Leah gets dressed in a sombre mood. She can hear people outside talking in low, anxious voices, and through the hallways are sets of footsteps, marching in pairs, going briskly about their duties.
As an extra weight upon the day, her period starts. Three days asleep, she realises. So three days late. Wonderful. She takes the supplies she was given – pads, nominally, but actually just a linen set of underwear with a padded bottom full of dried moss, the moss to be discarded and replaced and the linen washed between wearing – and fumbles the rest of her clothing on afterwards. With the leather tasset she wears, no bulge is visible, but it still feels embarrassingly like an adult diaper.
Seffon had given her a description of where they would be accepting refugees, and promised to go over details with her once she reported in. He had not acknowledged Jeno.
Leah takes a quick breakfast – no plates, today. Everyone is given a flatbread folded in half around mashed sweet potato and greens, with a drizzle of the spicy sauce. People seem to be eating on foot, not wasting time with a sit-down breakfast. Leah takes hers and goes, eating on the way.
The training hall on the seventh floor has been converted into emergency shelters; blankets spread on the floor, washing facilities set up at one end, guards near the doors, a cook preparing food. A few people have already arrived, farmers in homespun wool mostly, but Leah catches a few who stand out. Some wear nicer clothes, with dyes or ribbons or lace – some carry the tools of their trade and are setting up shop – one woman is wearing plain white and silver, and is reciting something in front of a small listening crowd.
She dodges between the religious woman and a leather-worker who is helping some guards get their armour into shape, and finally spies Seffon, directing the militia.
She has learned to tell the difference, now: the militia have plainer armour, are a variety of ages, and wear a small crest of Seffonshold over their heart. The guards, meanwhile, have red-and-black armour, with dark green and bronze accents, and are almost all older soldiers with experience. They wear the crest on each pauldron, whether leather or metal.
Seffon waves her over. “The missive arrived from one of the farms near the capital,” he says. “The keep is under siege, and no-one can get in or out. Valerin’s army is mostly locked down in the keep, with a few regiments scattered through the countryside, and will not be heading our way soon. There are Cheden regiments marching through the surrounding villages and farms, commandeering supplies. Apparently, Cheden is claiming that everything that happened is our doing, and they are trying to liberate Valerin in the name of the future Lady Valerid.” Seffon’s expression is sour. “We expect them to turn towards us soon, but we can’t be sure when exactly.”
“What of their ships? Could they reach us by sea?”
“We do very little trade by ship; we are too far away from shore for it to be convenient, and there are no large enough ports for their vessels. However – ” Seffon interrupts himself to give direction to a new set of guards, freshly arrived. “However, there are roads leading to the sea, and a small vessel could dock at some of the fishing towns there. They couldn’t send an army against us from the north, but small teams are possible.”
“Like the ones sent with the false missives, and the poisons?”
“Those were decoys and blood-pardons, sent before war was declared. They will be sending trained career-fighters for this.”
Leah nods, understanding.
“You’ll be here as a guard through most of it, until we know what’s happening; I’ve teamed you up with Zon, so you have a translator when you need it.”
“Isn’t he militia?”
“He’s been promoted.”
Leah raises an eyebrow, then sees John step out of the crowd, with a proper set of guard armour. He beams at Leah, and nods respectfully to Seffon.
“There’s a gallery that runs over the hall; take up positions there, and keep an eye out for anyone trying to approach from within the Hold, as well as any suspicious behaviour amongst the civilian crowd.”
Leah nods and sets out with John. A very good plan, considering this is one of the places I reached on my infiltration run. How lucky he is, to have a turncoat on his side, who knows how to sneak into this keep as an enemy.
They set up on the balcony, where they can oversee the crowd. Leah studies the patterns of people milling about, taking up places in little squares drawn onto the ground with the few belongings they brought with them.
“Are these from the farms?” she asks John.
John looks over the crowd thoughtfully. “They are mostly from the farms very nỹ the keep. People began arriving las night, and havenau stopped.”
“Will everyone come here?”
“Some of the largẽ homesteads are staying where they are. Seffonshold has the militia headquartẽs – in everything but size a standing army – but each household of note has at leas a small local troop; less trained, bu able to resist siege at the minimum.”
Leah nods distractedly. “Will they be safe?”
