Conclave season going great this year. Today’s session? A bar room brawl after two young men came to blows! The subject of their acrimony? The honor of Lady Mishkan after she and her associated Houses voted against extension for the tariffs.
That’s our Conclaves, folks. Fisticuffs because someone dared suggest we shouldn’t have to pay triple for silverware.
For once in their damned lives, could these Lords and Ladies pull that fork out of their foreheads and help the rest of us out?
Spring 15
“Nine days, Rie. Nine bloody days!”
Valkyrie cleaned the loft; pressed her clothes; drew little stencils of flowers to lighten the mood; even rolled up her sleeves and cleaned up the creepy butler’s studio! All for the sake of demonstrating her commitment to Alisandra.
Nine days, dressed and bathed and smiling and ready, and the angel had yet to return to the loft during waking hours to appreciate the effort!
“Hells, being such a good girl is exhausting!”
Yes, this will not suffice, agreed Rie from the rafters of her mind. Her eye must fall upon us!
“It would help if she even stopped by!”
The girl briefly considered creating a minor emergency to draw Lady Mishkan’s attention. Something small and easy.
Maybe a kitchen fire.
Though what if the creepy butler answered instead?!
Right on queue, he entered the loft, both hands heavy with burlap sacks that clinked on every step and his postman sack tucked against his back.
Valkyrie bolted upright from her couch mountain pillow fort with her most winsome smile ready…
“Oh. Just you.”
“Who did you expect?”
“Alisandra would be nice.”
He shuffled to the dining room table and heaved the bags onto its surface with a clatter. “Alas, her attention remains on Waves. Have you perchance listened to the radio?”
“Found a bootleg frequency doing saucy readings.”
“Informative in other arenas, but I refer to somber matters. The Tempest’s exploratory expedition has found more evidence of malfeasance from outlying Azure temples.”
Whether God is near or far, the profit motive remains, Rie stated. A man must eat, and it might as well be steak.
“That’s awful!” Valkyrie muttered.
“To complicate matters, the trail of money leads into many unexplored corners,” Sebastian continued. “In another six hours, the Archangel will confirm that Ruhum’s ambassador enjoyed the attention of temple girls while on multiple retreats.”
Valkyrie shuddered at the thought.
“However, you need not concern yourself with such things,” the angel noted. “Perhaps it is wisdom that you confine yourself to these walls.”
Now she twitched in annoyance.
“In thirty days you may complete your penance and return to your peaceful life.”
My boring life! she snarled to herself.
The angel of Witness delivers his mockery from his high roost as usual, Rie added scornfully.
“Speaking of peaceful, what the hells is all that?” Valkyrie groused. “I thought you were a mail man.”
He patted the sacks. “Fresh locks for the loft and manor.”
“You worried about security?”
“You are welcome to test them.”
The thought of breaking his toys appealed to the demon within, but she shrugged. “I would hate to be so predictable.”
The angel of Witness stared unblinking. “Then by all means. Do something unpredictable.”
Ideas clashed in her head. She could wave her arms and squawk like a duck. Burst into swears. Maybe pick up one of the sacks and toss it at him! Yet even as she sparked the thoughts, they dimmed to trite embers.
Squawk like a duck? You can see kids do that at the park. Swear? Nothing I can say that Conner didn’t teach me. Throw a sack at him? As if I could lift that thing.
“It is difficult, is it not? Conception and negation in the same breath.”
Where might we go but where our feet have been set before?
The echo rang through Valkyrie’s head, an injected thought in Sebastian’s voice.
No, dear, an echo. Everyone echoes. Even angels. To touch the world, you must let it touch you.
“Everyone does it?” she muttered. “So people just walk around leaking thoughts?!”
“You refer to my echo?” the angel asked. “Such remnants are driven by strong emotion and resonance.”
Reeks of Eden, Rie sniffed.
“Reeks of Eden,” Valkyrie replied, her lilt strong.
