Chapter Twenty-Two: Midwinter II
Val watched, transfixed. Jasil was the tumbler… and she was a musician! And she was the best of the lot of them, obviously, though others might have said otherwise. They would have been wrong. Jasil with her hazel eyes and her skin like burnished bronze. Jasil with her hair, tumbling in coils and dark like the night. She played a trill with her flute and made a play of chasing the accordionist around the stage, provoking laughter and the clink of more coin. Then she played a happy, jaunty melody that had everybody laughing and dancing… well, the other musicians were playing, too. But they didn't count, obviously.
The only instrument that Val knew how to play was a whistle. Toot once for attention and toot-toot twice for danger. But Jasil's fingers danced up and down the fife, coaxing a whole world of notes out of her little instrument. She had to be more talented than anybody Val had ever met…
Before she could second-guess herself, Val hopped off the balcony… it was only fifteen feet down… not that far, really… and scampered over to Ginn, tugging on her sleeve to get her attention.
Ginn shot her a wary look. "Did you spot something you couldn't whistle out?" She leaned in so Val could whisper to her.
"No," Val whispered… it was awkward - she hadn't planned on whispering, but neither had she wanted to shout down that she'd spotted her friend. "Um… I'm kind of friends with that Sheore girl up there and wanted a few minutes off to go talk to her. Just a few minutes?"
Ginn pulled away with a disappointed scowl. "Val, we're on the job. You're needed up there for lookout duty. You can visit your friend during free time tomorrow."
"But I can't, I…"
Apparently, Ette had overheard enough to weigh in. He leaned in and whispered something to Ginn - Val couldn't make it out over the din of the crowd, but whatever it was made Ginn's eyes go wide. Then she giggled and brought Val into an unexpected hug, mashing her face against her shoulder.
"You go on, then," she said. "You've got until eleven o'clock - that's an hour. We need you until midnight, after that, as that's when the party will be the most raucous. Have fun with your little friend."
Little friend? What had Ginn meant by that? Jasil wasn't little - in fact, she was three or four inches taller than Val. Practically adult height.
For some reason, Val felt a giddy anxiety, her heart and her stomach jockeying for supremacy as she meandered her way through the crowd. She waited by the stage, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she watched Jasil playing her fife, eyes closed in utter concentration as her fingers danced. Then, eventually, after an interminable period of time, her musical number ended and Jasil took a bow.
Val clapped and whistled and bounced up and down. What had gotten into her - usually, she wasn't so damn excitable. At least it got her friend's attention, and Jasil's smile shifted from the practiced expression of a stage performer to something warm and genuine. She said something to one of the others in her language and practically skipped off the stage and up to Val.
"Val! How did you know I was here?"
Val pulled Jasil into a hug - which she clearly hadn't been expecting but reciprocated after a second before pulling away to put a foot or so between them. Val could still feel the heat off her body and tiny droplets of sweat glistened like a crown of jewels on her friend's forehead.
"I didn't know… I'm working this event with my uncle and aunt. Just like you, I guess, but I got an hour off!"
"That's great! My aunt said I could get a snack with you before I do more leap-dancing," Jasil said. That must have been what they called tumbling in Sheore.
The thought of Jasil dancing and spinning in her silken robes did interesting things to Val. Her tummy felt warm, like she'd just drunk a cup of mulled mead.
"Do you want some mead? I can pay!" Val said.
"Sure!"
They queued up in line and, if the hotel barman had any problem with an almost teenager buying mildly alcoholic beverages, he took her six pfennigs the same as anybody else's. They were full mugs, too, ladled right out of the mulling pot and smelling of fruit, cloves, and cardamom. Val liked the smell of cardamom - it reminded her of her mother.
"It's good," Jasil said after a tentative sip.
Val nodded happily. "I like it, too. Do you want to, um, dance, I guess?"
"I've just been dancing, like, a lot," Jasil said. "Let's go somewhere and talk."
"I like your bracelets," Val said. Where had that come from? Was she already drunk?
"I made them myself. My aunt is teaching me engraving so I can do more kinds of jewelry."
Ginn could make amazing foil leaf masks. Galvan could play the fiddle. Gus could engrave just about anything on a plaque. Jasil could do cartwheels and play the fife and make jewelry. Was Val the only person in the world who wasn't good at art? It sure seemed like it sometimes. Some people got all the talent - it was so unfair!
"My friend Gus… she's not here… her parents own an engraving shop. I should introduce you! How long are you in town for?"
"A few days," Jasil said. "Maybe a week… but we'll be performing most evenings. After that, we'll be moving westward."
"What's in the west?" Val asked.
