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cranberrybogmummy · 6 years ago

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Sorceress of the dusk.

It was almost dawn in the sun-baked city of Leban, jewel of the Aurel sea, child of the rivers Persis and Apor, a city that sat at confluence of three continents. Birds were singing and few residents stirred. Jaiella ran her bare feet tapped on the cobblestones, she didn’t like the cold feel of them, and the sun had not risen to warm them yet. She was a brown girl of twelve summers, with wild brown hair hidden by a faded blue cowl. Her favorite, and most comforting garment she compulsively chewed the collar. The streets of Leban winding, twisty and narrow were all know by her by heart. So she never really looked as she ran, just flew down the streets. Some watchmen on their beat hailed her and she waved back, no time to talk to her father’s colleagues, that was part of her old life, before she was apprentice to the great Atrina Sorceress of the Dusk. On a narrow street no wider than an alleyway night soil their cart filled with their smelly cargo, blocked her way. She huffed, stamped her right foot and made a detour right, it would take longer but if she hurried, she would get there. Down an alleyway, across a courtyard with a communal fountain, she made it!

An orange light slipped from the windows of PERKISS bakery. A large sign swung out with a loaf of bread on it to advertise its wares to the illiterate. They had been baking for two hours before this. Inside sleepy servants and tired watchmen waited at a long counter for their orders, it smelled of sweets and baking bread. Jaiella looked at the faces of the exhausted men and women, sipping their cups of tea. She felt relief and triumph mix in her stomach when she noticed that Alvan, the apprentice to Wyanna sorceress of the dawn was not among them. This was the first time she had beat the smug, skinny, snot here. In a few moments none other than Mrs. Perkiss herself appeared through the bakery door. She was a stout woman with a fair complexion that was tinted red, her apron and arms coated with flour.

“Jaiellla!” She shouted happily.

Jaiella smiled, accepting a floury one-armed hug from over the counter. “Hello! Do you have them?”

“Yes, yes, I always make sure the Sorceress’s order is done when you arrive,” She said. “After the help you two provided it’s the least I could do.” With her other hand she gave Jaiella a paper wrapped bundle, spots of grease already appearing on it

“A dozen fresh honey cakes and half a dozen saffron cream donuts.”

“Oooh my favorite!” Jaiella squealed.

“I know,” Mrs. Perkiss said with a wink and a chuckle. “My hand may have slipped and might have added more than half a dozen…”

“Thanks!” Jaiella said and she was already skipping out the door.

The honey cakes were round flat moist disks, made with flour and olive oil. Each one was soaked in a syrup of honey and orange flower water essence. A half dozen dyed pink one where rose water, a half dozen yellow ones where orange flower water. They were for the breakfast she’d share with Atrina, later. However the saffron creams with their crispy exterior and sweet rich orange cream interior that had a hint of bitterness, were just for her. She had opened the bundle not three steps from leaving the bakery. She was already munching on a saffron cream as she made her way home, her lips coated with crumbs. She enjoyed each mouthful. Saffron creams were a treat that could only be found in Leban and Perkiss made the best saffron creams. Halfway home just the sky began to be tinged with a dull grey light, she saw Alvan running down the streets to the bakery. Jaiella laughed and stuck out her tongue at him.

