The Light Side of the Shadow Wall
Part II: Advice
For better or for worse, de Santangel was home when they called.
When they were showed into a sunlit courtyard tiled in bright blues and greens, Dimas found that de Santangel appeared entirely unchanged from their previous meeting, three years ago. Same flamboyant robes, bold smirk, glittering green eyes, and waves of golden hair that managed to be arrogant in their curl.
To his surprise, he was courteous enough as he rose to greet them. "Welcome to my home, de Teran. Casimiro."
"Zacarías."
"Thank you. I admire your home and am glad of the chance to see it," Dimas said as they sat down, gratefully receiving a frosted glass of water with lime. It was warm for a midwinter day, and the light yet erratic spray from the fountain was refreshing even from this distance.
Casimiro had told him it was not the family villa but newly built, from Zacarías's own design. From what they had seen on their way to the courtyard, it was highly unconventional but had a certain undeniable grace to its sleek, curving walls and labyrinthine passages.
His host smiled, drumming his fingers lightly on the tabletop. "I am glad to hear it. So, let us get down to things. Casimiro tells me you are interested in the hand of my cousin Serafina."
Dimas looked at him, aghast. This was not how things were done. They were supposed to converse about other topics – the weather, the horse races, potential mutual acquaintances, perhaps even politics, if they were feeling daring. But he had not planned to broach the topic of courting Serafina de Luna until, at the earliest, his third visit. It seemed that Zacarías had a different timeline and standard of formality in mind.
"Casimiro said you had a subtle mind."
"I can be subtle about things that matter to me. You don't matter to me unless you marry my cousin," Zacarías said baldly.
"Zacarías."
"What?"
"You know what." Casimiro was watching the fountain idly, but the iron in his voice was unmistakable. "He isn't used to you."
Their host appeared to sulk for a few minutes. "Well, he will have to get used to me if he wants to marry into the family." He turned to Dimas with a toothy smile. "I am her favorite cousin, did you know? Even if she does say that I plague her worse than gnats in summertime."
That statement gave him some hope he and his intended bride would have at least one thing in common.
He hadn't realized he had expressed this hope out loud until Zacarías laughed. "Perhaps you are more interesting than I thought." He looked Dimas over appraisingly. "Tell me something, de Teran. You have a sister, don't you? Why don't you ask her for courting advice?"
Dimas let out a startled laugh. "Ask Rosalía how to converse with young women? Rosalía doesn't like conversing with them herself. And she dislikes being courted even more so. But how did you know about Rosalía?"
He smiled smugly. "I have done my research, of course."
His hand drifted to his shirt, covering a spot where it was likely a locket in which fashionable young couples secreted portraits or locks of hair from their sweethearts rested. Casimiro did not care for fashion but Magdalena did, so he wore one as well. Dimas noted the gesture, a surprisingly unconscious one for a man who so carefully orchestrated his presentation.
"I am afraid I have other affairs to handle now, but come to me next week. I will tell you about your competition."
"Is that, well, fair?" he was compelled to ask as he and Casimiro rose. Then again, perhaps Zacarías would also be informing them of his suit.
"On the dark side of the shadow wall, de Teran, you will need all the help you can get."
Serafina had Zacarías's plight, as well as his wish for her, in mind when she nervously approached her side of the paper-thin wall.
Courting by the shadow wall was a custom that went back to the olden times and one that a significant minority of families, including the de Lunas and the de Santangels, still followed. Girls of marriageable age from these families were not allowed to interact with unmarried men, except for their relatives, but they were still allowed some limited choice in who they married from the set of suitors which had been deemed suitable.
The courting was done by way of the shadow wall, a barrier that was erected on the girl's family's property so they could properly monitor the proceedings. It was not a substantial obstruction – a child could put her fist through it. But no one ever breached the wall (sneaking around it, yes, usually involving a conveniently placed tree), not if they wanted to be considered marriageable or marriage material. Its purpose was to prevent the courting pair from getting a glimpse of one another while allowing their voices to carry through easily.
It was called the shadow wall because meetings took place in the early morning or late afternoon. The girl was always on the "light side," which was the east side in the mornings and the west side at night. Her suitor was on the "shadow side," and this appellation had become the preferred term in general parlance. Zacarías had once said it was to emphasize the mystery and challenge associated with courting. Luisa's tart rejoinder had been that men liked to complain about the difficulties they faced in the courting process.
Courting by the shadow wall gave the proposed couple a limited number of opportunities to impress each other. It encouraged them not to judge by appearance alone, although of course there were other, indirect ways of eliciting this information. The downside was that compatibility was heavily determined by conversation alone, and there was a rampant tendency to make grandiose claims. The young men sometimes tried their luck at leaving tokens or small notes, hoping they would accurately predict that the next time a meeting occurred, the girl would be on that side of the wall to receive the trinket rather than a competitor or overly strict chaperone.
