CHAPTER SIX
S he was noticed but assurance is everything. Guessing Inge’s schedule had been evening tide, based on their run-in, Petra kept to the bed for the duration of the day. At a switching of shifts she changed out of her former uniform and into the basics of a courier. Inge was taller than her. She ripped part of her former attire to makeshift a belt underneath and hoist up the basics.
When those who delivered in the evenings went for meals, she went with them, babbling to those next to her about inconsequential things. Though the first looks were of surprise, it changed quickly to ill-concealed annoyance, and they ignored her chatter.
She prattled about everything. Burning her tongue and hoping it would heal by the time everyone was given a taste of plum cream on the second night of the festival. The pebble in her shoe that she, bravely, walked on to ensure a letter to the Royal Garden Keepers Longhouse arrived in time.
Assurance is everything.
Others talked to her as if she had been there for months but tried not to use her name because they realized, with shame, they did not know it. As a result, they were unusually kind to her, giving her letters to halls that were known to offer sweet treats as thanks.
She had no aspirations that she would remain unnoticed. That was not the point. By the time her concealing tactics ran dry, enough voices would vouch for her dedication. When she was found out, she would be honest but keep her assurance.
And the opportunity arrived three hours before twilight on the first day of the festival.
She stood at the letter table, receiving instructions that the message must be delivered to the third captain of Shivalry before the start of the festival. The request was time sensitive. Petra had tucked the scroll in her breast pocket when one of the superiors hooked her arm in his.
“I will walk with you part of the way.”
Augustine was one of four high ranking couriers in the hall. Average in height and non-assuming in appearance, he wore his authority with dignity. His expression, from over his thin nose, bespoke of a man who had long overseen others. Aldney had mentioned him in letters, talking of disputes among his companions and describing Augustine’s decisions as stark but fair.
Beside him, Petra walked with her gaze forward.
“What happened to Inge?” he asked.
“I came upon her after a tryst.”
“And? Tell all. What you’ve done is worthy of both your hands being removed.”
“She was distraught that she had fallen asleep, and her letter hadn’t been delivered. She knew she was ruined. She fled. I took the letter and her cloak. I have taken her place. Her duties, her bed, her meals are not wasted. I came to this city to provide for my mother and learn the truth of my brother’s death. He was a courier.”
Augustine looked at her with pinched brows “Was your brother as clever?”
“He did not need to be. He was beautiful and talented.”
Augustine’s steps slowed.
Garlands and festoons hung in a cornucopia from every gate. Baskets of ferns, flower blossoms, and woven wreaths of wheat adorned both sides of the road. Zithers, horns, flutes, and pipas could be heard like clouds passing, practicing the national anthem.
The road had been swept every hour since the previous night. Chariots and bare-footed dancers, musicians and acrobats could not be allowed even the slightest stumble. Jesters on stilts and actors dressed as the emperor’s favorite animals would sing until their voices were drowned by drums so big it took three men to carry them.
The air hummed with anticipation.
“What is your surname?”
“Ondise.”
He stopped. Hurt flashed across his features.
“Aldney. Aldney Ondise was your brother?”
Petra felt tears start at the rim of her eyes. “Yes.”
“I will tell you, there was never a day he did not work until exhaustion. He inspired others. Aldney would have risen to high positions in the hall.”
She started walking again. “I mourn him every moment.”
“I understand now why you are so bold to assume another’s place.”
“I have caused no harm nor excess.”
“This is true. I will not tarnish your brother’s memory either by casting you out. I will not be the reason the woman who bore him starves.”
Relief so cold it made her shiver crashed between the walls of her chest.
“How can I express my thanks?”
“By accepting your punishment without sound. Your actions are still reprehensible. I will not reward your cunning.”
“But you will not excise me?”
“No.”
Now her tears poured freely. “Then do your worst. I will make no sound.”
From a pocket, he withdrew a leather switch. On each of its three cords were three knots.
He moved behind her.
“Each time your right foot strikes the ground, I will strike your back. We shall proceed thus until you reach the palace of the third captain of Shivalry. The message you bear has been disguised. But I recognize that seal and nothing from the emperor can be delayed.”
She clenched her teeth and nodded.
I love you, Aldney.
Petra stepped and the whip snapped between her shoulder blades. Despite the robe’s thick fabric, she felt the knots drive into her skin, threatening to do more than bruise.
Every other step.
There was no time to inhale before the next blow drove air from her lungs. She clenched her teeth, but her mouth was forced open by the heft of Augustine’s arm. At the same time, feeling the whip lodge its venom, she coughed and inhaled, gagging and choking.
Yet the rhythm of her stride could not slow. The scroll in her pocket was imperial. Her brother’s memory was dear. On she walked.
Her feet began not to lift from the ground. The soles of her shoes dragged over the road and her pace labored from side to side. Brisk air from the tears in the robe touched the exposed welts and hissed with stinging. Her garments stuck to the wounds, tugging mercilessly. Her body threatened to betray her, but she drummed her fists against her legs, to make a rhythm she could feel through the suffocating pain.
It was excruciating and she feared she might die between each step.
***
A UGUSTINE ONLY SPOKE to tell her the palace of the third captain was near the main gates. He spent little time there, between his duties to the emperor and the safety of Vale.
Petra heard him but distantly. A rushing noise made of white-capped waves and unforgiving winter windstorms flooded her eardrums. Her mouth slacked open, but she could not hear the way she sucked air down her throat. Mischievous darkness crept at the edges of her vision.
Like a mule who only knows to plow onward, she had to be reined in when they, at last, arrived at the palace. Augustine caught her arm and pulled her balance upright.