"It's more what's not in the west - the Pale Order. Things are getting dicey near the border. We forded the river instead of crossing on the trade road because we heard the Bolearics killed some Sheore and some Old Sud practitioners…"
"I think I saw that," Val said. "It was the Penitent Brothers. My uncle and cousin and me, we escaped on account of we've got fake papers that say we're Pale Order. But a lot of innocent people died."
"That's sad," Jasil said. She shifted back and forth on her feet for an awkward moment. Then something sparkled in Jasil's eyes. Or maybe her eyes always sparkled like that, their hazel color turning to a hazy amber-gold in the lantern light. "Have you learned any new magic?"
"Oh! Lots! I can… uh, well, I can show you somewhere more private. Come on!"
Val grabbed Jasil's hand and pulled her up the steps to the balcony, as she couldn't very well climb up the pillar with a mug of mulled mead. They made their way to a little alcove where the hallway was about twice as wide to allow for a little recessed area with a couch and a few chairs. Val primed the little gas lamp there and then made a show of igniting it with a magical spark rather than the little sparking button. Jasil's eyes went wide, but that wasn't close to the best new trick that Val had learned.
"Priestess Oestel told me I could learn some combat magic since I'm to be the duke's standard bearer. Defensive combat magic, but it's pretty useful. I'm pretty new with this one, but… um…" Val took a few steps away from Jasil, all the way to the back of the alcove, where the back of her legs bumped against the couch. "Okay, when I say now, you take a run at me."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah." Val took a minute to remember the feel of the magic - it was a moderate-level spell that required sustained hexal flow. Val could do a hexal flow, no problem. In front of Jasil. Definitely no problem. "Now!"
The spell was basically a sustained net of force. If somebody was charging at you, the invisible net would get them tangled up and stop their charge. At least that's what it would do in theory. If you were a powerful mage with a lot of practice, you could stop a whole line of armed men on charging horses. Val had only learned the trick two days ago and would be lucky to stop one Jasil.
Jasil leapt into action with the speed of an accomplished acrobat, taking three fleet, perfect steps before her feet began to tread in place against the carpet. "Oh! Wow! It's working!" she laughed. She hadn't completely stopped, but her sprint had been slowed down to an inch or two per second. "You're brilliant!" she said.
Val's mind shut down at that. People in Val's magic class sometimes said that to her, but they were the less-impressive, less-competitive students. This was Jasil saying it. Jasil of the midnight-dark hair and the sad, beautiful smile…
The spell collapsed in an instant and Jasil surged toward Val. Without time to stop, she collided into Val and they both tumbled into the soft cushions of the couch.
Val struggled underneath Jasil, eventually propping herself up on an elbow. There Jasil was, planted above her in the lantern light, her skin smooth and golden like the gilded likeness of a goddess. She started to apologize…
"Was that on purpose?" Jasil asked.
"Maybe?"
Jasil giggled. "It was!" Her face lowered… lowered…
A lock of coal-dark hair brushed past Val's cheek. Her belly was doing its own little dance. He heart pulsed back in unison. Her breath came in spurts, taking in the smell of woodsmoke and faint perfume off of Jasil's hair. Taking in the feel of soft lips on hers.
"Oh goddess," Val sighed. She felt so warm, so loved. Mittvanter was the best holiday ever.
She didn't know what to do with her hands, so she brought them around to Jasil's back to hold her close. She didn't want her to back off. She was surrounded by couch cushions and Jasil, and everything felt so warm despite the cool night. Her fingers slid downward, toward Jasil's lower back. And Jasil had a hand on Val's belly, pushing downward, one finger tracing under the hem of her breeches. Her palm applying just a little pressure… just the right pressure. Her tongue venturing into Val's mouth…
Val had given a lot of thought about kissing and had asked around. Some of Nikoli's friends sounded like they had a lot of experience, and some of them might have even been telling the truth. Though most of their advice seemed to assume you would be kissing a boy for some reason. No thanks. But Jasil?
"Cos faci im dolcea mantuije, fati?" a voice barked out. It did not sound happy. [What in sweet salvation are you doing, girl?]
"Pata!" Jasil said. Val knew enough Sheore to know this meant 'papa'. "No este cea com arata!" [Papa! It's not what it looks like!]
Jasil's dad grabbed a fistful of her tunic and lifted her bodily off of Val - he was not a small man. He set her roughly upon the floor and, before she could regain her balance, he lashed out with the back of his hand. The slap cracked against Jasil's face and sent her collapsing to the floor, gasping and sobbing.
Val saw red. Something deep and primal filled her with more energy than she'd ever felt before, and her body moved with the ease of a gliding marionette, rolling off of the couch and dancing out to Jasil's dad in two rapid steps. Between Jasil and her dad in two rapid steps. Her right fist was balled up and ready to strike the man. Her left hand had leapt to her side just shy of the hilt of her knife - it was a good instinct to have, but it wasn't time for knives, so she drew her left hand into a fist, too.
