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Bardess of Rhulon Page 15


  Culain’s eyebrows shot up, but he kept silent as he watched.

  Darius changed from stiffly attentive to pale shock. “I am speechless,” he sputtered.

  At least that was honest, Rose thought. She frowned, her head throbbing.

  “I promise you, dear Darius, that I will make the happiest of princes.”

  Prince Darius looked ashen.

  Rose thought her head would explode and suspected Darius felt the same way.

  “I will speak with the Emperor,” Isabeau affirmed with a gentle nod.

  Lilias clapped her hands like a little girl. “Wonderful!”

  Rose broke a string on her lute, but her playing was no longer necessary. A new interest had absorbed them all. A royal wedding.

  After the royal guests departed, Culain accompanied her back to her room.

  “Are you all right?” he asked. “You look pale.”

  “Just a headache. It’s finally abating now.”

  “What did Lady Thera say to you?” Culain inquired. “I saw her talking to you from a distance.”

  “She’s fascinating,” Rose commented. “Did you know that she’s a high priestess in one of their elemental temples? Her parents sold her to the temple when she was seven. She talked a lot about caste, elementals and power. We both have an affinity for Karta too.”

  Tea and cakes were already waiting for her when they reached her room. He poured tea and arranged some little cakes on a plate for her.

  “Excellent work, Rose. Not even I knew her true caste origin or her temple affiliations. She must like you to confide her humble origins. The lady barely speaks to anyone here.”

  Though her headache was better, the heaviness of her sleep deprived state made her listless. She bit into one of the cakes, hoping it would help. “I’m not sure if she’s that fond of me.”

  “Have you slept at all?” he asked, studying her. “That might be why you have a headache.”

  “No. I didn’t sleep last night. It’s something else too. Culain, I hate to ask a favor when I am so new to your service, but something happened to someone dear to me. It’s hard to explain, but my friend needs me. It’s complicated, but I need to find her. I would be grateful.”

  “Your friend is already here. Commander Meg Sparrow, I believe. Robert informed me. I took the liberty of inviting her. Robert’s bringing her to you. Now, talk to your friend. Make it all better. Have some tea and cake. Go to bed. That is a command. You need to be rested and alert if you desire to remain in my employ.”

  “Thank you,” Rose whispered.

  “The wardrobe has ample clothes, including some nightgowns. Lucky for you the former ambassador’s daughter adored the shops in White Thorn.”

  “Ambassador’s daughter?”

  “Yes. She was very close to your size, and her father indulged her amply. Her love of clothes and jewels was excessive, mostly because the poor thing was rather homely. She did have excellent taste. She had such a vast wardrobe, that when he was summoned back to Rhulon, she left many items here. Even your bard costume was a riding habit I had altered to a traditional uniform.”

  Rose was internally ecstatic the beautiful clothes were acquired innocently and not from a court tart. It mattered somehow.

  “Very lucky,” Rose agreed happily, eating a small cake.

  When Meg arrived, Robert Fuzzy Ears insisted on formally announcing her.

  “Commander Meg Sparrow is here for an audience,” Robert announced and Meg walked in, dusty from hard riding and her red hair wild.

  “Wipe your feet,” Robert admonished as he closed the door behind him.

  “Who was that?” Meg whispered.

  “Mr. Fuzzy Ears, but you should call him Robert. Help me finish these cakes?” Rose offered.

  Meg nodded and joined her at the table.

  “I guess I owe you an explanation,” Meg said, looking embarrassed.

  “You owe me nothing, though I admit my storytelling curiosity had me weaving a lot of tales. This man upset you, so I curse him. Did he hurt you in the past?”

  “His name is Mathias Prophett. He was my husband. He abandoned me when I needed him most.” Meg removed her black leather gloves and rolled up her sleeves. Rose saw her bare hands for the first time. Now she understood why Meg wore gloves all the timeher hands and arms were covered with old burn scars.

  “Dear gods, what happened?” Rose gasped.

  “Fire. I was accused of witchcraft and condemned to burn at the stake.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Meg’s right hand and arm had severe burn scars; the left hand was more whole, with faint discoloration patches. Meg studied her scarred hands with an abstract eye. “People find it difficult to look at them. Plus, I don’t like questions. So I keep my hands gloved.”

