From the Journal of Rebakah Cooper
Provost's Guardswoman, The Lower City, Corus.
December 16, 247
Late at night
Today was, technically, my day off. And being as the weather was holding (cold, but no additional snow) I decided to take Rosto up on his suggestions of going to visit my Lords household. I wasn't going to be long.
After escaping through the back of the Dove, I realized I was being tailed. Nosy rushers, nothing better to do. So I had to go around the long way to the Patten District, going first through the Common and Temple districts, then making my way through the Upmarket District, into the Patten. I think I lost the rushers tailing me somewhere near the Mother's Temple. I dinna know for sure, but the sight of the warrior priestesses, armed with their sickles, is a fearsome thing to most men, and I lost them from there.
Mind you, I've never had to make that roundabout trip in the middle of December, nor with several jars of preserves in my basket. I reached my Lords house, nodded at Jakorn and Balari, who were watching the gate and greeted me with smiles, and let myself into the kitchen. Mya was there, ordering around two girls who were botching up the biscuits. I could've told them they were kneading them too much. They'd be brick hard and tasteless.
"Who opened that door!?" snapped Mya, pushing the two younger girls out of the way, and trying to salvage the biscuits. Her head turned toward the courtyard entrance to the kitchen, her eyes in a frown, then she saw me and she smiled. "Well, if it isn't our own little Terrier. Come in, Beka! Are you hungry?" She nudged the two girls who had botched the biscuits over to help me out of my things.
"No, Mya, Cookie stuffs me like a Midwinter's turkey three times a day." I handed my coat over and took off my slush covered boots. One of the girls brought me a pair of kitchen clogs, and I put them on, leaning on Mya's counter.
"Then he don't feed you enough, child. You should eat more, Beka, it's unhealthy for a mot to be so wiry and thin." She gave one sharp look to one of the help, and a bowl of hot broth was sitting in front of me. "Eat, and take one of these brick biscuits, mayhap the soup'll soften it." It didn't matter that I wasn't hungry, I tucked in anyway, Mya clucking approvingly.
"I have a present for you, Mya. Cookie sent it along," I pushed the basket over to her. She brushed her hands off, clearing the flour, and hauled one of the girls back.
"If you knead that dough more than ten times, I swear, I'll have you scouring pots from here until next winter. Do it right," Mya watched as the girl kneaded the dough and cut biscuits. Needless to say, the idea of scouring pots was as much a threat now as it was a few years back, as the girl did them properly this time. "Now let's see what this Corcoran fellow has sent me." Mya pulled the basket over to herself and looked inside. She pulled the lid off of one. "Fruit preserves!" she said happily, "Well, I guess I can forgive Corcoran the fact that he don't feed you enough times a day. Wherever did he get them, this late in the season?"
"Oh Cookie got whole shipments full of peaches and apples and strawberries at the beginning of fall. He couldn't cook them fast enough. When he felt that they might go bad, he started preserving and jarring what he could. There's a whole larder full of that," I nodded toward the jars. "I'd eat a whole jar of the preserved peaches with my breakfast if it didn't make me toddle like a pudgy two year old afterward."
"Well, thank him for me. This will be right welcome," she put the jars back in the basket, nudging one of the scullery maids to take the jars into the cellar. "Winter is that bare of fruit, and dried fruits just don't have the same taste. How'd he get all that fruit, wasn't it expensive, especially after the droughts?"
"The Rogue." I responded simply, crumbling the biscuit into my soup. It was brick hard. "Rosto knew the season was bad, so he'd been willing to shell out top coin for the seasons best fruits, just to help the local farmers. Plus he sells it back to the people of Corus."
"For a hefty fee, no doubt." Mya scowled, getting up again. She went back to her biscuit making, pushing the girl aside to cut the dough to shape while Mya kneaded. Mya never could stand idle chatter.