"Don't take another step," Val said. "Don't move a godsdamned muscle."
"You will not defile my daughter, little harlot!" he spat.
"Not. A. Muscle," Val said. But she didn't mean it - the sound of his hand smacking Jasil's face played fresh in her memory. She hoped he tried something. Val wanted any excuse to give him better than he dished out.
Jasil's dad stepped in, his hand raising up to deliver Val a backhand just like he'd struck his daughter. This was his signature move, apparently. It wasn't a very good move - not against anybody with a little combat training. Not even somebody who weighed forty percent less than him, as Val probably did.
She ducked under the attack, grabbed his sleeve, grabbed the front of his shirt, and used the man's momentum to roll him right over her body as she fell back. Exactly like in unarmed fighting drills. She positioned herself on top of the man and, as he tried to scramble and roll away, socked him right in the nose as hard as she could.
Then, just like in fighting drills, she rolled off of the man and onto her feet, offering her opponent a hand up. This was, apparently, a move best reserved for the fighting studio floor. Jasil's dad scrambled to a crouch.
"You bitch!"
"Pata, no!" Jasil shouted.
Blood streaming from his likely-broken nose. Jasil's dad staggered to his feet, fists bunched, hatred flashing in his eyes. He took a swing - it probably wouldn't have connected even if Val hadn't taken a half-step back. Common sense was beginning to seep itself back into her brain and she needed a good think about how to de-escalate the situation. That's what Ette would want her to do.
"That man's attacking that girl!" somebody shouted in Peliac.
Suddenly, there were three more assailants in the combat area - three bulky men with weapons at their belts. They were, presumably, on Val's side here. She wasn't sure whether that was bad or good, since it escalated things, but then there were a few more men storming into the area. They wore Sheore robes and wrappings, and their confusion turned toward aggression when they saw Jasil's dad and his broken, freely-bleeding nose.
"Leave our friend and his daughter alone," one of them said.
"Your friend was attacking this girl, you savage!" one of the Bolearic men shouted.
"I may discipline my daughter as I please, swine!" Jasil's father shouted.
This non sequitur got a bit of confusion from the Bolearic men - especially since Val looked nothing like him and Jasil was cowering as far from the action as she could get. But they were slightly drunk and appreciated being called swine about as much as Jasil's dad appreciated being called a savage. One man's hand wandered toward the knife hidden under his waistcoat. He gripped the pommel.
He didn't get a chance to do anything with it. Ette's sizable fist grabbed his arm from behind and had him prone and disarmed before Val could even blink. They'd learned that move during fighting drills, but not nearly so fast. Then Ette was between the two groups of men, his expression utterly devoid of emotion.
"All right, break it up, folks. The next person to so much as flinch is getting his arse tossed out onto the street. Now… who's bloodied this gentleman's nose?"
"Um… that was me," Val said. No use denying it, since Jasil's dad would shout bloody murder if she tried.
Ette nodded carefully. "And who started it?"
"He did…"
"I didn't!" Jasil's dad said… though it sounded a bit like 'I did it' with his nose broken and bloody. It was clear enough what he meant.
"If she says you did, then you did," Ette said. "Come on, we're going downstairs to cool off for a while," and, just like that, he dragged Jasil's dad away.
After the crowd had dispersed, Val wandered back to Jasil. She had a big red mark on her cheek from where her dad had struck her and, if she had to guess, it was going to bruise by tomorrow. Val took Jasil's hand, but she wouldn't meet her gaze. She just looked away and cried, her face at the exact angle for Val to see the swell of her fresh welt.
"Why did he get so mad?" Val asked.
Jasil shook her head and managed to look at Val, if only for a moment. "Because… we're not supposed to do that. Even if you were a boy, he'd have been upset. But… but you're not. He's…" her whole body trembled. "He's not going to be happy later on."
"He's going to beat you?"
"M-maybe… I wish I was brave and strong like you, Val…"
Val pulled her into a hug, and Jasil didn't resist. She just stood there, trembling slightly, and let Val hug her.
"I'm not sure I'm that extraordinary," Val said. "I just have tools, and tools make you brave. You've got the Gift, just like me… I can…"
"What's that?" Jasil asked. She pulled away from Val and shuffled over to a spot on the floor where somebody had dropped a folded-up leaflet of paper. She unfolded it, squinting. "It's in Peliac."
Val took a look at the paper. It was the diagram of a floor plan with arrows and little notes scrawled in.
Gain access here. Should be window approx. 7:15 in eve.
This door locked - use only for exit.
Stove area over here.
Look for big silver pot with copper bottom. May already be at a boil.