“They need to stay, to take care of livestock, and delivẽ supplies.” John looks grim. “We cannot sustain aữselves on just the land within and around the walls.”
“How long could Seffonshold withstand a siege, before starving?”
John shrugs. “I’d bet three weeks, ef they cut off all the farms. A few months, ef we could sneak supplies in steadily. But the more people arrive…”
Leah dwells on whether she will still be in this world by that time, but only briefly; she focuses on her assigned task, and leaves existential moping for another time.
The post is rather boring, all things told. As Seffon had said, no attackers were expected anytime soon. Instead, John and Leah find themselves quietly practicing grammar and trading stories. John’s are about his home in the Enterlan, and how he is second-oldest – set to inherit if his older brother dies, but likelier he will stay in the guard, now that he has his posting.
“And arranged marriages aren’t so common, for the working families.” He says it offhand, but Leah’s nerves immediately rise.
I really hope I’m imagining this. If this is a crush…God that would be so awkward. She realises she needs to talk it over with Seffon soon. Having Jeno here is an odd enough situation politically, but if Jeno is here and illegally sleeping with a turncoat…
Concentrate on guard duty.
Leah focuses back on the room. They walk the tour of the balcony occasionally, checking the halls for activity, but no-one unauthorised shows up.
Their relief shows up after six hours of guard duty; Seffon is still occupied with directing refuge-seekers and staff, and Leah isn’t sure what she ought to do with her time. She debates returning to the study, but Seffon had borrowed the two books she most wants to read, and she doubts she has access to his library.
Instead, she grabs a portable lunch from the mess – a mug of broth with beans, grains, and a bit of root vegetable, very plain – then goes to one of the courtyards, where she can hear people training. Arriving, she sees teams split off in twos and threes, running through manoeuvres. Most are semi-armoured or in practice armour, but some wear their proper gear.
She realises she does not know where her belongings are, but no-one seems to be training with real weapons. Looking around for someone to ask for advice, she notices a few people have stopped sparring and are watching her at a distance. A few, she is upset to see, still have distrusting looks.
“Ley?”
She turns and sees Adan approaching, with a mostly friendly expression.
Leah tilts her head in the direction of the practicing teams. “Thought I could practice.” She remembers her audience and thinks hard. “I thau I cou practes.”
Adan is already nodding, even before Leah has translated. “Nau hỹ. Dys aữ steudens, begenẽs.”
Leah nods, having understood nothing other than “not here” and “students.” Adan leads her to the far end of the courtyard, a narrow corner wedged between the Hold and the wall. Leah can just see people pacing the parapet up top, keeping watch.
Out of sight of the rest, Adan offers to spar with Leah – through pantomime, holding out a quarterstaff and taking one for herself. Remembering what Seffon said, about others not knowing about her missing memories, Leah picks up a pair of wood swords and proposes those instead. Adan accepts readily. They take up position, and Leah tries not to think too much about what she’s doing.
Adan begins slow, with some basic moves, and Leah’s body reacts – a little slow, but not badly. The further the training gets, the more Adan realises Leah is inexperienced.
“De ju only figh ue a spỹ an syl befõ des?” Adan mimes out the objects – spear in one hand, shield in the other, defensive posture – so Leah understands.
“Yeah, pretty much.” Leah nods.
Adan takes this in stride, and instead of sparring, starts actually teaching some of the moves – again, all through pantomime.
Finally, almost a month into her time in this world, Leah is actually getting proper fighting training. Even back in Valerin, the five had only ever sparred with me, and everything I had learned from them had been incidental to the repeated practice. If I’d had an ounce of sense I’d have asked for this the moment I was given freedom to wander the Hold.
After an hour of it, Leah is surprised to find she is learning much. Despite not having any frame of reference for how quickly a person learns new moves in a combat sport, she feels – and Adan’s reactions seem to confirm – that she is a prodigy student.
Maybe the muscle memory is more than that? Or maybe…don’t they say that once you’ve trained a skill and lost it, it’s always easier to train it again? Like if you learn a language as a baby then never use it for ten years, it will come back to you in weeks if you ever find yourself needing it? Or if you can do the splits as a kid, then lose your flexibility, you can regain it more easily in adulthood than someone learning to stretch for the first time?
Excited with her progress, she asks to make this a regular thing. “In private, preferably. Uẽ no-uon can sy.”
