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eveglassA new short story set in my 7th Sea game.
Death Comes Slowly
"Hilde?"
"Yes, Princess?"
"Tell me more about my brother."
"You will see for yourself when we arrive, Princess."
The Eisen countryside slipped past, as it had for a week. At least once a day, Marietta broached the topic of her brother, the mysterious King of Eisen, and every day, Hilde deflected the question. The courtesan admired her companion's loyalty, but cursed her Eisen stoicism. Once, just once, couldn't she say anything?
André, as always, was quiet. Marietta wondered what was going through the bishop's mind, why he continued to follow her. Clearly, he disapproved of her newfound ability. She caught him staring at the dead patches of ground when she stood up from resting, watched his gaze follow a butterfly that landed on her knee and fell dead an arm's length away. Yet he followed.
Marietta shook her head. No point in thinking on it. She'd followed those thoughts before, and never to a satisfactory answer.
"When we meet my brother, will Erich be there?"
She caught the glimmer in Hilde's eye before she clamped down on it. "I hope so, Princess."
"Will you need to leave again, to find others like me?"
Hilde shook her head. "I don't think so."
The horse whinnied under Marietta's saddle. It sounded like it was in pain. "Are there others like me? Besides my brother?"
Hilde set her jaw and said nothing at all.
*****
The Drachen was standing in the doorframe, staring at her as she woke. She could feel the power emanating from him, feel the intensity of his stare. It took all her training not to pull up the coverlets to her neck and recoil. Besides, she wasn't certain the sheets would hold out to pulling; after a single night, they were already thin and brittle, as though they'd been attacked by a colony of moths. One good tug would rip them in half.
Slowly, carefully, she pulled herself up. "You were watching me sleep," she said.
"I was," said her brother. "You are very beautiful. Worthy of a Drachen. You will make me a fine son. A worthy heir."
For the first of what would undoubtedly be many times that day, Marietta held herself back from pointing out that even Valentino, the second cousin of a provincial Prince, controlled more territory than the Drachen's "kingdom." Instead, she pulled back the covers. She was careful, but they ripped anyway.
She swung her feet off the bed, the stone floor radiating cold up her legs. There were no slippers. Indeed, other than her bedding, there was very little in the room made of cloth, or paper, or even wood. Her furnishings were stone and metal and glass. She walked over to a side table and poured herself a glass of water from a copper decanter, sipped it slowly. The water was also cold. She could feel the Drachen's eyes on her, taking in the curves of her body through the thin chemise.
She turned to face him. "Does our father still live, do you know? The old king?"
He waved a hand dismissively. She could feel the tendrils of energy radiating from it. "It doesn't matter," he said. "What's important is that he spread his seed, and it struck true at least once. You."
He took two powerful strides into the room and took hold of Marietta's bare arm. It tingled where he touched. He leaned in so that his lips were almost at her ear. "Our son will be powerful," he whispered, "as powerful as I am. His people will love him, like they love me."
He pulled back and stared deep into her eyes. He touched her cheek, a gesture uncharacteristically gentle.
And then, just as quickly, he was back in the doorframe and moving away. "Dress," he said. "And eat. Meet me in the courtyard, but don't take too long. There is much for you to learn."
And he was gone.
*****
"Concentrate!" He hissed the word, each syllable stressed and sharp. She wasn't looking at him, but she could feel his stare, feel the overpowering presence of him from across the table.
"I am concentrating!"
She clutched the leather bracer in her hands, willing it to decay. It stubbornly refused to do so. Only years of training held back her tears. She had learned early on that the Drachen did not care for tears.
He slammed his fist down on the table and Marietta jumped back. "You don't care!" he shouted.
"I do!" She held the bracer to her chest like a talisman. "I just don't know how!"
The Drachen stormed around the table and yanked the bracer from her hands, thrust it down on the stone table so hard the ground shook. He glared at her. "You have the blood. You've done it before. This is simple. Don't take me for a fool!"
Marietta looked despairingly at Enrique, who stood in the corner, watching as he always did. He returned her look with dead, uninterested eyes. She mastered herself and turned back to the King, her voice the epitome of youthful innocence. "How could I, Majesty? I have never met a more powerful man. But I am young, and untrained. What seems the height of simplicity to you is still hard for me." She stepped closer, cast her eyes down, then briefly up to lock his gaze, then down again. "Please," she asked, her voice honey and wine, "would you show me again?"
