Making Peace, page 7
Ugly had fought his way back to Shield and Vapor. So had Tavel. They had wiped out the majority of the plainclothes attackers, and were now mopping up the remainder. Tavel called for the surrender of the surviving thugs. A few of the men heeded him and dropped their swords. Ugly cut down the thugs who persisted, overpowering their exhausted defenses without mercy.
I saw Shield using her magic to tend to Vapor’s various wounds. She hummed as she ran her fingers over Vapor’s torn flesh, the cuts and gouges knitting closed at Shield’s touch. The thick stench of blood filled the air, and the cries of wounded and dying attackers echoed back and forth in the narrow street.
I collapsed against the wall, trying to catch my breath. Sometime later, Ugly came and found me. He didn’t hoist me up like he had last time. He leaned against the wall of the entryway, sizing me up. His eyes caught for a moment on my bloody hands, and he made eye contact with me. I gazed back at him, not sure what expression I was wearing.
He seemed to consider me, then nodded. “Come on. Let’s get back where it’s safe.” He held out his hand. I hesitated, then took it.
As we made our exhausted way back to the barracks, Ugly said, to no one in particular, “They keep going after the Second House, first in the alley and now here. About time we had a talk with the leaders of the Second House.” No one disagreed.
CHAPTER 9
LATER IN THE evening, after I had finally managed to wash all the blood off of myself, I made my way down to the common room. What had happened that day was weighing on me tremendously, but I wasn’t ready to deal with it yet. Killing a person, even in self-defense… It went against my entire upbringing. My father had trained me in peaceful negotiation and business arrangements, preparing me for a job in the courts or social circles of Garden. My mother had certainly encouraged combat and training but only for her daughter, putting my sister on the path to becoming a warrior Valkyrie like our mother had been. I, the baby of the family, had been kept far from this sort of activity. I was rattled, and I didn’t know how to sort myself out. I decided maybe a hot meal would help.
As it turned out, I wasn’t the only one to have this idea. I walked into the mess hall to find it nearly deserted, except for Cora and Shield. They shared a table, sipping tea and laughing over something. I headed toward the kitchen, but Cora caught my eye and waved me over.
“Shield was just telling me about your day. Sounds exciting,” Cora said over the rim of her teacup before taking a sip. I forced a smile and took the chair Shield kicked out for me. Well, not so much kicked as gently slid with her booted foot. Everything the woman did was incredibly graceful. I tried to ease myself into the chair but couldn’t suppress a groan. Cora nodded.
“Gonna be sore for a few days. Happens to everyone.”
I looked at her with curiosity. “Are you a fighter, Cora?”
She looked appalled. “Goodness, no. I just clean up after all of you. But it happens often enough, doesn’t it? Only one thing cures the after-aches.” She and Shield shared a conspiratorial nod, and both turned to me. Cora raised one finger. “My famous Garden Soup. I’ll be right back.” She set down her teacup and headed for the kitchen door.
I felt myself losing my battle with exhaustion, so I leaned forward onto my elbows and tried not to slump. I found my eyelids were resisting my best efforts to keep them at bay. I managed to fight one open and realized Shield was staring at me from about a foot away, holding out her teacup. Surprised and without thinking, I took it and drained the contents all at once. A sudden bitterness almost closed my throat, and I went into a coughing fit. She deftly plucked the cup from my fingers and poured herself more of the drink from a white ceramic carafe.
When I could speak again, I cleared my throat. “That isn’t tea!” I said. I looked up to find her sitting with her eyes close, cup raised to her lips, sipping it quietly.
“Of course not,” she said. “After a day like this? Any lady knows coffee is good for the skin after a day of stress.” She opened her eyes and then winked at me.
The clink of crockery saved me the trouble of a reply as Cora set a large, steaming bowl down in front of me. It smelled both spicy and sweet at the same time. The bowl contained a green broth with white seeds and chunks of meat surrounded by thin noodles and topped with a slice of grilled pineapple resting on a bed of meat in the center, just above the broth.