Adan understands, and nods. Parting ways, Leah feels very satisfied with herself as she returns into the building, only to find that she is again stranded with nothing to do. I never realised how much I relied on Seffon to pass the time…I haven’t really made any other connections here, other than John and Teo, who is usually missing anyway.
She decides to find Solace, though isn’t sure where to look. Leah wanders the halls, trying to stay out of people’s way, and finally tracks her down in the school section, in one of the gardens. The bard is wearing her own clothing, the impressive but practical robe with many layers to it of white and dark blue.
Solace looks up and welcomes her with a smile, making room for her on the bench. Leah tells the good news, that she is apparently a quick learner when it comes to weapons.
“Lucky you! Is this because of your weird memory thing?”
Leah laughs. “Probably so.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.” When Leah presses, Solace clarifies. “Well that means you probably won’t be such a quick study for new things, like magic or languages.”
“Well, so far I’ve only really learned to do one spell. I’ve helped with others, but I’d need to write the steps down and buy the ingredients.”
Solace nods. “It’s easy to be jealous of born-magic types; they can just improvise whatever effect they want, and then refine it as they go, where we have to sit and study all day and night to find the one spell that will do the thing we want.”
“Well, not you. You have that candle thing.”
Solace smirks. “Ah, yes. Not a solve-all, but a very handy tool.”
“What is it, exactly? I’ve never asked.”
Solace withdraws it from a pocket of her vest. “It’s a focus, of sorts. Its formal name is ‘thaumaturgical omnic,’ which basically means that it does all spells, within any given school – for me, illusion.”
“Sounds like a solve-all to me.”
Solace pockets it and laughs. “You still need to know the spells first, though. Incantations, hand gestures, that sort of thing. The candle replaces the material components.”
“So no matter what components the spell needs, this candle replaces them? Infinitely?”
Solace nods.
“Hmm. Yep, still over-powered.”
“They’re prohibitively expensive, and usually not necessary if one has a base of operations like Lord Seffon has here. People on the move, however, find them very handy.”
“And you made yours?”
Solace smirks. “I was an adventurer before, you know. I’ve learned a lot over my travels.”
“I remember; you said you had teammates who would help break you out of prison when you got in trouble.”
“Well, now, hey. Sometimes I had to break them out of prison.”
They snicker and sit in companionable silence for a bit.
“Do you have an assigned role, for if and when the attack comes?” Leah asks.
“I’d be with the students, likely. I can do some nifty tricks with illusion, and some of that can be useful in a battle – creating targets that aren’t there, to draw fire away from the real people. Overall I expect I will leave before too soon. Before a siege starts, certainly.” At Leah’s sharp look, Solace shrugs. “I’m a drifter by nature, and I have no loyalty to this place. I’m only here because of you, and that got me in an armful of trouble, thank you very much.”
Leah is morose, both thinking of the future battle and her current boredom. Solace seems to sense her mood but not its cause.
Solace offers, hesitantly and delicately, to take Jeno with her when she goes – on the basis that the Hold will be dangerous, and Jeno will be frightened even if war does not come. “Also, Cheden might take it into their heads that you’re holding her hostage, and react accordingly.”
Leah had not considered that. “I’ll discuss it with her.”
She realises then that Solace was unbothered by the reveal, even approving, and that she can ask at least one important question before the bard disappears again.
“How fucked am I, now that people know I’m gay?”
Solace snickers a bit. “I’m assuming that’s what it’s called in your world?” She makes kissy sounds and holds her hands together like two faces. Leah elbows her, and she laughs louder. “Oh, I couldn’t say. In Bair no-one would blink. In Devad, you could get away with it since Jeno is technically divorced or widowed, although they would be more insulted that she didn’t pay for her crime of murder.” The mood gets a little dark, and Solace visibly curses herself mentally. “In Volst, you’d both be imprisoned immediately, but not put to death necessarily. In the Contested Lands, I don’t know for certain.”
Leah sighs and slumps back against the wall of the keep. “It’s hard, because it used to be like that where I’m from. It used to be a crime, for religious reasons, and then the laws changed slowly, and now it’s not a crime. But here…some of the laws I understand, but others are nonsensical. What’s the deal with alcohol on a sigil? And how can I explain myself and Jeno when I don’t know for certain why it’s illegal in the first place?”
