Chapter 11
A Place for Boots
Mercy stood before the great mirror in her palatial chambers making some final adjustments to her make up.
She had no idea what she was doing but she felt she’d made a decent enough job of it.
She dabbed lightly at her cheeks with some kind of powder and allowed her mind to wander.
It invariably found its way back to her father and the harsh words they’d spoken.
She felt bad about what she’d said. But she was also livid with his lack of trust in her judgement.
This was supposed to be one last happy memory for us until we next meet, she thought regretfully.
It’s all spoiled now. She put the powdered brush down and picked up her wine glass taking a big swallow of the red liquid.
The rooms Zanzo had provided herself and her father with were ostentatious beyond belief and had their own wine cabinets.
She’d not touched the cabinet until after the argument earlier, afterwards she had found she wanted something to take the edge off.
When life gives you mushrooms… stupid fucking saying.
There was a heavy knock at her door that startled her out of her thoughts. She gave the door a hesitant glance. It was probably her father, come to argue with her some more about her dreadful taste in men.
She was in no mood for a rematch just now though, if he wasn’t here to apologise she would happily slam the door in his face.
The door knocked again more insistently this time.
“I’m coming!” she fumed in response as she crossed the expansive distance from mirror to door. She flung it open ready for confrontation.
It was not her father or Zanzo, or anyone she knew.
It was a tall, skinny, pasty looking man with short blonde hair, a large hooked nose and a jealous little mouth. He stared at her appraisingly with piercing blue eyes —his only good feature as far as she could see.
His mouth twisted into a small ,uncertain smile “Hello” he began.
He still hadn’t blinked yet since she’d opened the door.
“Hello?..” mercy returned with mirrored uncertainty. His eyes sparkled and he stood up straighter in his rigid, linen outfit of cream and blue. “I’d heard there was a real aeth in this castle but I hadn’t believed it until now” he said quickly and excitedly.
Mercy blinked. She was in no mood to be gawked at by this lanky fool.
“Yea well you’ve seen me now, so off you go then..” she began to close the door but he stuck his boot in the way.
She looked at the offending boot then up at him, her anger flaring at the violation. He just stared back at her evenly with those blue, blue eyes.
“I’m sorry that was rude, you probably get that a lot.” He apologised.
Mercy said nothing. He gave a little cough, “errm, well I am Lord James Marvelo Peskar of Eard, the shimmering jewel of the windy sands, or so my family calls it.” He tittered at this.
Mercy continued to say nothing, she was hoping he’d get to the point before she stuck a dagger through his foot. “Yes well, I was hoping we could get to know each other at this wedding, and then maybe you could visit Eard after you leave here. I’d be delighted to host someone of your...origins”Mercy grimaced. What did this weird man know about her origins? Even she didn’t know them.
“That’s a nice offer, but Sadly I’ll have to decline, now kindly remove your boot from my door before you have to remove my boot from your arse” She spoke in harsh in a harsh tone but it didn’t seem to matter to him, his small mouth twisted into a grin, then he leaned in staring full in to her eyes and whispered
“I’d pay good money to have your boot up my arse” he finished by wetting his lips. “Have a good time at the wedding lady aeth” his boot left the door then he turned and left. Mercy closed the door and stood her back to it and listened to Peskar’s steps until they were gone. What a strange man she thought walking back to the mirror. Where was her father when men like that came calling?
Mercy looked herself over in the reflection She made one last adjustment to the powder then decided to wipe it all off, it had looked awful anyway. She turned and strode back across the chamber to the door, the ceremony would be starting soon and she didn’t want to be late. But halfway across the room her eyes caught the glint of her daggers that lay in the corner atop her dirty road clothes ‘if you’re not prepared for an emergency, you’re already dead‘ her fathers words sounded in her mind.
Mercy arrived out of breath at the castle gardens having run the last leg of the journey when she’d heard music starting to play.
