Leslie Moore - Griffin's Daughter

Magnes returned to his seat, unsettled. What had the leke meant by his last remark?

He pondered the question all throughout the meal, which, as Wambo had warned earlier, proved to be highly spiced. His companions, mistaking his distraction for shyness, attempted to draw him out with conversation. He could tell that they were fishing for clues about his background. He fed them only enough details to make up a plausible story. He was the son of a minor noble house, estranged from his family and looking to make his own way in the world. They all seemed to accept him at his word, and he felt a momentary twinge of guilt at the deception, but he told himself that no harm would come of it.

After dinner, Magnes went with Fadili to inspect the pharmacy. He found it to be meticulously organized and well stocked.

“ Our old herbalist Tima died last winter of the lung fever,” Fadili explained. “She was teaching me.” The young man’s voice quivered with sadness.

“ I’ll teach you now, Fadili,” Magnes stated. Something about the youth reminded him of Dari. A wave of homesickness weakened his knees and brought tears to his eyes. He wondered if Dari now looked after Storm.

“ Are you not well?” Fadili asked. Magnes quickly shook his head.

“ I’m fine. It’s…it’s just that I’m not used to the spiciness of your food, that’s all. It has unsettled my stomach a little, but I’ll be recovered by morning. Don’t worry!” He laughed wanly. “I’ll make myself some peppermint tea. That’s always good to ease indigestion.”

“ I’ll make it for you and bring it to your room,” Fadili offered. Magnes thanked him and made his way back to his little chamber. There, he applied flint and steel to the small clay lamp sitting on a wall shelf by the door and lay down upon his cot.

The straw-stuffed mattress smelled a little musty, but mercifully, seemed flea-free. He would see about getting some fresh straw later. He crossed his arms behind his head and stared up at the wood-beamed ceiling, allowing his mind to drift.

A soft knock at the door heralded the arrival of the tea. Magnes got up to let Fadili in and took the steaming mug from the young novice with a murmured “Thank you” and “Goodnight.” He carried the tea over to the cot and sat on the edge, sipping carefully and thinking.

How long ago that fateful Sansa night seemed now, when all of the events that so drastically changed his life had been put into motion. If only his father had not procured that horrible girl, then insisted that he marry her. If only Jelena’s choices hadn’t been so grim-flight or slavery.

Jelena.

What has become of you, Cousin? Are you happily married to Ashinji Sakehera? Have you found your father yet?

What will happen to you and Ashinji when Soldara brings war to Alasiri? Gods, how I miss you! I just pray that you are safe.

He took a final sip of the tea, got up from the bed and went to extinguish the lamp, then lay down again to sleep.

Ashinji!

Jelena cried his name over and over in her head as she ran, half-blinded by darkness and tears. Somehow, she managed to reach the barracks without falling or running into anyone.

The barracks were deserted. All of the guards either still reveled at the feast or were on duty. She could be alone with her grief. She flung herself down on her bunk and gave in to despair. Her wish had come true, but it was all for naught. Ashinji loved her- loved her -but she didn’t think that even his love and determination could break the grip that elven societal tradition held on his life. He had said they would find a way, but she couldn’t imagine how.

Maybe I should have left Kerala before things got to this point, she thought. I can still leave…Try to find work somewhere else while I search for my father. But Lord Sen promised to help me, and he can do so much more for me than I could ever accomplish on my own.

Gods help me, what am I going to do?

What if Ashinji does something foolish, like tell Lord Sen he wishes to marry me? What if his father forbids it and Ashinji dares to defy him?

Disaster!

I can’t let that happen!

Tomorrow, she would tell Ashinji that she had been confused, that he had befuddled her with his kisses, that she really didn’t love him. He would be hurt and angry, but he would eventually get over her and move on, especially if she left Kerala. The thought of causing him such pain ripped at her heart and brought on a fresh torrent of tears.

I love him so much, but I must let him go. Gods, how am I going to let him go?

Eventually, she slept.

She awoke with a start and sat up, looking around the dim room apprehensively. The soft drone of Aneko’s snores drifted from the far corner, soothing her with its familiarity. The hazy recollection, already fading, of an unpleasant dream made her shiver.

Realizing she had slept all night in her clothes made her desperate for a bath. She rose from her bunk and went to the window to look out. The sun had just begun its climb into the sky. The castle complex lay quiet and still.

Jelena knew that most of Kerala’s inhabitants and guests would sleep late this morning. She would probably have the staff bath house to herself. She collected a clean set of garments from her chest and slipped out as quietly as she could.

As she had suspected, the bath house was deserted. This particular facility was one of two set aside for the exclusive use of the castle staff. Because of its proximity to the barracks, the guards and their families made the most use of it.

The rules were simple; the first person to use the bath in the morning built up the fire that the last person to use the bath had banked the night before. Anyone who used the bath during the course of the day would check on the fire and feed it if necessary. The system worked well, for the most part.

The tub itself lay buried in a pit lined with sand and tiles. A wooden deck had been constructed around its perimeter. Benches lined the walls; pegs driven into the plaster at regular intervals served as clothes hangers. An open space against the east wall served as an area for soaping and rinsing prior to the actual bath. The floor had been built with a slope, so that water flowed down and out through a ceramic pipe set in one corner.

The cleverest feature of the bathhouse was its system of taps. Two ceramic pipes protruded from the wall. When unplugged, they delivered streams of running water that served as showers. The water always ran cold early in the morning, but on sunny days, it often got quite warm by noon.

Jelena dropped her clean clothes on a bench and descended the short flight of stairs leading down to the firebox. After stoking the fire with fresh wood, she ascended and stripped out of her rumpled garments.

The shower water felt tolerably cool this morning. Ashinji had once said that elves truly enjoyed washing in cold water before a long hot soak. It made one appreciate the warm water all the more. Jelena wondered how any of them could stand it in winter.

In Amsara, most people bathed their entire bodies infrequently at best, and then usually in connection with a holiday or some other special occasion. Since she had come to Kerala, Jelena had grown to appreciate the benefits and pleasures of daily bathing with clear water and soft, creamy soap scented with herbs. She had come to recognize that part of the reason why she found Ashinji’s unique aroma so appealing was that he always smelled clean.

After a thorough scrub and rinse, she slipped into the warm water of the tub with a blissful sigh and closed her eyes. The tub could hold at least six people comfortably, eight if they didn’t mind a squeeze. During the early evening when most of the guards preferred to wash, they either squeezed or waited. Jelena liked coming to the bath in the early morning to avoid the rush.