“This… This is….” My mouth began to water instantly. I couldn’t help it. Blame the day from hell, or my first time killing another human being. Blame exhaustion. Shield and Cora both looked away and pretended not to notice as I smacked my lips. I scooped up some of the meat and seeds and lifted it to my mouth.
Fireworks went off in my brain. Everything shut down for a minute, and the world went soft. When my senses came back online, it was one at a time, with the volume slowly fading in. I looked up to find the women staring at me uncertainly.
Cora set her teacup down. “I use a lot of the flavors of Garden, plus some local spice for flavor. Shield says it reminds her of home.” Shield nodded, but gave me a concerned look. I hadn’t said anything, and I realized I had a dopy expression on my face.
My hand snaked out and grabbed Cora’s hand. “Cora!” I whispered fiercely.
“Uh, yes?” She asked, her eyes widening as she grew more alarmed. I stood and dropped to one knee. I held her hand and looked deep into her eyes.
“Run away with me, Cora.”
Both women looked shocked, and then burst out laughing. Shield nearly spilled her drink before she got it fitted back into the saucer. I plopped back into my seat and threw myself into the soup, eating like it was about to disappear. They kept laughing, but I was so focused on the meal I didn’t hear anything else they said.
To say the soup brought me back to life would be no exaggeration.
When the bowl was empty, I sat back in my chair and tuned into their conversation. Something about the latest news from Garden, a wedding going on there. Shield was asking the names of the families involved.
Cora noticed my attention and turned to me, smiling. She blushed slightly and raised one hand to her cheek. “Well, enjoyed it, did we?”
I nodded as earnestly as I could possibly manage. “Very much. Thank you, Cora.”
Cora smiled and relaxed in her chair. “Any time, Belkan. I may not be on the front lines, but we all have our ways of serving. Like you, with your book.”
I blinked. “My book? How do you mean?”
Cora looked down into her cup, smiling. “These folks, they do so much. No one remembers it or thanks them for it. Being a Keeper is thankless work, and I see them suffer so often.”
Shield reached across the table and put her hand over Cora’s hand. The two women shared a look of understanding, a sad smile.
Cora turned back to me. “Just make sure you get it right, okay? Make sure people understand how hard the Keepers work here.”
Not sure what to say, I nodded. “Yeah, sure. I will.”
Shield stood up, sliding her chair back with her legs as she did so. She stretched one arm over her head, eyes scrunched shut. It looked like I wasn’t the only one sore from the day’s exertions. “If you’ll both excuse me I’ve got some training to do before bed,” she said. She turned to leave but I reached my hand out to her. Cora’s plea to tell their story was overcoming my fatigue.
“Hey, uh,” I said, “would you mind an interview? You’ll just be exercising, right? Can we talk while you work out?”
Shield looked surprised, but relaxed into a smile. “Sure, okay.” She gestured for me to follow.
I stood up and pushed in my chair. I gave Cora another courtly bow. “Don’t go marrying anyone else while I’m gone.” Her laughter followed us out of the room. We headed upstairs and into the living quarters.
Shield opened her door and walked in. “Come on in,” she said over her shoulder.
I followed her in and sat in the wooden chair at the desk which she gestured for me to use.
Shield seated herself in the larger chair. The chair reminded me of the lady’s chairs back home on Garden: narrow base to accommodate the slender hips of most Garden ladies, low and delicate arms, the whole thing close to the ground. It had a tall back, at least four feet tall and widening from the narrow base up to a rounded top, outlined in dark wood. The entire chair was upholstered in a cream-colored fabric. The short, thin wooden legs allowed a lady to seat herself slightly to the side, her feet tucked under her, as Shield seated herself now. She began to unbraid her crown of hair that ringed her head, and took up a brush nearby.
“You had questions for me?” she asked.
I realized I’d been watching her for several minutes. I smiled apologetically. “Sorry. It’s the little things. They remind me of home.”
She gave me an understanding smile. “I know what you mean. What questions do you have?”