Serafina cast a glance over her shoulder at Luisa, who was sewing patiently in a cushioned chair. Luisa was acting as chaperone and sat some distance away, near enough to call for help (or knowing Luisa, intervene) should any improper behavior seem incipient but out of earshot to give them some modicum of privacy. She had positioned herself squarely in the shade and had already chided Serafina for not putting her sunshade up.
Her breath caught when she heard the soft thud of footsteps heralding the arrival of the first suitor.
"Señorita de Luna, good evening. I am Damían de Carmona."
Her father had told her the de Carmonas were newly arrived from the neighboring province, in the gem trade, and quite rich. Damían was the heir, the only son.
She cleared her suddenly dry throat before answering. "Good evening, señor."
"I am honored to have the privilege of courting you." His voice was very smooth and self-assured, caressing in a way that was both admiring and completely unfamiliar to her. "Your beauty and kind heart are legendary."
"Thank you. It's very kind of you to say so."
The rest of their conversation was much of the same, with him paying her many compliments and regaling her with charming anecdotes and light jokes, all entirely appropriate and quite amusing. He asked about her favorite color, what flowers she liked, what she thought the most delicious dessert from Santa Esperanza's feast was. Serafina tried her best to ask him questions about himself, but somehow she found that she had come away from their meeting knowing very little more about him.
Zacarías had warned her that the men would likely tell her impossible stories about their strength, their unrivaled good looks, their skills as horsemen, and so on. Perhaps Damían was simply modest or as nervous as she was.
"So you are to go last."
Even though he was seated beneath a shaded canopy, Dimas closed his eyes. He wasn't sure what he was doing back at de Santangel's house, but the why had something to do with Casimiro rousting him out of bed at an entirely uncivilized hour. Nico, who had joined them with a disgustingly cheerful grin, had clapped him on the shoulder and advised, "Just pretend he is Joaquin on a bad day."
So far, it seemed to be working fairly well. But if Zacarías didn't cease with the irritating questions, Dimas feared that he might not be able to address him with his customary courtesy.
"Yes. Which you knew before I did, if I may point out."
Zacarías smiled. He too, seemed to be in a good mood, although Casimiro had warned them that he was not a morning person. Yet he had been awake and fully dressed when they arrived, seemingly having risen before the sun today. "I am merely impressing on you that there is a need for you to distinguish yourself."
"Thank you."
He bowed from the waist, ignoring the sarcasm. "And what is your strategy?"
"Pardon?"
"You know, your courting strategy. How you plan to woo my cousin."
When Dimas looked at him helplessly, Zacarías looked over at Casimiro and rolled his eyes dramatically. "This is what you bring me to work with? He's doomed."
"You're not helping, Zacarías." The deep indentations at the edges off Casimiro's mouth showed how amused he was. He and Nico were playing chess and eavesdropping assiduously. While Casimiro had the ability to do so effectively, Nico's game was suffering quite a bit.
"And when did I agree to help?" he asked. Zacarías turned back to his project. "So? Was that enough time to think? You'll have to think on your feet when you're talking to Serafina, you know. She's sweet, not stupid."
"You haven't told me anything about her yet!"
He sighed heavily, plucking an orange from the tray and starting to peel it meticulously. "I can't put the words in your mouth, de Teran. Then I would be courting her myself, and while some may have a taste for that, I certainly don't," he said with an elaborate shudder.
Dimas scowled at him. "I think I felt more confident before talking to you."
"Pity. And I have not even remarked on your poor aim, yet."
Zacarías paused, the first bite halfway to his mouth, when Dimas buried his knife hilt deep into the dirt in front of the fountain, not two paces from Zacarías's left boot.
Casimiro and Nico looked over, all pretense of being involved in their game gone. Dimas looked up at his host, shaken. "I apologize. Profusely. I don't know what came over me–"
The other man cut him off with a sharp gesture. He meticulously dried his fingers on a towel, then reached down to retrieve the knife. "Hm. Very nice. Beautiful craftsmanship. I assume you have been practicing since our last encounter and that was not merely a lucky throw?"
To his surprise, the man appeared to be excited rather than offended. Dimas nodded warily. He had pushed himself to excel after his ignominious defeat, and with the rise of the Oscura Luna, knife-throwing was a handy skill to know.
"Excellent! I do enjoy a challenge." Zacarías grinned and got to his feet. "Favor a match?"
Dimas hesitated, glancing back at Casimiro, who had turned his attention back to the board with a rueful smile.
"Come on," Zacarías coaxed, "I'll tell you more about my cousin."
Dimas was in. "All right."