“If there is no reply, return to the hall immediately. You must be dressed and present for the festival. I will have someone ready to clean your back.”
“Y...yes. Th-thank...you.”
The whip was tucked away, and her superior strode back down the road, his legs not made of rusted, buckling iron.
Unstable, Petra rocked back on her heels and heaved herself into motion again. The residence gate stopped her, and she let the sound of her body’s thud act as her knock. From inside, a servant pulled the gate inward and she moved with it, grateful to let something carry her.
Through her blurred and blackening vision, she saw the look of alarm on the manservant’s face. Petra let her uniform speak and tapped at her chest. Although the servant was plainly shocked, he gestured she follow.
The inner court of the mansion might have been lovely; she could not tell. Her vision was narrow. There appeared to be little décor in the courtyard. No topiary. No statues. The only nod to decoration was a small fountain bubbling over unpolished rocks of varying sizes.
Unlike other palaces, there were no steps leading to the main residence. The doors of the third captain of Shivalry were level with the ground.
She was glad. Crawling like an animal did not befit her position.
Inside, the same sparsity was present. Large rooms, mostly unadorned, of dark wood. Their steps echoed.
The servant asked her to wait.
It might have been a few minutes; it might have been an entire hour. Petra relished not moving. By the time heavy, measured steps sounded she teetered side to side and turned towards the footfall.
He filled the precious space of her sight. The same captain from the street, from the scribe’s hall, dressed simply now in a robe of dark blue.
She met his gaze with what she hoped was a bow, but she could not be sure her body obeyed the command. His eyes drove through her. Deep, like the heated core of the earth. It seemed to steep into her skin and bones where it strove to create warmth.
“My lord,” she began. “I come...with a letter that...that...”
“That’s enough.” He strode towards her. “Hush. Give me the letter.”
Functioning like her body was a foreign object to her, she passed him the scroll. He looked at the wax seal, frowned and then moved from her, unrolling it.
“Will there...be a reply, my...lord?”
She saw him look over his shoulder. Suddenly, he looked horrified. She saw the letter flutter from his hand. She did not feel her knees buckling. He stole towards her, and she did not know her body was collapsing. She did not feel the strike of the floor. Instead, she felt strong arms.
***
L IGHTS DAZZLED HER eyes. Flickering, glittering colors, like ruptured stars revealing their true hues. Out of the far blue dome of the sky, they exploded, shedding their white glow for a kaleidoscope of shimmering rain.
If she raised her hands, would the tiny shards of light flutter into her palms like curious fairies from another realm? Was this part of the secrets held within the Cloistered City? Or was this a dream? It did not matter. Petra gloried in the sight.
Never had there been anything like this in her imagination. The red was sweet and the yellow bright and tangy, like citrus fruits. The blue sparkled like rain and the green was a promise of summer months far from now.
Slowly, the sounds of the fireworks reached her ears. If thunder could pop. If the clash of lightning rippled outwards and collided with sleeping clouds. These were unfamiliar sounds. Exhilarating and refreshing, like cup after cup of cool water on a hot day.
Eventually, between the off-beat, lilting cadence of colors and sounds, she heard the rise and fall of voices below. It was then stupor at last dripped from her like a sodden wool blanket. She realized she lay on a mattress and above her was not the sky but a wood ceiling. From the window next to her she had seen the celebratory display.
Petra sat forward.
A supple blanket pooled off her shoulders and into her lap. It smelled fresh. So did the bedding. With her brain trying to process where she was and how she might have arrived, she noticed that the bed things smelled different from those in the courier dormitory.
She pushed the blanket away to find she wore a gray gown four sizes too big and squinted to collect her thoughts. There were voices and fireworks outside the window; the festival had started. The last thing she remembered was seeing the letter flutter from the captain’s hand...
“Oh!”
She moved to stand, finding her shoes at the foot of the bed, but the sudden movement made her back throb, and her second exclamation was in pain. This brought fast footsteps contained in short strides and the door at the far end of the room opened.
“You’ve woken, I see. Are you in much pain?”
The man was thin and might have been any age, if not for the wide streaks of white playing through his beard and hair. His eyes were bright but his lips thin. His hands were smooth but unsteady.
“I...I’m not. Where am I?”
Over a stomach that was not there, he folded his hands and neared. “You are in the palace of the third captain of Shivalry.”
“What?!”
“Do you not remember fainting?”
I remember the letter floating and seeing a terrified look in the captain’s face .
“What happened?”
“You fainted. My lord caught you before you struck the ground. He carried you up here and gave me express instructions to clean your wounds and mend your clothes.”
For a reply, Petra pulled the scooped neckline of the garment closer. This made the man shake his head.
“Fear not. Your dignity is in place. My lord left directly, and I have not felt amorous towards a woman since my manhood was intact.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Nothing is needed. Rest further. I’ll bring—”
“No, please! You’ve done so much, and I was expected back right away. I’ve got to go!”
He held up his hand. “You would dare walk the opposite direction of the emperor?”
Petra looked out the window. The emperor’s chariot had paused and there was dancing and jumping flanking him on both sides. However, nobody moved up or down the road.
“But I was told to be...”
“Say you were asked to wait for a reply. If it eases you, I’ll escort you.”
“Oh, that’s not—”
“I serve my lord. He told me to ensure your recovery and so I shall. The emperor will not retire until close to dawn. Enjoy the festival from here and I will bring you a restorative and something to eat.”
“I...I thank you.”
He bowed. “Keep your thanks. My name is Bartholomew. I act on my lord Rand’s command.”
Rand ...