She hadn’t wanted to miss anything having never been to a wedding before but now she was panting and sweaty, a good thing she’d taken the makeup off after all.
A crowd of richly dressed onlookers had flocked beneath the garden's entrance colonnade to escape the heat of the sun. They stood fanning themselves they Ooo’d and ahhh’d and made general noises of appreciation at whatever they were looking at.
Mercy shouldered her way through them making her apologies as they glared and tutted at her in turn, apparently unimpressed with her lack of social grace. She pushed past the last of them, a plump woman in the last of her forties who was sweating profusely beneath a heavy fur she recognised as one she and her father had sold. “Do you have no manners girl!” The fat woman squawked at her,“a young lady should not be pushing her way through decent folk!”
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Mercy, still in a bad mood, was ready to give the woman a loaded response but she was done arguing for the day and was determined to enjoy the rest of it.
“I’m sorry” she said, “that fur looks beautiful on you.”
The woman blinked, “oh, you think so? Thank you.” She looked Mercy over with veiled contempt, “you have a very… unique look.. I mean to say, that shoulder pauldron is.. errm.. interesting..”
Mercy beamed back at her as if this woman’s mild disdain was the highest of praise.
She turned her attention to the spectacle before them.
Many people wearing the fine liveries of the Torren’s were filing out of the castle into the sunny garden. Mercy recognised the lady of the castle who had welcomed Zanzo, she wore tightly laced linens and silks of orange — the Torren colours — that seemed to cling to her shapely body. She was a good looking woman for her age which Mercy reckoned to be somewhere in the mid thirties.
She was accompanied by a proud, Regal looking man with short black/grey hair and a moustache. Presumably Lord Farho. Next came a series of other lords and ladies from all over Urungeald, Mercy recognised Peskar among them, accompanied by a beautiful, scantily dressed dark skinned woman.
He looked over and their eyes met, he smiled a slimy smile at her and treated her to a limp wave then had the audacity to wink as well. Mercy shivered with disgust. “What’s the deal with that man” Mercy asked the fat woman.
“Hmm?” The woman hummed back at her with disinterest as she fanned her ever-sweating forehead delicately.
“That wormy fella with the woman barely wearing anything.”
The fat woman gave Mercy’s outfit another insulting look.
“Less can sometimes be more my dear, but that is James Peskar a minor Lord from Eard, his brother Arthur is the Town-lord there, but James was given a lot of the surrounding estates to manage.” “Why did they invite a minor lord?”The fat woman smiled indulgently. “Well, all sorts of people have been invited it seems, I could ask why you’re here. But I see from your ears you’re an aeth, someone here obviously likes to surround themselves with curiosities. I even saw a couple of wizards earlier and a filthy Orak.” the woman's sweat beaded face twisted with disgust. Mercy felt like twisting it all the way off, her father was a lot cleaner than this sweaty tub of lard. “Oh, really.” Mercy replied clenching her jaw,“yes, yes” the woman continued in a condescending tone. “Very dangerous to have one of those beasts skulking about. But to answer your earlier question, I believe James is attending in his brother's stead and that… woman—” she sneered the word woman, “— is one of his concubines, I believe it is said he collects them from wherever he can. But to have the gall to bring such a companion to an event like this… well it’s absurd to expect good noble stock like us—“ she gestured at everyone around them and herself, making it clear Mercy wasn’t included in this statement. “— just have to suffer it.”
Mercy let the flurry of insults roll over her absorbing what she’d just heard. So Peskar collected women. I knew he was a creep, he wanted to add me to his harem.
She looked at him, sitting now with the other Lords stroking his companion's inner thigh. Yuck.
Mercy was idly wondering if Peskar makes that woman put a boot up his skinny arse when the fat woman jostled her excitedly.“Here comes the happy couple!” She squealed delightedly.
