Having utterly destroyed one nightgown and ruined two perfectly good dresses in the course of far too much action, Aida decided quiet relaxation suited her perfectly. Twenty years moldering in a nursing home did little to prepare her for rituals in the dark, knife-fights in back alleys, aerial orgies, meetings with acned, adolescent seers, or suicidal attacks by delusional servants. Her head swam, punch drunk with all she'd endured, learned, and survived. A week in a calm, sunny room to rest and digest sounded heavenly.
The royal strider swayed to a halt.
Glancing out the curtained window allowed her to peer over the high, hewn-block estate walls. A gate of vertical bronze bars blocked the entrance, guarded over by a pair of larger-than-life statues. The first came straight off a movie poster: Ocyl striking a heroic pose holding a sword over the gate, complete with naked man and woman fawning at his feet. If Aida hadn't already met the Dynast it portrayed, the second would've made her blush. This likeness gripped an overly-large phallus in both hands, thrusting it out to cross his twin's sword.
"Remind me to get a couple of those made of me.”
Fallon moaned.
Fruit trees and flower gardens rich in bloom filled the interior, the carefully-manicured spread encircling a sizable, square villa. From the strider's height, she discerned a square inner courtyard punched into the structure's center with a collection of smaller buildings growing off the back. A huge tree spread from a corner of the courtyard. Long vines trailed from it to cover much of the white-tiled building until it became hard to tell if the vines grew up from the ground, hung down from the tree, or sprouted directly from the building itself. Colorful birds darted between the trees while small marble fountains burbled; enough white-noise to drown out any sound from the patchwork of smaller surrounding estates.
Perfect.
Fallon groaned and writhed on the cushions, weakly repeating something indecipherable. Someone's name? Only her surprisingly quick reflexes kept him from falling to the floor when he rolled over. They didn't save her drink, which spilled across the new dress Ocyl's servants had fetched for her before she left.
"Figures." She sighed, then laughed. "Dress isn't dirty since hard alcohol cleans, right?"
Her Seneschal twitched. She felt his forehead. "You're burning up!"
Before the carriage stairs even touched the ground she'd hefted Fallon out onto the path winding through the villa gates, surprised at either how light he was, how strong she'd become, or maybe both. Ghillie alighted beside her after a graceful leap from the carriage rails with Aida's two new Ferals following close behind.
Like the previous, Aida had 'bonded' them to her by dripping sweat into a couple of the few-dozen small gold flasks of water gifted her by Janali before Aida left the Spire. Whatever water was.
The first Feral proved one of those individuals managing to pull off muscular and fat both. The huge redhead carried a round shield and large axe. Aida spontaneously named her "Broadaxe". No one else got the joke.
The second, a twitchy, swarthy woman packing a spear, quiver of javelins, and dreadlocks threaded here and there with bits of tattered yellow ribbon. This earned her the moniker "Goldilocks" since Aida ruled a goddamn universe and could do what she wanted.
"Help get him inside." Carefully, Aida lowered Fallon to the white sand path. Ghillie and Goldilocks looked at Broadaxe. The big woman snorted, offered both an insulting gesture, and cradled the wounded Seneschal in her arms. Aida wondered whether they'd singled out the larger woman due to size or whether the skin-color hierarchy she'd witnessed in the Optomime's also applied to Ferals. Broadaxe's skin tone ran a shade lighter than even Ghillie's so it made an awful kind of sense.
Aida hated everything about it, but there was only so much she could do.
A swarm of house servants in Ocyl's favorite pale green poured from the villa to gather Fallon. Unlike the servitors in the Jade Eye, these covered the spectrum from pale to dusky. If the villa's servant diversity was New York, the Jade Eye was Idaho.
Aida followed like a mother hen until Fallon lay nestled into a wide, low bed in a small, well-appointed room. Her Ferals followed behind, Ghillie alert, Broadaxe gawking, Goldilocks shivering for some reason that Aida was about to inquire about when her attention diverted.
A reed-thin, pinch-faced older gentleman wearing thick spectacles strode into the room with his nose up as the bustle of servants departed. "Majordomo Riccaro, placing this house and all within at your beck, Dynast Aida of... of the One-Eighth."
Refined phrasing couldn't save the grating, nasality of his voice. Aida suppressed a wince.
"A pleasure to meet you." Only after she gave one of his extended hands a vigorous shake did she remember. "Sorry. Different customs where I'm from."
He withdrew his hand to his chest as though she'd bitten it while casting her a reproachful look. "The pleasure must surely be mine alone."
"You said it, not me." Her attention returned to Fallon. "We need a doctor."
"You need a what, Dynast Aida of the One-Eighth?"
"That's going to get old fast. Call me Aida. And a doctor. A surgeon. Whatever you call people who tend the sick when they're unwell. I think his wound might be infected or something."
Riccaro frowned. "Why Dynast Aida of the One-Eighth, the Spire informed me your Seneschal nearly died to an assassin's blade but blessedly found treatment by Ocyl's own soresearer, Fetriene."