“A stench that clings for millennia,” the angel agreed. He moved to the kitchen, pulled out ingredients, and began to mix a drink. “The old wars, the old lines on the map…those also continue to echo. Take, for example, your mother’s name. Belle. Have you wondered why the last letter is silent? Certainly an anomaly in our current tongue.”
“One weird name in our family is enough!”
“You will find the explanation of yours in this library. Look for the Edda if you are curious. Who knows? Perhaps Lynne saw true; perhaps it is your fate to shepherd souls to paradise.”
“I thought that was the duty of angels?” she retorted, drawing on her demonic vocabulary.
“We are messengers. Instruments. Servants to a greater purpose.” Sebastian poured a cup of cream and a cup of cocoa together, stirred, and slid the concoction in her direction. “The debate over that mantle was fierce. For what we would claim; what for we would bind ourselves to.”
Alas, that we might have questioned that purpose
Yet we yearned for righteous burden
Valkyrie shivered against the cold weight of that much history. A millennium. Ten millennia. A hundred millennia!
Where would Ruhum be after so long? How much would even remain? Even the mightiest stories rendered down to drifting names?
“The detritus of history,” Sebastian whispered.
Though did he refer to ancient names or himself?
“Forgive me. I tarry overlong, and the mail must be delivered.”
Bowing, Sebastian departed.
***
Delivering the next letters, Sebastian reflected on his words.
Do something unpredictable, he asked.
Asking of a child what he could not accomplish himself.
Locks and letters both delivered to their correct destinations.
He really was cruel.
***
Spring 16
The next morning, Valkyrie woke from sour dreams.
In thirty days you may complete your penance and return to your peaceful life
“To hells with that!” she muttered, tossing a pillow.
Rising for breakfast, she stole a glance at the Mishkan study behind its impossible lock and then pointedly made herself oatmeal.
With cake for dessert.
Oh, cake, how I love you.
A love that could only be satisfied by a second slice!
Then she sank to the couch castle with an ancient guitar found at the back of Alisandra’s closet.
“Another thirty days, huh? Guess I could learn.”
She ran her fingers down the guitar’s neck. “Mom told me that my father played. Said the guitar was the instrument of his gentle soul, cradled in farmer’s hands.”
And what of you?
“Maybe it could be fun?”
Then why not, darling?
Valkyrie sniffed. “Mom would get that misty expression on her face.”
Would rush to find Valkyrie a teacher; to tell her of how the father she’d never met loved this or that song; would turn her idle curiosity into a production.
“Then I’d just be following my dead father’s footsteps.”
What if she just wanted to learn for herself?
Half an hour, her fingers aching, she set it aside. “Maybe more later…”
Glanced at the Mishkan study; then at the bag of locks.
Something on your mind, dear?
“No.”
She nibbled a few more sweets and then dug through the library until she found the Edda. It was hand-written in tight, block script and sparsely decorated by precise pencil drawings of ornate heraldry, swords, and shields.
She dropped on her bed and skimmed stories of one-eyed men and ravens; mistletoe and contests; giants and serpents. Unmoored from anything she knew – what the hells was mistletoe?! – the stories percolated into her imagination.
A light drizzle began outside, and she moved to the window to watch. There, droplets running down glass, she pretended that she strode a sodden battlefield, clad in gold leaf and sweeping her spear through legions of faceless foes. Searching the dim horizon, yearning for her opposite, for the one who would meet her head-on and complete her…
The faceless hordes yielded, and upon the opposite hill, a woman pulled off her own helmet to let teal locks tumble over her shoulders.
Rie snickered.
Flushing, Valkyrie slammed the Edda closed and went to dig up a hymnal for more guitar practice.
Instead of a pious hymnal, she found a faded sheaf of music labeled, Aure – 352 – progressions 43 to 54.
We never met him, Rie mused, but always wondered about him. Thea and I agreed to learn from his example. To never become gods, Covenant or otherwise.
Valkyrie sat down with the guitar again, the sheaf across her knees.
Paused.
“Would you happen to know how to read sheet music, Rie?”