Between the snacking and the heavy bundle her way home was more leisurely than her going had been. She reached the back entrance to Atrina’s manse just as the rosy fingers of dawn began to penetrate the horizon.

~~~~ 2~~~~~

Atrina sorceress of the dusk, slept uneasy in her darkened bedchamber. Her dreams were filled with blood, madness and strange symbol, a drawing of a eye with a three pronged iris. She tossed and turned on her huge bed, dislodging several irritated cats. She woke up with her heart pounding like a caged bird inside beating it’s bars, in her chest. As she looked at the familiar walls, with their tapestries and the gap of light between the curtains the window curtains she took three deep breaths, she steadied herself. Jaiella would be coming up soon with breakfast, and Atrina couldn’t let the girl know that insubstantial things as dreams had unnerved her. She composed herself, flattened her long black hair, and went to the window drawing back the heavy swag of curtain that covered it, letting in the bright morning light. As she looked over the flat yellow brick roofs of Leban, out to the glimmering water of the bay she couldn’t shake a sense of foreboding deep in her chest. The morning noises had already started, the singers and bells in the temple calling the faithful to worship. And of course Wyanna was out with her apprentices do the dawn ritual.

Atrina smirked thinking of her rival, it funny that Wyanna had become Sorceress of The Dawn, during their joint apprenticeship Wyanna had always hated rising early.

Down in the kitchen Jaiella was arranging a tray for Atrina and herself. The cook Zumina, a dark skinned woman, in the traditional cook’s pants and smock, sighed.

“You know girl we have a kitchen boy to do that,” she said with a click of her tongue. “There is no need to get up so early and run down to that bakery, girl.”

“I’m her apprentice, I get her breakfast,” Jaiella insisted.

Taking some oranges she had picked from the orchard in the back, and putting them on a smaller plate on the tray, with a small paring knife.

Zumina rolled her eyes. ”Oh yes?” She questioned. “And I suppose gorging on saffron creams is part of that?” When Jaiella gave her look of feigned confusion. “I saw the crumbs girl! Eating those things will only make you fatter.”

“I’m not fat!” Jaiella said.

It was true, Jaiella was a bit chubby, and the puppy fat of childhood clung to developing body. She moodily filled the terra cotta teapot with hot water and put in a metal tea ball filled with a mixture of mint and black tea. She waited a few moments before added two small glasses chased with silver rims.

Atrina was dressed and had her long black hair brushed out and she heard Jaiella pounding up the stairs with the breakfast tray. She smiled to herself.

“Good morning,” Atrina said with a smile as Jaiella appeared in doorway

Holding the tray. “I think today we should take breakfast on the terrace.“

The terrace had two doorways, one lead directly from Atrina’s chamber, the other a more general entrance from the second story corridor. It was wide and broad of yellow mud brick one half was dirt and devoted to a garden of magical herbs. When Jaiella was first taken as an apprentice at nine she wondered why so many ordinary herbs were considered so special. Now she knew, it wasn’t just the herbs themselves; it was how they were tended when they were picked and how they were used in the rituals and spells. And she was learning more and more, all the time her apprenticeship would be over in eight years she would be sorceress, like her mistress.

Now they sat on a fine rug, watching the dawn, eating oranges and sweet cakes.

“What shall you teach me today, Mistress?” asked Jaiella, as she always did, it was one of the rote things said between all apprentices and their Sorcerer Masters. It was being said perhaps by a few hundred young mouths all over the city from young mouths, to Master Sorcerers and Sorceress of varying grades of skill.

Atrina held the tea pot high over the chased silver glass and in a dramatic gesture poured it, perfectly in a high fragrant arch. She handed the cup to Jaiella.

Jaiella took a sip she stroked a nearby cat.

“Today we will continue the incantation to raise a small flame.” She said patiently.

Jaiella’s brow wrinkled and mouth twisted into a frown. “Awww, but Mistress we’ve been working on that for a week.”

There were some that would have taken a switch to a apprentice for a remark like that. Atrina didn’t consider it disrespectful and also thought of herself as fairly lenient Mistress.

She ate a slice of orange, and said: “ You are clever and talented, you just lack the discipline. I will be instructing you and watching. So you don’t burn down the house.”

Jaiella sulkily petted the beige cat, near her feet. “I won’t! I just want to learn something else… water spells or some rituals of protection.”

Atrina clicked her tongue. “You know those already.”

“Not all of them!” Jaiella protested.

“You know all the ones that are suitable for your level.” Atrina said. “If you attempt anything harder, you could drain your energy, your Qyi, or even destroy the balance in the world.”

Jaiella stuck her lower lip out in a pout, her round face and fat cheeks made her look so much a still a child.

“Stop it,” Atrina barked. “I will not spend the rest of this meal sitting in the shadow of your sulk.”

“But it’s sooooo hard,” Jaiella stretched out the word her voice rising to a whine.

“I’ll tell you what my first Mistress told me,” Atrina sighed. “Any task can be fun, if you look at it the right way.”

There was a pause as Jaiella considered, the words, her expression didn’t seem to change much. “How?”

Atrina’s thin lips curled up into a smile. “Find how.”

The sun had risen now the sky was a bright-unclouded blue. Almost perfect except for nagging feeling that twisted Atrina’s guts, make the typical breakfast inside of her curdle. Jaiella watched her Mistress there was a hard preciseness of her words and actions that only came when Atrina was unhappy. They went over the words and gestures of the flame incantation.

How to make it fun? Jaiella wondered.

She tried to relax, to imagine the flame blooming from her palms; she could feel her Qyi stirring inside, like the wings of a captive butterfly. She took a breath to steady herself, said the words in the magic tongue that only sorcerers are taught. Took another breath held it and when she exhaled she imagined the flame flowing out with her breath.

There would be nothing, just disappointment as always, but a small feeble spark. How can it be fun? She thought. I will make it a game, against myself.

When a shower of orange sparks erupted from her palms, she giggled.

Atrina looked at her, and smiled knowingly. “Again, my dear.”

Jaiella squared her shoulders, grinning, breathed in, spewed out the words and with her exhale a small flame appeared.

“YES!” She cried.

“Good effort, now I know you can do a little better.” Atrina commented.

Jaiella wiggled like an excited kitten. “Alright!”

This time there was a whoomph of a sizable fire ball, it dispersed as quickly as it show up.

“Great,” Atrina nodded. “Now try for a smaller tighter flame.”

There was still that same tightness, that distracted look in her dark eyes, Atrina’s mind was not on the lesson. But at this point Jaiella didn’t care. She wanted to make the smaller tighter flame because; she knew she could, because she would win this game.

Jaiella took a breath, wiggled from her fingertips to her shoulders, she spoke the words not in garbled rush but giving the full weight of each. Controlled her Qyi, not letting it control her. Then it happened the perfect fist sized ball of flame.

But her Mistress wasn’t looking at her, but at the doorway. There was a maid standing there and behind her…. Jaiella’s father. He wore the brown leather armor of the city watch, and under it a beige tunic. He held his cap in his hands twisting the band. Jaiella leapt to her feet, a smile on her lips but in mid step she stopped.

She knew her Papa wasn’t here to visit her, not in his uniform, not during his work hours. Not with that worried, scared look in his eyes.

“Papa?” She asked.

“Jaiella, I’m here to see your Mistress,” He said quietly.

“Watchman San, what brings you here? If it’s not to visit your daughter?” Asked Atrina.

Atrina mused how he didn’t look like his child, Watchman San was a brown, rawboned, unshaven hard looking man with a long face. The green eyes were the only thing they had in common looks wise.

“We found a body,” He said. “It’s in a strange place.”

“Ah,” Atrina said. “You suspect magic?”

“Yes,” He replied.

“Well then, show me.” Atrina said.

Jaiella lingered for a moment. “Mistress?”

“Come with me, you have help me prepare my kit.” Atrina said with nod.

One the duties of the Sorceresses of the Dusk were to aid the people and the watch. Actually it was the duty of all four of the Leban’s most powerful Sorcerers but Atrina was one the two the actually did that, as her domain included spirits and the dead. The other was Verther Shrik, Sorcerer of the Night but he slept too late to be of any use.

As Jaiella went off to prepare Atrina’s investigation kit, San glared at Atrina.

“You’re bringing my daughter?” He asked.

“She is my apprentice, this may be one of her duties if she ascends this far.” Atrina replied coldly.