  Rose gently took her friend’s hands in her own. “I’ve no trouble, Meg. My problem is the pain they inflicted on you! I can’t imagine the torture you endured! I can’t believe they tried to execute you for being a witch! Witchcraft isn’t illegal.”

  “It’s forbidden in Juraca. That’s my old home. And I wasn’t a witch, at least not then.”

  “I heard that country is embroiled in civil war now. Why is magic prohibited?”

  “It’s a long and gruesome story,” Meg replied wearily. “One worthy of a good bard tale.” She plucked out a flask from her hip satchel and uncorked it. “This might make it easier.”

  “What’s that?” Rose asked.

  “Rum. Go on. Try some. It’ll add spark to our tea. You might just like it.” Meg poured some into their teacups. “It’s made from molasses.”

  Rose sipped the enhanced tea. She flushed as the warmth flooded her mouth and throat. “Oh my, but that’s quite a spark!” She giggled. “But it’s not at all like molasses.”

  Meg sipped her spiked tea. “I said it was an ingredient, not that it tasted sweet.” She sat down and put her booted feet up on the table. “I got a few burn marks on my legs too, though not as bad. They’ve faded and healed over the years. I was wearing a heavy skirt and boots at the time, so my lower body was protected. My hands use to look much worse, but I know a witch who made me healing ointments. They helped a great deal. I still use her ointments. That and time softened the damage. Her name is Zula and her magic is amazing. You must meet her one day. Once I had beautiful hands the color of milk. Now they look like a demon’s.”

  “Don’t say that.” Rose sipped the strong tea and added more sugar. “I read in school that Juraca was a forbidden country to outsiders. I know they’re isolationists and practice an austere version of Ursas’ teachings; my teachers didn’t talk much about why magic was outlawed. We knew mages were persecuted.”

  “How long were you in school?”

  “Until I was thirteen. Then my parents took me out of school like most girls to learn about being a proper Dwarf maiden. I had to learn everything else on my own. What changed in Juraca that made things so terrible?” Rose asked.

  The King declared magic was evil.”

  Rose was incredulous. “Magic is natural part of the world, though few people truly have the gift for it. People respect the mystical castes in Rhulon.”

  Meg’s voice tightened as she continued. “In other countries that’s true. Juraca was once like that. They revered magic. That changed over ten years ago when King Josiah Ethanus converted to a new faith. He converted to a creed that hates magic of any kind. He expected everyone to become like him, for our own salvation. He declared that any form of magic was illegal and a sin; the penalty for being a witch, or any mage caste, was death by fire.”

  “I heard Juraca adopted a new faith some years ago. Even in our little corner of Stone Haven, we get some news. Not much was known beyond that, except that they closed their borders years ago. What was this strange new religion?”

  “The Brethren of Ursas. They’re also called the Red Brotherhood by some. The Brethren created their own bible with new voluminous testaments scribed by its founder, a man named B
el Urgasa. His followers are fanatics who worship him as the prophet of Ursas. Rumors also say Bel Urgasa and his disciples were driven out of various eastern kingdoms for their practices. Tragically, Urgasa found a safe haven in Juraca. He converted our king. After that, not only were all other faiths banned, it became a strict theocracy. King Josiah was head of the church and state, and Bel Urgasa sits at his right hand as First Priest. Urgasa claimed to know the true path of Ursas and was the chosen prophet of truth. Somehow, he convinced the king to believe this. Even royals can be idiots.”

  “That’s frightening.”