The fire had gone out of the Drachen's stare. For a long moment, he paused, watching. Then he picked up the bracer again and placed it gently into her hands. "You must not force so hard," he said, cupping her hands in his. She could feel the power flowing from them, through her own hands, into the leather. For a brief moment, she remembered the feeling of awesome power she'd harnessed in the catacombs, the look of terror on Iago's face. She wanted it back. She would do anything to have it back.
She closed her eyes and felt the green energy flow from his hands, through hers, into the bracer. The leather hardened against her palms, cracked, split. When she opened her eyes, the brown leather had turned grey, and it crumbled under her thumb. The Drachen removed his hands and stepped back. "Like that," he said.
He clapped his hands, and Enrique stepped forward, placed an old leather scabbard on the table where the bracer had been. "Now," said the King, all traces of kindness gone from his voice, "alone."
Marietta glanced up at the sun: barely past noon. There were still hours of practice ahead of her. She picked up the scabbard and nodded. "Alone," she agreed.
*****
The sun was low on the horizon and the villagers in their homes. The only unwalled city in Fischler Province stood wary vigil against the Dark Forest. Marietta sat on the cold stone bench in her room, a mug of mint tea in her hands, exhausted. She felt like she'd been sword fighting all day, or running, or riding at a hard gallop. But she could not sleep. Her hands tingled, and her mind refused to rest.
There was a knock at the door. "Come," Marietta said, straightening her back and pulling her shawl closer about her shoulders.
The serving girl was young, no older than Marietta herself. She had a mousey look to her: wisps of hair poking out from under her cap and darting eyes. She carried a pewter tray, on which were set a bowl of barley-and-vegetable porridge, a salad of beans and onions, a few oatcakes, and trencher of honeyfingers. Such were the luxuries of her brother's mighty kingdom.
The servant girl slipped the tray onto a side table next to the door, silent, eyes fearfully on Marietta. She placed a hand on the door to close it and rush out into the hallway.
"Wait," said Marietta.
The servant stood like a frightened doe, trembling. "Yes, Princess?"
Marietta realized she had no idea what to ask. She wanted company, from someone other than her brother or the quiet remonstrations of Vescovo André. "What's your name?"
"Li... Lizel, Princess." The girl was shaking so much Marietta worried she would fall over.
"You've been working here long?" It was a stupid question, and Marietta regretted it the moment it left her lips. She already knew her brother's type well enough to know the answer.
Lizel bobbed her head. "My whole life, Princess."
Marietta sipped her tea. "Did you know the old king, the Drachen's father?"
The girl shook her head vigorously. "Gone already before I was born, Princess." Marietta had expected as much. To look at him, the Drachen was more than twenty years her senior, and who knew how long it had taken for the old king's seed to bear fruit.
Marietta lowered her voice. "And his mother? Did you know her?"
The girl pursed her lips and shook her head again. "No," she whispered.
"Dead?"
Lizel nodded. "Before I was born."
Marietta leaned forward. "How?"
Lizel's gaze flicked to the hallway, then back to the room. "In childbirth, Princess. It was a hard labor." The poor girl looked on the verge of tears. "Is there... is there anything else the Princess wishes?"
Marietta shook her head wearily. "No. Thank you. You may go."
The servant girl was gone before she'd finished speaking, the door shut firmly behind her. With a sigh, Marietta stood up and walked over to the side table, where her dinner was slowly going cold. Porridge, oatcakes, salad. Pauper's food. She stared at it without any appetite, lifted her spoon, and started to eat.
*****
She found Hilde in the stables, grooming her new horse. Marietta stood in the entryway, careful to keep a distance between her and the horses. Horses were uncomfortable around her, especially the new one. She watched as Hilde ran the brush along the horse's back and down its flank: long, slow motions. She'd seen her do it every morning along the ride. For a moment, Marietta wanted nothing more than to watch her forever.
"Hilde," she said softly.
The brush paused midway along the horse's back, and Hilde turned. "Yes, Princess?"
Marietta took a few breaths. "You're well?" She was stalling and she knew it.
"Quite well, Princess." Hilde had her blonde hair pulled back in a braid, and she wore a simple leather jerkin with the coiled dragon poised on her breast.
Marietta gestured towards the horse. "Are you preparing to leave?"
"No, Princess. The horses needed to be brushed."
Instinctively, Marietta stepped into the stables, then caught herself and moved back towards the door. "Does the King have you leave often?"
Hilde shook her head. "No, Princess. Not often."
Marietta considered. "As Princess, could I ask you to leave? To... bring me back things from the village, for example?"