"Actually, no. It's cheaper to eat at the Dove, than it is anywhere else in the Lower City. Because he bought so much, and because he can make so much, he can sell it cheaper, and know that more people will come for the food. He makes a bit on it, but nothing heinous so the folk are left poor and starving." I explained as best I could to Mya, she nodded a bit, understanding the logic.
"What's he like, this Rosto the Rogue?" Mya asked. Several people in the kitchen shuffled so that they could hear my answer. It's unlikely that any of them serve Rosto, being as they all work for my Lord, but Rosto's relatively new, and he's a curiosity in Corus.
"Well, what do you know about him?" I asked Mya. When she said she'd only heard he was some 'Scanran busybody' and naught of use, I continued. "First and foremost, he is much more useful to the Lower City, and all of Corus, than Rogue Kayfer was, pox rot him. Much better. As a Dog, that's what matters to me. He's smart, and sure he has to kill some folk, and do some illegal things, but he's smart, and he's keeping a good handle on trouble that had gotten out of hand under Kayfer. Not only that, but he's issued a warning to all of his Rushers. If they kill a Dog, he'll not protect them, and that they will pray for the Black Gods mercy to be picked up by the Dogs and not be handed over to Rosto himself. He's also a well paying Rogue, hiring carpenters and craftsmen and paying them what they'd make when the markets was good, and folk respect him for it, so they work their best and hardest for him."
"Fine, fine, fine. Your Dog opinion, though useful and worth summat, is not what I'm listenin' for. What's your opinion, as Beka, you live with him don't you?" Mya waved a floury hand at me. "Come on girl, what's the man behind the Rogue like?"
"Handsome as the sunrise." I responded.
"You think he's handsome?" Mya looked at me incredulously.
"Every mot in Corus thinks he's handsome. You'd have to be dead two weeks to not have your pulse spike around him." I explained, and several of the kitchen help chuckled.
"So every mot in Corus thinks he's handsome. But what do you think? Come on, Beka, be a dear and gossip with me. Or do I have to wrangle it out of you?" Mya teases.
"Very well, Mya. He ain't handsome. He's striking, all ivory and gold, with two ebony eyes that are warm and laughing on minute, and hard and frightening the next. He's incredibly neat, supremely organized, and behind that very tough Rogue exterior, he's got a soft heart."
"An organized man? Beka, you're telling fairy stories," one of the mots drying dishes said aloud. Several mots laughed at that.
"He is organized. It's bordering obsessive. He keeps things neat, in their place, and clean. His pipes, his knives, everything. He knows where each one is." I tell them, chuckling a bit with them.
"Well, lass, if he's as 'striking, organized, and soft hearted,' as you say he is, why haven't you married him?" Another mot, who is peeling carrots, laughs the question. Suddenly the kitchen goes quiet. Most of the help know what happened to my mother and the story of my childhood. The room is uncomfortably quiet.
"Well I keep asking him," I say on a lark, "but he gets so many offers that I dinna think he hears mine," I joke and the women laugh again.
"He's nice to you?" Mya asks, serious for a moment.
"Yes, Mya, he's nice to me. I eat free at the Dove. Rosto won't hear of me paying for food, along with my rent. He won't kick me out neither, though his court all tells him he should. And Aniki, that's the Queen of the Ladies of the Rogue, she gets particularly testy with Rosto on the nights I'm there to collect the Happy Bag. According to her, he has a soft spot for me, though why, I've no clue."
"And he won't hurt you?" Mya asks, still serious.
"We won't hurt each other. We dare not." I tell Mya, and she looks at me confused. "Rosto is the King of Rats. I'm the Terrier. He knows that, to insult me or threaten me in any way, would put a whole host of Dogs at his front door, and me being who I am, I'd be able to dig up enough information to put him away for good. And I dare not fight him, not one to one. We'd kill each other, Mya. So we keep things…amicable."
I dared not continue talking after that. Rosto and I were lovers, we weren't just amicable, we were amorous, and I feared saying anything that might hint that we were more than just careful friends. Let the world think Rosto was the flirt, they think that anyway, but no more.