***
Spring 17
The loft was out of good cake. All the butler left was poppy seed!
She begrudgingly ate it.
After cake, fingernails still aching from the guitar yesterday, Valkyrie glanced once more at the Mishkan loft. At the bag of locks.
“I am being a good girl,” she mumbled half-heartedly.
At least, when Ali is looking, agreed Rie.
The locks agreed with the demon. How they yearned for the picking!
Succumbing to temptation, Valkyrie peeked into the first bag. Inside, gleaming metal and a purchase order. Reading the purchase order, she learned that the bags contained twenty-two locks, two of each grade of Nickel Trilock between two and three hundred.
Not even a three-ten? tutted Rie. Cheapskate.
She covered Ali’s nice dining room table with some papers from the pile by the door. Then, taking the stolen lockpicks in one hand and a Nickel Trilock two hundred in the other, Valkyrie turned her full attention to the problem. By the time lunch came…
…she had yet to even manage the first lock and surrendered for the day.
“Stupid things!”
She shoved the offending locks away. The papers beneath shifted, revealing a vellum letter with the wax seal of a noble House.
“Now what do we have here? House business. Might be important…”
Rie snorted. You don’t need to justify mail fraud to me, Val.
Valkyrie snickered. “Right! It might be something Ali needs to hear about right away!”
She popped the seal and unraveled the letter. Skimming…
“My dearest Lana, I hope this finds you well…our last meeting was a delight…my regards to your mother…” She flipped to the next page. “…my condolences on…agree that we must…”
Two more pages, and she finally reached something interesting.
“It is my pleasure to invite you to my birthday party this seventeenth day of Spring!”
A House scion by the sound of it. Not too old; few past twenty-five bother with a birthday soiree.
“After food and dancing, I would be delighted to meet you once more on the field of battle, dearest Lana. My grandfather has kindly arranged a most generous set of gifts including a resplendent new board and set.” She paused. “Board and set?”
Chess, dear.
“He wants to woo a girl with…chess.” She wrinkled her nose, picturing herself at the table with a wheezing old man fussing over the carved figurines for tedious hours.
The finishing schools teach it. A keen intellect for sharp-minded children – or so the matrons claim. Rie snorted. The same matrons counsel the girls: ‘win no more than one in three, or he will worry you cannot bear the duty of marriage’.”
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
“Sod that!”
Still, the letter was only a passing fancy. She had only to wait her durance out…
Until mother comes to pick me up from daycare with the king of all lectures.
And Ali buys you a bow for your hair as a parting gift, the demon whispered in her ear.
The girl thumped the table; the papers shifted; and a newspaper headline appeared like the light of heaven through the clouds.
Lacking donors, Azure orphanage set to close.
Citing the ongoing economic hardship and a paucity of donors (in the wake of last year’s legislation to force all such donors to declare their names in public record), the Fifthborough Home For Hope states that it lacks the capital to continue operations past Summer.
If new revenue cannot be procured, the children will be sent to the work houses to earn their keep.
She grinned to herself. “Rie…how do you feel about a bit of charity work?”
Oh?
“How much does a ‘most resplendent’ board sell for?”
The demon fell silent – that occasional reminder that she was a mere shadow.
“…okay, what’s a fancy chess board made of?”
This her passenger answered immediately. Jungle wood for the board. Ivory and gold pieces, of course. Oh my, I hope you aren’t contemplating anything illegal now…
They giggled together, lunchtime conspirators.
I think I know the perfect dress to choose, the demon planned. To steal chess pieces or other noble gifts, you want a hefty purse with a broad strap and cloth or towels to wrap the pieces for silence. We will need a crash course for your curtsy…
“No time to waste!” Valkyrie agreed, leaping to her feet with the bounce back in her step and the scheme flowering before her mind’s eye.
Yes, an excellent exercise, the demon agreed. Ours is not a soul destined for sleep. We hunger for the sun!
***
The perfect dress waited in the depths of Valkyrie’s closet. Neatly pressed, never worn, a white gown with a red ribbon winding around the ribs and a slim bodice.
