Chapter Three: Isthma
She hadn't been able to sleep properly since arriving.
It was the silence that kept her awake at night. In the City there was always sound; machines whirring in the distance, the subtle hum of electricity. Her tower room had lessened the chaotic noise of civilization, but there had always been some sort of sound.
Here there was only the heavy, oppressive silence.
The walls of the garrison were extremely thick, so as to deter possible invaders. This was a good defensive strategy, but it also had the effect of muting all noise. During the day it was unnoticeable, in the company of other people and with sunlight streaming through the thick-paned windows. At night, however, with the doors and windows closed, the garrison was silent as an empty tomb. Her room, cozy and cheerful by day, was similarly transformed. Alone in her bed, Ana could only stare at the ceiling while the silence pressed in around her.
Even when she did manage to fall asleep, she had strange dreams, full of odd creatures that peered in the steel-barred windows at her.
Mornings were always a relief. In the long hours of the night Ana would eagerly await the moment when the sun's first rays would peek over the sill of her tiny windows, signaling the end of her long, silent vigil. Usually she was already sitting at the little table when the early maid came to wake and dress her.
If she had known about the awful silence, she would have asked her mother to send her elsewhere. The Empire was vast, surely there were other places without either frenzied noise or oppressive silence. Such foreknowledge was barred from her, however, so she'd been shipped here, to the very ends of the earth, where she could find no rest.
There was not much here, at the border. The River Drell marked the end of civilization and her country. The opposite shore started what the natives called the Tortallan Wilds. The Thaylian side of the river held only a small town and a small garrison of a few thousand troops. Mother named the western border of Thaylia, Shani, the land of mystery. Not much was known about the history of the farthest reaches of the Thaylian Empire. The land kept its secrets held fast and the natives held them even closer.
This did not prevent rumor, however. The troops at the garrison murmured that Tortall was gaining strength again. They whispered that the new king was powerful beyond belief and he was uniting what had once been a shattered nation. But there were also other rumors. Rumors of strange beasts which appeared in the night to steal livestock from their pens. Rumors of natives with mystical powers and a city with no skyscrapers at all. Most exciting of all, however, were the rumors of a great host gathering in the north, a host big enough to easily overrun the four thousand cavalry stationed in Isthma.
At first, Ana had been excited. Away from the crowded cities of her homeland there was a chance, if a small one, of adventure. All her life, Ana had longed for an adventure. As a child, she had spent countless hours scampering about the Palace, inventing grand tales of adventure. They all involved a beautiful heroine and a handsome warrior who, through their acts of bravo, always managed to save the day. Though she'd never been allowed to travel, her brother brought her back stories and trinkets of lands foreign and exotic. Under the influence of her brother and a good many adventure novels, Ana dreamed of someday leaving on her own quest.
Of course, that dream had died when she'd gotten sick.
But when she'd first arrived in Isthma and looked across the river into the desert she'd felt the same expectant thrill that had hovered round her childhood games. Yet all she had found in the foreign land was tedium. She wasn't even able to milk the locals for stories because she was always accompanied by an escort, her only privacy at night and in the bathroom. Once or twice she'd tried to escape her guard, but it was next to impossible in a garrison full of soldiers all bent on keeping her in eyeshot.
But at least there were no courtiers.
The door opened and a servant bustled in. Ana was already up, composing a letter to Marghi.
"Awake again, majesty?" she cried, "Did you sleep at all last night? I swear I saw your light burning until the wee hours of the morning, yet here you are, already up and out of bed!" She waggled her finger admonishingly. "How will you ever regain your strength if you never sleep?"
Ana smiled impishly, "Good morn to you also, Mari. Doesn't the sun shine brightly today? Wouldn't it be a lovely day for a walk by the river? Exercise would be nice, for I've barely been outside since I arrived."
Mari snorted. "And have you run off again? It was three hours before we found you, anything could have happened in that time!"
"Mari," Ana replied, "why must I always be in the company of soldiers? I'm a grown woman, I don't need to be followed around like a wayward child!"
"And what would your mother—may She live forever—do if something were to happen to you? She'd probably behead us all, in one fell swoop."
"She would not." Ana looked longingly toward the window, where the sunlight looked cheerful and friendly. "Please, Mari," she begged, "I simply cannot stay inside another day. I've read every book in the library that wasn't about military tactics—and some of those besides. I've walked every length of hallway, explored every nook of every room. I will surely go crazy if I cannot walk underneath the sky today."