Complete objective. Guard while color returns to normal - may take two min.
If unable to get sole access or distract, set to objective 2. 3rd door on right of long corridor.
Rendezvous @ Pilgrim's.
The man with the knife had dropped the paper when Ette tackled him… it was the floor plan to the palace kitchen.
"Jasil… I have to go…"
"Val, wait…"
Val leaned in and kissed her on the lips, just for a second. Well, maybe two seconds. Then Val pulled away.
"I wish we could do that all night, but I have to run to the palace. Tell your dad that if he tries anything, I'll knock his head clean off next time I see him!"
With that, Val dashed down the stairs and informed Ginn that she would be going to the palace, for somebody was making an attempt on the duke's life. Maybe many people's lives. It might even be that they'd already succeeded.
+++++
Ette had wanted to talk about what had happened, obviously. Even if she hadn't been the aggressor, she had broken Jasil's dad's nose. She'd probably be in trouble, but not bad trouble. No more helping with security jobs for two weeks - something like that. It would have to wait until later, because somebody was trying to poison the duke.
Ginn gave her money to take a coach, but Val decided against it - she had no idea how to hire a coach. She'd never even considered hiring a coach before, and now was not the time to start along that learning curve. She'd just have to run.
The palace was only a mile away - Val was in pretty good shape and could make that in good time, even without a coach. Heck, with the holiday traffic along the horse lanes, running might well have been faster. Val could dodge around staggering, drunken revelers without much problem, especially with how much adrenaline was pulsing through her blood. She barely even registered her footfalls as she ran - not quite at a sprint, since that would just tire her before she got to the palace.
It was half-past ten and the Mittvanter parties were starting to escalate. She passed taverns and parlors raucous with cheering and music. Drunken people were everywhere, and the streets smelled like cheap wine already. In the morning, they would smell of vomit and piss. And the palace loomed above them all, the twin lanterns of its central tower peering down like a disapproving parent.
The stairs… oh gods, she'd forgotten about all those bloody stairs. There were only forty-three of them, but that sure seemed like a lot when you'd just run a mile. Now she felt every footfall acutely, a jarring impact that reverberated up her entire body. Her legs were on fire. Her lungs took in metallic-smelling air with each gasping breath.
One of the guards at the top of the stairs lowered his polearm to block her path. Val ducked right under it. "Ho, girl… where in hell's bells do you think you're going?"
"Duke… going…" Val gasped. "I'm… I'm his standard… standard bearer… important."
"She comes through all the time," the other guard whispered.
The guard signaled to the man at the door, who opened the door. Val dashed right through. Was she too late? She could hear clapping, laughter… sounds of merriment? If they'd consumed whatever it was, they might all be poisoned. What would happen if everybody at the duke's Mittvanter reception was poisoned? In all likelihood, the war would be called off and the forces of Boleares would march right in, bringing the closed-minded despotism of the Pale Order with them.
The guards standing at attention in front of the ballroom tried to stop her, but Val dodged right past. They recognized her a moment later and decided not to pursue. She ran past tables of smiling, clapping nobles, of ladies in glittering, silken gowns and enough jewels to buy the Vinzenno residence ten times over and officers in regal uniforms whose glittering medallions could be melted down into a dozen golden talents. Past girls from Val's finishing class using exactly the right spoon at exactly the right time in exactly the right way.
The duke was in the middle of a speech, his glass raised as if he were about to give a toast. Perhaps he was giving a toast. Perhaps… oh.
"Duke Ansibald! Duke Ansibald!" Val shouted. People grumbled… the duke frowned… the dowager duchess really frowned. "Somebody's poisoned the mulled mead! Nobody drink it!"
Mrs. Eatherfine stood from her spot next to the duke. "This is a very serious allegation. Are you sure, child?"
Val took a deep draught of breath - nobody was drinking the mead yet. "I'd rather be wrong and… say something… than be right and say nothing…" She waved the paper that Jasil had found back at the hotel. "A man at the Pilgrim's Passage… I found this on him. Plans for poison."
A cavalry colonel snatched the paper from Val and brought it to Mrs. Eatherfine, who scowled at the thing before muttering to the duke. For his part, Ansibald put his mead down before fixing his gaze upon Val.
"If what Valkyrie says is true… this is as good as a declaration of war. Lords and ladies of Aurilicht, you are dismissed until I call upon you. Let us hope that this…"
One of those ladies staggered to her feet - her face was red as a beet, sweat dripping from her brow. "My… my duke, I…" She collapsed, scattering her place setting and tipping her half-drunk glass of mead. She convulsed upon the floor.
Duke Ansibald slammed his fist into his table, scattering his own place setting. "Treachery!" He bellowed. "This is war!"
