Mounting Mysteries

Levana grumbled as she rose to follow the Chatelaine. As they approached their destination, an enclosed structure built after the style of the gazebo, but on a larger and more elongated scale, she could hear some crow scolding. Doors opened and she gazed at a small number of crows, twelve, perched on hanging poles in the middle of what she guessed was an aviary.

"Greetings my friends." The Chatelaine said. The crows gave her a number of low caws, and (did her eyes deceive her?) bows. "I see you have finished with the council meeting. Could I beg your indulgence to speak with the patron and matron alone."

The crows looked at each other, conversed for a moment, then took off. All save two which were perched in the middle of the rest, The patron and matron? Levana thought. There was something in the way the old woman spoke to the crows, some feeling that seemed familiar and alien. What was going on? The Chatelaine stepped forward and to the side to give the crows a better view of her ward.

"Pensa, Memord, allow me to introduce my cousin, Levana Blackburn of Luna, whom I address as Satel." She gestured to Levana. With the extension of her arm, one crow flew to and perched on it. The other, following, took the Chatelaine's shoulder. Both stared closely at Levana, then made noises between them and the old woman. "Yes, she is so. Satel, these are my old friends and confidants Pensa and Memord."

"Friends?" Levana scoffed uneasily. "Your friends are pet birds?"

"Not pets, companions and at times my eyes and ears when I request and as they choose." The old woman explained. "They have agreed to help me, I think it only fair to warn you. So watch your tongue around them, they have sharp ears."

"You are having a couple of birds nurse-maid me?" Levana laughed.

"Quite no, that is what I am for," the old woman laughed in return. "The 'birds' as you put it, will be observing you."

"What kind of strange names are Pensa and Memord anyway?" Levana asked. "Choose them yourself?"

"No, their parents chose those names." The old woman explained.

"Their parents?! As in the crows that hatched them?! Birds?!" Levana cried in disbelief and the Chatelaine nodded. "You talk about these creatures as if they are people."

"It is clear that you do not know much about the Corvus genus, I will have to remedy that later. Right now, however, we have chores to do. Get the broom over there and start sweeping." Levana stood dumbfounded. She had to have heard wrong.

"Excuse me?" She choked. "What did you say?"

"Grab the broom and start sweeping." The old woman repeated. "Quickly now, we should like to finish before lunch."

"But...but I'm a princess!" Levana sputtered. "I am not a servant! You can't actually expect me to do menial labor!"

The Chatelaine raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I can expect it of you, in fact I expect you to enjoy it eventually. As for you being a princess I will say two things on that note. First that you are a princess on Luna, not here. Here you are my ward and will conduct yourself accordingly. The second is that even as a princess, you are not so high as to be above any labor should it be required of you, such as getting the Chateau prepared for our guests. Now bittersweet, SWEEP!" She gestured repeated at the broom to emphasize her command.

Levana frowned, but stomped over to the broom and picked it up. She stood still for a moment, a little dazed at her task. Sweeping, I can sweep, I have seen servants do a few times. It must be the simplest job in the galaxy.

She took the broom in both hands as she had seen the servants do and swept. Too far, she lost her balance and stumbled. Pain flared in her left hand as it met a rough patch of the hard stone floor. She cried out, cradling her hand and saw three long and bloody scratches on her palm. After moment of the distraction she spotted the old woman approaching her with a hand extended and an amuse smirk on her lips. That ignited her anger out her misery.

"I'm alright, I don't need your help!" Levana all but snarled. The Chatelaine gave her a curt nod and went back to her own labor. Levana got to her feet and picked the broom up and, gripping the broom hard, continued to sweep with furious effort, sending dust everywhere. In ten minutes of effort, she thought she was getting the hang of it but pain in her hand had gotten worse. Not to mention she was winded.

"Satel." Levana stopped dead at the gentle call that seemed to penetrate to her core. Levana turned to face the old woman and felt her gaze locked into the Chatelaine's eyes. The Chatelaine ordered calmly. "Give me your hand."

Levana responded to the order, her left hand let the broom go and offered itself to the old woman. The old woman clasped it between her own hands in a firm grip that made Levana breathe sharply for the flash of pain. Levana then felt a massive surge of energy focus on her hand, bio-electric energy.

Then nothing, the pain was gone. Levana felt her gaze released from the Chatelaine's eyes and looked at her hand, the old woman had let it go. It was still scratched and bloody but the bleeding had stopped and she didn't feel any pain. Her expression was stunned as she faced the Chatelaine again. It had been the Lunar Gift, there was no mistaking it this time. However the way old woman had used it..., it was almost unheard of as far as Levana was concerned.

The Chatelaine smiled knowingly. "Yes," she answered Levana unspoken and unrealized questions, "but before you swamp me with questions, we have work to do. Let me show how to handle that broom."