Hilde turned back towards the horse, considering. The brush began its slow movement again. Marietta knew Hilde well enough to know that she was finding the right words. She waited.
"You could ask your brother, Princess, and he would command me." There was more unsaid there, about the ride through the Dark Forest, about monsters and fear and loss.
Marietta nodded once. "Thank you, Hilde. For what you've done."
Hilde turned back to the doorway, but Marietta was already gone.
*****
The little hut was larger than most, but still small compared to anything in Vestini Province. There were dried herbs hanging from the lintel above the door, the crackle of a fire flickering on the windowpanes. Marietta stood outside, willing her breathing and heart to slow. She knocked.
The door opened to reveal the Vendel healer: a tall man with a hooked nose and close-cropped brown hair. He started. Marietta had not often gone out of the keep. "Y... Yes, Princess?"
She glanced into the room beyond him. The hut was clean and tidy, with a pot on the hearth and flowers on the table. Huddled on a bed was the rescued runaway.
"I would speak with her," Marietta said. "Alone."
The healer looked from one guest to the next. "Princess, I must caution, until..." His voice trailed off.
"I'll stand in the doorway," Marietta said. "You have my word that no harm shall come to her on my behalf."
The healer hesitated.
"It is a request, not a command," said Marietta, reasonably. "I would prefer not to involve my brother in this."
The healer's jaw tightened. "Of course, Princess," he said at last. "I won't be far."
He stepped out of the hut and into the narrow lane. Marietta stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
She had never seen a fate witch without her veil. For a moment, she could do nothing but stand, trying to decide whether to meet the woman's gaze or not. She steeled herself. "I... You know who I am, I suppose?"
She asked it in Vodacce, and the runaway stared at her with hard eyes that had seen too much. She nodded.
"You know that the King wants me to bear him a son?"
Again, a nod.
"Most women who bear children of... from my family... they don't survive it."
The fate witch looked at her with black eyes set in a pale face. Marietta licked her lips. "I ask you, please, for a favor."
The fate witch said nothing. She had been asked for favors before. They were always the same request. Still, she said nothing, waiting, letting Marietta carry the conversation.
"Please, signora," Marietta wanted to step forward and take the woman's hand in her own. She wanted to run from the hut without hearing the answer. She stood in the doorway, kept her hands by her side. "Please. Will you look at my strands, and tell me if they are black?"
"Hilde?"
"Yes, Princess?"
"Tell me more about my brother."
"You will see for yourself when we arrive, Princess."
The Eisen countryside slipped past, as it had for a week. At least once a day, Marietta broached the topic of her brother, the mysterious King of Eisen, and every day, Hilde deflected the question. The courtesan admired her companion's loyalty, but cursed her Eisen stoicism. Once, just once, couldn't she say anything?
André, as always, was quiet. Marietta wondered what was going through the bishop's mind, why he continued to follow her. Clearly, he disapproved of her newfound ability. She caught him staring at the dead patches of ground when she stood up from resting, watched his gaze follow a butterfly that landed on her knee and fell dead an arm's length away. Yet he followed.
Marietta shook her head. No point in thinking on it. She'd followed those thoughts before, and never to a satisfactory answer.
"When we meet my brother, will Erich be there?"
She caught the glimmer in Hilde's eye before she clamped down on it. "I hope so, Princess."
"Will you need to leave again, to find others like me?"
Hilde shook her head. "I don't think so."
The horse whinnied under Marietta's saddle. It sounded like it was in pain. "Are there others like me? Besides my brother?"
Hilde set her jaw and said nothing at all.
*****
The Drachen was standing in the doorframe, staring at her as she woke. She could feel the power emanating from him, feel the intensity of his stare. It took all her training not to pull up the coverlets to her neck and recoil. Besides, she wasn't certain the sheets would hold out to pulling; after a single night, they were already thin and brittle, as though they'd been attacked by a colony of moths. One good tug would rip them in half.
Slowly, carefully, she pulled herself up. "You were watching me sleep," she said.
"I was," said her brother. "You are very beautiful. Worthy of a Drachen. You will make me a fine son. A worthy heir."
For the first of what would undoubtedly be many times that day, Marietta held herself back from pointing out that even Valentino, the second cousin of a provincial Prince, controlled more territory than the Drachen's "kingdom." Instead, she pulled back the covers. She was careful, but they ripped anyway.
She swung her feet off the bed, the stone floor radiating cold up her legs. There were no slippers. Indeed, other than her bedding, there was very little in the room made of cloth, or paper, or even wood. Her furnishings were stone and metal and glass. She walked over to a side table and poured herself a glass of water from a copper decanter, sipped it slowly. The water was also cold. She could feel the Drachen's eyes on her, taking in the curves of her body through the thin chemise.