Exactly her size, top to bottom.
“Perfect for the county faire,” she joked to cover her unease. “Is this really appropriate for a noble party?”
We will just have to play against type, Rie shrugged.
“Every other girl there is going to mock me.”
Loved or scorned. What is the difference? All eyes on you.
A Mirielle memory bubbled into her mind. For a moment, Valkyrie stood in a shimmering red dress at the head of a decadent stairwell, crimson hair spilling over her shoulders. Below her, the guests stared at her in envy, in awe, in undisguised disgust…
But did it matter? They all accepted her coin. A life of ease; unrivaled bliss; indulgence of idle fantasy or long-hidden fetish …
And in return, naught but a favor here or there, never onerous.
Shaking free of the vision, Valkyrie seized her skirts. “If you can do it, so can I!”
On her own initiative, she braided her hair with another ribbon at the tip.
Inspecting her results in the mirror, she grinned. “We’re a proper looking girl with an evil smile.”
A classic! agreed the demon.
Borrowing a purse from Alisandra’s room, she departed the loft mid-afternoon. She wore a summer hat to hide her face and hair, a jacket over her shoulders, and kept a hurried pace all the way out of the Woodhaven complex. Most of the borough at work, she arrived at the Sevensborough bridge unimpeded.
“The old Erudite manor,” she reminded herself. “Should be where the creeks meet.”
I do wonder what deal this noble struck to occupy another House manor, Rie mused. Have the Houses weakened so dearly in barely over a decade?
“Oi! I need you focused! We’re here to rob the louts blind, not read their diaries!”
The diaries are often more valuable than the jewelry.
“Maybe once you’re already rich!”
Crossing the bridge, Valkyrie followed the creek into the northmost edges of Sevensborough. Compared to the Azure sprawl to the south, here the borough built individual houses along dirt roads. Most such buildings sagged, their shoddy timbers already groaning with the weight of time, and the lawns were largely weeds.
“Like some sad reflection of Firstborough…”
Also unlike further south, many of these houses hung the three rings of fire on their porch, and Valkyrie spotted quite a few Livery uniforms drying along the window.
If the Houses weaken, so too do their chosen pets, Rie noted.
Valkyrie would bet gold notes that this northern chunk of borough dreamed of nothing more than its southern counterpart washing away in a flood.
Rie’s demonic gifts omitted exact directions, and the girl wandered a while through the dense, still borough. Finally, approaching dinner time, she heard the distant call of a band warming up, and she followed that sole echo of gaiety to the gala.
The Erudite manor stood apart, the creeks expanded into a moat around the grounds. Chain link fences ringed the little island, and fresh-built sheds covered the former yard. A bare concrete bridge offered the only access from the dirt roads, guarded by humorless scoundrels.
A diner on Main; the door open.
A mansion at the headwater; the gates drawn
Which is the safe harbor in this storm?
“What’d you say?” she whispered to her demon.
Hmm? Nothing, my sweet, Rie assured. We should focus on the prize at hand.
“Alright. Here we go.”
Stiffening her back, Valkyrie gripped her purse tight and strode across the concrete bridge.
As she approached, a Livery servant peeked out of the guard house. He gestured, and one of the scoundrels strode forward to intercept her at the midpoint of the bridge.
“This is private property, kid.”
Let me guide you, the demon soothed. My song knows the way. You belong here. You belong wherever you choose to go.
A dreamer dancing to an unseen tune, Valkyrie sniffed. “Watch your tongue, cur. If you value your position, you will announce me.”
A muscle in the man’s jaw twitched, but he asked, “Then might I see your invitation?”
Which she produced from her purse.
He ferried the letter back to the Livery servant in the gatehouse. Removing a glove, the servant ran his fingers of the paper, checked the seal, checked the signature, and pulled out a list of his own to compare.
Livery always signals with the hands, Rie warned.
Sure enough, the Livery flicked his hand several times, easily dismissed as the idle dusting of a perfectionist.
