In a rare moment, Sorore was actually having a nice dream, a normal one, one could even say. She was back home, in that moderately seized house in Erratz, laying on her mother’s lap. She could even hear the gentle sound that the needle made as it went in and out of the cloth. It was peaceful, pleasant, surrounded by familiar sound and smells, though her sight was blurry and confused.
It was not to last, as the sound of rushing water overtook all else, until she was forced awake by its unrelenting pace. When she sat up, rubbing her eyes in the broad bed, she released that it wasn’t the sound of water, nor was it relegated to her dreams. There was a commotion outside people talking in hushed but harsh tones.
Neither Lillian, nor Aya were within the room, and she wondered if they were having an argument. That wouldn’t be good - she’d watched them have the spat earlier, and that dispute didn’t need much worsening. Sorore crept to the door to the outer hallway - she loved how they slid to create whole new rooms. It was something she’d have to think about more she decided as she pulled it open and realised several things at once.
One, there were a whole lot of armoured figures in the hallway, at least four, maybe half a dozen. Two, the balcony door was open, and Lillian was currently arguing with one of them, Aya standing by looking like a mining explosive had gone off right next to her. Three, her brother and Niche had just emerged out of the room beside, and Niche was about to draw his sword at the sudden intrusion.
For a moment, she panicked, her mind going completely blank. Her mind raced with visions of bloody aftermath, and a chase through the city, back to the dinner she’d had with all those nice people.
“Oh, hello!” she blurted, drawing the surprised stares of several of the men, “who might you be?”
There was an instant of shocked silence between all parties.
“Nobody do anything!” called the man who was out on the porch, “We are representatives of the sand-shell legion, on behalf of the matriarch of the Eisen. We have come to retrieve her granddaughter.”
Niche lowered his hand from his sword belt, but Sorore could tell that he was ready to fight on a moment’s provocation. She also noticed that Kieren, in the same gown she’d worn to the square was standing in the stairwell. The woman looked so nervous Sorore thought she might fall over and down the stairs.
“Let’s move to a less cramped area,” said the captain, in a tone that brook no argument.
Eventually, it was sussed out, though not without considerable resistance on part of the paladins, that they were to meet in the great hall. As they sat, they were brought simple drinks of milk and honey, flavoured with something else that Sorore could not quite place. The two paladins looked like pacing cats, constrained on their chairs, arms crossed and eyes hard.
“Under no circumstances can we give one of ours into you custody,” said Lillian, locked in a match with the captain.
“Within the city, you are under the authority of the guard, no matter who you are. If the matriach has sent for this girl, then we have our orders.”
“As do we, captain,” said Niche, “to protect and guide each of these young women and… man, unto the holy lands of Angorrah.”
One of the guards flanking the captain whispered something in his ear.
“She’s not going to like it,” the captain said, then heard something else.
“Very well. Bloodshed before the Festival would be unwise. We have enough of that already. Right then, one of you paladins, assuming you are who you say you are, shall come with us and the lady to be received by the Eisen. I cannot say it’s likely you will have a happy reception. They will expect you to come unarmed.”
The paladins were bristling at the implied threat, and several hands were already dangerously close to their sword belts. Sorore gripped the mug that she was being offered, before Aya sat up and proclaimed to the group.
“Leave two of your men with us, then,” she said.
The captain’s eyes furrowed.
“I don’t wish to second guess you, my lady,” he said, “but why would I do that?”
“Trust,” Aya said, with a side long look at Lillian, “simple. If you leave your men with us, you can’t simply waltz off with me and my friend. Plus, it gives us men who know, and can quickly get around the city, so they can find you whenever they need to.”
The captain considered, and nodded.
“Very well my lady. Two men will be left for the disposal of your party members. But you shall have to come with us, immediately.”
“Me as well,” said Lillian.
“As you wish,” he said, “but you must disarm yourself. That is non-negotiable.”
Lillian was fuming, but unbuckled her belt and handed her armaments to Niche. The legionaries surrounded them, and departed with them out the front of the pyramid. They were left in front of the roaring fire, Kieren sitting beside them holding a considerably more full glass of the amber coloured alcohol.
“You said that this-” Niche began, his face reddened, “you sold us out!”
“Sold you out?” said Kieren incuriously as she swirled the glass around, “sold you out?”
The woman slammed down the glass on one of the nearby table, somehow not breaking it in the process.
“Maybe, you should of told us that you had the granddaughter of Aystara godsdamned Eisen in your retinue? No, forgot that little detail?”
“Okay, can we get this over with?” said Frare, picking at his nails.
“What?” said both the paladin and the trader, staring at the temerity of the youth.
“Blah, blah, we’ve all kept things from eachother,” he said, “so let’s all move on. Who is this ‘Aystara’? Why is she important?”
While Niche gaped at the casual ease from which Frare dismissed the turbulence, the trader seemed to settle.