The castles garden portcullis had opened and out came a godly looking pair, the handsome man that had accompanied his mother to meet Zanzo and a young, exotic woman clad in a pristine white dress that seemed to combine both regality and comfort, yet wasn’t so cumbersome that she would overheat in this weather. Unlike the pig standing next to her.
They moved with effortless grace towards the officiate who was to perform the marriage ceremony and usher them into a bright future. The crowd and Mercy herself were entranced.
Then suddenly the sound of an elephant trumpeting broke through the music the violinists and harpists were playing, it was quickly followed by the sound of real trumpets as Zanzo arrived in the gardens atop Roxanne dressed like a warrior emperor of old. The sun danced off every part of his jewelry and dazzled the crowds who began cheering their support for this disruption.
Mercy found herself laughing and cheering with them. Her father would have hated this she thought, and looking over at the nobles, the family, the bride and groom they didn’t seem pleased either; except maybe Lady Torren who had a strange little grin on her face as she looked up at Zanzo.
“What is this!” Boomed Lord Farho at Zanzo. “How dare you barge in like this!” He raged. The lord's anger washed off Zanzo like it was none existent. He looked down at Farho and gave him a warm smile full of perfect white teeth. “Good day my Lord Farho, well met. I see I am not too late to perform the ceremony!”
Mercy laughed, she couldn’t help it. Everyone else around her and even the rest of the gardens sat or stood aghast at that proclamation. The fat woman glared at her.
“What?!” Farho shouted, becoming more indignant by the second, his face red with rage and the embarrassment of the situation. “Can you not hear me, my lord?” Zanzo retorted breezily. “I suppose not everyone has ears like Roxanne here,” he said, patting the elephant affectionately. “I will perform the ceremony!” He shouted with a hero's voice, he didn’t ask, he didn’t demand, he merely stated the fact.
Farho looked to be incandescent at this stage “listen here you Librestan fool! You won’t—“
“Father please!” Called his son as he crossed the grounds to his side, “if Zanzo wishes to honour us by performing the ceremony, then why not let him? I imagine the Union of two people married by a hero couldn’t be any stronger.” Farho looked far from mollified. “If you wish to let this fool turn your wedding into a circus then go ahead! But get that elephant out of here!” He snapped, then stomped back over to his seat.
“Oh dear” the fat woman murmured.
Zanzo jumped off of Roxanne nimbly then grabbed her Bridle and led her forward. The officiate rushed towards him and began to protest, but Mercy couldn’t hear what was said properly because of all the murmuring around her from the confused, disgruntled guests.
The small, robed man waved his hands around and shouted something about the god Timeran. Zanzo laughed, said something, laughed again at whatever he himself had said then handed the man Roxanne's bridle. He clapped the officiate on the back and said something about…singing to the elephant? The officiate walked away, shoulders slumped in defeat and took the elephant with him.
Zanzo called for silence and proceeded to Marry the happy couple, he spoke surprisingly eloquently and his words poured out like great poetry saturated in a thousand lifetimes of pure joy and love. Some were moved to tears by the beauty of his words, even the fat lady, but her tears mixed with the sweat and makeup on her face creating a grotesque, salty paste.
Even Mercy found herself moved by them. How could her father not like this man? Sure he was a touch arrogant but he had many fine qualities that out weighed that, he loved his elephant, he was fun and he had nearly everyone’s respect, the boys - Eli and Jax loved him too. He was like a father to them.
Abruptly Mercy realised the ceremony was over as everyone cheered and she saw the now married pair were kissing. Somewhere someone released a flight of doves that flew off overhead. Mercy imagined they’d be dead soon in this environment and how it was such a waste then chided herself for thinking negatively like her father.
The fat woman turned to her nose upturned, “well it’s time for the feast now, I doubt I’ll see you there. Oh and not that you had the manners to enquire but I am Countess Violet Dymov,” she said haughtily before turning and mincing away. Mercy raised an eyebrow, it wasn’t like that woman had asked for her name either. Rude.