One of the scoundrels raised a hand to rub at his cheek.
The demon in her head burst out in laughter.
Oh, they do not know the face of their guest!
A gentle leftward flick of the hand, easily dismissed as idle movement, which demonic knowledge whispered meant the men were unsure.
Look at those fresh cufflinks! Ah, Fortune turns our way, Rie sang. New staff? This is barely a challenge!
“I will be late for the festivities,” Valkyrie warned imperiously.
The clothed and clandestine Livery exchanged more secret signals but ultimately caved before her pressure.
“The esteemed Lana Moray! Make way!” the Livery gateman called, dragging back the chain gate before her.
Swishing past, she dropped her jacket into a waiting arm and entered the estate proper. The band’s warming song buoyed her step, an effortless glide through the muddy courtyard, and she entered the reception hall to find it already full with the scions of the idle rich.
Don’t they have anything better to do? Valkyrie wondered, beelining for the buffet and the finger foods.
Of course not. And neither do you. Slow your pace. Eat like you’ve had ten thousand truffles; like the luxury of chocolate has grown stale on your tongue.
Ignoring that, Valkyrie piled her plate. Then she scooted to a corner to observe the swirl.
The band played radio hits; a few girls already swirled on the marble dance floor; the clinking of fine silverware covered the paucity of laughter.
So this is what a noble birthday looks like? She eyed a conspicuous table, piled high with gifts, and watched as a young man added another to the pile. Most of these scions are barely older than me.
Rie added, On paper, they oversee their parent’s businesses…or study for the great academies…or command naval vessels…
Establishing the pedigree that would insert them into wealth in a few short years. A few of the more duteous ones would even attempt to actually run things – though this was usually discouraged!
Memories stirred of a world buried in ash, seen through Mirielle’s eyes. A thousand parties, just like this, where the scions retired to back rooms and divvied up the world – as was clearly their birthright.
Your birthright, reminded the demon, applying the lightest of touches.
Weightless and aloof, Valkyrie finished her plate and swam the sea of folk.
Her reflection a touch taller, a touch fuller, flattering from every angle.
The best of lies – the ones we all want to hear.
As the music paused, she arrived at the furthest table and the birthday boy. Sixteen years old, his face ruddy and suit firm-pressed, the young man reclined in the curve of a heavy couch with a girl on either arm.
He frowned at her. “Who the hells are you?”
“Don’t you recognize Lana Moray?” she purred.
“You’re not Lana.”
This little prince has girls a plenty. See through his eyes. He knows, deep down, that they do not hunger for him. Show him that you do not care.
“No, I’m better,” she smirked.
“Call the butlers,” one of his floozies murmured.
Show him that you are a touch dangerous.
“Before all the fun?” Valkyrie tutted.
He raised his arms from the girls, gesturing for a servant. “What are you doing here?”
Leave him hungering for what happens next.
“Robbing you blind,” she purred.
Rie exerted herself; a warm throb of excitement raced up Valkyrie’s spine; all the party conspired to their hidden drum. Two adults stepped between Valkyrie and the little prince, and she slipped behind them. Another bumped into the servant, delaying his approach. Reaching the hall, snagging a kebab, she glimpsed the little prince twisting and turning in alarm.
He caught sight of her in the hall.
She blew him a kiss.
Out of sight. Make him work.
“I thought we were here to steal his presents?” Valkyrie whispered.
By the time we are done with this place, he will trip over himself to offer them.
For the blessing of our presence
For one more moment in this dream
Mirielle rang in her bones.
Valkyrie ducked into the kitchen, flashing a smile for the maids, and plucked a cookie from its plate.
Behind her, the little prince shouted into the hallway. “Lana!”
Invite them. All are welcome in our world.
“We can’t make it too easy on him, now can we?” she hummed, slipping under a table, and the maids all snickered.
The little prince stomped into the kitchen. “Have you seen a girl with blonde hair?”
“Pardon me, Master Theodore, but I have not,” one answered.