“Only one of the two most powerful people in the city, young man,” she said, downing a shot from the glass, “between her and Edmund Poutash, it’d be easier to list what they don’t own. The docks, the schools, the farms… if you want an import or export licence? You go through her. You want to own a ship bigger than a rinky-dink fishing boat? You go through her or Potash.”
She finished the glass, and reached for the decanter, and stopped herself.
“And you waltz into the city, and conveniently forget to mention that you have her granddaughter, who hasn’t been in the city ever, if I remember correctly. To say she’d be furious that you didn’t bring the young lady before her immediately would be an understatement. And worse, you dragged us into it.”
“She must be awfully mean - you had nothing to do with us. You just hosted it.”
The woman blinked at the boldfaced remark, and Sorore delivered a good kick to his shins to drive the point home.
“No, no,” she ultimately said, “no I don’t think she’ll do anything to our family, if she believes us. She’s not unreasonable. At least, so I’ve heard. I’ve only met her once, and that was for a brief time. As for what she’ll do to you...”
She gave a pointed look at Niche.
“You tried to hid her granddaughter from her, maybe unintentionally, maybe not. If I were a betting woman, which I’m not, I would say that means trouble. If you want my advice-”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“I don’t,” said Niche, crinkling his noise.
“Don’t be stupid,” said Frare, before he howled at another kick.
Sorore’s face was burning with indignation and embarrassment. This was all too much.
“If you want my advice,” Kieren pressed on, “you’d go find and talk to your commander immediately. I could fetch for him if you wish - I know where Amicio’s home is.”
Niche, through narrowed eyes and clenched teeth, acquiesced.
“Good, now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some letters to send,” she said, “of course, though this has earned you no small amount of displeasure from certain peoples, we’ve been instructed to provide you with house and board for as long as it takes to sort this out. You are still welcome guests and you will be treated as such.”
The tepid truce struck, the children were sent back up to their rooms. Sorore tried to sleep, and managed no more than half an hour before she was woken by her brother.
“The commander’s here,” he said, “he wants to talk to us.”
The commander, looking very tired, but light of step than Sorore had ever seen him, waited by the fire. He was talking with Kieren and the two remaining legionarries in the fast-paced trading tongue of the city, but stopped when he saw the girl come downstairs.
“My lady,” he said, “it seems there’s been a huge misunderstanding.”
She realized that it was his manner of dress which was throwing her off. Instead of his usual worn and thoroughly practical travelling clothes, he wore the long flowing silks of orange and cream. It suited him, matching his calm personality.
“What misunderstanding?” she said.
“Well, we had no idea that our own Aya was the granddaughter of Aystara Eisen herself. I was surprised as anyone. Of course, I knew she was an Eisen, from her mother.”
He looked at Kieren, who looked like she was about to fall asleep.
“But I never imagined that she was a direct descendent of the main house. I thought she was part of the branch, not necessary to cause any fuss, especially during the preparation of the festival. Ah!”
He slapped his head to indicate his shock at the realisation.
“What a terrible mistake I’ve made,” he said, patting the woman’s arm, “this is all on my horrendous lack of judgement. Here’s what’s going to happen, one of these gentlemen and trader Amicio will be vouching for me at the gate. I’m going to the Eisen estate and having a friendly chat with the matriarch, to clear up this misunderstanding.”
Sorore felt at last some suggestion that someone around the city knew what was happening and what they were going to do.
“Here’s what I need you and your brother to do,” Naia said, “I want you to wait and enjoy the hospitality of the madame of the house.”
The term seemed to flatter Kieren, who flushed at the complement. Or that might’ve been the drink, Sorore wasn’t entirely sure.
“Niche, you take care of them. I expect that I might be at the estate for the rest of the night, and possibly onto next afternoon. Things are always so chaotic around the Festival. There’s no reason for you not to attend the festival opening tomorrow, if you can.”
“You want us to attend a festival?” said Niche in disbelief, “right now?”
“Well, not right now, it hasn’t started yet,” said the commander, “but, if Kieren would graciouslly agree to take you as guest of honour, you’d have excellent seats. If that’s not too much to ask, especially after our little debacle.”
Kieren nodded, and affirmed that she wouldn’t mind at all, if the matter was going to be soon cleared up. Sorore was now certain that it wasn’t just alcohol.
“Great. You’re all taken care of, now I’d better explain myself. If you wouldn’t mind,” he said, pointing to the quarter full glass, which Kieren handed to him. The commander downed it all in one, rolled his shoulders, and smiled.
“Don’t worry. It’ll all work out in the end,” he said, “in fact, I would say to enjoy yourselves, as much as you can. And best go back to bed, unless you want to be sleeping during the festival, which, I assure you from experience, you do not.”
Before they could say anything, the commander had swept by them, vanishing out of the front of the pyramid.
“You should heed him,” said Kieren, picking up the decanter and the glass and moving towards the kitchens, “if you’re stuck here for the time being, you might as well enjoy it And that starts with getting good sleep.”
“Last time you said that, we woke up to armed guards,” Niche said flatly.
“Well, I assure you, I’m not boring enough to do that a second time. It would be assassin’s from across the streets, who approach over the rooftops.”