"Amicable. That's….good." Mya murmurs, rolling the world on her tongue. "From what you know, does he sound like an honorable character?"
"He sounds like a purring wolf," I say, letting the words slip before they should, "and according to Kora, he's a decent enough Cove. Keeps his word, if he gives it."
" 'Purring Wolf'" Mya says, here eyebrow popping up, "That there's poetry coming out of your mouth, Beka Cooper. You sure it's just amicable?"
I wondered for a moment, just then, if I told them all, that I'm in love with Rosto the Piper, king of the court of the Rogue, and that he likes my cat, and doesn't mind that I'm a Dog, and that I'd probably give up my job as a Dog if he seriously asked me to, and wouldn't mind bearing his children. If I told them I loved his kisses, and melted whenever he puts those clever hands to my skin, and how I couldn't keep my hands to myself around him. I wondered, what would they say? They might laugh, they might gape at me, but I honestly don't think they'd believe me.
I was saved from answering by the kitchen door flying open and Lorine running down the stairs to grip me in a fierce hug. "Beka! Jakorn just came in from his post and said you were here! What are you doing here? How is everything? Are you freezing to death in the Lower City? No, you're so skinny, I'll bet you're starving down there. You can have my lunch, and I'll make you a blanket. No, a good warm coat. Oh, but it'll have to be black, so you can wear it on Watch." She babbled in my ear, as she hugged me close to her.
"I'm fine, Lorine. The Dove's cook, Corcoran wanted me to drop off some fruit preserves. I'm not hungry, Mya just gave me something to eat, and I ate just before I left the Dove. And I'm not cold, or freezing to death" I tried to explain.
"You only have Pounce to keep you warm. Unless there's a man. Is there a man, Beka?" Lorine pushed me away to look at me.
"Lorine! Calm yourself. I'm not cold at night, really I ain't. But if you're dead set on making me something, I'll take the coat, because I need a new one for Watch. I was going to get one from my Lords stores, but this would be better." I appease her, drawing attention away from the fact that I didn't answer the man-question. I hate not telling her, but at least it ain't lying.
"Oh, good! I will. I've already started one. I'll just make the outside black. Does it have to be black?" She said, hugging me again.
"Yes, Lorine. If I'm to wear it on Watch, it'll have to be black. Where are Will and Nilo? How are they?" I ask her, patting her shoulder to get her to let me go.
"They're alright, Nilo's been placed in charge of that old carriage horse, you know, the big bay. He's so proud of himself. He takes care of all the gear, and he grooms that horse every day. He was right proud when Lord Gershom asked him to get the carriage out, so he and my Lady could go to the house of the Knight Commander. Bad business there, but not much we can change. Supposedly, the Bazhir are being a nuisance again. King Roger's making a treaty with some near Barzun, but its boring work, since each tribe is different. Anyway, Will's been running messages all day, I haven't seen him since this mess with Barzun started. There's word that King Roger plans to invade, just solve the mess by taking over the whole dratted country, desert and everything." She chatted and chatted, having heard more gossip than me, at least from the higher ups.
I let her talk at me for a while. "Is my Lord Gershom home?" I asked her, trying to stop the tirade about how lavender was an absolutely atrocious color for a winter dress-coat. She looked confused for a moment.
"He is. He's in his study. Is it Dog stuff? Do you have to talk about something important? Something dangerous?"
"No, I just want to check in with him. Let him know I stopped by." I tell her, "By the way, I totally agree with you. Lavender was an abominable choice for dress color. I'll tell Aniki to avoid it this winter."
"Oh, good. Who's Aniki?" Lorine asked. I explained the living situation at the Dove, which caused Lorine's eyes to bug out. The King and Queen of the Rogue, one mage, and two Dogs, plus Pounce, Cookie, and the serving girls.