“Useless as the last batch!” he muttered under his breath, stomping out.
Now we hunt him!
Valkyrie winked for the maids, slipped away, and found a good balcony to linger.
Long enough for Master Theodore to catch a glimpse of her ribbon from the yard.
Their eyes locked; she smiled for him alone; and Rie whispered, He is yours.
She led him on a merry chase through the hallways – a glimpse of her hand – and through the yard – the sound of her laugh – and past unwitting guards…
Rie coaxed her the whole way, higher and higher, every footfall laid to demonic intent.
Now that we have the lay of the land, we reel the princeling in.
She allowed herself to be cornered in the training hall. Theodore rushed in to find her balanced atop the calisthenics bars, kicking one foot and smirking.
“Who the hells are you?!” Theodore Lee demanded again, huffing.
“Tonight?” she sang. “Tonight, I am Lana Moray.”
“I should call the guards!”
“Yes. You should.”
But you won’t
The scion glanced around the deserted hall. “It’s just you and me.”
“Were you planning a citizen’s arrest?” she asked from her perch.
Before he could respond, the power went out.
Annoyed shouts rose across the estate. Someone called for the generator; a guest dropped their glass on the floor in the main hall.
“Happen often?” the young woman asked laconically.
“Damned Briarwood,” Theodore muttered.
What does Briarwood need with Sevensborough power? Thankfully, the darkness covered her puzzlement.
A peel of thunder rolled across the borough; then a second; then a third.
A few moments later, the power returned.
“They show no respect for their betters!” the boy snarled, voicing long-injured pride.
“What’s so important?” Valkyrie agreed.
“Damned tests should run off the farms anyways.”
I wonder… the demon mused. Have they found something interesting, my dear?
Theodore shrugged. “Whatever. Grandfather’s going to get us out of this hole soon anyways.”
“Oh? How’s that?”
The boy snorted. “Like I’m going to tell a thief!”
Valkyrie kicked her feet, rocking on the bar. “Oh? How about a little challenge then?”
He smirked. “A challenge? You would not last two rounds here.”
“Then how about…” She tapped a nail against her lip. “…a game of chess?”
Rie, you better guide me right!
Just put the pieces where I tell you, dear. Wiggle forward a bit.
She did.
Her dress pulled a touch higher, and Theodore flushed at the forbidden hint of her leg.
So much more potent for the teasing.
“Very well. I accept your challenge!” he coughed, eyes looking everywhere but her.
See how they weave stories. Theodore is a little king. Nobility, honor, oaths, all that. You need only slip into his story, and he will dance to your fiddle of his own accord.
“Then when I win you will tell me your secrets!”
“When I win,” he countered, “I will arrest you!”
Valkyrie giggled. “Very well! Then you may not arrest me until then!”
She spun on the bar and leaped to the dusty floor. Smoothing her skirts, she offered her elbow.
He hesitated, unsure if he should grasp her like a criminal or a Lady.
“Shall we?”
Sucking his lip, he accepted her elbow and escorted the false Lady up the stairs. They entered the living quarters and the game room, its walls studded with dead beasts and trophies, and approached a central table of jungle wood that cost more than Valkyrie’s mother had made in her lifetime.
Let him seat you.
She waited before a chair, letting him slide it out, and slipped into her seat. “Forward, good sir. Our match awaits.”
His brow wrinkled in thought as he turned away.
Another lesson. You told him who you were – a thief. Yet you smile and play. You may proclaim all the most devious of schemes, but as long as you smile they will doubt the truth of it. Especially from a pretty girl.
It hasn’t been ten minutes! Valkyrie marveled.
Ah, but it is unpalatable to such a knight as good Theodore to see a brilliant smile condemned to the constable wagon. But if you were a peer; if this was some kind of prank…then it would all be in sport, don’t you think?
The scion fetched a case and laid it across the game table. Opening it, he revealed chess pieces in ivory and gold – as Rie had predicted – and laid them out on a jungle wood board. The pieces had been hand-crafted with individual faces, and Theodore was the knight.