She turned to face him. "Does our father still live, do you know? The old king?"
He waved a hand dismissively. She could feel the tendrils of energy radiating from it. "It doesn't matter," he said. "What's important is that he spread his seed, and it struck true at least once. You."
He took two powerful strides into the room and took hold of Marietta's bare arm. It tingled where he touched. He leaned in so that his lips were almost at her ear. "Our son will be powerful," he whispered, "as powerful as I am. His people will love him, like they love me."
He pulled back and stared deep into her eyes. He touched her cheek, a gesture uncharacteristically gentle.
And then, just as quickly, he was back in the doorframe and moving away. "Dress," he said. "And eat. Meet me in the courtyard, but don't take too long. There is much for you to learn."
And he was gone.
*****
"Concentrate!" He hissed the word, each syllable stressed and sharp. She wasn't looking at him, but she could feel his stare, feel the overpowering presence of him from across the table.
"I am concentrating!"
She clutched the leather bracer in her hands, willing it to decay. It stubbornly refused to do so. Only years of training held back her tears. She had learned early on that the Drachen did not care for tears.
He slammed his fist down on the table and Marietta jumped back. "You don't care!" he shouted.
"I do!" She held the bracer to her chest like a talisman. "I just don't know how!"
The Drachen stormed around the table and yanked the bracer from her hands, thrust it down on the stone table so hard the ground shook. He glared at her. "You have the blood. You've done it before. This is simple. Don't take me for a fool!"
Marietta looked despairingly at Enrique, who stood in the corner, watching as he always did. He returned her look with dead, uninterested eyes. She mastered herself and turned back to the King, her voice the epitome of youthful innocence. "How could I, Majesty? I have never met a more powerful man. But I am young, and untrained. What seems the height of simplicity to you is still hard for me." She stepped closer, cast her eyes down, then briefly up to lock his gaze, then down again. "Please," she asked, her voice honey and wine, "would you show me again?"
The fire had gone out of the Drachen's stare. For a long moment, he paused, watching. Then he picked up the bracer again and placed it gently into her hands. "You must not force so hard," he said, cupping her hands in his. She could feel the power flowing from them, through her own hands, into the leather. For a brief moment, she remembered the feeling of awesome power she'd harnessed in the catacombs, the look of terror on Iago's face. She wanted it back. She would do anything to have it back.
She closed her eyes and felt the green energy flow from his hands, through hers, into the bracer. The leather hardened against her palms, cracked, split. When she opened her eyes, the brown leather had turned grey, and it crumbled under her thumb. The Drachen removed his hands and stepped back. "Like that," he said.
He clapped his hands, and Enrique stepped forward, placed an old leather scabbard on the table where the bracer had been. "Now," said the King, all traces of kindness gone from his voice, "alone."
Marietta glanced up at the sun: barely past noon. There were still hours of practice ahead of her. She picked up the scabbard and nodded. "Alone," she agreed.
*****
The sun was low on the horizon and the villagers in their homes. The only unwalled city in Fischler Province stood wary vigil against the Dark Forest. Marietta sat on the cold stone bench in her room, a mug of mint tea in her hands, exhausted. She felt like she'd been sword fighting all day, or running, or riding at a hard gallop. But she could not sleep. Her hands tingled, and her mind refused to rest.
There was a knock at the door. "Come," Marietta said, straightening her back and pulling her shawl closer about her shoulders.
The serving girl was young, no older than Marietta herself. She had a mousey look to her: wisps of hair poking out from under her cap and darting eyes. She carried a pewter tray, on which were set a bowl of barley-and-vegetable porridge, a salad of beans and onions, a few oatcakes, and trencher of honeyfingers. Such were the luxuries of her brother's mighty kingdom.
The servant girl slipped the tray onto a side table next to the door, silent, eyes fearfully on Marietta. She placed a hand on the door to close it and rush out into the hallway.
"Wait," said Marietta.
The servant stood like a frightened doe, trembling. "Yes, Princess?"
Marietta realized she had no idea what to ask. She wanted company, from someone other than her brother or the quiet remonstrations of Vescovo André. "What's your name?"
"Li... Lizel, Princess." The girl was shaking so much Marietta worried she would fall over.
"You've been working here long?" It was a stupid question, and Marietta regretted it the moment it left her lips. She already knew her brother's type well enough to know the answer.