“Well, I’d like to get a feel for the people here. What sort of people would join a force so underfunded and underappreciated? It seems…”
“Desperate?” she said.
“Well… In a word, yes. What could prompt a decision to join this team?”
She continued to brush out her hair. Unbraided, it proved to be very thick and quite long, falling to her waist. As the silence lengthened, I decided she wasn’t going to answer. I’d opened my mouth to ask a less probing question when she finally spoke.
“For me, it was the chance to make a difference that really mattered. It all wasn’t enough, making small differences here and supporting that charity there. I needed to see real change take place before my own eyes, and know I had a hand in it.”
I mulled that over. “You were involved in work like that before? Less direct works, I mean?”
She closed her eyes but continued brushing. “Let’s not talk about my past, Bel. Please. I’d like to focus on the work here.”
“Sure, sure. Sorry. Um, in what way does this work allow you to feel that sense of accomplishment?”
She stopped brushing and turned to look out her small bedroom window, a thoughtful expression on her face. “The people of this city, the poor ones I mean. They’re completely reliant on the gears turning, order being maintained. If business shuts down for a week or two, the major Houses are angry about their profits. But disruptions cost the poor so much more, sometimes even their lives. And no one at the top notices.” She closed her eyes, a pained expression on her face. But it was gone as quickly as it had come, and she was back to brushing her hair.
I let her finish before asking my next question. She took up a heavy metal bar and began lifting it up and down, working her arm muscles. Another question occurred to me. “You seem very dedicated to staying strong,” I said. “It seems out of place in one who is also so very… well, graceful and feminine. What is it that makes you so serious about exercise?”
She laughed. “You mean, it’s uncommon for a lady to not want to stay soft, right?”
I scratched my cheek to hide my discomfort. “Well, I just mean the ladies back home, they’re focused on projects and charities, support, advising, mothering, that sort of thing. Apart from the Valkyries, and most of them aren’t even into combat, just the ones with a real talent for it. It’s rare to see someone dedicate themselves to physical prowess to this extreme.”
She nodded, focusing on the bar. Her breathing was hard, but her voice was steady. “Most ladies come from wealthy families. They’re surrounded by servants and guards to get them whatever they want or need. The men, too. They don’t worry about being able to protect people, Bel. People like that can afford to stay soft.”
I wanted to follow up on this line of thought, but she had asked me not to prod her past, and I decided to respect that. I turned my head to give myself time to think of a new line of questions, and something on her desk caught my eye. A set of red candles, the kind they sell around the major holidays, rested in a shallow bowl filled with colorful polished rocks. Leaning against one of the candles was a brooch shaped like a shield that I recognized instantly.
For those of my readers on far flung planets who may not be familiar with our customs, among the ladies of Garden are elite guardians of light and peace, zealous, chaste, and pious. Valkyries, they are called, and respected above all others. They serve a sisterhood dedicated to their Saint, the first Valkyrie, called Saint Katherine, also called Our Lady. Some of them choose to walk the martial path, training in combat, but most take up roles as advisors. Because of the high esteem in which they’re held, they’re one of the few groups of women in the galaxy allowed to serve in the front lines in the military, and are highly valued by military command. They also take the imperial encouragement to populate more seriously than the women of any other planet, and tend to have as many children as they’re physically able.
The brooch on her desk was one of theirs, a silver shield two inches wide at the flat top and gently sloping to a wide point at the bottom. And set in the center of the brooch…
My breath caught in my throat. A Valkyrie sets her brooch with stones to represent her family. Round stones denote female, square stones denote male. Two large stones, one of each shape, meant she was married, and smaller stones around those two counted out her children. After the last galactic war, the women of every world had been strongly encouraged to do their duty in repopulating with as many children as possible. Like I said, Valkyries take this duty very seriously. Equally serious is the vow of chastity, because of the stability this creates for children. A Valkyrie will get married and immediately begin having children, celebrating each as a sign of her duty fulfilled and a promise for the future. Her Valkyrie’s brooch would reflect this with a new space added for each child’s stone, usually a birth color to mark the calendar month of the child’s birth.