OvidLemma
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-Ovid
Chapter Twenty-Two: Midwinter II
Val watched, transfixed. Jasil was the tumbler… and she was a musician! And she was the best of the lot of them, obviously, though others might have said otherwise. They would have been wrong. Jasil with her hazel eyes and her skin like burnished bronze. Jasil with her hair, tumbling in coils and dark like the night. She played a trill with her flute and made a play of chasing the accordionist around the stage, provoking laughter and the clink of more coin. Then she played a happy, jaunty melody that had everybody laughing and dancing… well, the other musicians were playing, too. But they didn't count, obviously.
The only instrument that Val knew how to play was a whistle. Toot once for attention and toot-toot twice for danger. But Jasil's fingers danced up and down the fife, coaxing a whole world of notes out of her little instrument. She had to be more talented than anybody Val had ever met…
Before she could second-guess herself, Val hopped off the balcony… it was only fifteen feet down… not that far, really… and scampered over to Ginn, tugging on her sleeve to get her attention.
Ginn shot her a wary look. "Did you spot something you couldn't whistle out?" She leaned in so Val could whisper to her.
"No," Val whispered… it was awkward - she hadn't planned on whispering, but neither had she wanted to shout down that she'd spotted her friend. "Um… I'm kind of friends with that Sheore girl up there and wanted a few minutes off to go talk to her. Just a few minutes?"
Ginn pulled away with a disappointed scowl. "Val, we're on the job. You're needed up there for lookout duty. You can visit your friend during free time tomorrow."
"But I can't, I…"
Apparently, Ette had overheard enough to weigh in. He leaned in and whispered something to Ginn - Val couldn't make it out over the din of the crowd, but whatever it was made Ginn's eyes go wide. Then she giggled and brought Val into an unexpected hug, mashing her face against her shoulder.
"You go on, then," she said. "You've got until eleven o'clock - that's an hour. We need you until midnight, after that, as that's when the party will be the most raucous. Have fun with your little friend."
Little friend? What had Ginn meant by that? Jasil wasn't little - in fact, she was three or four inches taller than Val. Practically adult height.
For some reason, Val felt a giddy anxiety, her heart and her stomach jockeying for supremacy as she meandered her way through the crowd. She waited by the stage, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she watched Jasil playing her fife, eyes closed in utter concentration as her fingers danced. Then, eventually, after an interminable period of time, her musical number ended and Jasil took a bow.
Val clapped and whistled and bounced up and down. What had gotten into her - usually, she wasn't so damn excitable. At least it got her friend's attention, and Jasil's smile shifted from the practiced expression of a stage performer to something warm and genuine. She said something to one of the others in her language and practically skipped off the stage and up to Val.
"Val! How did you know I was here?"
Val pulled Jasil into a hug - which she clearly hadn't been expecting but reciprocated after a second before pulling away to put a foot or so between them. Val could still feel the heat off her body and tiny droplets of sweat glistened like a crown of jewels on her friend's forehead.
"I didn't know… I'm working this event with my uncle and aunt. Just like you, I guess, but I got an hour off!"
"That's great! My aunt said I could get a snack with you before I do more leap-dancing," Jasil said. That must have been what they called tumbling in Sheore.
The thought of Jasil dancing and spinning in her silken robes did interesting things to Val. Her tummy felt warm, like she'd just drunk a cup of mulled mead.
"Do you want some mead? I can pay!" Val said.
"Sure!"
They queued up in line and, if the hotel barman had any problem with an almost teenager buying mildly alcoholic beverages, he took her six pfennigs the same as anybody else's. They were full mugs, too, ladled right out of the mulling pot and smelling of fruit, cloves, and cardamom. Val liked the smell of cardamom - it reminded her of her mother.
"It's good," Jasil said after a tentative sip.
Val nodded happily. "I like it, too. Do you want to, um, dance, I guess?"
"I've just been dancing, like, a lot," Jasil said. "Let's go somewhere and talk."
"I like your bracelets," Val said. Where had that come from? Was she already drunk?
"I made them myself. My aunt is teaching me engraving so I can do more kinds of jewelry."
Ginn could make amazing foil leaf masks. Galvan could play the fiddle. Gus could engrave just about anything on a plaque. Jasil could do cartwheels and play the fife and make jewelry. Was Val the only person in the world who wasn't good at art? It sure seemed like it sometimes. Some people got all the talent - it was so unfair!
"My friend Gus… she's not here… her parents own an engraving shop. I should introduce you! How long are you in town for?"
"A few days," Jasil said. "Maybe a week… but we'll be performing most evenings. After that, we'll be moving westward."
"What's in the west?" Val asked.
