If Ala Estival ever wanted for peace, we did not for rest. So frequent of late it had been that one or another of ours was put out of commission, for one ala already so deprived of number, and when it happened, the rest were relieved from patrol duty. The day after the incident in the city, Acis was confined to bed, her pledge-sister taking unmoving charge by her side, and the rest could but lounge in an idle mood that seemed poisonous to the mind. Might as well, for it was time for some summer downpour. Since daybreak the entire mountain was watered relentlessly, leaving in me no mood for land. So I settled with some mindless staring across the trembling begonia, out to the gray porthole, to the vast dome of sullen white atop the city, where figures of legends were muddied from discerning by the weather. Since morning, Litzia was either in her bed reading, or out for a damp walk under the rain, for she could not live without open air, and would trade warmth and dryness for it in a heartbeat.
As noon approached, the wyverness returned to our cabin, and having dried herself, settled with a book on her side of the room. It was then that Thea entered the cabin with aplomb, a bucket of laundry in her arm, and upon her lips the declaration of the morning’s work done.
“So,” she said, dropping on my bed, hands folding the topmost tunic, “gloomy day!”
Yet there was a spirited note to her voice, not overly sorrowed by the apparent schism between Litzia and me.
“It is on such days that one contrives many an unwise thought,” she went on, “and only in helpful activities does one find the perfect remedy for such ailment. Would you come help or what?”
With that lordly tone, the maidservant compelled me to come over and fold my own clothes. I did not grudge the little labor, but Litzia stirred not from where she was, engrossing in a little book as was customary of her.
Then, in most conversational tone, as though she was still on the topic of weather, she said, “So what is it exactly? That thing you discovered about that girl yonder, that made her so upset, and yourself one sullen puppy.”
This was enough to start Litzia, and earned from me some amazement.
“How do I know?” Thea raised her brows, “Am I a fool, Star? Or am I blind? Gladiola talked to you in private, aye? Then the next morning this room was empty. It follows that she had you spy on your partner’s secret. Well? Will you tell it or not? Or do I have to guess of its doing with your sister’s freedom and the captain?”
Litzia’s pretension for apathy now verged on absurdity. Her hand had ceased moving the page, so had her eyes, and when I looked askance across the room, she tensed up, but still she stubbornly glued her focal point on a single spot in the book.
I shrugged, “Seems you will have to ask her.”
“So,” tossing a pair of folded breeches on the bed, she swiveled to Litzia, “will you tell, your grace?”
The wyverness glared at us, saying with dignity, “It is nothing of consequence to you, Thea.”
“Nothing ever is,” the maidservant pouted, “but it is to Gladiola and all your Ala-sisters, is it not?” She made a purposeful pause, to leave the wyverness in suspense and misgiving, while taking her sweet time withholding the main point, “I heard rumors of an audience soon, held by the first mate herself, regarding what happened yesterday.”
“You mean the incident with Acis?” I asked.
“I could do without your ruining the suspense,” she sighed, “but aye, that girl we met at the Sanctuary has been summoned. That girl of the Loredan.”
“Why her?” Litzia gave up her act at last.
“A secret for a secret?”
“No. Cease your skylarking, Thea. It is my sister-Alae’s safety, ours and your safety. An attempt of assassination, or at the least aggression, of some kind had been made.” she raised her voice.
Almost as if in obedience to Litzia’s bidding, Thea’s face turned grave. But I knew her better than to believe so. She was capable of such a thing, it was in her just as it is in a wyvern to spread wings. A girl who could one moment be in perfect manner towards the officers, then the next playing and laughing with unrestrained merry with crewmates. And when she was alone, her silence was a degree stranger than Litzia’s veil. Yet she needed no masks, her sharp discerning oft made for puzzling thoughts anyway.
And in this manner, she spoke as gravely as Gladiola, her word woven in as strange a mystery as Galanthus’, “And that is the issue, Litzia. You are far too dour, and want for vengeance or blame. You and your Ala-sisters, I have seen their faces since yesternight, all dour by a bloodthirst.”
“Have we not that right?” Litzia said sharply.
“Not as judges, or executioners.”
“But,” I interjected, looking to allay the heat between the girls, “why her? Justitia is overprudent, but she does not lay to aimless courses.”