"You know, you've yet to see my lodgings on Nipcopper Close. Why don't you and Will and Nilo drop in, sometime around Midwinter. Cookie, that is Corcoran, has been making excellent stuffed goose for the past week, you could join us for an early supper. Shock all the other sewing women with tales of dining with the Rogue, or sommat." I prodded at her, and she smiled at me.
"You know Lady Teodorie won't approve of that sort of scandalous behavior."
"Aniki and Rosto both wear clothes. They have good taste, too. Rosto wore the most brilliant red-gold shirt the other night when he threw Bold Brian into the river, mind you Brian had it coming. But folk talk about what the Rogue and the Queen of the Rogue wear, and you can add that in when you gossip with the sewing women. How many of them can say they met the Rogue, ate dinner with him, and walked away unscathed?" I poked at her, and she wrinkled her nose, but didn't move. She was thinking.
"I'll see if we can get a night off together." Lorine smiled and looked over at the door. "I have to get back. Three of us are working on a gown for my Lady. She and Lord Gershom have been invited to the Midwinter's Ball at the Palace. It's a major to-do. I'll walk you up to my Lords study." She linked her arm in mine and tugged toward the door.
"Mya, I'll be right back." I said, following Lorine right out of the kitchen. We talked quietly in the halls as she mentioned Diona's learning how to be a lady's maid progressing. She left me at the door to my Lords study, with a light kiss on the cheek.
"I'll let Will and Nilo know you stopped by. I do hope we see you soon. I'll see if I can make that coat for you in my spare time. Be careful, Beka, and tell Pounce and Ersken we say hi." She strolled off, ducking into one of the rooms down the hall.
Knocking on my Lord Gershom's door, I felt suddenly home sick. Nothing awful, but enough to make me wish I was still staying at their house. Especially now as it's almost Midwinter. A gruff "Enter!" from my lord gave me permission to enter his room.
"Afternoon Da," I said, scanning the room as I walked toward his desk.
"Beka, what brings you here?" He asked, putting a whole stack of papers haphazardly to the side. I tell him about Corcoran and the fruits, and that makes him shifty eyed. "You didn't give those all to Mya, did you?"
"I did indeed." I say, pulling up a chair.
"Great, now I'll have to wheedle extra to get some with my breakfast in the morning. Next time, just bring me a jar on the side." Lord Gershom chuckles a bit, and pulls a set of papers in front of him.
"Tell me that ain't paperwork from us Dogs," I say looking at the stack.
"This? Mithros no, their invitations to visit during Midwinter. Tell me what's news on the street." Lord Gershom chuckles at my face, and leans back in his chair as I tell him about Brian's dip in the river, and the encounter with Rose Bride.
"Folk are still tense. The weather's been holding up, but we're waiting for the snow to hit, and hit hard. There ain't a street-corner without a begging mumper." I tell him, explaining how bad it's getting in the Lower City. "I just wish there was sommat we could do. Folk are attacking Dogs a purpose, just so as to spend the night in the Kennels where it's warm, and they'll get some gruel."
"This is sad news, Beka. Several of the nobles have mentioned it. His majesty is just too pressed with this spat with Barzun to care. I wish there was more I could say." My Lord said, sighing heavily. "So, what'd Brian say to warrant getting tossed in the Olorun in the middle of winter?"
"Called Rosto a spintry in front of his Court" I replied with a grin.
"When we were in Port Caynn, you called him a spintry on a daily basis. And not just because of what you were doing behind closed doors." My lord teased me, and I found my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth.
"We didn't do nothing behind closed doors while you was there, my lord. Secondly, I'm special. Only two other people can call Rosto a spintry, and that's Aniki and Kora." I tell him, explaining very quickly, though I know he's teasing.
"Still, he must here it all the time, living in a house with the three of you. Why get mad?"
"Mainly acos it's Brian. Bold Brian dinna know when t' kip his gob shut." I tell my Lord, sounding like such a gutter mite, he can't help but snort back a laugh. Lord Gershom and I talk news, which I'm to report to Goodwin and Tunstall, especially regarding the goings on in Barzun, and that we're to keep our eyes open for suspicious looking Bazhir, just in case.
