Chapter 6 Araphi #2
She finishes the wine in her glass and pours a bit more.
What would her mother think of her if she knew where her daughter has been, and what she’s been up to?
Araphi thinks she’d be proud and delighted.
That she would’ve cheered louder than anyone as the last notes of the ballad rang out in the Dragon’s Bane last night.
Rather, she hopes so.
Not that her mother will ever hear her play, because barding competitions belong in Phi Runesong’s world, not in Araphi’s or her mother’s.
Not anymore. And yet…Could there ever be a way for Araphi to exist in both her mother’s world and Phi Runesong’s world—Sage’s world too—at the same time?
Araphi isn’t sure, and the weight of trying to exist in all these places, as all these different people all at once, sits heavily on her shoulders.
Maybe there isn’t enough of her to go around.
Maybe she should just pick a life and stick to it.
But she isn’t ready to give up being Phi Runesong. And she can’t give up being a Clauneck.
What is she supposed to do?
Araphi walks over to an ornate mirror, considering herself and the room behind her.
She’s beautiful, clearly, but in a way that’s soft, pampered, and maintained by money.
There’s nothing of Sage’s raw beauty and sharp edges in her.
This gilded, luxurious existence is all she’s ever known, but it’s not all she wants.
Araphi is eager to see who she might become if given the chance.
But does she really want to leave her family behind to face the cold, dark northern road and all the dangers it offers?
Yes. She really, really does.
Of course, finding a way to slip past her attendants and excuse her absence to her family for a few weeks is a whole different matter. Still, as Araphi resumes pacing, a plan begins to form in her mind.
The next morning—two days until the adventure party leaves, but who’s counting?
—Araphi finds herself surrounded by her own lady’s maid, her mother’s secretary, and the Claunecks’ official wedding planner and event organizer, all of whom she’s known since she was toddling around her parents’ mansion.
A dress that’s more confection than garment hangs about her, wrapping her in a cloud of ivory fabric.
It’s something she’d never want to wear in a thousand years, but it was specially picked for her by her mother, and she can hardly say no.
“Really, Araphi, no bride should be so lovely,” says Rosalind, her mother’s secretary. “You are a vision.”
“Truly, a dream,” gushes Bianca, the wedding planner. “Denby’s suit will complement this dress well. Now, should we discuss shoes and accessories?”
Araphi’s lady’s maid, Stella, shoots her a sympathetic look as Rosalind and Bianca call for the bridal shop clerks to bring out all of their matching shoes and veils, and Araphi heaves an enormous sigh.
Her mind wanders to the shopping she’d rather be doing.
Sage had given her a list of supplies, and Araphi had added more items to it last night.
As a pin pricks her hip and a dress attendant apologizes, Araphi runs through her expanded list in her mind.
Bedroll, backpack, canteen, food for at least a few days (surely they’d stop at a tavern or inn somewhere on the journey north?), her lute, extra strings, a sensible pair of boots, a warm cloak, a few changes of clothing, including several pairs of riding pants…How many outfits should she bring?
She can almost hear Sage’s snort of disbelief.
Right, not outfits. Just a few pairs of serviceable, sensible pants, traveling dresses, and hose. And perhaps one or two nicer dresses—because as a bard, she might need to perform on the road.
Will she need a knife? For eating, certainly, but what about for danger that might arise? Will a knife be sufficient? Sage had carried a sword at the wedding, polished to gleaming, but she’d had a simpler pair of long daggers with scuffed leather hilts strapped at her hips last night…
The thought of Sage wielding her daggers once again pulls at something low in Araphi’s belly.
Another pin jabs her in the shoulder, and Araphi swears under her breath.
Suddenly the dress, the wedding, all of it is too much.
She holds up a hand and calls out in her most charming voice, “We’re done here for now, ladies.
And I’ve got a bit of a surprise to share: I’ve been invited by friends to a hot spring and bathhouse in the north for the next three weeks.
” Araphi pulls off a veil that a dress shop attendant has just placed on her head.
“It’s important that I leave now to get there in time. ”
“What do you mean, ‘a hot spring’?” Bianca says in disbelief. “You’re a bride-to-be. We need you here, where the wedding planning is happening!”