Mari's lips were pursed, but she looked Ana straight in the eye, obviously contemplating. Finally she broke the gaze, with a weary sigh. "What a charge! Here you are, supposed to be resting and all you want to do is run around outside." Ana opened her mouth to protest, but Mari held up her hands, "Aye, Aye, you'll go outside," her face darkened, "but only if the doctor says it's okay."
She turned and left, probably to fetch the fore-mentioned doctor.
Ana smiled and bounced out of the chair to celebrate her triumph. She walked over to the window and peered out. The sun was fairly high and the people of Isthma were rushing about like ants below her. In the distance she could see the silver glint of the River Drell.
How she wished to be like those people! Going about their daily business as usual, never a thought for those who might envy them. If only she could be normal! Then she would saddle up a horse and cross the river into the unknown.
Mari returned and with her came a man in a white jacket. He smiled and his face seemed to take on a prescribed look. "Time for your ritual examinations, majesty."
Ana sat on the bed. The doctor looked into her eyes, ears, and mouth. Then he listened to her heart and breathing with a funny instrument called a stethoscope. He checked her reflexes and pricked her finger for a blood sample. After a few other exercises and tests, which Ana placidly endured, the doctor left the room, motioning for Mari to follow him.
"The maid will be in shortly to dress you," Mari said, as she followed the doctor out, "then we'll eat breakfast. And afterwards you can play outside, like a good little girl."
Ana sat patiently on her bed until the door closed, then she sprang up and pressed her ear to the door.
"...is she doing?" she heard Mari's voice.
"Slowly deteriorating. It won't be long before her heart can no longer take the stress," came the doctor's reply. The was a long silence.
"How long?" Ana was surprised to recognize the voice of General Brooks, the commander of the Garrison. What did he have to do with her?
"I'm not sure." The doctor's voice, "Perhaps a few months." Ana heard someone pacing the floor.
"The poor dear, she thinks she's getting better. She's been so cheery lately..." Mari let the sentence die out, unwilling or unable to finish it.
"The Empress will not be happy to learn her youngest is getting worse. I think Her Majesty actually believed that if she sent her away from the City she would heal," General Brooks sounded resigned, "and she's going to die anyway."
Ana jerked back from the door. She'd known the truth for a long time, but hearing someone else say it was almost too much. She's going to die anyway. Ana shivered. It was bad enough knowing your death was certain, but it was worse when you didn't know what was killing you.
Ever since her tenth year she'd been getting sick. Not a normal sickness, like a cold or the flu, but a strange sickness that gave her horrible headaches. At first, no one realized anything was wrong. They thought the headaches were normal. But slowly Ana became sicker and sicker; she started vomiting and fainting when the headaches occurred. Now there were seizures to worry about as well.
Doctors had examined her from head to toe and found nothing wrong. According to them, she should be perfectly healthy. Except, of course, that she was dying. So she'd been passed, from doctor to doctor. Each with their own idea of a cure and each without the right one.
And as Ana was deemed incurable by doctor after doctor, she began to notice things. Things that everyone else overlooked.
Whenever she got one of her headaches strange things happened. Storms would blow up from nowhere, only to disappear in a second; docile animals would turn mean and radios would stop working. Once she'd fainted on a train and it simply stopped, dead. Of course, those things could have been just simple coincidence, but Ana could never help thinking that the headaches meant something more.
There came a knock on the door. Ana looked up. "Come," she said loudly. A manservant entered,. "Post for you ma'am."
Ana flew up. The servant quirked an eyebrow at her, but she didn't care. She snatched the letter and sank unto the bed. The servant closed the door, muttering under his breath. Ana thought she caught the word royalty.
She looked down at the letter. The seal was her sister Marghi's, a golden hawk with a rose in its talons. Marghi had never written a letter for pleasure in her life. Ana pinched herself, it hurt, and the letter was still there.
She opened it quickly; afraid it would disappear.
Ana Dearest,
I know what you're thinking now. I never, ever, write letters. But, I've found that I miss you so much that I simply must write to you, though I may not be the best correspondent.
The City is such an empty place with out you, dearest. There is no one to make sly comments on my dress selection. No one to tell me the truth about my appearance (and I cannot tell anyone the truth about theirs). Even Mother is a bit cross, without her baby.
I sincerely hope that the West is as wonderful as you hoped it would be. I assure you, you have not missed much while you were gone. Only a few balls and those would not have interested you anyway.
The weather is fair, but Mother says it will not stay so. The City has been completely decorated for the Festival of Souls. It is so pretty to see all the buildings decorated with silver, especially when the sun shines on it in the morning or evening. My theology tutor says the Festival of Souls is a silly pagan tradition, but I'm glad Mother still upholds it, because I think it brings comfort to the common folk.