“Careful now,” Valkyrie teased, tapping her finger on the king. “Pawns can be dangerous too.”
“Spoken like a true amateur,” Theodore sniffed.
All yours, Rie.
As you command!
In three moves, the demon assessed the young man’s skill. By seven, she had laid her trap. He bit like a hungry carp, and she knocked over his king inside three minutes.
“A cheap trick!” he huffed.
“All’s fair in love and war, Theo.”
Observe. He would be loath to part with his secrets for a single game. His pride battered, his thoughts turn back to capturing a thief. Ah, but we are not actually playing for his answers!
Following the whisper, Valkyrie purred, “Rematch?”
“Best of three, of course!” the young man agreed, resetting the pieces. “Now I am ready for your tricks!”
From the stairs, a maid called, “Master Theodore!”
Men tromped up the stairs behind her.
“Master Theodore, we must request your presence!”
Oh, that is no fun, Rie sighed. The game is barely begun!
The demon nudged, and Valkyrie snagged Theodore’s wrist. She raised one finger to her lips for silence, and the demon within exerted herself once more.
A moment later, the servants arrived at the game room.
“Master Theodore?” asked the maid, peering side to side, blind to them both.
“Why are the lights on?” the Livery butler behind her asked.
“I turned them off after cleaning!” the maid answered defensively.
Theodore glanced between Valkyrie and the oblivious servants. Shocked, he mouthed, “Sylph?”
She only smirked mysteriously.
“Check the study again,” the Livery butler muttered. “If this new thief is after the papers…”
“I’ve two men posted,” a man assured. “If that door so much as rattles…”
The scoundrel ran his thumb over his throat.
Glancing away from the men, the maid whispered to herself, “If we don’t find that little harlot, we’re as doomed as the last batch. Her or us.”
“The old bastard beat his chambermaid so bad she pissed blood after the last incident,” agreed the nearest servant quietly. “Then he charged her for the doctor and pitched her out!”
“Decorum!” snapped the Livery butler. “Ours is not to question the master but to execute his will!”
The Livery have not changed at all, Rie noted. A grievous mistake.
The maid turned off the lights, and the servants hurried down the hall. Their voices dwindled, still calling for the young master.
Seize the initiative. Show a little vulnerability.
“They’re going to beat me?!” Valkyrie gasped.
“What? N-no!” Obvious doubt in his voice. “A-admittedly, Grandfather was apoplectic after…”
“You heard the maid. ‘Her or us!’” She clung to his sleeve, letting her bosom press against his bicep.
Theodore flushed, firmed, straightened. “Wait here. I’ll go explain. This is all a misunderstanding.”
“You will?” she gasped in wonder, so wide eyed her cheeks ached.
Privately, she gagged. Really, Rie?
“On my honor!”
The scion marched into the hallway, leaving her alone in the darkened room.
“Hells, he ate that wilting maiden routine right up,” she grumbled. Unslinging her purse, she withdrew linen rags and began to wrap the chess pieces.
Quite useful when you need a strapping young man to do your work. Alas, it is a limited role. They will break mountains to champion your honor, but die rather than heed your words. Plus, they tend to become agitated when you stab someone. Disrupts the image.
Valkyrie stopped. “What?”
Ah, we must leave a note. ‘Looking forward to that rematch.’
“Why?!”
Style, my dear.
Shaking her head, the girl quickly scribbled the note, dropped it on Theodore’s chair, and focused on the robbery at hand.
As she packed the pieces into her purse, the demon inside sighed in sudden contemplation. You have a beautiful soul.
The dawn of your day
The chamber of your sky
Honey-colored cumulonimbus stolen from heaven itself…
We’re going to draw that Light down, the demon sang to herself. Pry it free from thrice-damned jealous Hands…
Valkyrie stowed the last of the gold pieces and hurried onto the ivory, her neck itching.
The demon in her garden closed her eyes and sighed. Soon, Thea…
No
No more
Our Song shall not be your mummery
In distant dream, a sword was drawn. Flames like judgement roared across the vision. Furious metal pierced her gut.