He looked like a child who had been told Santa Esperanza's feast had come early. "Wonderful! Let's begin. But don't nick the fountain, if you please." He leveled a serious look at Dimas. "That is one of my sweetheart's favorite things about this house, and I will be quite unhappy if it is damaged."
This time, the hour was near sunset, and Serafina found herself on the opposite side of the wall. It was closer to the exterior gate to the villa and contained a charming terrace and an abundance of hibiscus trees. Unfortunately, her younger brother Samuel was acting as her chaperone today, and he was running around the garden with his deerskin ball, refusing to stay out of earshot and making teasing faces at her all the while. She hoped he would settle down when the next suitor arrived.
From what her father had told her, he came from a wealthy family, also quite conservative, which was only to be expected. He was the oldest son of three.
A few minutes past the hour, a pleasant-sounding voice of a somewhat higher timbre than Damían's came through the wall. "Good morning, Señorita de Luna. I am gratified to have the honor of calling on you. My name is Sergio de Fonseca."
"Good morning, señor. I am pleased to meet you."
"You have a lovely voice. It is as pure as moonlight and clearer than starlight."
Samuel paused nearby, using the flat of his foot to kick the ball into his arms, and pretended to gag. She stuck her tongue out at him and motioned him away.
A week ago, Serafina might have fidgeted nervously, struck silent by shyness, but Damían's flood of compliments had rendered her somewhat less susceptible. "Thank you. Yours is quite pleasant to listen to as well. Do you like to sing?"
After a brief shuffling while she watched his profile change as he moved from a standing to a sitting position, he answered with new animation in his voice. "Very much so. My brothers and I, we often sing together, and we all play instruments. Do you play any instruments, señorita?"
"Unfortunately, I don't. I love music, but my fingers were not well suited to the stringed instruments my tutor introduced to me." She wondered if she was revealing a few too many negative things about herself. But then again, it was best to be honest, wasn't it?
They spent some time discussing the most popular songs, which ones they liked or didn't like, and then moved on to other topics. He professed to like ball games, horses, and traveling, and Serafina liked only one out of the three.
It felt like one of those ritualized dances, where the men and women formed two lines and took turns. Each waited politely and admiringly for the other to complete the figure before performing the next set. She preferred the circle dances, where they all danced together.
Overall, though, the talk was pleasant, and Sergio had a restful quality to him that she liked. He put her more at ease than Damían did, and his charm seemed a bit less polished. She liked that he took time with his answers. What she really wanted to ask was, "What do you want to do with your life? Are you a good person? Will you respect me? How will you raise your sons and daughters?"
These were the questions she wanted to ask, but she held her tongue, worried that this was not the way things were supposed to be done.
The next time he called he brought her flowers, which he tossed lightly over the wall. Luisa pretended not to notice, which made Serafina smile as she sniffed them.
Damían was still a puzzle to her. She did like that often, he asked her opinion about things. Even if she didn't always know the answer, it flattered her to be consulted. Mostly it was about simple, everyday things, like whether she preferred one season to another and why, what kind of poetry she liked, whether she preferred a house laid out like the villa she currently lived in or one of a different style.
More than once, he asked her about what type of jewels she liked. "Diamonds as big as a baby's fist from the old Diablo Mines, rubies darker than blood, or pearls dredged from the sea? Or perhaps something simpler, like crystal?"
Serafina fingered the glittering sphere that hung from her neck. It seemed churlish to tell him she already had a crystal necklace and didn't need any more. "Any of those would be perfectly splendid. Maybe sapphires, they seem to come in so many lovely shades of blue."
He seemed restless that day; she could hear his footsteps as he paced on the other side of the wall. Every sound seemed so much louder now that she didn't have sight to go on.
"Damían, what would you say are your best qualities?" she asked.
There was a pause before the footfalls resumed. "My best qualities? I suppose it is best to present myself as a humble man and only tell you about a few of them. One might say that I am very determined. When I decide to go down a particular path, I will follow it to its end wherever it may lead me, without looking back, no matter what obstacles are thrown in my way. I was told my by father that a strong man has resolve; one that wavers in his purpose is weak."
Serafina nodded, thinking it made sense. It wasn't good to be like old Donato, who her father told her no one wanted to do business with because he went back and forth on his deals.
"I am also very devoted to my family. Family means everything to me."
"That sounds very admirable."
"It does, doesn't it?" He laughed softly, and she wondered what the joke was.
"I, too, am very close to my family. After I marry, I would hope to be able to see them often."
He said in his winning way, "Well, if you were to marry me, I would do my best to see that that would be the case."
Before she could answer, Damían said abruptly, "Tell me, Serafina, what are your best attributes? Would you say that you are a merciful person, for example?"
"Merciful?" She wasn't sure there were many instances in her life when she had been called upon to be merciful, except perhaps the occasions when she had forgiven Zacarías and Samuel for their pranks, but she had a feeling that was not what Damían had in mind.
