News of Tristram’s death had stormed through the Aquilon household in Wingshill House, tearing Duke Aquilon from his training to attend to the King’s emergency summons.

Ari, too, was met with a whirlwind of words as soon as she stepped out of the carriage.

‘Oh, my lady, Bador said you had to touch Tristram’s body…’

‘Is it true that someone had stolen his clothes? Eirene these days. You won’t get those sorts in Aquilon.’

‘The girl you’ve picked up… Lucy’s washed her and shown her to Granny Gertrude.’

‘Ah, she’s a skinny one, isn’t she?’

Natty’s jingling hat rose above the voices, and she sought out her friend’s comforting smile, only to meet Fabia’s one, crooked on the wrong side.

‘All of life’s a play

Where we must play our roles

With entrances and exits

Until our death knell tolls.’

Natty sang to a similar tune that she’d used at the burning, weaving her way to the front of the carriage, and took a bow in front of Ari.

‘I hope his death has not shaken you, my lady.’

A veiled question.

‘I feel like I must take some time to grief for him and think upon matters in my room, but you must all share the same pain, for many of you have known him, so there is no better way to grief than in the presence of all of you.’

~Father Mathis would have been crafting his sermon since the news arrived. He will want us to gather in the Great Hall, and I have to be there, especially when Father is away.~

Claribel and her duties.

At Claribel’s request, Ari had been carrying the sewing box filled with Malory’s remains with her everywhere. There it was right now, wrapped and tied with patterned blue silk, like a mega-sized bento-box, swinging from her arms as the gate to the manor swung open to welcome them into the Great Hall.

A feast for maggots.

~I want her to be at the service.~

But all she’d do there was decay. The was no salvaging the box now. The whole thing needed to be buried or cremated as soon as possible. The barriers of linen that they’d wrapped the remains in was barely holding back the festering smell. And Claribel wanted to bring it into the Great Hall, for a meal?

~She will hold on a little longer.~

So that Malory could sit through a religious service, when the last one she’d attended went so well? Ari had nearly shared the thought with Claribel, but pulled it back, unsaid. Perhaps Claribel had seen it anyway. Perhaps there was still a chance to cover it up with… with…

She drank in the grandeur of Wingshill House’s Great Hall, hanging onto every detail, willing them to fill her mind. The ceiling stretched all the way to the floor above, where a small overhang that must have been the corridor she’d walked through yesterday was supported by six blue wooden pillars embossed with a pattern of golden ravens and eyes. Narrow, velvet flag-like drapes hung from where the wooden arches that made up the ceiling ended. Each drape sported different colours and patterns.

One in silver-grey with a blue bonsai-tree pattern bore what must have been a winged stoat. Three flags farther down, past a blue flag with two running rabbits, a black and yellow one narrowed at the bottom, framing a lion’s head in a wheel of five legs. Were they the banners of Sir Beren and Sir Dagon?

Ari had no time to count all the flags, though at the end of the hall they’d stepped through, where sunlight danced through two rows of triple lancet windows, the raven of Aquilon spread its wings in a sky of blue, bearing an eye in its beak. A different set of stairs spiralled to the hallway above from there, leading to the library that they’d visited before, once upon a time, when Ari had only seen those wide-eyed ships in paintings.

A long table stretched from one end of the hall to the other, covered with clean white linen table cloths. Claribel’s body moved, guided by its own memories, to the head of the table, where a golden fish with sapphire eyes flicked its tail heavenwards, onto a large, gilded scallop shell filled with salt. A siren with her crows’ feet peeked from the edge of the scallop shell, neck over-long, wearing a dress of cockle and beaded glass.

Two men she didn’t recognise took the seats to her right, both in red hats bearing a badge of the Church’s fanged mouth.

~Father Mathis is next to you, and Father Bertin next to him.~

To her left, Natty took her place, now without her jester’s hat, followed by two men who looked vaguely familiar.

~Moran, my Chamberlain, whom you haven’t met yet, actually, then Sir Irriforth, whom you met just this morning.~

Sir Beren and Sir Dagon took their seats too, still close enough to exchange a sombre bow of the head. On and on, people filed in, until at the furthest end, she spotted Tilly with another child of her height. She sat among a sea of yet more unfamiliar faces.

~Those are my people from the farm.~

~Yes, everyone in my household should be in attendance. Apart from Father, of course.~

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

Even Claribel’s coal-black hunting dogs trotted in, leashed this time, guided to a spot under the table by Claribel’s Huntsman.

The one named Luna–

~You remember my hound’s name, but not my people’s?!~

–bared her teeth in her direction; whether it was at Ari or at the box that contained Malory, she didn’t know. Sora, too, stiffened and flicked her ears back.

~Hang on… You can tell them apart?~

Looking at the dogs helped distract her from the horror that awaited her. There they were, gathered in one place: guards, chambermaids, gardeners, seamstresses, farmhands, all looking at her with expectant eyes. The weight of their gaze fell upon her shoulders, which threatened to buckle. She knew that look; they were expecting a speech.