I have not found a man suitable to by my first husband yet. My latest suitor turned out to be a bore and a chauvinist. I am almost thirty and I still have not married. Mother despairs of ever having grandchildren.
I am afraid, dear sister, that I have run out of things to write. I told you at the beginning that I am not a very good correspondent and it is true (as you know). You will simply have to write and show me how it is supposed to be done.
Love, your affectionate sister,
Marghareta de'Mar
PS: Darius returned last week and was exceedingly vexed with Mother for sending you away. They had a spectacular fight about it (in which Darius threatened to go and fetch you back himself) but Mother finally got her way in the end, as she always does. I've enclosed Darius's letter as well.
Ana put her sister's letter aside with a small smile and opened the one from her brother.
Little sister,
I hope this letter finds you safe and well. I was very disappointed to return home (for the first time in two years) and find you had gone. I miss you even more acutely now that I am here with Mother and Marghi, but not you. Marghi does her best to amuse me, but she is distant and formal. She has become too much of a courtier. I, of course, am still only tolerated in Court because of my brilliant military skills, but I do my best to smile and bow and veil my words. It is so much easier in the field when I can simply say what I mean directly instead of dancing around endlessly.
We need you here to bring out the good in us again. You could always dispel the formality between us as if it wasn't even there.
Mother has made the gravest of mistakes in sending you away. You should be here in the City with your family, and not gallivanting around the globe. At least, however, I have been to Isthma, and I deem it a safe haven for you. The locals are a queer bunch, but they tell absolutely amazing stories (if you can convince them to talk). If you can escape your guards you should also explore the marketplace. Some of those Tortallian barbarians make absolutely beautiful bows and swords that would make a collector pawn his own mother. They never sell them, however.
Speaking of mothers, I want you to know that I tried very hard to convince Mother that you must be sent home, but she has become quite stubborn on the topic. I am currently not on speaking terms with her, but that is by-the-by because she's sending me off to quell a rebellion on our Northern front anyway. I'm hoping that on the way back I can make a quick detour to Isthma. It has been too long since I've seen your queer little face.
On my journeys I've picked up a few trinkets here and there that I wanted you to have, but they are too bulky for a letter. And I wanted you to know that in Haarah, a country that lies to the south of our southeastern frontier, only women are allowed to carry weapons—as men are considered too clumsy to be able to learn the subtle art of fighting. The weapons they use are quite primitive (their culture hadn't discovered gunpowder before we showed up) but they are remarkably well-versed in the use of them. I swear, some of those women were so fast, they could have dodged bullets! They were also extremely good at the bow and arrow, but not proficient enough, I think, to have beaten you. You still have the most amazing eye I've ever seen.
Perhaps someday soon I will kidnap you from the place where Mother has put you for safe-keeping and bring you to Haarah, where you'll learn to do everything they never let you in the City. Until then stay well, and stay out of trouble. Don't stray from the garrison or the town of Isthma; there are rumors of strange beasts along the Tortallan border.
Love,
Darius.
Ana felt a wave of homesickness wash over her as she finished her brother's letter. If I were home right now, I would tell Darius how happy I am to see him at least a thousand times, then embrace him a thousand times and never let go. Ana felt her eyes fill with tears, but she had trained herself not to cry, even if she was alone.
No, she thought, If I were home now Darius would tease me about how I'm very short for a witch, and plain at that. The thought helped. The tears subsided, but Ana was left with a sad sort of emptiness in her chest.
There was a sharp knock, and Mari returned with another maid. Together they dressed Ana, winding her into the elaborate clothes of a Thaylian courtier. Ana had always hated the uncomfortable, restrictive mode of dress. The close skirt allowed only the tiniest of steps and the many layers took several minutes to get on or off.
Most of the general citizens, not of royal blood, wore much more comfortable clothes, better suited to work and movement. Whenever possible, Ana always elected to wear the simpler dresses of the common folk.
Finally, the last tie was placed. Ana was glad, her stomach had been grumbling rather loudly for the past quarter hour.
When they arrived to breakfast the General and his officers all rose and bowed respectfully. Ana was seated uncomfortably at the head of the table. In the City, she'd usually taken her meals alone or perhaps in the company of Marghi. Here General Brooks insisted that she have the place of honor and that she join him and his officers for every meal. He claimed her presence would be a delight for his officers, who had been out of the Court for many months and sorely missed the company. Ana didn't have the heart to tell him that she was a terrible example of courtly manners.
The men were talking about the rumors of a Tortallan invasion. It seemed that a request for reinforcements had been denied by the Empress.