“I do not know, but I imagine she has some sort of evidence. And if she is judged guilty, then not even the magnates may save her life, for they serve the captain, and no one with the temerity to attack her crew may be given clemency, even their own people. Under such circumstances and likely consequence, you will be her judges.” She rose, crossed the cabin to Litzia, and neatly, with care, placed a stack of folded laundry on her bed. Standing tall over the reclining wyverness, she said as though suddenly reminded of an old story, “You know, there was a time, long ago, when my household used to dictate the fate of our province’s peasants. I daresay, our court was more just than most. And yet, too often we made our rulings depend upon such laws of the realm, truths of things, and cold hard facts.”
“Do you tell me then to gather such things? You said just now Justitia like as not had them at the ready.”
In a perfectly pleasant manner, a smile accompanied, she said, “Not quite so. Not, if there was aught worthwhile I have learned from that business. Truths are not always the way they seem, and oftentimes, nothing short of a miracle could discern truths from falsehoods. There is value in striving. But—” at this she again grew grave, “It is irresponsible to pass a verdict on one’s life upon guesswork, prejudices, or resentment.”
“Why the advice,” Litzia frowned. “Think you I would sentence someone to death with such ease?”
“Mayhap not.” Thea shook her head while retreating from her bed. “Call it an old sentiment from a lifetime ago.”
So her concern voiced, Thea let the wyverness to her book. But it was not long before there were knocks on our door, and a maidservant passed us chief mate Justitia’s summon.
Indifferently, Thea bade us good-bye, nodding at my promise to heed her word. Said for Litzia’s consideration though it was.
Litzia and I were led aft. As did the other officers and alares of the Anemone, the mates resided in the decks below the Hall of Wreaths, but all the way astern. Her drawing room had been refitted for the occasion; seatings had been prepared for five, whereas the chief mate herself sat in a tall back chair of stone. As in the captain’s cabin, there was no obvious source to the intense light in the room, but neither was the clear aura the captain projected to her surroundings. To portside of the mate were Gladiola and Hortensia, while her starboard Valerian, Litzia and I, forming a shallow crescent, at whose center there stood the summoned defendant.
She was not much different than when we had met her among her cohort, even now as she stood in grave danger. Unchanged, if a tad more defiant, a good deal more dignified. A dress modest in color and ornaments, but not in material, hugged her body, her twin braids shone with a luster, rivaled only by the dangerous glint in her eye, and upon her breasts, a pendant of unique design reflected the sourceless light, which was her house’s sigil mayhap). She had come prepared in her best appearance, for a contest with the chief mate of her mistress, and us proven alares. And to give off such an impression of marked dignity before the likes of Justitia and Gladiola was no small task.
Justitia began, in the cold tone that she oft ordered the beheading of a captured enemy, “You stand accused of conspiring against my mistress’ servant, Loredan. How do you plead?”
“I plead innocent, lady Justitia.”
“So you do. And yet there’s a witness in a maidservant, of your sending a request for meeting with Acis of Ala Estival, a knight of the Anemone Order of the Dragon. Do you deny this?”
“I do not.”
“Is it you then, who detained the alaris against her will, knowing the consequence of said act?”
“Nay, ma’am. I met but briefly with her, then she left long before noon. Is this the extent of evidence against my innocence, ma’am?”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
To the defendant’s display of ire, Justitia answered only with wonted cruelty, “I may have you hanged, Loredan, for only so much. There is no ample wealth of patience in me. So test it not.”
To this, the girl lowered her head. To the chief mate’s whim at least, she had no means to defy.
Justitia continued, “Even disregarding your meeting with Acis, it is no that you have more motive than aught to wish the girl ill, and to have acted upon it.”
“Do you speak of the relation between our houses, ma’am?”
“The Veniers and The Loredans,” the chief mate slowly rapped her fingers on the armrest, “two of a pair to form a pledge spanning generations – a commendable tribute to my Mistress. Until it was no more. The girl who is now named Acis broke your people’s tradition, and, in lieu of yourself, pledged to Galanthus of Ala Estival. Is that no cause for resentment, to be so treated as unworthy by your predestined pair? For your own line to be thus ridiculed? For yourself to be their first failure in many generations? Frustrating, is it not?”