~~~~~~3~~~~~

As they made their way down the crowded streets of Leban, Jaiella wished that she would have rather they taken the litter, to spare her feet the journey. But her Mistress insisted that walking to duties like this. So the servants and the litter were left at home. There were a myriad of sights sounds and smells of the yellow brick city. They passed the spice market with it’s multi-colored and intense smelling powders and seeds, the merchants haggling with their customers. Further along there was a group of urchins watching a puppet show, or rather mocking the show. There were priests of some god, leading a stubborn white goat to the temple, The smells of incense, the chanting intermingling with the braying of goat. Also a sausage seller was grilling his wares on a small brazier, the sound of the sizzle and the spicy, meaty, smell a paean to something older and more primal than any god. There were ladies of a certain occupation in brightly colored gowns and diaphanous veils of contrasting color, they smelled of flowery perfume and shouted false promises.

They went a down a winding alley way, and emerged at the dockside. There was a salty, briny, smell of the sea, the songs of the sailors as they worked, the creak of the ships. The buildings here were squat, wooden and ramshackle, very few of the Leban’s normal yellow mud brick structures on the dock. There were warehouses of all sizes, inns and lodgings and homes for the sailors. Here lived the Gibiz a strange, old race that had lived here before the city was built and also inhabited the salt marshes at the mouth of the rivers. They were odd and secretive, their skin was tinged with green, they had unblinking eyes that bulged slightly, thick lips, slight webbing between fingers and toes, thick dark hair and spoke in an odd croaking pidgin dialect. In their youth the Gibiz women could be very beautiful, but it quickly faded. They mostly worked as sailors, fishermen or stevedores. Despite being the oldest of the peoples in Leban they had no seat among the councilors, were ill regarded.

As her Father, talked to a Gibiz watchman at a dockside warehouse, Jaiella stared in ill-disguised curiosity. She had never met one before.

Atrina spoke quickly to the man, using the croaks and grunts of the Gibiz pidgin, his already wide eyes went wider. San and Jaiella also goggled.

“How do know that?” Asked Jaiella.

“In order to protect and help Leban, I must know Leban and all her people.” Atrina said.

They were lead to ancient five-story tower of grey stone that overlooked the sea. In times passed Leban had been invaded by sea, and monsters had risen from the blue-green depths to ravage the city. There were old crumbling watchtowers along the bay to attest to those by-gone days, when the city was neither as powerful or as well guarded. The base of the tower was marred with graffiti; some of it was quite funny. There was no door, it long ago decayed. It was ringed with watchmen guarding it.

San spoke: “Children playing in the tower found the body.”

“Has it been disturbed in any other way?” Atrina asked.

“No,” San replied.

“Good,” Atrina nodded.

They entered the watchtower and made their way up a winding spiral staircase, as they drew closer to the body a foul stench of decay assaulted them. Atrina inspected the walls.

The corpse was that of a dark haired man, dressed richly in a blood stained peacock blue and emerald colored silk tunic with matching leggings. He was lying on his left side his knees hunched to his chest, fingers clutching at the knees. His skin was a putrid green, and rotting black. Above his body was a large, crude drawing in blood of an eye with a three-pronged iris. The same as in Atrina’s nightmares, she kept calm. Her face didn’t betray the panic she felt racing through her.

“Jaiella, come here,” She ordered. “Give me my kit.”

Jaiella gave Atrina the kit, a cloth roll of various odds and ends, one of them a lens on a metal handle from the Kingdom of Ukyan in the Southern lands. It had been specially ground to magnify things. Afterwards Jaiella stepped back and covered her mouth and nose with her hand.

Atrina took out her lens and went over to the corpse. She clicked her tongue. “It has been here for about three days. But because of the heat, it has bloated, the face is distorted and I can’t identify it by that. But let’s see what else we can find.”

She looked at Jaiella. “Come here, you need to learn this.”

The girl came closer still covering her face with her hand.

“He’s been strangled, you can see the indent of the whatever they wrapped around his neck.” Atrina commented as she examined the body. “A chord of some kind.”

Jaiella looked down the twisted and rotting flesh, it was slightly darker and depressed in the area he had been strangled. Also there was dark blood caked around the nostrils She backed away as Atrina examined the it with the magnifying glass.

“What do you see?” San asked

“Nothing,” Responded Atrina. “No fibers or threads. They must have worked some kind of spell on him. There is a spell where the energy is concentrated into a band that bends and twists like this.”

She looked at the man’s arms, rolled back the sleeve there was a deep gash on the left wrist. “He cut himself. Opened his veins, in the wrong direction for suicide. “

“If he was killing himself, even in this confused manner, why would he be strangled by magic? Did the killer do the spell remotely and not know?” Asked San.