It takes every ounce of Araphi’s control not to roll her eyes. This wedding will barrel on without her, whether she likes it or not. “I won’t be gone long. But I won’t be reachable. The bathhouse is a secluded place meant for rest and relaxation.”
“You can’t just leave!” Rosalind protests. “What will Denby think? What will your parents say?”
Araphi shrugs. “Tell them I’m gathering my resources and will be healthier than ever when I get back.
Besides which, it’s an excellent opportunity to reconnect with some highly placed friends I’ve lost touch with since leaving Auximia.
” Her family would likely put more stock in her social machinations than her good health.
“I’ll be departing shortly. Please don’t follow me, and please don’t worry. I’ll be back before you know it.”
Then, before they can say anything else, she air-kisses each of their cheeks and walks out of the room so she can change into her everyday clothes. When she pushes through the door of the shop a few minutes later, lightness settles over her.
She’s really doing it. She’s really going to live as Phi Runesong, a bard who’s part of an adventuring party, for the next few weeks.
Whistling a tune under her breath, Araphi heads into the market district to see about securing supplies for the journey.
On the morning the party leaves, Araphi’s excitement has been replaced with crushing doubt. Who does she think she’s fooling, playing at being an adventurer?
She looks at the bag she’s packed, considering it again. It’s a sturdy pack, made from oilcloth and canvas, and it’s stuffed near to bursting with provisions, camping supplies, extra clothing, and dozens of other items that the shop clerk assured her were essential for any adventure.
She looks around her room at the more modest inn where she paid for a room after leaving her attendants in the bridal shop, searching for anything she might’ve missed.
Bedroll, backpack, canteen, food for at least a few days, my lute, extra strings, a sensible pair of boots, a warm cloak, a few changes of clothing…
What else might she need?
You forget yourself, Araphi Clauneck. You forget your place, thunders a voice in her head. You forget who you are, and who you are answerable to.
Araphi swears, clutching her temples and sitting down hard on the thin mattress. She’s been worrying so much, she’d let her guard down.
Her loathsome family patron, Clauneck, continues. How precisely are you planning to survive an hour outdoors without my magic? Time to start supplicating, don’t you think?
A memory rises, unbidden. She and her cousin Yael are no more than seven or so, and bored at one of their parents’ endless parties. Clauneck never spoke to her back then, though Yael insisted he was in their head all the time. Eternally curious, Araphi wanted to know more about him.
“Let’s go see his altar,” Araphi had suggested. “Mother and my fathers never let me.”
Yael shook their tousled head. “You don’t want to go there. It’s just piles of shiny junk on a marble slab. But the room feels…it isn’t a good place to be.”
“Please?” Araphi put all of her charm into the request. “And I’ll help distract your parents later so you can skip the rest of the party.”
Yael relented. “Fine, but let’s make it quick, while Clauneck is quiet. He’s probably in my father’s head, spilling secrets about everyone in this room.”
One of Clauneck’s altars was housed in a small chamber attached to the ballroom, for the convenience of their guests.
It was an obscene thing, made of black marble with purple velvet curtains surrounding it.
Purple-flamed candles flickered, and the Clauneck crest was carved into the marble above the altar.
Piles of gems, heirlooms, scrolls, velvet, and relics filled the space, all of them from guests hoping to curry favor with the family and its patron.
Back then, Araphi had no idea what Clauneck did with them all, but they disappeared from the family altar frequently.
As a child, she’d imagined his stronghold in the abyssal realms was filled to the brim with all sorts of human trinkets and treasures, somehow vanished from this plane into his.
Of course, she knows now that they were gathered by her aunt and uncle’s servants and added to the family vaults, increasing their family’s wealth on this plane, and thus their influence, which in turn begat more wealth.
All of which increased Clauneck’s power on his own plane.
“Yael, look,” Araphi whispered. “There’s a violin.
” She pointed to a varnished instrument.
Perhaps a down-on-their-luck musician hired for the party had given it up for the Claunecks, hoping to increase their own fortune.
It looked so sad there. So out of place and lovely.
Suddenly she wanted that violin more than anything.
“Don’t touch it,” Yael begged. “It isn’t for us. You can’t—”
She’d already been reaching for the violin, though.
The moment her hands closed around its neck, a voice boomed in her head.
Araphi Clauneck, you common thief! Put that down at once!
She dropped the violin as dread snaked through her. Gods, was this what Yael heard all the time?