"It's more what's not in the west - the Pale Order. Things are getting dicey near the border. We forded the river instead of crossing on the trade road because we heard the Bolearics killed some Sheore and some Old Sud practitioners…"
"I think I saw that," Val said. "It was the Penitent Brothers. My uncle and cousin and me, we escaped on account of we've got fake papers that say we're Pale Order. But a lot of innocent people died."
"That's sad," Jasil said. She shifted back and forth on her feet for an awkward moment. Then something sparkled in Jasil's eyes. Or maybe her eyes always sparkled like that, their hazel color turning to a hazy amber-gold in the lantern light. "Have you learned any new magic?"
"Oh! Lots! I can… uh, well, I can show you somewhere more private. Come on!"
Val grabbed Jasil's hand and pulled her up the steps to the balcony, as she couldn't very well climb up the pillar with a mug of mulled mead. They made their way to a little alcove where the hallway was about twice as wide to allow for a little recessed area with a couch and a few chairs. Val primed the little gas lamp there and then made a show of igniting it with a magical spark rather than the little sparking button. Jasil's eyes went wide, but that wasn't close to the best new trick that Val had learned.
"Priestess Oestel told me I could learn some combat magic since I'm to be the duke's standard bearer. Defensive combat magic, but it's pretty useful. I'm pretty new with this one, but… um…" Val took a few steps away from Jasil, all the way to the back of the alcove, where the back of her legs bumped against the couch. "Okay, when I say now, you take a run at me."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah." Val took a minute to remember the feel of the magic - it was a moderate-level spell that required sustained hexal flow. Val could do a hexal flow, no problem. In front of Jasil. Definitely no problem. "Now!"
The spell was basically a sustained net of force. If somebody was charging at you, the invisible net would get them tangled up and stop their charge. At least that's what it would do in theory. If you were a powerful mage with a lot of practice, you could stop a whole line of armed men on charging horses. Val had only learned the trick two days ago and would be lucky to stop one Jasil.
Jasil leapt into action with the speed of an accomplished acrobat, taking three fleet, perfect steps before her feet began to tread in place against the carpet. "Oh! Wow! It's working!" she laughed. She hadn't completely stopped, but her sprint had been slowed down to an inch or two per second. "You're brilliant!" she said.
Val's mind shut down at that. People in Val's magic class sometimes said that to her, but they were the less-impressive, less-competitive students. This was Jasil saying it. Jasil of the midnight-dark hair and the sad, beautiful smile…
The spell collapsed in an instant and Jasil surged toward Val. Without time to stop, she collided into Val and they both tumbled into the soft cushions of the couch.
Val struggled underneath Jasil, eventually propping herself up on an elbow. There Jasil was, planted above her in the lantern light, her skin smooth and golden like the gilded likeness of a goddess. She started to apologize…
"Was that on purpose?" Jasil asked.
"Maybe?"
Jasil giggled. "It was!" Her face lowered… lowered…
A lock of coal-dark hair brushed past Val's cheek. Her belly was doing its own little dance. He heart pulsed back in unison. Her breath came in spurts, taking in the smell of woodsmoke and faint perfume off of Jasil's hair. Taking in the feel of soft lips on hers.
"Oh goddess," Val sighed. She felt so warm, so loved. Mittvanter was the best holiday ever.
She didn't know what to do with her hands, so she brought them around to Jasil's back to hold her close. She didn't want her to back off. She was surrounded by couch cushions and Jasil, and everything felt so warm despite the cool night. Her fingers slid downward, toward Jasil's lower back. And Jasil had a hand on Val's belly, pushing downward, one finger tracing under the hem of her breeches. Her palm applying just a little pressure… just the right pressure. Her tongue venturing into Val's mouth…
Val had given a lot of thought about kissing and had asked around. Some of Nikoli's friends sounded like they had a lot of experience, and some of them might have even been telling the truth. Though most of their advice seemed to assume you would be kissing a boy for some reason. No thanks. But Jasil?
"Cos faci im dolcea mantuije, fati?" a voice barked out. It did not sound happy. [What in sweet salvation are you doing, girl?]
"Pata!" Jasil said. Val knew enough Sheore to know this meant 'papa'. "No este cea com arata!" [Papa! It's not what it looks like!]
Jasil's dad grabbed a fistful of her tunic and lifted her bodily off of Val - he was not a small man. He set her roughly upon the floor and, before she could regain her balance, he lashed out with the back of his hand. The slap cracked against Jasil's face and sent her collapsing to the floor, gasping and sobbing.
Val saw red. Something deep and primal filled her with more energy than she'd ever felt before, and her body moved with the ease of a gliding marionette, rolling off of the couch and dancing out to Jasil's dad in two rapid steps. Between Jasil and her dad in two rapid steps. Her right fist was balled up and ready to strike the man. Her left hand had leapt to her side just shy of the hilt of her knife - it was a good instinct to have, but it wasn't time for knives, so she drew her left hand into a fist, too.
