There had been a marked silence before Gladiola queried the fearful survivors. And when at length she spoke with her blade still unsheathed, I knew she did not see the captured slaves as harmless.
“Are ye gentry?” our Prima asked.
One of the three who was the tallest nodded. Her hair amber and her gait no doubt of noble birth, if hidden under a layer of dirt and fright. Quivering, she said, “My good lady, I am Mathilda of Merec. These outlaws raided our ship and intended to ransom me to my family in Ammonia.”
“And these behind you?”
“They are my maids, good lady.”
“They bear no marks, did they seek to ransom those commoners also?”
She bit her lips, “I requested that they be spared.”
Gladiola eyed the woman at length, then, “Very well. We will have you meet our captain.”
Gladiola did not buy her story. There was, after all, little reason to bother the captain with such a trivial matter. Yet oblivious of this, her eyes gleamed with hopes.
“Then I may return to my land?”
“We are headed to Tithonus now, then you may go whither you wish, if you possess the means. Or if it proves difficult to send for your house aid, you may choose to stay and work on our ship to earn your traveling expenses. Such is how we treat all free women who come our way. But the Daybright alters her course for naught save her captain.”
“I am grateful for your people’s help, my lady.” She sighed, but I could not tell if it was for relief.
Not all of her shipmates could say the same, but some did. The piracy crew were entirely slaughtered and their ships scuttled. Of those who lived, the fate of the slaves went just as Gladiola described, some alares were captured for ransom, and the Priests brought abroad to be released at Tithothus’ temple.
Of the boarding of the noble young lady, late that night at the symposium, Gladiola told us the captain had held an audience with her and, for the time being, allowed her and the handmaidens to stay as guests to be released like the rest of the free women. But even so, Gladiola confessed, she did not believe her story of being captured by pirates.
“What reason has she to lie?” I asked, shifting my gaze to Litzia. The wyverness was engrossed in a little book, giving no heed to the conversation at all. Lately, she had adopted this habit of reading at the reclined couch, fashioning somewhat after Valerian’s old habit before the incident of Marigold. Ironic enough, Valerian had grown that much more sociable since, and had resumed attendant of the after-meal function. Though she seemed lonely at the seat now without a pair. “The captain deems her presence safe enough to stay.”
“Our captain relishes games,” said Hortensia, “not all games, matter of course. But the ones she thinks adequately entertaining, she allows. Say she read an assassin’s ploy in the little lady’s head, and it does occur to her an amusing play, that is, if she deems it reasonably plausible, and not some thoughtless attempt.”
It took all of my mental restraints to keep my head from turning to Litzia. At the edge of my vision, the wyverness flipped a page. Her defiance and distaste for the captain were known to the others, but not her will for vengeance.
“I doubt it,” Galanthus said simply.
“You doubt it?” Hortensia raised her brow.
“That young lady does not make for a good assassin,” Acis shook her head, “not one the Mistress would find adequate.”
“These men-at-arms were dressed in Ammonia’s livery,” Valerian pointed out, forming her conclusion entirely from what had been related by our leader, “the little lady’s countrymen. Suppose they work with the pirates as you say, then a court quarrel should provide an apt explanation, and why the little lady seeks to hide her real identity after a painful betrayal. It is not unheard of that nations at war would employ pirates to harass their opponent’s merchants.”
“Aurora cares for court intrigues?” This time it was Litzia asking, betraying her subdued interest in the conversation. “She?”
“Who can say what she thinks,” sighed Hortensia. “But not the kinds on this side of the skies, I’d wager. There are finer games to be found in the closed court of the old empire, but not here, where crude poisons and dagger-hands are deemed pinnacles of conspiracies.”
I searched my mind for the little knowledge in my possession of the old empire. Not much, as its territories lay beyond the captain’s preferred skies. But I had heard of her past visits to that empire to the north.
Now a sweet voice came from behind me, addressing Hortensia.
“Could it be that you hail from the North, Madam Hortensia?”
Thea had rested her elbow on my couch’s back, and with her face rested pensively upon her supporting hand, the girl had put the question in quite an unbefitting manner for a maid.
Nor did Hortensia mind the interruption. And ever since settling in her new occupation, Thea had often been invited into conversations by the cerulean wyverness herself.
“Rather obvious is it not,” the wyverness answered, “I am too fond of the fashion of my homeland to adapt to your people’s manner of dress.”
“There are hints here and there, madam, but I have never beheld one of the northern court to say with surety.”
“Then it is a shame, for our women are lovely things. And how I miss the good Nanese young lasses, they don’t grow girls like them here, they don’t!”