As her irises gleamed silver, one marked a hint of sport in the chief mate’s tone. It was no empty warning when she threatened to persecute Loredan without evidence, but she wished to see the girl pressed into confession by despair and fear, to break her composure and front of dignity. Only seldom did one chance on her want for perverse amusement, so oft-obscured by her strict loyalty and practical mind among the mates, but it was there, without a shadow of doubt, no weaker than in Lex, Pax or her very mistress.
The subject of her torment did a commendable job resisting the bait, but there was no doubt in her being affected. She drew up, and glared into Justitia.
“It is the bee’s greater shame to come not to the flower in bloom,” she said with a higher, clearer voice, “I need not grudge a fool’s choice, inconvenient though it might have been.”
“Is that so?” the chief mate smiled, a very rare smile. “No grudge, yet your people went to great lengths to massacre that fool’s house.”
What she said seemed to be a known fact, for none in the room was taken aback except for Litzia and I. None, but Loredan raised a notch. “We…I did what was right in the service of the Mistress! The Venier conspired rebellion with the minor houses, and had we not checked the effort, greater damage could have been done to the city! See you ill in our loyalty to the Dawn, ma’am?”
Loredan’s appeal to the captain had little effect on Justitia. With quite a languid movement, she inclined her head.
“But it is undeniable you condemned your paired house’s members into execution or exile. And the girl herself, she who was once to be your pledge, met her end at your people’s hands. Will you tell me it was not so? That your heart did not leap at the sight of your disgracer’s murder, in which yourself had played no small part?”
“Only that justice was served,” her voice trembled greatly now. It was a miserable thing to see a remarkably composed young girl being played with and reduced to raw emotions. But it was Justitia’s game, and I dared not interrupt. “I shall not suffer attacks on the Loredan’s impartiality,” the girl said, attempting some measure of temperament, “Nor do I see a reason for our just act to be construed as a basis for this trial. Need I remind you that the Mistress herself passed her verdict on the case of the Veniers?”
Justitia seemed amused, and would have said something to flame high the anger or inspire missteps in her prey. But a different voice was raised by my side.
“This is no way to discern the truth, ma’am,” Valerian said. The only other person in the room besides Litzia, that I knew of, who had little love for the captain. And she who had promised a pledge with the defendant of this case. “I do not deny this girl’s likely motive and means. But suppose you have her admit to wishing my sister-alae dead, that will still not bring us closer to the real culprit.”
“What say you then, alaris?” Justitia regarded the knight with ire, “Do you wish to speak for her, who I know have had your name writ in the Books of Names next to hers?” She stared down the saintess with little regard for her divine aspect, she herself a close servant to a deity.
“I pray only that we go to the heart of the matter.” Shifting her gaze to the defendant she said, “Loredan, you said Acis took leave before noon. Know you where to?”
With an astonishing change in attitude, the girl turned to Valerian with a much quenched temper, if laced still with some edge. “I know not. At the time I thought she was returning to the Daybright.”
“At the time, you say. What do you know now?”
“I do not follow, lady Valerian.”
“Of the Tithonus council, the Loredan is the greatest. If you so wish, you could have by your network learned of my sister-alae’s movements that day. Did you not do so?”
“What reason had I?”
“To lend a hand to your would-be sister-alae was not reason enough?”
“This is no different to lady Justitia’s appeal to emotions, ma’am,” she said snidely, “but very well, I admit, I had my own suspicion, and after your visit to seek my aid, I sent for her whereabouts, specifically if the other houses had involved themselves in the matter, but no more.”
“And what did you find?”
“Nothing, they too were innocent in this matter. Where Acis went, she went of her own accord.”
“Convincing, is it not?” Justitia remarked.
Hortensia stirred, her eyes narrowed. “In the first place, why did you want to meet Acis?” asked the wyverness.
“That,” Loredan leveled her gaze at Hortensia, meeting the challenge in Hortensia’s scrutiny, “I believe has naught to do with the discussion at hand. At any rate, that girl is yet alive, and you would rather trust her words than mine.”
“Acis is not yet at full health,” Gladiola said, “and her memory was affected.”
The girl frowned, “Then that is unfortunate, for me. And yet I see no reason to disclose what we conversed in private.”
“Your life's on the line,” Gladiola said, “is this secret so grave that you will not tell to save yourself?”
“If I could be hung with only so few proofs as is, I have doubt a word or two more would suffice to preserve myself, lady Gladiola.”