Shield’s Valkyrie brooch held her own round stone, a sapphire. There was a large square space next to the sapphire, and two smaller squares around the outside. All three squares were empty. No, not only empty; there were deep gouge marks in the silver, and chips where a knife had been twisted and flicked. The stones had been viciously removed.
Realizing Shield was watching me, I gulped and redirected my gaze at the ceiling. “I, ahh…” I lowered my eyes to see her watching me, a terribly sad expression on her face. I sighed and lowered my head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.”
“No, it’s okay,” she said, and I raised my head to look at her. She set her metal bar down and clasped her hands in her lap. We sat in silence for a few moments.
I decided to press, just a bit. “You’re a Valkyrie.”
Shield nodded.
I continued. “Valkyries never go anywhere without their brooch, but I’ve never seen you wear yours.”
She let out a breath, slowly. “My Sisters back home would tell me it’s a crisis of faith, Bel.” I didn’t say anything, wanting her to go on. “I’ve been tested, I think. I’m still being tested, maybe. I’m not… I’m not sure I’m cut out for being a Valkyrie. Being a Valkyrie isn’t just about rules and structure, it’s also about being able to protect others. If you’re too weak do to that, the most basic thing, what right do you have to call yourself a Valkyrie?”
Her voice was soft in the empty room, but I respected her for the fact it didn’t quaver even once. She drew a breath. “I can’t wear it until I’m clear in my heart. I don’t have the right, and… and maybe…. maybe I don’t even want to.”
I couldn’t think of any worthwhile reply. I stood up and walked to the door. “Thanks for the interview, Shield. I…. Thanks.”
She nodded at me and smiled, hidden behind her graceful mask once more. I studied her face for a few seconds before turning and walking out the door, closing it behind me.
CHAPTER 10
THE NEXT MORNING, Ugly, Vapor and I were sitting in the parlor of the Second House. We waited upon the pleasure of the lady of the House, one Sarenna Covina. Ugly wanted to ask her about the attacks and get an official statement from their House.
The parlor was massive, holding all the various trappings of wealth one might expect of such a place. The room was stuffed full with plush rugs, beautiful sofas, antique buffets and coffee tables. Walls lined with shelves held colorful first-edition books and priceless knickknacks. Floor-to-ceiling windows and old French doors covered an entire wall, filling the room with natural light.
I wore my nicest outfit, the one I’d worn my first day in Tiers, with a heavy teal overcoat. I had scrubbed my nicest shoes to remove all traces of blood. My favorite black hat with a pointed brim sat perched on my head at what I considered a jaunty angle.
Ugly had cleaned himself up for the visit, but only a bit. He had shaved his head and his face, putting his scars on vivid display. They appeared to be from many different sources spread out over decades, a map of his personal history. At least he had on a clean white lace-up shirt under his combat harnesses and leather armor. He caught me looking and snorted.
Vapor sat beside him on the plush sofa, clearly uncomfortable. She sat not as a lady of the upper crust, but rather as one would expect from a woman raised in Low Town, legs outstretched and resting on the heels. She was bouncing her right leg without realizing it, causing all the metal scales on her prosthetic to tinkle and chime softly. The dragon leg stuck out from under the purple robes she wore, which had cleaned up well. The buckles and straps slung around her torso and hips gleamed. Her long purple skirts had been repaired and were not frayed or muddy. Her bare arms were not appropriate for tea but the rest of her outfit seemed fine, right down to the stylish wedge shoe she wore. Ugly bumped her with his elbow, met her eyes, then gestured with his chin toward her leg. She stopped and turned instead to smoothing her skirts.
In close quarters like this, it was easy to detect the faint scent of mechanic oil she must have used to keep her prosthetic smooth and functional. She covered this smell with a nearly deafening amount of perfume, which I think was called White Plum but which I can only properly refer to as Gagging on Fruit.