"Speaking of cases, anything new?" I ask him. "Who's on the prowl today?"
"Nothing major since the Bloodhound brought down gambling Scanran sea-scuts." He says, giving me a very proud look. "Which reminds me, I just finished my last correspondence with the Port Caynn Dogs, they are indeed setting up a new team of Dogs, which will patrol the waters around the Port, for now. But they sent this to me, from The Silver Retriever, he picked a package up from the floor, placing it on his desk. It's a bit wet around the edges, but I imagine that Port Caynn's getting its share of awful winter weather.
"Bit early for Midwinter presents," I tell him with a joke and he unwraps the package. In it, is a folded up bundle of cloths. "What is it?"
"Flags, from the ships. Both of the Ships carry a Dogs flag, Black with the Provosts seal on it, but these were originally on the ships." He hands them over to me, and I pull up one that I can remember. The first one, is Breno's family flag. Rosto recognized it. It was clean, but it was still nasty because of the memories tied to it. The flag from the wolf-ships, which had a snarling wolf's face on a blood red flag, and the Scanran flag.
"Keep them." My Lord says, watching me over a sheaf of papers.
"My Lord Gershom, I can't keep these. Ain't there some rule about spoils of war and the like? These go to the commanding general, that being you." Lord Gershom barks a laugh at that, a hearty rolling sound.
"There's one other person who can claim the 'Spoils of War' –as you've so aptly put it—and that's the best warrior in battle. In this case, that was you. Keep the flags, Beka. There's naught I can do with them."
Well that shut me up. Best warrior in a battle? Was he kidding? That was Sabine, her being a Lady Knight. And Tunstall, jumping between boats to toss sea-scuts into Port Caynn waters. Or Rosto, who was brave enough to challenge Breno head-on. I looked at the flags. Rosto.
"Thank you, my Lord, I will be honored to take these flags off your hands." I fold them up again and tie them into a neat bundle, which I place on my chair while I stand up. "I'm heading back to the Dove. I'm actually going to have some fun on my day off."
"Leaving me here to answer invitations. I don't know why I don't let Todie handle these dratted things. She knows who we should and shouldn't associate with during the holidays." He grumbled, but got up from his desk and came around to pull me into a hug. "Be careful out there. Stop by once more before Midwinter, I don't think I can stand all the foolery that goes on around here."
I laughed there. "Lorine, Nilo, and Will want to stop by the Dove before Midwinter, is it alright if they have the day off together sometime this next week?" I ask him, still holding on to the hug.
"If Todie doesn't mind, I'll escort them there myself." He said giving me a squeeze.
"And what would folk say to the Lord Provost walking into the Rogue's Tavern?"
"That I have good taste in mead and midwinter's goose," joked the lord Provost.
"I'll see you there then. Send a runner to give me a heads up, if you can spare one." I kissed his cheek and picked up my package. "Thank you, Lord Gershom."
"I was 'Da' when you walked in," he smiled.
"Thanks, Da." I said, leaving him to his pile of invitations and letters. Lorine and Diona were in the hallway. I nodded at Lorine and she smiled back, which made Diona turn around and lay eyes on me.
"Good Afternoon, Rebakah." Diona sounded snooty, but I was in too good a mood to put her in her place. Besides, anyone as knows me knows I dinna go by Rebakah, unless I'm in front of the Lord High Magistrate.
"Afternoon, ladies. I take it the Midwinter preparations are keeping you both busy," I don't really move much from my spot, just a little into the hall.
"They are. It's important the party and dresses look nice. What are those?" Diona says, polite to the point that it's painful.
"The spoils of war," I say, smiling at my Lords previous comment about being the best warrior in the battle.
"Looks like cloth. What is it?" Lorine peeks over Diona's shoulder to get a closer look. I put the cloth to one side so it's less visible.