She didn't really show Levana anything new, as it turned out that sweeping was fairly simple, but she did help Levana refine her motions and straighten her back, to avoid back pain later as she said. With that Levana finished sweeping quickly and they scrubbed the floor next. Washing the floor was more difficult, being on her knees so much was uncomfortable and sitting while scrubbing left the rear of her pants soggy wet along with her knees. Fortunately the crows, as the Chatelaine explained, deposited most of their waste in designate locations, which they would not be clean today.

Finished with the aviary long before lunch, Levana and her mentor went to the gardens and helped the gardeners. Raking clippings and pulling weeds from flower beds was like sweeping and scrubbing, simple but not quite easy. By lunchtime Levana's brow prickled with sweat and she didn't like the feeling of dirt under her fingernails. With lunch, good and filling if somewhat plain, pain returned to her hand. Not the sharp stings as before but the dull ache that comes with time. In the days that followed, she realized it healed more quickly than it should have otherwise.

After lunch there was a change. Instead of continuing to work with the Chatelaine, Levana found herself assigned to Madam Renoux, airing out and dusting unused rooms. There was a weird air taking subtle orders from the woman who acted as your lady's maid and so they kept discussion between them at a minimum.

That is until they opened the their third room. It appeared much as the first two, dark, dusty, and chill with a slight musk in the air. Madam Renoux opened the window, letting fresh air and light beam in while Levana pulled white sheets off the pictures on the wall. Two of them were portraits, she had seen others like them but one seemed familiar.

"Is that the Chatelaine?" She asked, mostly to herself. Madam Renoux stopped her cursory dusting and stood by Levana.

"Yes, when she was a young woman." The maid explained about the beautiful portrait in her faint French accent. The Chatelaine was certainly younger here, no more than mid-twenties. She wore a simple gown of gentle white and pastel red with long narrow sleeves and a cape of black. One hand rested on a dark orb streaked with silver, twice the size of her head and placed on a stand, and the other hand touched an ornate medallion, sparkling like diamonds, pinned to her chest. Her hair was done up in a flattering coiffure and crowned with a small tiara. She must have been outside because in the background Levana could see no walls and Luna, a sliver crescent, making a halo on top of her head. It made the modestly attractive woman appear quite...queenly. "That is her coronation portrait I believe."

"Coronation portrait?!" Levana exclaimed in disbelief. "Why would she have a coronation portrait?"

"Well, she is an official chatelaine," Madam Renoux pointed out. "Unless you thought that title was merely a gimmick?"

"I..." Levana stopped to think. When the Chatelaine was first introduced, she had never heard of the title. Some official at court had explained that it was an archaic title generally considered on par with that of a lower ranking noblewoman, but hadn't been used in centuries. Somehow Levana assumed that no one would bother with a coronation for a low ranking lady.

"Not that you wouldn't be far wrong if you did." Madam Renoux continued in Levana's silence. "The title was a gimmick of sorts over a century ago. That is until the Madam's parents...Ah! Here they are!"

Madam Renoux pulled another sheet off the other picture in the room and Levana saw a couple, no older that the Chatelaine in her portrait. The woman appeared much the same as the Chatelaine did, her dress similar in cut and color, hair and tiara. The man, reasonably handsome, wore similar colors too in a suit cut with a hint at a military uniform and the diamond medallion on his chest. At their feet were similar orbs mounted on stands with a hand from each placed upon them. With the other hands they held each other and while they faced out to the observer, their eyes were turned to each other. Like the Chatelaine's portrait they were outside with Luna, enlarged and stylized, as a common halo above their heads. In all it gave them an air of stoic royal grandeur undermined with hint of loving familiarity.

"The Chatelaines Croland and Rea Pyrenee." Madam Renoux explained. "Before them, the family used the title unofficially, advertising you see, as part of their hotel business, THe Chateaus. However, with the end of the last great war, and the services the old monsieur and madam provided to the suffering and weak, the Andorran parliament decided to make the title official. When they died, parliament decided to grant the title to the Madam, as she too participated in the same noble endeavors as her parents, if not to a greater degree."

Levana stood silently listening to this lecture. She compared it to her own haphazard research and found no discrepancies. Not really save one thing, the Lunar Gift. The Chatelaine had used it, more than once, displaying a subtle level of power and skill that rivaled talented thaumaturges.

"Madam Renoux, have you ever noticed anything...unusual about the Chatelaine?" Levana asked. The old maid looked at her carefully as if to judge how much to say.

"No, not really." Madam Renoux answered. "She is a tad eccentric, but then most women of her caliber are, mademoiselle. Enough talk, if don't get back to work then will be here all day."

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