"...She wanted proof before she sent out troops, not just native rumors," said Jol Tippens, a grizzled old veteran captain, and her particular friend. Across the table he winked at her.
"Yes, and that's a very good point." It may have been a good point, but the General didn't seem happy about it. "What we need is solid evidence. A spy, or an escaped prisoner. Someone with the inside story."
A silence fell; all that could be heard was the scrape of forks and knives. Ana ate slowly, her mind distracted by the thought that her "safe-haven" might not be very safe much longer. Perhaps her mother would send her elsewhere. Hopefully a place where she could sleep at night.
Suddenly there was a commotion at the front entry. Everyone looked up as a windblown messenger flew into the dining hall. "Urgent message for the General," he said, handing over the slip of paper.
Ana held her breath as General Brooks read the note. His face became paler almost instantly. He looked up at the silent table. "It seems the patrol that went missing yesterday has been found." The officers threw dark glances at each other. One asked, "Where were they found, general?"
General Brooks looked very grim. "Apparently they were found on the other side of the Drell. According to the report, they were all killed very violently. Their bodies were completely torn apart, body parts strewn everywhere—blood and viscera covering all the surroundings."
Every officer's attention was fully focused on the General. Mari, next to Ana at the table, suddenly clutched a napkin to her mouth and rushed out, sick at the description of such violence happening to men well-known. Ana felt a little queasy herself, but more so at the thought of what kind of person or creature could have wreaked such havoc on a patrol of ten well-trained men.
"The interesting part," General Brooks continued, "is that none of their match-locks were fired. Not a single one. Just like the other attacks."
The officers all began to talk at once, discussing the implications. Servants rushed to and fro, giving and receiving messages and orders.
Suddenly Ana found herself surrounded by people but quite alone. No one was paying her any attention, her presence completely forgotten by the arrival of grim and grisly news. Carefully, so as to not draw attention to herself, Ana slipped a sharp knife under the table. She reached down, moving slowly, and cut a slit into the last two feet of her dress. Her legs came free instantly. Not yet daring to hope, she rose, walking resolutely out of the breakfast room into a hall leading to the kitchens. The corridor was filled with servants rushing everywhere.
Ana, deciding that staying unseen was impossible, threw her shoulders back and lifted her chin. She strode purposefully and let the servants think what they would. Luck was with her; no one stopped or questioned her. Mere minutes from being in the breakfast room, Ana was outside, without any guards or watchful servants to hinder her explorations.
She wasn't completely safe yet, however. She'd escaped the garrison, but there were still guards who patrolled the grounds. There was also only one gate that led to Isthma. She would have to find a way to get past it if she were to truly be free.
Ana looked around, searching for a secluded place where she could change her appearance. She spotted some bushes nearby and darted over to them, hiding herself among the foliage before someone saw her.
The first thing to go was the dress. She had no idea how to take off the many layers, so she simply cut them off, using the little knife she'd pilfered. She did cut methodically, however, trying to shape the dress so it would look like a servant's.
It wasn't working. No matter how she cut, the dress still looked too fancy to be servant wear. And she was also running out of fabric. Soon there wouldn't be any dress left to wear.
Ana tied a few loose ends together. It would have to do. She was basically just wearing a shift, made out of an opaque cotton, with part of the former dress (it had been wound in periwinkle and rose stripes) tied around her waist in large chunks. She used only the blue fabric and discarded all of the extra ribbons and lace. She also used a piece of fabric to cover her bright, distinctive hair. There was nothing she could do to change her eyes—she was definitely the only person in Thaylia with violet eyes—but if she kept her head down perhaps no one would notice.
She left her hiding place, staying close to the bushes so she could hide again if she had to. Her heart beat quickly in her chest, excitement pounded through her veins. She needed to escape quickly, before she was missed.
Ana turned a corner, intent on heading to the stables, and providence provided her with an escape. There, in front of her, was a messenger's horse, hastily tied to a nearby tree. The horse was completely alone, saddled, and, even better, the messenger's coat and saddle-bags were leaning against the tree. Quickly, praying the messenger wouldn't return, Ana dug through the saddle bags, pulling out a pair of pants and a long cap. She put the pants on underneath her make-shift dress, stuffed her hair under the hat, and threw the coat over her shoulders. It was overly large, but that was good, because there was room for her to tuck up her skirts underneath it.
Quickly she untied the horse, taking the time to let the mare smell her and feel her touch. She mounted, just as Darius had taught her, and steered the bay towards the gates, gathering speed as she approached.
No one hailed her as she rode straight through the open gates into freedom.
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