Solace listens with sympathy, then thinks. “I’ll be leaving within the next couple days, I think. I’ve got a book in my bags – remember that thing I told you I read, and was sent to jail for?” Leah nods with a tiny grin. “I could leave it with you. It explains a lot of the workings of the religious orders in Volst. You might find it useful. What do you know so far of the religions of this world? I hear from Lord Seffon you’re quite the reader.”
Leah blushes to admit she has utterly neglected religious study, and Solace rolls her eyes.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but there’s your problem! I’ll drop the book off at your rooms tonight.”
They part on good terms, and Leah is satisfied to have at least one thing she can do on her own in the coming days.
*
Supper is, as the other meals have been, portable. The whole dining area seems to have been re-worked to allow people to eat on the go, and carry their food to their posts. Many more cleaning staff than usual are visible in the halls, sweeping up crumbs and collecting dishes.
Leah does not see Seffon again, and retires to her room to read. As promised, the religious book is there.
It appears to be an initiate’s handbook – not the equivalent of a bible, more the equivalent of a Sunday-school book, Leah supposes. The book is thin, almost more of a pamphlet than a book, but the writing is tiny and packed densely onto every page, and she has to squint by candlelight to read it.
Her progress is painstakingly slow, but very quickly she realises what a fool she has been in ignoring this part of her education. So much would have been made clearer sooner if I had read up on religious practices…who’d have guessed? No, that’s not fair. In retrospect it’s obvious, I was just preoccupied with blending in and keeping out of trouble. Hmm. Look how well that worked for me.
She takes out the sheaf of paper she uses to keep her notes, but ends up too distracted with reading to actually note anything down.
The text describes the pantheon: a triplet of goddesses and a sextuplet of gods, although the latter are better described as forces of nature. The goddesses – Harvest/Summer, Rest/Winter, and Murk/Liminality – are all clearly associated with dates in the calendar year, and their holy days have carefully described practices stemming from feasts to fasts, from dances to mass-meditations, and most interestingly one that appears to be a sort of betrothal.
The gods, meanwhile – Wind, Ocean, Sun, Moon, Decay, Fire – are elemental. Their relationships are discussed at great length, how various ones team up to accomplish great feats. Moon and Ocean create tides, Fire is the messenger of the Sun, Wind and Ocean create clouds, Decay and Moon serve the Lady of Murk in her dealings with death but Decay and Sun can bar her entry.
It reads at times like a soap-opera of interpersonal relationships, but Leah drinks it up. She pays careful attention to certain mentions of “required prayers” during specific festivals of the goddesses, which in their set-up much resemble the spells she has so far seen practiced. I suppose that’s why it’s illegal for a non-initiate to read these texts…if magic is illegal, they don’t want the population knowing that magic is a main feature of their religion. Most of the spells do not have described effects.
She finds the section dealing with the betrothal – the Lady’s Ring – and reads the description. Unfortunately, it seems to be written for someone who already has the basic vocabulary and context.
“To renew the Ring, and ensure that we both remember the past and keep an open mind for the future, there must be a joining of the Old and the New. The interpretation of these terms is done according to the words of Bles’d Karina and Bles’d Joya, and must be recognisable by all in attendance.
“Under the eyes of the Lady of Murk, two must be joined on the between-night. Any village seeking fortune for the new year may organise a joining. There are no limits to the number of joinings a cleric may officiate on the between-night, but each one must demonstrably be in the name of a different region.
“The volunteers need not both be from the region hosting the ceremony, and may be chosen from any class or profession. Pairings of either gender are equally permissible.
“No betrothals may be declared that day other than the joining of Old and New. No marriages may be performed that day other than the joining of Old and New. Any cleric who officiates a wedding on that day has erred against the Three, and must seek penance or be banished.”
Leah sets the book down, blinks a few times, then chuckles a bit to herself. That can’t be it. That can’t be it!
She rereads the passage, sets the book back down, processes it for a few more seconds, then laughs again. “I love it. You get gay married to ring in the new year.”
She opens the book again and reads some more about the other ceremonies and prayers, but finds nothing else relevant. Why didn’t Solace just say? Or did she want me to do the research myself, rather than just give it to me out of context? Either way, I’ve got lots of questions for her, for tomorrow.