“You indulge yourself well enough,” said her pledge-sister, “and you have some lasses to visit in Tithonus, do you not?”
“Jealous? You can come along and watch, I’d be much obliged!”
“I have businesses to tend to in the city,” she shook her head.
“Now I’m jealous!” cried Hortensia, which was entirely ignored.
Instead, our Prima shifted her attention to Litzia and I, then Valerian and finally settled on a troubled look. “I would have asked one of you to stay with Galanthus in my stead, but doubtless you will be ordered to the sanctuary. ‘Tis a problem.”
To answer my uncomprehensive look, Acis said, “I have… my own business in the city too.”
“Busy day for everyone, eh?”
“Tithonus was my home port.”
I leaned back, glancing at the ceiling, comprehending. “One of the chosen, eh, that is the kind of extraordinary one expects in an Estival Alaris.”
At that point, I had ceased to be overly impressed by my Ala-sisters’ backgrounds. Each of them an elite of some sort, even by the Anemone’s standard. One a Vandal Princess of the blood, whose pledge-sister hailed from the old empire’s court; another a living saintess. Then there was Litzia, whom Aurora herself had gone to great lengths and secrecy to enslave.
“Aster?” asked Litzia, “what does that mean?”
But ere I could tell her, I saw that Acis’ eyes were downcast. Her wyverness’ cold eye darted at me. My stomach knotted, did I err somehow? It seemed.
“She is not,” Galanthus said, curtly as ever. “She is what she is.”
Litzia gave me a look, I was none the wiser.
“’Tis true,” Acis said, “But you need not be on guard, sis. By now, I’m rather too used to it to be bothered.”
Passing strange, for in all my time with the pair of white, I had not once witnessed a disagreement. Always they appeared a couple of twins, in images and almost in bearings, and for all I know, they were, though it is unheard of for wyverns and humans to be siblings. A mystery never addressed so far in my time with them. I was never one to pry, and Galanthus one to speak without necessity.
“Be reasonable, Galanthus,” said Valerian, “she does not know Acis’ story, nor would any of us utter it without your permission.”
The final voice of authority came from Gladiola, “Lest you forget, Galanthus, your pledged one is no less Tithonus’ chosen than she is yours. Acis knows this, and she is to attend the ritual as dictated.”
She spoke not without kindness. Still, Galanthus glared back. “Then let her cease to be so. Return her unto her own person, to whom once more I shall pledge,” she said with an edge.
I half-expected Gladiola to snap at her, but the Prima only sighed, “Your infantilism is tiring, Galanthus. Do you wish for Acis to challenge the captain’s authority?”
Acis shook her head. “I shall go. I meant it when I said I’m used to it.”
“And that settled it.”
But not for Galanthus. The wyverness rose and in her own fashion wordlessly left. For one of so few words, it is never difficult to discern her disposition.
When she passed by Ala Vernal’s bouquet, I marked Rosa Alba’s gaze following her. And with them close to each other, the contrast in their similar hue occurred all the more prevalent to me. One of aweing antiquity, the other of unbound innocence. I did not know then of the dark curse attached to that most pure of all colors.
For a moment Acis lingered, but made her exit all the same, after her pledge-sister. Neither could bear separation for long. And doubtless they reconciled right that day, if with faint lasting unrest ever-present.
The rest of the night each of the Ala was left to their own ponderous thoughts, and little by way of conversations were these thoughts made known. For my part at least, the vague guilt was soon absolved by a visit that by then had become an expected thing. Overfed by some girls in the next Wreath over, a familiar ball of orange fur settled on my belly. Maple the cat had been fond of me since my first day in this Hall when Galanthus had been puzzled by the fact. Mindlessly I stroked its hair pricking fur as it slumbered until the small hours. One by one, the rest of my Ala retired to their chamber. And when even Litzia grew bored with her little book, I was left alone at our table, lying in frigid fear of disturbing the adorable but grumpy furball. Drama or no drama. It was a lasting truth that idyllic moments such as these had become a usual thing for me. I could even say that it was about the only good thing being an alaris had yielded me. My muscles trained for hauling halyards did not ache for warfare like some alares, nor did I find much intimate joy in my pledge with Litzia. For it was built upon a foundation of lies. And who could say that this hall with all the fresh fruits, tender meat, and fine wine was better than the dingy galley or quiet night watches under the night sky back then? But an azure takes what she is given, and ought to be grateful for it. That way, life settled once more into the wonted untroubled course.
It was well enough, and I could have just laid there all the way till morning. But not long after Litzia had left, so did Maple as he scurried away, following the calling of a warmer and softer berth perhaps.
I was ambushed just outside the Hall of Wreaths by Gladiola.