Atrina looked from the bloody symbol on the wall to the dead man.

“No, they wanted him to do this, but they had to make sure he was dead. After he painted that on the wall.” Atrina said. “That is important, that is why he was made to come here in the first place.”

Jaiella watched as Atrina as she kneeled by the corpse’s hands. She exclaimed. “I think I know who this is.”

She stood up holding a ring.

He had worn it on his right hand. The band was gold and it was set with a jasper stone engraved with a leaping dolphin. “The sigil of the Gil family, this is Ferdith Gil eldest son of the merchant Marath Gil.”

“What?” San looked stunned.

“Hasn’t he been gone these three days?” asked Atrina.

“Yes,” San admitted. “His concubine and his father came to us when he failed to return from drinking with some people he was doing business with yesterday, it was unusual for him. They also went to you didn’t they?”

“Yes,” Atrina said. She gave the corpse a nudge with her foot and found a dagger in a pool of of congealed blood, the hilt of gold and a jasper set at the top of the pommel was uncovered.

Atrina resumed kneeling. “We know that he wasn’t robbed. He still has his purse filled with gold. “ She inspected his fingers with the magnifying glass. “There is blood and stone dust under his fingernails. He fought this; he didn’t want to come here. But he did. He dragged his hands against the tower walls. He was forced to come here by something stronger than him.”

“What about the symbol?” Jaiella asked.

“I’ve never seen it before.” Atrina said.

“I have,” San said. “We found a beggar girl killed and it was drawn on the wall over her corpse.”

“Why wasn’t I told?” Atrina said quirking her eyebrow.

“It was the night watch who found it,” San said. “They got Verther Shrik. He is sorcerer of the Night after all.”

Atrina sighed.