"Blessed as a branding to cauterize a wound, sure. Just send for someone." She shook her head. "And Aida works, really. Really really."
"I will call for an Inoculist."
"You do that."
She noticed a pitcher on a low table and moved to pour Fallon a glass only to be intercepted by a green-liveried boy she hadn't noticed slipping into the room. Remembering the tortured looks the kid on the first royal strider gave her when she'd done his job for him, she let this one fill the pewter goblet.
While he poured she looked him over, surprised at his cleanliness and health compared to the mangy, gaunt, naked packs of children running the streets. Or their parents for that matter. Worse than the Mumbai slums she'd visited with her third husband by an order of several centuries worth of hygienic, dental, and medical understanding.
Riccaro glided beside her. "Hopefully you approve of this one? If not we can dismiss him and find one more to your liking, Dynast Aida of the One-Eighth. Dynast Ocyl keeps only the most attractive servants and I do apologize that we couldn't find one more fashionably pale."
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
The boy almost spilled the goblet and started shaking. A vivid image flashed through Aida's mind of him being hurled into the street like the kid Feral had chucked when they first arrived.
"The boy's perfect." Aida placed a hand on the kid's shoulder as he handed her the goblet. The boy shot her a quick, grateful look. "What's your name, kiddo?"
He stared open-mouthed for a moment before managing to speak.
"I'm called Stiller, Dynast."
"Nice to meet you, Stiller." She took his hand and shook it. Stiller stared at his hand in wonder while Aida turned to find Riccaro regarding the kid with a look of utter disdain. Her expression hardened. "Can I have you dismissed and find one more to my liking?"
"That's not... I mean you wouldn't... I..." Riccaro stumbled back as if struck, voice quavering when he found his words again. "If... if that is your wish, Dynast Aida of the One-Eighth."
"My wish is that you call me Aida." She crossed her arm. "My friends call me Aida."
"It wouldn't be proper for me to call you such, Dynast Aida of-"
"People my Ferals don't accidentally kill when I'm not paying attention call me Aida." She made finger quotes around 'accidentally.'
Riccaro glanced towards the door against which Ghillie lounged.
"Yes, Dy... yes, Aida."
He turned to go, but she grabbed his arm as an idea formed. "Had an idea. I think it's time for me to get my own staff. Retinue. Whatever you call it. If I'm going to be a ruler, I should probably start looking the part and stop bumming off other people."
When she let go he recoiled again as if burned.
"No touchy the Riccaro, got it," she mumbled.
He bowed. "Many and more already gather outside the villa to seek employment with you, Dy... Aida. Your Seneschal would be the one to handle such things."
Aida rolled her eyes and glanced at Fallon. "My Seneschal would be half-dead from a stabbing and burning so l guess that's out, along with any hope of a nice, restful stay. Can I get a bath in, at least, before people scale the walls?"
Riccaro nodded so hard his glasses almost fell off. "Yes! We made the bathhouse ready as soon as you approached, Dy... Aida. Should I have a servant woman attend you?"
"You had me at bathhouse, whatever 'attend' means."
A smiling, olive-skinned woman with beautiful eyes and a radiant smile met them in the hallway.
"The Dy..." Riccaro caught himself, shooting a look at Broadaxe as he faked a cough. "Aida would bathe."
The servant woman turned to Aida, struggling to suppress a smile as she bowed. Aida liked her instantly.
"Dynast." The woman extended her arms palms down. Aida did better this time, placing her hands palm up atop them. "Come this way, I will show you to the bath."
In spite of all that lay ahead and behind her, Aida found the woman's attitude infectious and couldn't help but smile back. "Thank you. That would make my day, my week even."
The woman laughed and practically danced down the hallway, it's marble-white tiling mosaiced with colorful birds and stalking felines. Latticework stands spilled over with plants thriving beneath skylights, soaking the building with aromas of perfume and green growth.
"What's your name?"
The woman's smile vanished. "I would not demean you with this one's name."
Aida stopped and the woman halted, worry tightening her face. "I'm sorry, Dynast, I did not mean to offend-"
"You would do me an honor to tell me your name." Aida took the woman's hands. "Your smile's the best thing that's happened to me in days."
After quavering for a moment, the woman's brilliant smile returned. "My name is Aliasara, Dynast."
"Your name's as beautiful as you are, Aliasara. And my name is Aida, not Dynast."
The woman giggled. "This is not at all proper for a Dynast. Riccaro warned me so many times how we should behave; it will be a hard habit to break."
"I'm no proper Dynast so don't worry about it. Just ask my Seneschal." Aida's smile faltered. "Besides, I've never been a proper lady, to the chagrin of everyone around me since I was old enough to walk or talk."
Aliasara led her through the courtyard, their arrival startling an explosion of bright red-and-yellow birds roosting in one of the many fruit trees growing in the diffuse shade of the vine-slung, long-branched tree dominating the graveled space. They laughed, hands pressed to hearts to calm their startlement as the birds squawked and swooped through the orchard.