Much virtues could be said of our leader, her trustworthiness in battle, what respect she commanded in her alares, but her presence was definitely intimidating. I did not think she was too aware of it, but born to it, unlike Valerian whose severity was taught. All the more when she emerged from the shadow as though a springing harpy.
After a moment she had graciously spared me to settle from shock, the woman bade me to the hallway. There was nary a soul in sight, and yet the failing clamor in the Hall beyond the door could still be heard. Somewhere in there, Thea was cleaning the table, oblivious to our conversation.
“You are to accompany Litzia to the Sanctuary at Tithonus, at the height of Golden Dawn,” said she like a statement.
It was something she herself had already informed Litzia and me. A journey we must needs make in Tithonus, the city-republic that was still a day away. It is one that all alares in the captain’s service must go through. Something like a trial, and yet not, the very same Acis had consented to partake in earlier.
I assured Gladiola that I was well aware of the fact, and would attend it by all feeble strength that I may purpose for it. She looked at me gravely, not entirely amused by my choice of words.
“Aster,” she said, with solemnity, “someone else, someone like my careless pledge-sister, would dismiss this ritual as but a formality for the has-been. I do not. The significance of it is not to be treated as perfunctory. It serves a double duty, one to test your worthiness, the other your willingness. Do you understand?”
I was almost compelled to obey, though she might have intended it as a caution and not an order.
She continued, “Think on it, Aster. The ritual is where your pledge is recognized. And this is a decision for two, not your pledge-sister’s alone. If it is your choice not to go through with this ritual, none will fault you for it. Will you consider it well?”
At the time, I caught myself wondering if Gladiola would prefer for me to not go through with it. For my skills as an alaris were lacking. But she was much too honorable to be made to suffer my doubt so.
In the end, I gave her my word.
For how much she impressed upon me, I failed my promise, for a lack of trying. All said and done, my relationship with Litzia was built on a lie. And to speak a convincing lie, one must first do away with the truth. There was nothing to consider in the first place. But it is not the question that needed to be answered right away, one I would gladly put off as long as could. Still, I understood the gravity of the ritual without the need for her caution and commanding presence. We needed to lie our way through this trial also.
The next day, we sailed on Tithonus land.
There, a ritual would take place. And one that could have been a mere perfunctory indeed, if not for all the distractions along the way.
There had been a marked silence before Gladiola queried the fearful survivors. And when at length she spoke with her blade still unsheathed, I knew she did not see the captured slaves as harmless.
“Are ye gentry?” our Prima asked.
One of the three who was the tallest nodded. Her hair amber and her gait no doubt of noble birth, if hidden under a layer of dirt and fright. Quivering, she said, “My good lady, I am Mathilda of Merec. These outlaws raided our ship and intended to ransom me to my family in Ammonia.”
“And these behind you?”
“They are my maids, good lady.”
“They bear no marks, did they seek to ransom those commoners also?”
She bit her lips, “I requested that they be spared.”
Gladiola eyed the woman at length, then, “Very well. We will have you meet our captain.”
Gladiola did not buy her story. There was, after all, little reason to bother the captain with such a trivial matter. Yet oblivious of this, her eyes gleamed with hopes.
“Then I may return to my land?”
“We are headed to Tithonus now, then you may go whither you wish, if you possess the means. Or if it proves difficult to send for your house aid, you may choose to stay and work on our ship to earn your traveling expenses. Such is how we treat all free women who come our way. But the Daybright alters her course for naught save her captain.”
“I am grateful for your people’s help, my lady.” She sighed, but I could not tell if it was for relief.
Not all of her shipmates could say the same, but some did. The piracy crew were entirely slaughtered and their ships scuttled. Of those who lived, the fate of the slaves went just as Gladiola described, some alares were captured for ransom, and the Priests brought abroad to be released at Tithothus’ temple.
Of the boarding of the noble young lady, late that night at the symposium, Gladiola told us the captain had held an audience with her and, for the time being, allowed her and the handmaidens to stay as guests to be released like the rest of the free women. But even so, Gladiola confessed, she did not believe her story of being captured by pirates.
“What reason has she to lie?” I asked, shifting my gaze to Litzia. The wyverness was engrossed in a little book, giving no heed to the conversation at all. Lately, she had adopted this habit of reading at the reclined couch, fashioning somewhat after Valerian’s old habit before the incident of Marigold. Ironic enough, Valerian had grown that much more sociable since, and had resumed attendant of the after-meal function. Though she seemed lonely at the seat now without a pair. “The captain deems her presence safe enough to stay.”