Someone screamed, and she could not tell if it was through her or the demon inside.
“I heard someone!”
Why? Why?! Why does it have to…to…hurt so much…
“Upstairs!”
Pressing a hand to her belly, Valkyrie found no blood. Her head swam, torn between the waking and the dream. Fighting the vertigo, she swept the last chess pieces into her purse and stumbled for the door.
A man burst through and shouted, “Found–”
By blind instinct, she twirled on her heel and swung her metal-laden purse at him. The wrapped weight collided with his forehead, and the man dropped like a sack of bricks.
“Rie!” Valkyrie swore. Suddenly her voice sounded young and shrill to her own ears.
Where was the guiding music to buoy her step?!
“Rie, what now?!”
No answer.
Swearing, Valkyrie leaped the man and raced away from the stairs. At the end of the hall, she spotted a balcony with a short leap to an adjacent roof, and she poured herself into a sprint!
As an alarm cranked to life, two scoundrels appeared at the top of the stairs. They stopped, raising their instruments, and sighted…
Two pops like firecrackers; two holes appeared in the window by her shoulder.
Animal instinct ignored those sounds. Adrenaline propelled her onto the balcony and over the railing. Wet drizzle peppered her face, and she landed hard on the slippery roof. Her footing gave, and she nearly tumbled to the yard and waiting servants.
Breaking nails on the shingles, she found purchase!
Then she scrambled back to her feet, mounted the ridge of the roof, and fled for the fences.
“She’s on the roof!”
From the yard, more firecracker pops.
RIE!
But still no answer.
Valkyrie hopped to the last roof, eyes on the watchman’s platform at the corner of the heavy fence. Blessing a dancer’s training, she leaped once more onto the platform and vaulted the fence.
Her purse caught on the barbed wire and nearly strangled her. Her graceful leap snapped backwards. She hit the fence, bounced, and dropped into the brackish moat.
She surfaced and spit, the alarms ringing from all corners, and dragged herself from the water with panicked speed. As the servants raced across the concrete bridge to the south, she pushed upright and fled into the Sevensborough night.
***
As the alarms sounded, two scoundrels held position outside Lee’s study. Rifles loaded, resolve prepaid, they waited for the thief to poke nose around a corner.
As the shouting continued, however, the two men began to discuss their situation.
Their predecessors had been dismissed with vengeful purpose for allowing that Fourthborough kid so close to Lee. What guaranteed that these two men would avoid the same fate?
They had placed hefty bribes with the Livery majordomo to secure this posting. Such bribes took months to recoup. Months of House employment likely to be cut short.
How were they to break even under such circumstances?
The alarms wailed for one thief.
Under that cover, no one heard two enterprising guards force the study door.
***
Later that night, Theodore endured an interrogation by a constable hound. He instantly disliked the woman, haggard with age and bitter purpose, but nevertheless complied with an account of his encounter with ‘Lana.’
A flicker of triumph flashed through the woman’s dark eyes when he described a short girl of modest figure and blonde hair.
Bristling at the woman’s demanding tone – who did she think she was, the Inquisition?! – he omitted details. Claimed the heart of that brief encounter for himself. He had met a mysterious girl on a Spring day and for a brief moment been swept away to her song.
For a brief moment, been a gallant knight unburdened by the worries of House and title.
Dire news swept through the manor before the constables finished their questions.
“The papers are gone.”
“And the money in the safe too!”
“How’s the old bastard going to pay us now?!”
Upstairs, Grandfather beat the majordomo with an ivory cane. Each impact rattled the walls, the old man grunting with every furious strike.
When the servants saw the chandelier begin to rock in time with those blows, many quietly faded away. They did not plan to return.
Finally released from the interrogation, Theodore retreated to the safety of his rooms, stared out the window into the midnight drizzle, and nursed an unformed yearning for the simple purity of knights and heroes chasing blonde-haired maidens that would dog him for the rest of his life.