Lizel bobbed her head. "My whole life, Princess."
Marietta sipped her tea. "Did you know the old king, the Drachen's father?"
The girl shook her head vigorously. "Gone already before I was born, Princess." Marietta had expected as much. To look at him, the Drachen was more than twenty years her senior, and who knew how long it had taken for the old king's seed to bear fruit.
Marietta lowered her voice. "And his mother? Did you know her?"
The girl pursed her lips and shook her head again. "No," she whispered.
"Dead?"
Lizel nodded. "Before I was born."
Marietta leaned forward. "How?"
Lizel's gaze flicked to the hallway, then back to the room. "In childbirth, Princess. It was a hard labor." The poor girl looked on the verge of tears. "Is there... is there anything else the Princess wishes?"
Marietta shook her head wearily. "No. Thank you. You may go."
The servant girl was gone before she'd finished speaking, the door shut firmly behind her. With a sigh, Marietta stood up and walked over to the side table, where her dinner was slowly going cold. Porridge, oatcakes, salad. Pauper's food. She stared at it without any appetite, lifted her spoon, and started to eat.
*****
She found Hilde in the stables, grooming her new horse. Marietta stood in the entryway, careful to keep a distance between her and the horses. Horses were uncomfortable around her, especially the new one. She watched as Hilde ran the brush along the horse's back and down its flank: long, slow motions. She'd seen her do it every morning along the ride. For a moment, Marietta wanted nothing more than to watch her forever.
"Hilde," she said softly.
The brush paused midway along the horse's back, and Hilde turned. "Yes, Princess?"
Marietta took a few breaths. "You're well?" She was stalling and she knew it.
"Quite well, Princess." Hilde had her blonde hair pulled back in a braid, and she wore a simple leather jerkin with the coiled dragon poised on her breast.
Marietta gestured towards the horse. "Are you preparing to leave?"
"No, Princess. The horses needed to be brushed."
Instinctively, Marietta stepped into the stables, then caught herself and moved back towards the door. "Does the King have you leave often?"
Hilde shook her head. "No, Princess. Not often."
Marietta considered. "As Princess, could I ask you to leave? To... bring me back things from the village, for example?"
Hilde turned back towards the horse, considering. The brush began its slow movement again. Marietta knew Hilde well enough to know that she was finding the right words. She waited.
"You could ask your brother, Princess, and he would command me." There was more unsaid there, about the ride through the Dark Forest, about monsters and fear and loss.
Marietta nodded once. "Thank you, Hilde. For what you've done."
Hilde turned back to the doorway, but Marietta was already gone.
*****
The little hut was larger than most, but still small compared to anything in Vestini Province. There were dried herbs hanging from the lintel above the door, the crackle of a fire flickering on the windowpanes. Marietta stood outside, willing her breathing and heart to slow. She knocked.
The door opened to reveal the Vendel healer: a tall man with a hooked nose and close-cropped brown hair. He started. Marietta had not often gone out of the keep. "Y... Yes, Princess?"
She glanced into the room beyond him. The hut was clean and tidy, with a pot on the hearth and flowers on the table. Huddled on a bed was the rescued runaway.
"I would speak with her," Marietta said. "Alone."
The healer looked from one guest to the next. "Princess, I must caution, until..." His voice trailed off.
"I'll stand in the doorway," Marietta said. "You have my word that no harm shall come to her on my behalf."
The healer hesitated.
"It is a request, not a command," said Marietta, reasonably. "I would prefer not to involve my brother in this."
The healer's jaw tightened. "Of course, Princess," he said at last. "I won't be far."
He stepped out of the hut and into the narrow lane. Marietta stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
She had never seen a fate witch without her veil. For a moment, she could do nothing but stand, trying to decide whether to meet the woman's gaze or not. She steeled herself. "I... You know who I am, I suppose?"
She asked it in Vodacce, and the runaway stared at her with hard eyes that had seen too much. She nodded.
"You know that the King wants me to bear him a son?"
Again, a nod.
"Most women who bear children of... from my family... they don't survive it."
The fate witch looked at her with black eyes set in a pale face. Marietta licked her lips. "I ask you, please, for a favor."
The fate witch said nothing. She had been asked for favors before. They were always the same request. Still, she said nothing, waiting, letting Marietta carry the conversation.
"Please, signora," Marietta wanted to step forward and take the woman's hand in her own. She wanted to run from the hut without hearing the answer. She stood in the doorway, kept her hands by her side. "Please. Will you look at my strands, and tell me if they are black?"