“Do they actually exist?” asked Frare, suddenly excited.
“Oh, I’m sure,” said Kieren as she stowed away her drinking equipment, “but not tonight. Go get some sleep sir paladin, and you two young ones as well. You’ll need it.”
Sorore was cajoled up the steps, Frare coming up after her. Niche seemed placated enough for the time being, though he was clearly unhappy with the outcome. The pleasant dreams neglected to revisit for a second time, but at least the sleep was uninterrupted. When Soroe next awoke, it was a young handmadein, pulling open the screen doors.
“Good morning, my lady,” she said, “how did you sleep?”
“I- well enough, I suppose,” she said, stretching and yawning, before quickly covering her mouth.
The maid had the presence of mind not to notice as she revealed the bright sunlight streaming through the open balcony.
“It must almost be midday!” Sorore exclaimed, leaping out of the bed as she tried to straighten herself.
The maid chuckled as she finished opening up the room.
“Not to fear, my lady,” she said, “it’s customary to sleep into the early afternoon. The Festival does not start until just before sunset, afterall. In fact, you might be earlier than many of the household.”
“Oh,” Soroe said, feeling rather foolish, “Um. Well, I guess I’ll get dressed.”
“Of course. I’ve left out some clothes for you. Madame Kieren suggested that you try clothes from our city. I hope you’ll love them. Do you bathe?”
Sorore wrinkled her nose at the prospect. What kind of question was that?
“Of course I do,” she said.
“Well, there’s a place to bath at the bottom of the pyramid. If you wish to bath alone, you should go now - I’ll bring you clothes for you to change at the waterfront.”
“You bathe together here?” Sorore said
“In the mornings and evenings,” she said, “we do not bring water up into the house if we cannot avoid it. To the stone goes the sea, and to the home goes the sky.”
She looked around, then leaned in with a smile.
“Also, water is very troublesome to carry up all those flights.”
“So just come down to the waterfront?” she said, gathering up what spare things she needed.
“Just follow me, my lady,” said the handmaiden, picking up a pile of clothes and leading her down the stairs.
They emerged onto an inset pool carved into the pyramid interior. A smooth stone deck, with benches and chairs and stacks of towels, as well as several large paper screens, presumably for changing. Sorore was glad to see they were alone, at least for the time being.
At the handmaid, Kiroe’s, direction, she stripped down naked and plunged into the pool. The water was a perfect temperature - cold enough to dispel the last of the grogginess, warm enough to be pleasant to float in. She swam around for a bit, constrained by the relatively small volume, while Kiroe prepared her outfit on the deck.
“Do you mind if I join you?” came a voice from the other end.
Kieren slipped out of a thin morning dress and stepped into the water. Sorore swam over and came to stand beside her.
“Is there any news? About Aya and the commander?” she said, a little too quickly.
Kieren, who’d been sinking into the water with a sigh of contentment, opened one eye.
“Straight to business? Perhaps you are better suited to the city than I thought.”
Sorore tried to smile, but her concern was betrayed, judging by the woman’s softening of expression.
“My knowledge is limited. My uncle is serving as our representative for now. Sounds like your commander was at least allowed to make his case to the Eisen. He made note of one other companion of yours.”
“Oh? Who?” she said, pushing out into the pool, feeling the water surge over her shoulders.
“A man in black clothes,” she said, “who hides his face behind a mask. He was there for the meeting.”
“The mage?” said Sorore, before considering that she maybe shouldn’t have mentioned it.
“A mage?” said Kieren, before submerging herself in the water.
She tossed her hair back as she came back up, spraying water in a neat arc.
“Well, that explains his odd demeanour,” she said, “now, regrettably, that’s all the time I have today for bathing. I will see you at the festival.”
“Hello cousin! May I join- oh,” came a voice from the steps leading out.
It was Ivers, dressed in nothing but a loose robe, which was already half-way off his body, sculpted with muscle from hauling rope and tackle. Sorore stifled a gasp and turned away, trying not to redden.
“I can come back later,” he offered.
“Do you mind?” Kieren said to Sorore, “if you do, it’d be best to finish soon and let others bathe.”
“No, no,” she said, waving her host away.
Kiero had warned her, after all. It would be best to become accustomed to the strange ways of this beautiful city. Besides, it’s not like she hadn’t bathed before in the company of men her age back home. She cursed herself for being so self-conscious, and forced herself to turn around.
“Are you sure? I can leave if you want, it’s not-” Ivers began.
“No, it’s fine. It’s fine,” Sorore said, smiling at him, “it’d be good to have companionship.”
“Well, then, Ivers, I trust you’ll behave yourself,” said Kieren rising from the water.
“Of course, cousin,” Ivers said, casting his eyes to the floor.
Sorore tried not to take a wicked pleasure at the blush that crept across his dark complexion.
“Oh, one more thing,” whispered her host, bending over to the girl, “it’s considered polite to not look when they’re outside the water.”
Kieren laughed at Sorore’s own furious blush as she made for one of the poolside changing screens.