“Our captain relishes games,” said Hortensia, “not all games, matter of course. But the ones she thinks adequately entertaining, she allows. Say she read an assassin’s ploy in the little lady’s head, and it does occur to her an amusing play, that is, if she deems it reasonably plausible, and not some thoughtless attempt.”
It took all of my mental restraints to keep my head from turning to Litzia. At the edge of my vision, the wyverness flipped a page. Her defiance and distaste for the captain were known to the others, but not her will for vengeance.
“I doubt it,” Galanthus said simply.
“You doubt it?” Hortensia raised her brow.
“That young lady does not make for a good assassin,” Acis shook her head, “not one the Mistress would find adequate.”
“These men-at-arms were dressed in Ammonia’s livery,” Valerian pointed out, forming her conclusion entirely from what had been related by our leader, “the little lady’s countrymen. Suppose they work with the pirates as you say, then a court quarrel should provide an apt explanation, and why the little lady seeks to hide her real identity after a painful betrayal. It is not unheard of that nations at war would employ pirates to harass their opponent’s merchants.”
“Aurora cares for court intrigues?” This time it was Litzia asking, betraying her subdued interest in the conversation. “She?”
“Who can say what she thinks,” sighed Hortensia. “But not the kinds on this side of the skies, I’d wager. There are finer games to be found in the closed court of the old empire, but not here, where crude poisons and dagger-hands are deemed pinnacles of conspiracies.”
I searched my mind for the little knowledge in my possession of the old empire. Not much, as its territories lay beyond the captain’s preferred skies. But I had heard of her past visits to that empire to the north.
Now a sweet voice came from behind me, addressing Hortensia.
“Could it be that you hail from the North, Madam Hortensia?”
Thea had rested her elbow on my couch’s back, and with her face rested pensively upon her supporting hand, the girl had put the question in quite an unbefitting manner for a maid.
Nor did Hortensia mind the interruption. And ever since settling in her new occupation, Thea had often been invited into conversations by the cerulean wyverness herself.
“Rather obvious is it not,” the wyverness answered, “I am too fond of the fashion of my homeland to adapt to your people’s manner of dress.”
“There are hints here and there, madam, but I have never beheld one of the northern court to say with surety.”
“Then it is a shame, for our women are lovely things. And how I miss the good Nanese young lasses, they don’t grow girls like them here, they don’t!”
“You indulge yourself well enough,” said her pledge-sister, “and you have some lasses to visit in Tithonus, do you not?”
“Jealous? You can come along and watch, I’d be much obliged!”
“I have businesses to tend to in the city,” she shook her head.
“Now I’m jealous!” cried Hortensia, which was entirely ignored.
Instead, our Prima shifted her attention to Litzia and I, then Valerian and finally settled on a troubled look. “I would have asked one of you to stay with Galanthus in my stead, but doubtless you will be ordered to the sanctuary. ‘Tis a problem.”
To answer my uncomprehensive look, Acis said, “I have… my own business in the city too.”
“Busy day for everyone, eh?”
“Tithonus was my home port.”
I leaned back, glancing at the ceiling, comprehending. “One of the chosen, eh, that is the kind of extraordinary one expects in an Estival Alaris.”
At that point, I had ceased to be overly impressed by my Ala-sisters’ backgrounds. Each of them an elite of some sort, even by the Anemone’s standard. One a Vandal Princess of the blood, whose pledge-sister hailed from the old empire’s court; another a living saintess. Then there was Litzia, whom Aurora herself had gone to great lengths and secrecy to enslave.
“Aster?” asked Litzia, “what does that mean?”
But ere I could tell her, I saw that Acis’ eyes were downcast. Her wyverness’ cold eye darted at me. My stomach knotted, did I err somehow? It seemed.
“She is not,” Galanthus said, curtly as ever. “She is what she is.”
Litzia gave me a look, I was none the wiser.
“’Tis true,” Acis said, “But you need not be on guard, sis. By now, I’m rather too used to it to be bothered.”
Passing strange, for in all my time with the pair of white, I had not once witnessed a disagreement. Always they appeared a couple of twins, in images and almost in bearings, and for all I know, they were, though it is unheard of for wyverns and humans to be siblings. A mystery never addressed so far in my time with them. I was never one to pry, and Galanthus one to speak without necessity.
“Be reasonable, Galanthus,” said Valerian, “she does not know Acis’ story, nor would any of us utter it without your permission.”
The final voice of authority came from Gladiola, “Lest you forget, Galanthus, your pledged one is no less Tithonus’ chosen than she is yours. Acis knows this, and she is to attend the ritual as dictated.”
She spoke not without kindness. Still, Galanthus glared back. “Then let her cease to be so. Return her unto her own person, to whom once more I shall pledge,” she said with an edge.