“Go inform Marath Gil his eldest son is dead, I will talk to Verther Shrik.” Atrina said.

~~~~4~~~~~

Jaiella didn’t like the palace of darkness, where the sorcerer of the night lived. It was five blocks from there own manse but she avoided it. It was strange building; made of grey rock, black granite with white marble towers that rose three stories above the city. A reminder that though Atrina was one the four great sorcerers of Leban she was the least of them. The front door of the palace darkness, was made of a dark wood, there was a heavy grey metal knocker in the center in that looked like a grinning skull. Atrina rapped three times with the knocker. They waited. After a long time, an old Sand-walker serving woman opened the door. The sand-walkers were a nomadic people, like the Gibiz they weren’t considered human. The sand-walkers were small with tawny, slightly furry skin, dusty brown hair, large ears like a desert fox, they had large all black eyes like an animals’, upturned noses and lips that constantly looked pursed. In Leban you couldn’t own another human being and unlike the Gibiz who had centuries of intermarriage with their human neighbors, the Sand-walkers because of their nomadic lifestyle and inability to breed with humans, they had no such safety. They could be captured, bought and sold as slaves.

Jaiella wondered if the old wrinkled serving woman was a slave.

She looked at them with bright shining black eyes in a wrinkled face, her small puckered lips made clicking noise, she wore a headscarf, a plain orange dress and her old ears poked out.

“Huda,” Atrina addressed the serving woman. “Is your Master able to see us?”

Huda nodded.

“Yes,” She said in an oddly high whining voice. “He has been waiting for you.”

Huda took a step back.

Jaiella suppressed a shiver as they entered, it was colder here and the light was dim. Heavy curtains were drawn over the windows. There was scamperings and scuttlings of things---aye-ayes and small monkeys that served as Verther Shrik’s pets and familiars. Jaiella caught a glimpse of shining orange eyes from the top of a cabinet Verther Shirk also had a large, cunning bird with pure black plumage, from the forests of the cold north, it was called a raven.

The Shriks were descended from the barbaric, pale, northern hordes that had come marauding 150 years ago. They had burned and pillaged other cities along the coast. Olar, Tibhur and Koth had all fallen to their rage. These hairy men with skin the color of milk, who wore furs and came down from the lands of forest and steppe. The siege of Leban had lasted a season, when Benartha maiden queen of Leban had offered herself in marriage to Cutlar Vylik the leader of the horde, he accepted. So the siege ended bloodlessly, the members of the pale horde settled in the city. Jaiella had learned this in her schoolroom. She had also learned the dynasty was last and the kings of Leban died at the knife of one Ander Staide. Since then five families: Staide, Shrik, Greon, Bloth, and Gul, had ruled Leban, they sat on the elected council, they were the Patriarch or Matriarch of the city, or became one the sorcerers of the hours (indeed the other three were Verther Shrik, Azur Gul an Wyanna who’d been born a Bloth before becoming independent) Jaiella noticed all five families were descended from the barbarian horde, all worshipped their gods. She mused on this as they travelled through the dark house. It wasn’t that all pale-skinned people were rich or powerful, or that someone whose family had been in Leban before the invaders couldn’t gain wealth or power. It was just as if fate had weighed the dice for them. Jaiella thought of the Gibiz, who as history told it, once had built a city of blocky gray stones and ugly ziggurats in the salt marshes, long ago, only to see humans tear it down. Jaiella thought of the sand-walkers, timid and small, how she saw them in the marketplace stripped to loin clothes, shackled and caged like animals or eyes downcast, wearing clothes and collar scurrying about on errands for their Masters.

Jaiella scowled and blurted out: “Are you a slave?”

Atrina glared at her and made motion for her be quiet.

Huda didn’t meet her eyes but said defiantly: “No. Master Verther’s father freed me when he died. I am free. I earn my keep here.”

“Then why don’t you go back to the desert?” Jaeilla asked.

“I have lived here since I was very little. I’ve been in the service of the Shriks’ just as long.” She said proudly. “I raised Master Verther and his Brother Cantus. They take care of me, otherwise I’d starve in the streets.”

“Oh,” Jaiella said, chastened.

“You shouldn’t have asked.” Atrina hissed.

Shame and guilt made a pit inside Jaiella’s chest, she didn’t want to annoy Atrina, she lowered her head and no one spoke for the rest of the sort journey.

The palace of darkness was large, it was meant to house many apprentices, servants, guests and perhaps concubines or catamite. Verther Shrik took no apprentices, had three servants, invited no guests and had no concubines or catamites. So the palace of darkness was silent, dusty and gloomy. They walked in silence behind Huda, up a flight of stairs and down a hallway lined with the silent portraits of Verther’s predecessors going back 100 years. Jaiella noticed most were men with imposing beards and scowling expressions. Expect for the last, the face had been scoured away with some kind of acid, leaving yellowed stained canvas, a small plaque underneath still read: ‘Betlan Bloth.’ Jaiella’s curiosity bubbled up inside of her, but given the foul mood Atrina was now in she decided to keep her question for later.

As they approached a door at the end of the passage, one with light spilling out from it’s opening, Jaiella glanced up at Atrina and found her mistress expression was as frozen as a statue’s and her eyes just as hard. There was no anger on it, just a resolute and cold mask.

“I’ll tell him you’re here,” Huda said in her odd whiny voice.

Atrina nodded and as soon the servant woman went into the doorway, she brushed hair from her face, bit her lower lip and took a deep breath. Jaiella blinked and furrowed her brow. Atrina and Verther had been apprentices together; they’d known each for over twenty years. Why was Atrina doing these odd nervous gestures?

Atrina and Jaiella entered the room, unlike the rest of the house the window was uncovered and sunlight streamed in. A small bug-eyed monkey chittered from on top of a bookcase, the raven croaked, fluttering its wings from a perch in the far right corner. The room was cluttered mess of food-spattered dishes, papers and magical equipment strewn about in promiscuous confusion. In the beam of sun, Verther Shrik sat cross-legged with his eyes closed. He was dressed simply in a rough brown tunic of un-dyed fabric, with loose trousers of the same. His black wavy hair was tousled, he was unshaven, and his pale skin almost seemed to shine. Jaiella didn’t consider him handsome, true he had a good long narrow chin and high cheekbones but his nose was too long, eyebrows to bushy and she didn’t like his small oval shaped eyes.

Atrina took a step forward Jaiella noticed the amused quirk of her Mistresss’s right eyebrow a slight smirk on her Mistress’s lips.

Verther Shirk’s eyes opened at once, they were a queer shade of gray that seemed to change color in different light. Now they looked almost blue. Jaiella gasped as he instantly jumped to his feet and charged at them, he stopped a few inches from Atrina.

Jaiella had never seen him act like this; usually he showed as much emotion as a stone.

“You found another body?!” He demanded of Atrina.

Atrina’s odd smile widened further. “Yes, we did. Let’s compare information.”

“Right.” He sighed and he took a step backwards, he was smiling too.

“I heard your victim was a beggar girl,” Atrina said.

“Yes, yes was supposed to be under the protection of Ozulur, He was very distraught.” He breathlessly spat out. “She had just arrived in the city a few days before.”

“Mine was Ferdith Gil.”

“Really, him? That’s…. interesting.”

“Was she strangled by magic too?”

“Yes.”

“Wrist cut and that eye drawn over the body in her own blood?”

“No? No marks on her wrist all. The symbol was drawn in animal blood, I think.”

Atrina’s smile faded and so did Verther’s, both paced around the room in circles of opposite direction. He stroked his chin and she chewed a knuckle, both had seemingly forgotten Jaiella was there.

“Mistress?” Jaiella asked.

“What?!” Atrina shouted, stopping in mid-pace. Verther stopped too and stared at her as if he had just noticed her.

“You said Ferdith came there against his will struggling the whole time? How, if you don’t want to go someplace…”

“There are spells and potions that make a body move without the consent of the mind.” Atrina said. “It’s an illegal type of magic.”

“...There was no evidence of that with the beggar girl,” Verther mused. “No struggle of any kind. She’d been lured there and eaten a drugged sweet cake, it was still her stomach.”

“—They both were drugged,” Atrina said. “Ferdith was too canny to take food from a stranger but… someone must have slipped a potion of body control in his meal.”

“Good theory,” Verther said calmly. “Now what about that symbol? The eye with a three pronged iris.”

“I don’t know, I never encountered anywhere but in my nightmares.” Atrina admitted.

“I have,” Verther said. “One of the old books in Azur Gul’s library.”

“The Sorcerer of the Day?” Jaiella asked. “But he wouldn’t…”

“No, of course not, girl!” Verther dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “But his library of history and magic is unparalleled in the city.”

He strode towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Atrina called.

“Remember, country girl,” He said using the old nickname from their apprentice days. “It’s time for us to go to court.”

Atrina blinked and followed him. “Right, thank you.”

Jaiella stood in the room, looking around confused for moment and then hurried after them.

The sorcerers’ of the hours: Day, Night, Dusk and Dawn were the four most powerful and knowledgeable in Leban. They cast the rituals to protect the city at their appointed times, they aided the citizens, the nobility, the law and they judged all magical crimes. There were five illegal types of magic: Killing with magic, using magic to defraud someone, using magic to steal, taking bodily or mind control of another human, and the summoning of gods and monsters.

