “Unfortunately, what I could is of little avail. The captain may not be moved by a warrior’s oath, for her pride is greater than what favor my stature may afford.”
“Then why made such an empty promise? I do not see you as one to deceive.”
“And I deceive not, for I knew of one last way to keep his life, my Ala-sister, though it depends not on my capabilities. Take this as an order if you are not willing to do it for a friend, Litzia, Aster. I know the captain looks at you two favorably, and that might yet salvage this situation. I wish not the blood of the helpless upon my blade, commanded though it might be by my mistress.”
That was a strange observation. The captain did look at us, but I daresay not in the way Gladiola implied. And if taken from Litzia’s own perspective, it might well be the opposite.
Litzia didn’t answer directly, “I would rather not, but if that be an order, what choice have I? What of you, Aster, will you come? Though I know well the answer.”
“I will, but not by an order. I will do what I can, Gladiola, only I fear you misjudge the captain’s disposition for us.”
“A warrior does what she can, and tries what she cannot without risking her life. Let us go, but stop by the sickbay on the way.”
She wished to have the prisoner looked at by our healer, Salvia. It took but a moment for the old woman to accommodate the request and assert there was no more than flesh bruises that would heal with time.
“Whoever had roughed him up didn’t seek to injure him in earnest,” she added, “Obvious to the eyes, Valerian could have confirmed this as well as I can.”
Gladiola nodded, and so it seemed the answer was already predicted. “Lend us this place for a while, ma’am healer. I promise it will not be long.”
At this hour the sickbay was deserted save for the old healer. Only empty beds in the back housed the seriously wounded women who had been lying there since the hunt.
Salvia bid us do what we want, but to bring it outside should our interrogation progress into violent form.
Presently Gladiola took us to a corner of the room, and ungagged the prisoner. She sat now on a white bed, dark complexion and grimness all the more prevalent in contrast to her surroundings.
“You heard our talk,” Gladiola said, “I promised your commander justice, none more. Now I have to first determine your just fate before sending you to my mistress. Hark, Halal of Xenon. Why assaulted us, messengers who came in peace? Be reminded, ignorance is no excuse for crimes, but in warrior laws, an arrow loosed with intent to kill is no different to murder, true or erred.”
The woman curled his lips, as if on the verge of sending blasphemous spit at my Prima Alae, only to think better of it. “Since you asked, girl, I released the bolt with intent to kill, nothing less, and I stand then and I stand now by my actions, commanded not by men but by conscience. What is it you seek from these lips, that I shot by chance and accident, or for harmless warning and make-merry, like one shriveled coward?”
“No, I do not, " I asked but in search of malice. Sides, even if you deceive me and my alares here, what hope will have you and your soul before the Dragon? But do you think us warmongers, though we came as a fraction of the Dragon’s might, and sounded no trumpet of war? Do you claim ignorance?”
“It is no secret that the Last Dragon delights in war and bloodshed, for her enemy or larks that catch wrongly her eyes. So what are you if not warmongers? Still, I would willingly grovel so long as she bothers not with my people. But I know better: Absalomese dogs came to our door led by the Black Prince’s beloved hound, upon his brow they said flashed the stone of Xango; that is your captain’s treasure! His might with the Dragon’s aid smote walls and razed cities! Is then the death of my people not loud enough trumpets? Ignorance is it then, to slay the murderer of one’s brothers and sisters? But no, I will speak no more of this and entertain your tyrant’s whim.”
Gladiola nodded, and signaled us to escort the prisoner after her. “Very well, I determine you guilty by warrior laws, for you rebelled for personal vengeance. But as human, I do not fault you for taking vengeance upon your people.”
As she had said, the woman spoke no more but hung his head low. And we made our way straight to the captain’s citadel. Her dwelling place is at the very top of the Citadel, where, whenever she’s within, the Alares of Ala Hiemal are never far off. At the present, two pairs of that Ala were placed sentinels at the oak doors leading to her chamber. Shortly, our presence was announced, but not the prisoners. The fact of the matter, to the guards and the captain herself, was that the woman proved no threat, and warranted no acknowledgment.
As we waited for our summon, I gazed upon famous tales depicted in carvings on the wood. A dragon, in her true monstrous form, rises above a cloud of grayness, whose dark wings cover the earth entire, her claws perched on the great stone tower foolish men have built in defiance of divinity. Ruinous debris of its likes strewed the earth.
There was Litzia of course. I stole a worried glance at her face, thinking to find one restrained, conflicted, or moody expression. But there was not, almost nothing, for all her deep hatred for the captain. The flawless mask had been again raised, forbidding all, even I, from gaining even a glimpse of the light or shadow within. For my part at least, with Gladiola on our side, the prospect of standing in her private chamber seemed not so bad. But what my Ala leader had said before carried a bad omen. If the captain looked at Litzia and me, favorably or not, it was a source of trouble. I would rather not catch her eyes at all. And as Halal had said, to catch her eyes wrongly is a sentence to doom. Last time it went well with the hierogram of Lost Azure, but I dreaded to be in her grace again natheless.
Of course, our prisoner had a greater cause to be worried about her head. Which, as far as I may be concerned, was as good as lost. Though I did not wish to see her die, it was, undeniably, by her own words, that she sought to kill us, and had no remorse whatsoever for her action, if only regret that she could not bring us along to the Underland. In that regard, I could scarcely comprehend Gladiola’s respect for him. She had strange notions of the warrior codes or whatever it was, and was the paramount example of an honorable Anemone, that is, the opposite of what I was. Yet she expected Litzia and I to do her part and plead justice for the man. I wondered if I should be able to put my heart into the act. Now the one who could do it, and would be willing to do it, for pride and rebellious will towards the captain, was Litzia. It was chiefly Litzia of course, that the captain, if indeed she did, regarded favorably. The event after our first assault on Sheol came to mind, where this hateful wyvern had openly defied the captain, yet had not been so much as rebuked for it.
To bear such deep rage and hatred, I could not understand the two people now standing by my side, that prisoner and my wyverness. Doubtless their hearts had been wounded and corrupted unwillingly to this state of ugliness. But even as I saw still beauty in the fettered Litzia, Gladiola saw something in this vengeful, unreasonable man, whatever it might be. So how they lived with darkness engraved, I could hope only to understand someday and offer my hand for aid. That is not my responsibility, nor my great desire, but a thing rather like Gladiola’s sense of honor, though not perfectly in the way she meant, I suppose. A thing so affecting and incomprehensible, that for it, even I, this failed being, could wish to erase all sins and dark thoughts within the wyverness. And if that be impossible, to bear it, to endure it, to take what is loved and forgive inevitable flaws, was something at this point I thought I was prepared to do with no question asked. For almost no reason at all. I wonder about this feeling. Is it pity still?
At last, by some unseen signal from the captain, the Hiemal alares bade us enter. My last thought before venturing inside was of the wisdom behind the decision of not bringing larkful Hortensia along.