"Don't take another step," Val said. "Don't move a godsdamned muscle."
"You will not defile my daughter, little harlot!" he spat.
"Not. A. Muscle," Val said. But she didn't mean it - the sound of his hand smacking Jasil's face played fresh in her memory. She hoped he tried something. Val wanted any excuse to give him better than he dished out.
Jasil's dad stepped in, his hand raising up to deliver Val a backhand just like he'd struck his daughter. This was his signature move, apparently. It wasn't a very good move - not against anybody with a little combat training. Not even somebody who weighed forty percent less than him, as Val probably did.
She ducked under the attack, grabbed his sleeve, grabbed the front of his shirt, and used the man's momentum to roll him right over her body as she fell back. Exactly like in unarmed fighting drills. She positioned herself on top of the man and, as he tried to scramble and roll away, socked him right in the nose as hard as she could.
Then, just like in fighting drills, she rolled off of the man and onto her feet, offering her opponent a hand up. This was, apparently, a move best reserved for the fighting studio floor. Jasil's dad scrambled to a crouch.
"You bitch!"
"Pata, no!" Jasil shouted.
Blood streaming from his likely-broken nose. Jasil's dad staggered to his feet, fists bunched, hatred flashing in his eyes. He took a swing - it probably wouldn't have connected even if Val hadn't taken a half-step back. Common sense was beginning to seep itself back into her brain and she needed a good think about how to de-escalate the situation. That's what Ette would want her to do.
"That man's attacking that girl!" somebody shouted in Peliac.
Suddenly, there were three more assailants in the combat area - three bulky men with weapons at their belts. They were, presumably, on Val's side here. She wasn't sure whether that was bad or good, since it escalated things, but then there were a few more men storming into the area. They wore Sheore robes and wrappings, and their confusion turned toward aggression when they saw Jasil's dad and his broken, freely-bleeding nose.
"Leave our friend and his daughter alone," one of them said.
"Your friend was attacking this girl, you savage!" one of the Bolearic men shouted.
"I may discipline my daughter as I please, swine!" Jasil's father shouted.
This non sequitur got a bit of confusion from the Bolearic men - especially since Val looked nothing like him and Jasil was cowering as far from the action as she could get. But they were slightly drunk and appreciated being called swine about as much as Jasil's dad appreciated being called a savage. One man's hand wandered toward the knife hidden under his waistcoat. He gripped the pommel.
He didn't get a chance to do anything with it. Ette's sizable fist grabbed his arm from behind and had him prone and disarmed before Val could even blink. They'd learned that move during fighting drills, but not nearly so fast. Then Ette was between the two groups of men, his expression utterly devoid of emotion.
"All right, break it up, folks. The next person to so much as flinch is getting his arse tossed out onto the street. Now… who's bloodied this gentleman's nose?"
"Um… that was me," Val said. No use denying it, since Jasil's dad would shout bloody murder if she tried.
Ette nodded carefully. "And who started it?"
"He did…"
"I didn't!" Jasil's dad said… though it sounded a bit like 'I did it' with his nose broken and bloody. It was clear enough what he meant.
"If she says you did, then you did," Ette said. "Come on, we're going downstairs to cool off for a while," and, just like that, he dragged Jasil's dad away.
After the crowd had dispersed, Val wandered back to Jasil. She had a big red mark on her cheek from where her dad had struck her and, if she had to guess, it was going to bruise by tomorrow. Val took Jasil's hand, but she wouldn't meet her gaze. She just looked away and cried, her face at the exact angle for Val to see the swell of her fresh welt.
"Why did he get so mad?" Val asked.
Jasil shook her head and managed to look at Val, if only for a moment. "Because… we're not supposed to do that. Even if you were a boy, he'd have been upset. But… but you're not. He's…" her whole body trembled. "He's not going to be happy later on."
"He's going to beat you?"
"M-maybe… I wish I was brave and strong like you, Val…"
Val pulled her into a hug, and Jasil didn't resist. She just stood there, trembling slightly, and let Val hug her.
"I'm not sure I'm that extraordinary," Val said. "I just have tools, and tools make you brave. You've got the Gift, just like me… I can…"
"What's that?" Jasil asked. She pulled away from Val and shuffled over to a spot on the floor where somebody had dropped a folded-up leaflet of paper. She unfolded it, squinting. "It's in Peliac."
Val took a look at the paper. It was the diagram of a floor plan with arrows and little notes scrawled in.
Gain access here. Should be window approx. 7:15 in eve.
This door locked - use only for exit.
Stove area over here.
Look for big silver pot with copper bottom. May already be at a boil.