  “King Josiah decreed all the holy books of Ursas and Ishar be burned. It didn’t stop there. Over the course of that first year, the Brethren scourged all traces of the old religion. The mage castes weren’t the only ones threatenedeveryone was. Churches and chapels were shuttered, torn down, or converted to the new religion. The clergy were the first victims under these harsh new laws. Bishops and vicars who refused to adopt the Brethren’s faith were arrested. Some were burned as heretics as an example. Some languished in prison. Some capitulated. The holy sisters of Ishar suffered too. Their convents were razed. The nuns were stripped naked. They burned their robes and prayer beads. Those who did not convert to the Brethren’s faith on the spot were burned as heretics. That was the fate of all other religions and magic in Juracaabsolute destruction and death.” Meg drained her cup and refilled it, pouring a liberal dose of rum. “The bonfires burned with confiscated holy books from the old religion. Some folk hid or buried their books, but it was risky. The Brethren rejected all the old gods, except Ursas. They even called them demons. They even decreed Ishar was not a true goddess or Ursas’ celestial wife.”

  Rose shuddered as she listened to Meg’s story. “Ishar is the goddess of magic! How could anyone do this? Why would your king allow this madness? Especially when it hurt his people.”

  “When people become fanatics, reason and logic vanish. There’s a lot of speculation. He ruled with justice once. He suffered tragedy, as most people do in life. His wife, Queen Parthena, and son, Prince Caleb, perished during a plague epidemic, similar to the one that killed my parents. Rumors say he became a broken man after that. That’s when Bel Urgasas insinuated himself; after he converted someone who worked at court. That new convert brought Urgasa to the king. That’s how it started. Some say Josiah’s sanity broke when he suffered a battle injury that left him crippled. There are lots of stories, but no remedies.”

  “Did anyone try to fight him?”

  Meg’s grim smile was unsettling. She put down her teacup and leaned close. “Maybe in books and songs, justice prevails over wicked kings and dark cursesreality is different. Sometimes no one gets saved. Bands of folk, both noble and commoner, protested against the injustice and tried to overthrow Josiah. Most of those poor fools ended up with their heads stuck on spikes decorating the king’s wall. For a madman, Josiah had a very powerful army ready to do his willmen willing to follow without conscience. Bel Urgasa became his general and brought his own fanatical soldiers of salvation from exile to fight this new holy war. After the uprisings were crushed and the immolation of the clergy, people fell silent and obeyed.”

  “Why didn’t you leave?” Rose asked cautiously.

  Meg moaned and threw her head back. “Oh gods, we should have! So many fled Juraca rather than endure the blood and madness. After a while, Josiah closed the borders and it became harder to leave. When things go crazy in your world, it’s like a bad dream. Mathias and I had such a simple life. Our little village was an obscure footnote on a map, far away from the towns and cities. We thought we could hide; but no one was immune, not even a poor apple farmer and his wife.”

  “Did you stay for your husband, Mathias?”

  Meg nodded and poured more rum unto her cup, ignoring the tea.

  “So, are you a witch?” Rose asked. “Or were you a victim of the hysteria?”

  Meg shrugged and looked at Rose. “Both.” Rose’s brow furrowed quizzically and Meg laughed. “It’s complicated.”

  “And my head is spinning,” Rose confessed, holding her head in her hands. “Give me more of that deadly molasses and continue.”

  “Well, drink up then.” Meg poured the rum, draining the flask. “You will need it to hear the rest. I was only eighteen when we married. Mathias was gentle and sweet. Handsome too. His family gave us part of their apple orchard in Oak Hollow as a wedding gift.”

  “Is that where you were born?”

  “No, I was raised in the north, in a town called Red Vale. Oak Hollow is in the southern part of the country. After my mother and father passed away, I couldn’t stay in my hometown. It made me sad. So I left. I was working as a seamstress in Oak Hollow when I met Mathias.”

  “Somehow, I can’t imagine you demurely sewing for your supper,” Rose remarked with a raised brow.

  “Ah, but I was very good at it. Before my hands were nimble with a sword, they were nimble with the needle.”

  “What was your mother’s name?”

  “Deirdre. I inherited her red hair, but only a fragment of her witchcraft. I miss her terribly, but I’m also glad she didn’t live to see what Juraca became. It would have broken her heart to see people treated so evilly. I use to love to watch her do magic.”

  Rose smiled, swirling the last of the rum in her cup before downing it. “I use to play at being a witch when I was little. I would take my mother’s iron cooking pot and pretend to be a powerful enchantress casting great spells in her cauldron to summon mounds of cream puffs and dozens of puppies.”