To this our Prima nodded.
And so it was that after a round of questioning, we were no nearer to the truth than before. The motive was there, weak as it might be, while the opportunity was no stronger. Ere long I must admit my mind was elsewhere, wandering to one thing that stood out glaringly so far to me: Justitia’s mentioning of Loredan’s arranged pair’s, that is, Acis’ execution. If it was true that Galanthus’ pledge-sister had been executed, then what stood now in her place? I shuddered at what it betokened. So hung up on it I could not pay proper attention to the questions that followed. Until Litzia spoke.
And she spoke in such a way that inspired the memory of that day in the captain’s cabin, of Gladiola over the prisoner Halal, who was cursed, in part by my pledge-sister’s interference.
“Loredan. Do you or do you not wish for Acis’ death?” she pressed.
It was a straight question, one the defendant herself had answered time and again since the beginning of the trial. And yet this time she flustered red, and the true anger Justitia had failed to spark in her now erupted.
“Again with that? Again with feelings that by rights are alone mine? Must I confess to a crime I have not done for you lot to cease your row of vacuous questions! Nay, I never wished Hyacinth ill, I…”
She caught her tongue, and closed shut her mouth, glowering with the contained inferno, as she glared with marked hatred, “Whatever sorcery have you done unto me, Strelitzia…” But quickly – a truly splendid display of composure – she turned to Justitia with bloodshot eyes and measured tone, “I shall answer you how many times you wish: I did not try to harm her yesterday, nor do I harbor malice for that girl.”
While this short exchange between the two wyvernesses played out, Justitia kept her peace. A thoughtfulness had ousted amusement from her mien, and I daresay her observance of Litzia was the greater cause than the defendant’s speech.
Presently she tapped on the armrest with her palm, and all were quiet. “Very well,” she decreed, “There is no more need for an audience with the Mistress. You are relieved, Loredan.”
By the look of it, the girl was as much nonplussed as the rest of us. Still she gathered herself sooner, “I… I am judged innocent then, ma’am?”
“As far as I am concerned. Now begone, the lot of you,” she rose and dismissed us with a sweep of hand.
And as far as I was concerned, if the overprudent chief mate should deem someone innocent in a matter, then I would think them an immaculate vestal in all.
In one fell swoop, she expelled us all from the room.
Presently, Loredan lingered with us, her eyes on Valerian who came out last. Dignity had returned to her and she held her chin high, and yet she averted Litzia. “I do not think you have confidence in my word, notwithstanding the chief mate?”
“We shall not contradict the mate, Loredan,” Gladiola said, “you will not be bothered anymore.”
“I ask if I am trusted, not that if I’m pardoned. I do not want enmity with my future sisters-Alae,” turning to Valerian, “or are you to renounce your promise after what transpired today, ma’am Valerian.”
We all looked over to her, but the woman in question frowned and shook her head, “Not for that, no. I will hold true to my word. I will see you at the ritual.”
“I appreciate that,” now to Litzia, she said, “You, ma’am. I do not think you mislike me, nor do I you. But do not ever do that thing again.”
And though not without an impeccable bow, she pivoted and strutted away in the same breath. So brisk were her steps, and yet how scarce her skirt fluttered. Her gait hardly of one who had just been held perilously close to a death sentence. Now that was a true highborn lady, of that breed I had only ever caught the faintest glimpses in Thea, who strove with great pains to adapt and emulate a sailor’s manner.
“I like the girl,” Hortensia remarked, “she’s amusing.”
Valerian sighed, mental exhaustion marked in her scowl, “Do not encroach the girl, sister. If you reckon Litzia not worth the risk, then twice should be the distance you keep with that one.”
Litzia raised her brows askance, but before she could question the tired knight, Gladiola stepped before us, placing a hand on my shoulder, “Are you two good?”
I started. I had not uttered a word to her of what had transpired before the trouble with Acis, specifically about Litzia’s secret endeavor. But my pledge-sister answered cooly, “Passable. Do you have need of us?”
“Nay, not me. When I visited Acis earlier before being summoned here, she expressed her wish to see you.”
“The both of us?”
“Aster, chiefly, but you are her pledge-sister, are you not?”
Gladiola had pressed the word, and what it betokened was not lost on Litzia. She nodded.