~~~~~~~5~~~~~~

Jaiella had trouble keeping up with the two sorcerers, they walked at a rapid pace through the city, keeping up a constant stream of conversation between the two of them, which she couldn’t wedge her own voice into. They could have travelled in a litter or wheeled cart. Imperial Square was streets and streets away. Jaiella was constantly catching her breath and though they would wait for her to catch up, it was apparent doing so annoyed them. Atrina in her hooded red cloak, black hair spilling out and Verther in his simple homespun made quite a pair, they’d look at each other then back to her.

Jaiella wondered if they were such good, old, friends why did Atrina never mention Verther that often? Why did she avoid him unless they had to be together? Also why did Verther give Atrina such longing looks when her thought no one else saw him? There was something that had been there, Jaiella knew it, but they were old and whatever it had been had died between them, so Jaiella decided she wouldn’t care. As they approached the square proper a harsh voice called out:

“ALL THE WICKED SHALL BE CLEANSED FROM THIS EVIL LAND WITH BLOOD AND MADNESS! THE USURPERS, THE UNCLEAN, THE UNBELIEVERS AND THE TRAITORS ALL SHALL PERISH!”

This fiery speech came from a figure cloaked entirely in grey robes, his face covered; he stood on a wooden crate.

“BLOOD AND MADNESS IS YOUR DUE! IT JUST THE BEGINNING OF YOUR SUFFERING, O WICKED ONES! AND THAT IS ALL YOU SHALL HAVE UNLESS YOU REPENT AND BELIEVE WITH ME! THIS WORLD SHALL BE SCOURED CLEAN BY OUR GOD, DARGOTH!”

Atrina squinted at the man, but Verther laughed

“Don’t mind him, he’s a street preacher for some new cult. They don’t even have a proper temple. You know how these people pop up and disappear.”

“Something about this is familiar…” Atrina mused.

“Yes, like every other cracked zealot we’ve heard ranting here,” Verther sighed. “We have to get to the court.”

The courthouse resembled a temple with its columns of carved god of justice and domed roof. There were three sorts of crimes in Leban: serious, petty and magical. And while there were three courtrooms for serious crimes, six for petty, there was only one court room to judge all magical crimes. The most serious of crimes had to be tried in from of Cantus Shrik, the Patriarch others could be tried by one the half dozen members of the consul.The courtroom for magical crimes was a cool, plain room in the back right hand side of the building. In the back of the room was a raised Dais with four chairs for each of the sorcerers’ of the hours. Carved on the wall behind the chairs were a rising sun, a risen sun, a moon and a setting sun. Already sitting as Azur Gul with his long white beard, hair and in his robes of dark blue and there was Wyanna with her soft smile, tumbling blonde hair and dress of yellow and blue diaphanous silks. She smirked at Atrina as they entered. Azur Gul looked at them briefly, not giving much attention. Jaiella leant the right side of the wall with Azur Gul and Wyanna’s apprentices, and servants.

“Now that we are here,” wheezed Azur Gul “We can begin hearing cases.”

The cases were the usual mix of attempted love charms and petty theft by magic.

Jaiella yawned and looked at other apprentices. Wyanna’s were all standing at attention, mostly boys and all dressed in the same uniform. They were Jaiella’s age or younger. Azur Gul’s apprentices were of course older, sixteen and seventeen. They were joking with each other in hushed tones. Alvan, caught her eye and made a rude gesture, she gave him a shoulder shove, knocking him into Wyanna’s other apprentices, who stumbled and tumbled around, earning them a glare from their mistress; Jaiella smiled to herself.

Though her favorite part of the long, hot, boring court session had to be the break for lunch. Atrina gave her some coins and she got a bowl of spiced mutton and pomegranate stew with flat bread, she ate it greedily scooping up the lamb stew with the flat bread. After they had lunch, there was commotion in the court. As a crowd of swathed and cloaked sand-walkers swept into the courtroom. Their foxy ears adorned pierced with golden and silver rings, their black eyes inscrutable and alien in their slightly furry faces. After them came a small, thin man with lank brown greasy hair, he was flanked by two large watchmen along with a man and a woman in the navy blue of legal advocates.

Azur Gul gave a long drawn out sigh. “This again?”

“It is an important matter sir,” said Atrina

“I don’t see what the big bother is about, all this fighting is about, it really is a small matter,” Wyanna said with a titter. “I don’t like fighting, it sends out bad energy.”

Verther gave a shake of his black hair and rolled his eyes. “If my esteemed colleagues will remember, This man Ygon Wattman,” He pointed one long thin finger at the small man flanked by the watchman. “Is accused of giving Sand-walker children from the Durka Merchant caravan enchanted sweets, at the Esoteric market, these sweets, take away free will and make them so he could take them into slavery. Taking control of someone’s mind through magic is illegal.”

“Yes,” said the male legal advocate. “If the that someone is a person, under our laws. Sand-walkers are not people, therefore it’s not a crime.”

The female legal advocate countered: “The Durka merchant caravan would like to point out that, children are property of their parents.”