I half-expected Gladiola to snap at her, but the Prima only sighed, “Your infantilism is tiring, Galanthus. Do you wish for Acis to challenge the captain’s authority?”
Acis shook her head. “I shall go. I meant it when I said I’m used to it.”
“And that settled it.”
But not for Galanthus. The wyverness rose and in her own fashion wordlessly left. For one of so few words, it is never difficult to discern her disposition.
When she passed by Ala Vernal’s bouquet, I marked Rosa Alba’s gaze following her. And with them close to each other, the contrast in their similar hue occurred all the more prevalent to me. One of aweing antiquity, the other of unbound innocence. I did not know then of the dark curse attached to that most pure of all colors.
For a moment Acis lingered, but made her exit all the same, after her pledge-sister. Neither could bear separation for long. And doubtless they reconciled right that day, if with faint lasting unrest ever-present.
The rest of the night each of the Ala was left to their own ponderous thoughts, and little by way of conversations were these thoughts made known. For my part at least, the vague guilt was soon absolved by a visit that by then had become an expected thing. Overfed by some girls in the next Wreath over, a familiar ball of orange fur settled on my belly. Maple the cat had been fond of me since my first day in this Hall when Galanthus had been puzzled by the fact. Mindlessly I stroked its hair pricking fur as it slumbered until the small hours. One by one, the rest of my Ala retired to their chamber. And when even Litzia grew bored with her little book, I was left alone at our table, lying in frigid fear of disturbing the adorable but grumpy furball. Drama or no drama. It was a lasting truth that idyllic moments such as these had become a usual thing for me. I could even say that it was about the only good thing being an alaris had yielded me. My muscles trained for hauling halyards did not ache for warfare like some alares, nor did I find much intimate joy in my pledge with Litzia. For it was built upon a foundation of lies. And who could say that this hall with all the fresh fruits, tender meat, and fine wine was better than the dingy galley or quiet night watches under the night sky back then? But an azure takes what she is given, and ought to be grateful for it. That way, life settled once more into the wonted untroubled course.
It was well enough, and I could have just laid there all the way till morning. But not long after Litzia had left, so did Maple as he scurried away, following the calling of a warmer and softer berth perhaps.
I was ambushed just outside the Hall of Wreaths by Gladiola.
Much virtues could be said of our leader, her trustworthiness in battle, what respect she commanded in her alares, but her presence was definitely intimidating. I did not think she was too aware of it, but born to it, unlike Valerian whose severity was taught. All the more when she emerged from the shadow as though a springing harpy.
After a moment she had graciously spared me to settle from shock, the woman bade me to the hallway. There was nary a soul in sight, and yet the failing clamor in the Hall beyond the door could still be heard. Somewhere in there, Thea was cleaning the table, oblivious to our conversation.
“You are to accompany Litzia to the Sanctuary at Tithonus, at the height of Golden Dawn,” said she like a statement.
It was something she herself had already informed Litzia and me. A journey we must needs make in Tithonus, the city-republic that was still a day away. It is one that all alares in the captain’s service must go through. Something like a trial, and yet not, the very same Acis had consented to partake in earlier.
I assured Gladiola that I was well aware of the fact, and would attend it by all feeble strength that I may purpose for it. She looked at me gravely, not entirely amused by my choice of words.
“Aster,” she said, with solemnity, “someone else, someone like my careless pledge-sister, would dismiss this ritual as but a formality for the has-been. I do not. The significance of it is not to be treated as perfunctory. It serves a double duty, one to test your worthiness, the other your willingness. Do you understand?”
I was almost compelled to obey, though she might have intended it as a caution and not an order.
She continued, “Think on it, Aster. The ritual is where your pledge is recognized. And this is a decision for two, not your pledge-sister’s alone. If it is your choice not to go through with this ritual, none will fault you for it. Will you consider it well?”
At the time, I caught myself wondering if Gladiola would prefer for me to not go through with it. For my skills as an alaris were lacking. But she was much too honorable to be made to suffer my doubt so.
In the end, I gave her my word.
For how much she impressed upon me, I failed my promise, for a lack of trying. All said and done, my relationship with Litzia was built on a lie. And to speak a convincing lie, one must first do away with the truth. There was nothing to consider in the first place. But it is not the question that needed to be answered right away, one I would gladly put off as long as could. Still, I understood the gravity of the ritual without the need for her caution and commanding presence. We needed to lie our way through this trial also.
The next day, we sailed on Tithonus land.
There, a ritual would take place. And one that could have been a mere perfunctory indeed, if not for all the distractions along the way.