~Don’t worry, Father Mathis will do most of the talking today. You just have to say…~

‘I thank you for gathering here today to share our remembrance of Tristram. This has been a personal loss to me – a second in a short space of time – and I am grateful for the love that each and every one of you have shown me. I am in your care. And now, I shall hand you over to Father Mathis’s care.’

‘Thank you, my lady,’ said Father Mathis, rising to his feet from the seat next to hers. His hearty, booming voice washed over her. ‘Today, we shall give our thanks to the Fated One with a passage from “The Book of Origins”:

“I have tasted Joy, and it was Sweet;

I have tasted Jealousy, and it turned Sour.

I have tasted Anger, until it grew Bitter;

I then tasted Sadness, and its tears of Salt.

Last, I savoured Death.”

(Origins 2: 3)’

she said, nerves speaking.

~Stop! You’re talking over the words of the Fated One! Oh, Fated One forgive her, for she is not of this world. She does not understand Your true Nature, so she cannot understand Your true Awe.~

‘Today,’ continued Father Mathis, ‘we are here to remember the lives of Tristram and Malory, who have both shed their titles and worldly attachments to returned to the insides of the Fated One. May the Fated One savour them.’

Claribel clutched the box that contained what was once Malory and rested her ghostly forehead against it.

‘May the Fated One savour them!’ cried the others in the Great Hall in practised unison, touching three fingers to their lips.

‘Though their lives had been cut short, let us still think of the time they had with us with joy and fondness. Let us take time to appreciate what made their lives worth savouring. I remember Malory’s visits here, embroidery in hand, just a few moons ago, when the days were still long. She’d been proud of her roses. She’d talked and laughed with Mistress Tarry. Let us hold her laughter in your hearts.’

He left his memories of Tristram tellingly untold, and raised a hand at someone near the far end of the table.

Servants scurried out, returning with a tray of scooped out breads and the smell of stew. A woman she didn’t recognise ladled a generous helping of stew into her bread bowl, then sprinkled the top with saffron.

Although it smelled of home, the sludge that filled her plate was a most unappetising brown; the purple from the root vegetable that they called a carrot had stained everything within.

Carrots should be orange after all, and Missions should have a clear path to follow… to trap her within. Ari shuddered: an invisible puppet-master pulling at a body that was no longer hers. How could she wish to be caged when she longed for freedom? How could she ache for home when it had never truly been hers?

‘With this meal,’ Father Mathis began once more, ‘let us savour our memories of Malory and Tristam. And for those who have never met them – I see a new member of the household who has just joined us today…’

Tilly froze with a half-chewed piece of bread in her mouth and blushed bright enough for Ari to see from the opposite end of the table.

‘…For those of us, let us think upon others we have loved and lost among the way. Let us feel the ache in our hearts, and acknowledge it.’

Ari scrambled for another quip to cut through the ache that trickled from Claribel’s heart into hers – or was it the other way around? – but Father Mathis’s voice boomed through it all.

‘Swollen feet hurt. It is because too much fluid has gathered there, and there is nowhere for it to go. Losing a loved one hurts. It is because too much love has gathered in your heart, and there is nowhere for it to go. Slowly, we must turn that love towards ourselves, because we are in a time of need. Let us now savour our meal, silent in voice but not silent in thought.’

He led them all in the three-fingered kiss, and the Great Hall fell silent but for the ripping of bread, clanging of salt cellars, and the incessant chew, chew, chew of the living.

~…~

~…~

~…~

Ari could feel it. Feel the keenness with which Claribel clung onto her knowledge of this world at times, toeing the line between helpful and inexhaustible, because that was the greatest use that she could provide Ari, and once she’d imparted the best of her knowledge, there’d be little use for her, truce or no truce; she’d be, simply, disposable.

~Look,~ Claribel whispered, despite not being audible to anyone but Ari, ~I trust you a lot already for someone I have only known for two days. What more do you want?~

~…~

~… …~

~Fine, fine, we’re just silently thinking thoughts to each other anyway. It’s not like we’re disturbing anyone else...~

Natty reached for the salt cellar and gave her a gentle nod.

~…apart from your friend, who isn’t a believer anyway.~

An act of good will, yet more than that, this was a chance to find out what Claribel could glimpse from Ari’s thoughts and memories. Would she ask about Ari’s world? About the Institute that trained all Agents? About the villains she’d fought against?

~I’ve actually wanted to ask for a while, but were you really found next to a river?~

A strange one to start with.

~Is that your first question to me?~

She fought the temptation to leave it at that. There was another reason to have Claribel ask first, and it was to set an example with how detailed she’d want the answers. Be a mirror onto others. Treat them the way they treat you.

~If you like goldfinches, we have plenty. Though perhaps not as many as in Aquilon. We should go for that hunt we missed when we… when we can. Luna and Sora will come with us too.~

Luna flicked her ears forward.

Unnecessary. <…great.>

~Do you get to ask one now? Or do you want me to keep asking?~

A gentle starter.

~To be honest… it is not a problem isolated to House Taur.~

Ari took in a mouthful of stew, and bit into the meat of it.