"Thank God it was only birds," Aida said, taking deep breaths. "With the couple of days I've had I wouldn't have been surprised if it the tree attacked me."
Aliasara grinned. "No trees like that here, though nothing here is from here."
She picked up a nondescript piece of gravel. "Shalestone. Seemingly-normal gravel, but shipped from Shale which means it cost more than everything everyone on my entire street owns to cover this yard."
"That's ridiculous!" Aida picked up another pebble. Yup, gravel. "I don't understand Ocyl."
"Something I've overheard from many visitors even in my short time here. No matter who they are, they can't figure him out. 'He doesn't want what a Dynast should want, do what a Dynast should do' they say."
"As I learn more about what Dynasts 'should want and do', I'm begining think Ocyl and I may be cut from the same cloth, much as it pains me to say it." They discarded their rocks and Aida toed the gravel. "Together this stuff is worth a mint, on its own it's just a rock. Ain't that the way of things?"
Aliasara's laughter lifted Aida's heart.
"Are you always this happy?"
Aliasara plucked a bright, pear-ish fruit from the tree and tossed it to Aida.
"My parents tried to beat the happiness out of me when I was a girl. They failed, though not for lack of trying. This week I am especially happy though."
Crossing the courtyard, they passed through a doorway, turned, and Aliasara ducked through a bead curtain. Aida paused and turned to her Ferals. "Relax for a bit, I think we're pretty safe here."
Broadaxe nodded and strode off towards the front doors, Goldilocks slipped off towards the courtyard, and Ghillie dropped to sit cross-legged across the hall from the doorway.
"You can go too, Ghillie."
Ghillie pointed at Aida, pointed at herself, then made a couple rhythmic double-taps on her chest.
You live, I live, Aida understood from it.
"Suit yourself." She ducked through the bead curtain.
The bathouse: polished, sky-blue plaster coating ceiling and walls, dabbed here and there with an approximation of clouds. Diffuse, sun-plaza-light pouring through a skylight, tinting the space with a warm hue and setting the rising steam aglow.
Aliasara untied the strings on Aida's dress as Aida bit into the fruit, not worrying about the sticky juice running down her front. They stood in a bathhouse after all.
Surprisingly, Ghillie walked in a moment later and slipped out of her eponymous suit with surprising ease. She slid into the water with the ease of an otter. One of Aida's grand-nieces trained as a competitive gymnast; the only other woman Aida'd seen with the same degree of lean muscle and hard tendon as Ghillie. All over Ghillie's body, the tiny, round white scars Aida's seen on her face and hands formed lines and patterns, like some ritualistic tattooing performed in such a way as to render it as unobtrusive as possible. Aida wanted to ask, but until she knew more of their sign language, nothing meaningful would likely come of it.
"Need a better acupuncturist or something," she muttered to herself.
She turned to Aliasara as she stepped out of her dress. "Why're you so happy this week, Aliasara? Tell me in full detail as I could use some joy for a bit. My days have been unending, complex, and fraught since Fallon and Feral first walked into my room."
"This week I am a mother, the most sacred person in the Book. I walk in holy Ebon's footsteps, Mother of the Dynasty." Aliasara folded Aida's dress neatly and set on a marble bench. "And through Riccaro's kindness in hiring me I also work today that all my family will eat tonight. Hundreds came here when I did in hopes of finding work and I alone was blessed with employment."
Aida's heart stopped in the face of the woman's simple joy and she took a deep breath to keep from crying. Aliasara slipped out of her own light gown to reveal breasts swollen with milk over bony ribs. An anorexic, recently-pregnant supermodel before airbrushing.
"My God, you're so thin! And you're here working after you just gave birth?"
"I'm better fed than most I know, thanks to this job. I'm happy to be here. My newborn daughter lived and so did I, Ascendant be praised." Suddenly Aliasara looked concerned, rubbing the inside of her thighs. "Do not worry, Aida, the baby was so small I hardly bled at all! I won't disturb your bath."
"You gave birth a few days ago and you're happy to be working. I became immortal, was given a giant turtle corpse for a home, saw men die and watched two... one of my Ferals die for me, and probably killed some people on accident with this thing." Aida touched the ring at her throat. "And... I'm not sure where I was going with that. Or how I should feel. It's all been going so fast it'll take me weeks to catch up to myself."
Aliasara nodded and led Aida into the deliciously-warm water. "Women have many troubles, but at least we can have our feelings about what is going on without concern for others believing we are weak. Feel what you feel."
"I'm tired of being strong." Aida's whole body slumped as if her bones melted. Something inside broke open and she fell against Aliasara, wracked with sobs.
While Ghillie watched protectively from the hazy far side of the pool, Aliasara held her, rocked her, cooing and singing lullabies as they floated the steamy cloudscape of the bathhouse.