Wyanna looked bored and said: “But is taking a lamb or calf away from it’s mother illegal?”

“Not if you own the mother and child. Wattman doesn’t own the Durka caravan.” Atrina growled.

“What about a taking a kitten or a puppy from a stray?” Azur Gul asked.

“Gul, are you comparing the adults of the Durka caravan to stay beasts?” Verther said.

“Well, not but they aren’t people, so I don’t see how this matter concerns us. They are non-citizens they wander where they will, they come into our city and sell their wares, maybe they should defend their children better.” Said Azur Gul.

“My clients are not wild animals,” said the female lawyer.

“But they aren’t people either,” said the male lawyer.

The eyes of the Sand-Walkers glimmered angrily in the darkened court room. They had a strange dusty smell, Jaiella mused, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

She listened to adults argue whether the Sand-walkers had any rights to their own children… it was odd.

“---Look, I don’t see any fault here,” Wyanna said in her soft and high voice. “They aren’t people, they have no rights, they shouldn’t bring their children into the city walls.”

“The Durka caravan, have no where else to put their children,” said the female lawyer.

“That’s not our problem,” said Wyanna.

“So they can’t bring their children in the city, or defend them because if they did it would be murder! This yet more pointlessness arguing! I’m getting sick and tired of my two colleagues refusal to see the illogic of their arguments.” Verther Shrik grumbled.

Jaiella saw an odd tall, Sand-walker among the faces. She looked again, no it was man, a tall dark-skinned man.

Atrina seemed to see him too. “Excuse me, sir? The man standing with the Sand-walkers who are you?”

The man took a step forward. “I am Gallard Nwer, and I’m here with the Durka caravan.”

“What is you’re position in the caravan?” Atrina asked.

“I used to be caravan guard, but recently I married one the merchants’ daughter, Bulda.” He said

“One of the Sand-walkers?” Atrina said.

“Yes,” said Gallard

“Would you say you are part of the caravan then?” said Atrina.

“Yes.”

“So the sand-walker children are like your children?” Atrina asked.

“I suppose,” Gallard said scratching his chin.

“You don’t want men giving them enchanted sweets to lure them away right?” Atrina said.

“No!” Gallard said.

“Fine then,” Atrina said. “I say that the sand-walker children are the property of Gallard Nwer and any attempt to lure them away with enchanted sweets is theft of his property.”

Azur Gul nodded and so did Verther Shrik, Wyanna scowled.

“Excuse me,” Wyanna said in her syrupy voice. “But this man is only loosely associated with the caravan I don’t see…”

“No you don’t,” said Verther dismissing her

“It makes sense to me,” said Azur Gul. “”I conclude that the majority of us agree that the sand-walker children of his caravan are property of Gallard Nwer and there for any attempt to lure them away, is theft.”