  “Very ambitious,” Meg laughed, her sorrow broken for a moment.

  Rose shrugged and laid her head on the table. “Of course, I was only five at the time.”

  “Even though I was shoddy at witchcraft, my mother loved me and was always proud of me. Father adored her. His name was Robert Sparrow, the best blacksmith in Red Vale.”

  “Our fathers are both blacksmiths!”

  “Yes. I use to watch my father at the forge, wondering how he could stand the heat all day. Ironic. My mother’s death was so sudden, you see. There was a plague outbreak. She worked day and night to help folk. She saved a lot of people. Eventually she fell ill with the sickness too. I knew about herbs and healing medicine from mother’s training. I tried to cure her. She still died. I cried for days. More than half our town perished. Father lost his will to live and soon followed her soul to the Sacred Gardens. They said it was the plague, but the plain truth is his heart was broken.”

  “I’m sorry, Meg.” Rose’s homesickness swelled for her father’s solid presence by the hearth, smoking his pipe. She even missed her mother’s nagging.

  Meg threw off her green cloak and stretched in the chair, lengthening her torso and arms. She reminded Rose of a cat.

  Rose was sure she was drunk. The combination of lack of sleep and hard liquor made Rose dizzy.

  Meg put her long gloves back on. “Mathias became my new family. When the trouble came, he didn’t want to give up our orchard. He said to keep quiet and obey. He thought our king would come to his senses. That never happened. Then we heard about the burnings in other towns. The Brethren priests claimed fire purified the soul of evil and was necessary for the good of all.”

  “That’s barbaric! What happened that caused them to accuse you?”

  “A woman happened. A slutty woman named Levina.”

  “A tart name if there ever was one!’ Rose agreed wholeheartedly.

  “She lusted after my husband. Mathias refused her, but she was obsessed with him. Levina even told her father Mathias was in love with her. It didn’t help that her father was also the headsman of our village. He openly accepted the king’s new religion and watched everyone. Our old priest did not approve of what was happening. He just disappeared one day. He was replaced by man in red and gray robes with crimson runes tattooed on his brow and a shaved head. Levina accused me of being a witch during church services one morning. She wailed that I
put a hex on her. She even put on a show, rolling on the floor and talking gibberish.” Meg’s eyes were bitter at the memory.

  “How could they believe that?”

  “It’s not about belief, it’s about fear. The priest wailed that Ursas sees all sin and called me a wicked witch. The magistrate arrested me right there in the church. I was dragged away and locked in a cramped cell with strange symbols painted on the walls to prevent my using magic or escaping, which was superstitious nonsense. My trial didn’t even last ten minutes. I was condemned to burn the next day.”

  “What did Mathias do?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing!” Rose gasped. “But he was your husband!”

  “I didn’t understand. Damn it, he didn’t even visit me in my pitiful jail. He did not speak one word in my defense at the trial.”

  Rose took her friend’s hand and squeezed it gently. “Did this Levina know about your mother?”

  “I doubt it. The sad truth is people were often accused out of spite or greed, because there was no defense against witchcraft. Very few actual mages were burned at this time as most had the sense to flee the country. The following morning, I was taken to the town square and chained to a wooden stake on a stone mount. It was built just for witches and heretics. Every town was issued one with the upheaval, but this was the first time ours was being used. The priest walked ahead of me, swinging incense, face blackened with ashes. He was stridently vocal praying about Ursas and sin as I was led to my doom. His droning got on my nerves. I snapped at him.”

  “Oh, Meg, what did you do?”

  “I told him to shut up or I would turn him into a toad.”

  “Oh my, that was braveconsidering your circumstances.”

  Meg shrugged. “I had nothing to lose. I think I scared him a little, because he kept his distance and prayed in a quieter tone after that. Mathias was there. Damn, the whole town came to watch me die, including Levina; clinging to her father’s arm, carrying a prayer book with a sanctimonious look on her mousy face. The bitch! Mathias didn’t protest or tell them to stop. He did nothing but watch. All of them didlike it was normal. I didn’t expect rescue. All I needed was one word of love. That would have sufficed. Mathias just stood there as they piled the dried wood around me and poured the oil.”