"Yes. For example, if someone had hurt your family, would you find it in your heart to be able to forgive them? Or would you seek revenge?"
Serafina tried to imagine someone hurting her parents, Samuel, Luisa, Zacarías. The thought made her dizzy. "I would never forgive them."
"Ah."
"But nor would I seek revenge."
"No?"
"No," she said firmly. "I think someone who would intentionally do such a thing would have more than enough darkness in his heart."
Just then, Luisa shook the little bell she kept beside her meaningfully, and Damían said, "It seems we must part for now. Until next time, Serafina."
She listened to the rasp of his boot heels against the dry stone and wondered why something in that engaging voice seemed so empty to her.
"You are wasting my time."
Gone was the idle young man with the fancy clothes who liked good food and good wine. His gaze, fixed on the seashell and sapphires pattern circling the fountain rim, radiated desperation.
"What exactly is it that I'm keeping you from?" Dimas asked.
Zacarías looked away, and for a moment, it seemed like he wouldn't answer. Finally, he said softly, "I'm looking for a woman who may be in danger. Her name is Emilia."
"You can't be speaking of Emilia de Palma?"
His grip on Dimas's arm was sudden and painful. "You know her?"
"Yes. She went to school with my sister Rosalía, and we became friends. How do you know her?"
"I love her," he said simply.
Dimas regarded him curiously. "And she returns your affection?"
"Of course." For a moment, Zacarías's expression turned from one of tragedy to disbelief. "What, I am stupid enough not to know when a woman loves me?"
Emilia loved him? Well, there was no accounting for taste.
The dry laugh alerted him that once again, he had spoken without thinking. "Yes, well, I think she might agree with you there, Dimas."
"I haven't seen her for a good many months, Zacarías. But the last time Rosalía received a letter from her, it came from Mariposa."
"Mariposa?" Zacarías stood still, barely seeming to breathe. "I hadn't heard of anything connecting her to that place."
He seemed on the verge of leaving immediately, so Dimas quickly stepped into his path. "Zacarías. Emilia is a friend of mine. If she is in danger, and you need help… please contact me. I'll let you know if I hear anything else about her whereabouts."
He stared at him for a minute, letting that scorching green gaze burn into him. Finally, he nodded. "I would appreciate that, Dimas. I will let you know."
When he still didn't move, Zacarías groaned. "Will you be on your way already, Dimas? You have everything you need to succeed."
"One last question. Why did you help me, Zacarías?"
"Because I don't like the others, of course – I'm picky about who I'm going to be related to."
Casimiro didn't finish opening his mouth before Zacarías grumbled, "Fine, fine. Also because I think you will make her happy. If she likes you, which she probably will. You would be well-suited, and you are a step above the average idiot. You are also kinder than me, if not as handsome."
Fortunately, Casimiro was out of earshot by this point. In the process of saddling his horse, Casimiro called, "Wait for me at the second well on the north road. I have to tell Magdalena where I'm going."
"Fine, but if you do that, we'll be taking her with us," Zacarías called back warningly.
Casimiro shrugged, as if he had known all along this would be a possibility. "Good luck, Dimas!" he said to his friend before riding out the gate.
"Yes, I also wish you the best of luck." Zacarías fixed Dimas with a dangerous look. "Just don't ever tell her she is clumsy, all right? Serafina is sensitive about that."
"Did he say something to distress you?"
"Distress is a bit strong. Unsettled, maybe."
"How?" Luisa's amber eyes were sharp.
Serafina shrugged, picking at her crooked stitches. She was not fond of sewing to begin with, and working by candlelight did not improve things. "He makes me think about matters I am not used to thinking about."
The stiffness in the other woman's posture eased. "I see. Well, as I've often told you in your lessons, Serafina, thinking is good for you. We must constantly keep open minds and exercise our mental faculties, otherwise our senses will become dulled and we will not be able to appreciate the full richness of life. Perhaps it is a good thing that Señor de Carmona makes you think."
She rolled her eyes, making sure Luisa could not see.
"So what do you think of your suitors, Serafina? Do they seem like men you want to marry?"
Serafina sighed, abandoning her embroidery hoop entirely. "Oh, I don't know, Luisa. How can I tell? Sometimes it seems so difficult to ask about the important things."
Luisa set down her mending and closed her fingers around her charge's. "You have to find your way, Serafina. Don't be afraid to ask the questions you need to. You want to be a partner in your marriage, like your mother is, not an observer whose wishes are neither consulted nor respected."
She nodded. "I'll try, Luisa. But I think it will be difficult to choose between them, when the time comes. They seem nice, but I don't know either of them very well."
"There is another, Serafina, and you may care for him more than the rest. Don't close your heart off yet."