Complete objective. Guard while color returns to normal - may take two min.
If unable to get sole access or distract, set to objective 2. 3rd door on right of long corridor.
Rendezvous @ Pilgrim's.
The man with the knife had dropped the paper when Ette tackled him… it was the floor plan to the palace kitchen.
"Jasil… I have to go…"
"Val, wait…"
Val leaned in and kissed her on the lips, just for a second. Well, maybe two seconds. Then Val pulled away.
"I wish we could do that all night, but I have to run to the palace. Tell your dad that if he tries anything, I'll knock his head clean off next time I see him!"
With that, Val dashed down the stairs and informed Ginn that she would be going to the palace, for somebody was making an attempt on the duke's life. Maybe many people's lives. It might even be that they'd already succeeded.
+++++
Ette had wanted to talk about what had happened, obviously. Even if she hadn't been the aggressor, she had broken Jasil's dad's nose. She'd probably be in trouble, but not bad trouble. No more helping with security jobs for two weeks - something like that. It would have to wait until later, because somebody was trying to poison the duke.
Ginn gave her money to take a coach, but Val decided against it - she had no idea how to hire a coach. She'd never even considered hiring a coach before, and now was not the time to start along that learning curve. She'd just have to run.
The palace was only a mile away - Val was in pretty good shape and could make that in good time, even without a coach. Heck, with the holiday traffic along the horse lanes, running might well have been faster. Val could dodge around staggering, drunken revelers without much problem, especially with how much adrenaline was pulsing through her blood. She barely even registered her footfalls as she ran - not quite at a sprint, since that would just tire her before she got to the palace.
It was half-past ten and the Mittvanter parties were starting to escalate. She passed taverns and parlors raucous with cheering and music. Drunken people were everywhere, and the streets smelled like cheap wine already. In the morning, they would smell of vomit and piss. And the palace loomed above them all, the twin lanterns of its central tower peering down like a disapproving parent.
The stairs… oh gods, she'd forgotten about all those bloody stairs. There were only forty-three of them, but that sure seemed like a lot when you'd just run a mile. Now she felt every footfall acutely, a jarring impact that reverberated up her entire body. Her legs were on fire. Her lungs took in metallic-smelling air with each gasping breath.
One of the guards at the top of the stairs lowered his polearm to block her path. Val ducked right under it. "Ho, girl… where in hell's bells do you think you're going?"
"Duke… going…" Val gasped. "I'm… I'm his standard… standard bearer… important."
"She comes through all the time," the other guard whispered.
The guard signaled to the man at the door, who opened the door. Val dashed right through. Was she too late? She could hear clapping, laughter… sounds of merriment? If they'd consumed whatever it was, they might all be poisoned. What would happen if everybody at the duke's Mittvanter reception was poisoned? In all likelihood, the war would be called off and the forces of Boleares would march right in, bringing the closed-minded despotism of the Pale Order with them.
The guards standing at attention in front of the ballroom tried to stop her, but Val dodged right past. They recognized her a moment later and decided not to pursue. She ran past tables of smiling, clapping nobles, of ladies in glittering, silken gowns and enough jewels to buy the Vinzenno residence ten times over and officers in regal uniforms whose glittering medallions could be melted down into a dozen golden talents. Past girls from Val's finishing class using exactly the right spoon at exactly the right time in exactly the right way.
The duke was in the middle of a speech, his glass raised as if he were about to give a toast. Perhaps he was giving a toast. Perhaps… oh.
"Duke Ansibald! Duke Ansibald!" Val shouted. People grumbled… the duke frowned… the dowager duchess really frowned. "Somebody's poisoned the mulled mead! Nobody drink it!"
Mrs. Eatherfine stood from her spot next to the duke. "This is a very serious allegation. Are you sure, child?"
Val took a deep draught of breath - nobody was drinking the mead yet. "I'd rather be wrong and… say something… than be right and say nothing…" She waved the paper that Jasil had found back at the hotel. "A man at the Pilgrim's Passage… I found this on him. Plans for poison."
A cavalry colonel snatched the paper from Val and brought it to Mrs. Eatherfine, who scowled at the thing before muttering to the duke. For his part, Ansibald put his mead down before fixing his gaze upon Val.
"If what Valkyrie says is true… this is as good as a declaration of war. Lords and ladies of Aurilicht, you are dismissed until I call upon you. Let us hope that this…"
One of those ladies staggered to her feet - her face was red as a beet, sweat dripping from her brow. "My… my duke, I…" She collapsed, scattering her place setting and tipping her half-drunk glass of mead. She convulsed upon the floor.
Duke Ansibald slammed his fist into his table, scattering his own place setting. "Treachery!" He bellowed. "This is war!"
OvidLemma
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