"Flags. Personal flags of a man I put behind bars. I keep them, because I was the chief hunter." I try to make it sound as least common as I can, but the fact that I'm a Dog is obvious in the way I speak, and the words I choose.
I can tell Lorine is interested. She didn't get to hear the whole story about what happened in Port Caynn acos she had to go back to work as soon as she'd visited. She wanted to know more, but Diona gave her a sharpish look and Lorine calmed. "Next time you visit, I'll show them to you. My Lord is letting me keep them." I tell her, and give them both a very stiff and formal kiss goodbye, and escape down to the kitchens.
Making my goodbye's to Mya, I grab my basket, put the flags in, and head back out to the streets. I nearly bowl Balari over, which makes me blush. Balari and I, we were close once. Back when he was a street Dog, and I wasn't even in the training kennels yet. I was still a runner then. He was, well, my closest friend before Ersken.
"Beka, sweet, there's no rush," he says giving my shoulder a brush. He straightens the basket for me, checking to make sure it's solid before handing it back to me. "Beka," he says quietly, "we're proud of you. All of us. You know that, right?" His eyes are soft and a light hazel, flecked with gray. His hair is brown, shot with streaks of red, making him look a bit like a hawk.
"Thanks. I just do my job. Like you do." I say back, looking back up into those eyes. I thought myself in love with those eyes once. Balari, he was giving and caring enough. We experimented with the cuddling and such for a while, but at the time, I didn't see what the fuss was about, and Balari saw that being a Dog was so important to me. He let me go. And I never went back.
"No, Beka. You did more in your Puppy year than I could in a lifetime. I'm a lazy Dog. I like a sweeter Happy Bag, and an easy watch. Workin' for the Provost is more than I could ask for. You're the Terrier, the Bloodhound. You'll be the best of us all." Balari tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear.
I stood quietly for a second, staring at the ground. I don't like when folk I think of as friends calling me by grand names like the Terrier and the Bloodhound.
"I missed you, Beka." He said quietly. I looked up. "Whenever folk spoke your name, I tuned my ear in to listen. Some days, I still miss you. You went and became a hero, and it's like you're farther away than the moon and the stars."
"Balari," I started. I didn't know what to say, but I guess my face said everything I couldn't.
"Now, don't look like that. I ain't asking for you to come back. Not to me. When you're meant for something and someone grander. I know that being a Dog, was a bigger deal for you than it was for me. I'm just telling you, sweet. When people speak your name, I think of you, and I remember and miss what was. It's not an ache, just a thought." He kissed my cheek. I felt the blush work all the way up my face, and I could tell he was looking at me.
"So that's it. Someone's already stolen your heart. If he's got even half a brain, he'll hold onto you. If he won't, there's a Dog here who'll welcome back a friend with open arms and a decent heart." He kissed me on the forehead.
"I'll try and come around for Midwinter," I murmured.
"I look forward to it. Midwinter's Luck, Beka." He said with a cheery smile and walked off. Why did I feel so awkward? Balari and I were never uncomfortable with each other, not even after what happened. He was like Ersken. He did what he had to, to the best of his ability, and he had the capacity to love and protect his friends limitlessly. I couldn't love him, like I did Rosto, but if my world fell down around my ears, I would have a companion in Balari, like I did Ersken.
Meanwhile, I hope he's happy and safe. I hope he finds a great love. Someone who will set a fire under his tail, maybe make him work with his heart. Midwinter Luck to you, Balari. Whatever road the Gods put you on.
Well, after I left my Lords house, I headed out for the Daymarket, simply acos I knew there'd be the most bustling there, being especially as Midwinter was coming up fast, and I'd be able to keep my ears open for any likely whispers. I was trotting along Palace Way, when I saw Rosto leaving a jewelers stall. His eyes looked distant, and given his location, far too distracted. I figured I'd just run up to him, and then decided to hold back. We were in the Daymarket, and nice as it was, it was really crowded. I may have been listening for whispers, but I didn't want the whispers to be about me! Looking around I saw a pile of snow, a little wet a melting but not dirty. I scooped it up turned it into a ball, aimed, and fired! It hit Rosto right in the back of the head.