The decision was handed down in the end. The man Ygon Wattman was sentenced to have his ring fingers cut off, the sign of a magical theft.

~~~6~~~~~~

The court was dismissed after that case. Wyanna hissed at her apprentices, who stood at attention and followed the sweep of her skirts at a march. Azur Gul was given a cane by his apprentices and shakily made his way down to his litter where his lover Nuran, a man as old as old and bearded as he, was waiting for him. Verther Shrik had seemingly disappeared into the crowd, milling outside the courtroom. Atrina and Jaiella were about to walk out of the square when the Durka caravan came and encircled them. All those dark eyes and inscrutable faces, the dusty smell of the sand walkers.

An elderly Sand-walker man in rich multi-colored robes came up to them.

“My name is Surrit Grith,” He said in a high halting strangely accented voice. “I am the chief of the Durka caravan, you have done us a great service. We would like to thank you.”

“There is no need,” Atrina said. “I was just doing what was just.”

“Many do not see us worthy of justice,” Said Surrit. “But you did, if there is anything we do or get for you. It will be done. We may not look like much, but we are nimble and resourceful.”

“I thank you,” Atrina said with a small smile and bow. “But there is no need.”

“We will repay this debt,” Said Surrit. “It is a matter of honor for us.”

“Thank you again,” Atrina said then added something in the clicking whistling tongue of the Sand walkers.

Surrit smiled revealing a few pointed and gold teeth. “Very well. Until we meet again.”

The Durka caravan dispersed.

Atrina and Jaiella took a cheap for hire palanquin; the cushions were worn and upholstered in some cheap, rough fabric. They bumped and jostled down the streets, as the bearers carried with no real care, until of course they got to the manse of the merchant Marath Gil. High walls of yellow brick surrounded his house, they were now draped with swags of intertwining black and white fabric to show the household was in mourning in Leban, white for the ephemeral nature of the departed soul, black for the sadness of those left behind.

they were shown in through a humble wooden door, by a bald serving man, in white robes another sign of mourning. The manse was built in the new style: a walled compound surrounding a series of unconnected buildings. Separate kitchens, and outbuilding, separate luxurious quarters for Marath Gil and his grown children. In the middle of the compound was the main building, the hub of the household. It was a distinct intricate murals on the outer walls of leaping dolphins, and sea creatures in water. They were high walls topped by multiple domes, of blue, white and gold tiles. It was meant to impress, and it did. The doors however were draped in the black and white banners of mourning. The serving man, quiet and thoughtful opened the main door with his keys and lead them to brown ante chamber that overlooked the gardens. Atrina and Jaiella sat down on low cushioned bench, it was plain but clearly well made. On a table in front of the of the bench, a dark haired serving girl in black robes, brought out a laden tray with tea, two cups, dates, green olives, and fresh figs all in separate silver bowls. The girl’s face was red, puffy she’d been crying. When the serving girl left Jaiella reached out her hand to grab some figs. Only to have it slapped back by Atrina.

“In place like this, never take the food or drink,” Atrina hissed sharply.

“Why? They brought it out for us?” Jaiella said.

“Because it’s not good manners, you only take the food when Marath Gil himself comes out and offers it, and then nibble at it. This food is just a display of wealth, shoving down your throat with out being offered is very bad manners. Also is eating to much.” Atrina said slowly.

“I didn’t know that,” Jaiella mumbled.

“Well I expect you be able to mix with all levels of society, you have to know these things.” Atrina said. “Also it’s very disrespectful to shove food in your face when the household is in mourning, it shows you have no compassion.”

“Oh yeah,” Jaiella sighed.

They waited, Jaiella itched but she dared not scratch it. Not now, not in this place. The house was so silent and Atrina was saying nothing more simply looking out at the garden outside the window.

Marath Gil entered, he was a large, portly dark skinned man with a bald head and a neat greying beard. He was known through out city for his philanthropy and good spirits. He had once served on the consul. Usually he stood tall and proud. However today, in his white robes of mourning he seemed to have shrunk and sagged. His eyes had a hollow look and there were the tracks of tears still glimmering on his cheeks.

He sat down slowly and looked at them with empty sad eyes.

Atrina bowed her head: “It is terrible thing to lose child, in such a manner. We are sorry to intrude on your grief but their things we must know to discover who murdered him.”

Marath Gil took a breath and sighed. “My son was a good man, he was a good man, but he was far to trusting. That’s my fault, I tried not show him the worst parts of life.”

“Did he have any enemies? Or business rivals, that would profit from his death?” asked Atrina coolly.

“No. We maintained good relationships with our competitors, and no one could hate Ferdith, he always was honest, and always tried to see the good in people and was often rewarded. Even with business dealings.., he was spoken well of. “ Marath said. “As for rivals… well…”

He trailed off looking at the out the window.

“Yes?” Atrina’s eyes shimmered with alertness.

“…he had some romantic rivals, but that was over. He wooed the lady and was keeping her in far more comfort then they could. Maybe there was so jealousy.” Marath shook his head.

“Lady?” Atrina raised one eyebrow.

Marath met her gaze. “You know I was married to my Janna from our youth until the day the gods took her from me. My son, as always the case with those brought up rich, tired of his wife and sent her away. He had a mistress, but tired of her and took a concubine.”

“Why did he send her away?” asked Atrina. “The wife I mean, also who was this Mistress?”

“He claimed neither were happy with the marriage anymore. But I mean, this woman was the mother of his children, bonded to him in front of the Gods. And he said she left for the country estate of her own free will,” Marath sighed. “As if a woman ever does the leaving. And recently to appease his newest lover, that concubine, he sent the children to stay with her. Awful, to think the last memory they will have of their father is him bidding them good bye. For all his faults as a husband my son loved his children. He wept to see them go.”

“And you think the concubine was responsible for this?”

“Who else could make a man send his beloved children away?”

“Ah,” sighed Atrina. “What is the name of this concubine who wielded such power over your late son’s heart?”

“Coquella, she used to be a an actress.” Said Marath Gil. “No doubt she’ll prosper from his death… do you think... she might have murdered him?”

Jaiella gasped at the name, Coquella with her beautiful placid face, swan like neck and long golden curls was famous. Jaiella had seen wood-cuts of her, even seen Coquella perform at a festival. She was known up and down the cities on this coast of the Aurel sea. But then she had stopped acting altogether last year, to much speculation.

“Yes, but Marath Gil, she will not gain much for it, and might even suffer from it, if you aren’t the only one who thinks this.” Atrina said.

Marath nodded. “Yes, but people like her never think that far ahead. My poor son, it seems like only yesterday he was a babe cradled in my arms and now…”

He looked away, trying not to cry. There was a long pause

“Do you want us to leave and come back some other time?” Atrina asked softly after a while.

“No, no,” Marath said with a sniff. “He needs justice, you need to find his killer. Anyone and everyone in my household can talk to you, if helps you find you did this terrible act.”

He got up and left moving stiffly, after he had departed a servant approached.

“I have been instructed to bring all members of the household for questioning my lady. Who would you like to see next?”

Atrina said looking straight ahead: “Coquella.”

Jaiella expected more from the famous Coquella. The woman who hesitantly stepped into the room, wasn’t like Jaiella remembered at all.

Coquella wore a matte black headscarf, over a black dress of the same, her face was tired, lined and her pale skin seemed dull almost grayish. She looked wearily at them and said in a listless voice: “You wish to speak to me about my Ferdith?”

“Yes.”

“What do you want to know?” She said in the same voice.

“Why did you become his concubine?”

“I loved him.” She smiled faintly. “There were others willing to pay more for my love, my companionship, keep me more comfort but I loved Ferdith the most. “

“Is why you quit acting?”

“No, but I am getting to old for it, and I don’t want to be a bitter, unhappy relic of a bygone time. Ferdith and I were lovers for years, despite what his father told you.”

“And his wife?”

“She knew and did not care, they were more friends for most of their marriage. She had her own affairs.”

#Writing #My writing #WIP #Orginal characters #Fantasy #text

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