He whipped around fast as lightning, his daggers drawn. The shocked look in his face made me whoop with laughter. I swallowed my laughter and chuckled quietly when he gave me a sinister glare.
"What was that for?" He asked, trying to brush snow and slush from his neck and clothes. I grinned at him.
"You weren't paying attention, Rosto. Attention unpaid,"
"Is a grave half-made. I know. I was paying attention, Beka, I just have a few things on my mind," The Rogue was always on his mind, and always distracting him, and getting Rosto into trouble. I guess my question showed on my face, because he answered continued.
"I have a challenge tonight. I have to duel Turpan." Turpan? He'd killed Rosto's rushers last night, and Rosto was supposed to handle it this morning. He was about to continue when I noticed that several people had stopped to stare at us, the Rogue and a Dog standing together during a cold winter day. I saw the veneer of Rogue slip over his face, if not over his eyes, "I suppose I should be glad that runty Dogs prefer to play with slush instead of throwing daggers,"
He had noticed the people watching, too. Good Rosto, back on your guard.
"So, Rat-king. This district ain't your usual haunt. Planning on turning the good honest Dogs from the reserve Watch onto their ears and tails?" I asked him, using my Dog voice. He grinned at me, with his razor thin smile.
"Oh, maybe, or maybe not. It all depends on who else I run into. But, that is for me to know, and for you not to find out," he said cryptically. The people around us went back to their business, probably realizing that both Rosto and I were too controlled to just brawl in the streets. He walked off in one direction, and I turned to the stall that he'd just come out of.
A jewelry stall. Well, it would be inappropriate to start asking what the Rogue was buying, but I was about to peek my nose into the stall anyway when I felt a cold wet slushball hit ME in the head. I glared in the direction of the slushball, and glared at Rosto. I'll get you for that! I thought at him, he smiled and disappeared.
I wonder what Rosto was buying in that jewelry stall. I peered inside and didn't see anything that was particularly his style, so he wasn't shopping for himself, and a lot of the stuff was too frivolous and expensive to be my style, but they did have a few nice pieces. I thought about buying a gift for Lorine; it was a simply carved bracelet made of koa wood from the Copper Isles and inlaid with silver. Actually, it would look beautiful on her considering the kind of left-over material she'd just picked up from Lady Teodorie, and the silver was pretty but not too fancy. After a bit of haggling I bought the bracelet. It was too perfect to give up.
"It seems you and the Rogue is more alike than you think," murmured the sales woman. I looked up. "He bought the sister to that bracelet you just chose." She gave me this knowing grin, and I glared at her.
"This bracelet is for my sister. Who is a seamstress in the household of the Lord Provost," I said, trying to keep the snippiness from my voice. The woman looked down.
"Yes Guardswoman Terrier," she said, mumbling an apology, "I wasn't insinuating nothing bad, honest." I thanked her for her business, and left, careful to place the bracelet inside my basket, toward the bottom where folk couldn't just reach in and pull it out. I picked up some of the Copper Isles Red Griffin Tea, which Aniki and I both liked, and headed for home.
I did some mending when I got back and rested for a while after that, then headed down to the Dove just around supper time. I took my usual spot at the bar, and before I'd had a moment to sit properly, Corcoran plunked a plate down in front of me. Pounce jumped onto the counter, sniffing at the plate. How often do I gotta tell that man I'm not hungry. Dinna matter, he still feeds me. I was giving Pounce some of my chicken when Rosto walked downstairs. He was absolutely bristling with knives, and he hadn't bothered with a nice shirt, just solid black tonight.
Seems Rosto would indeed be eating tonight, because he asked for a bowl of soup from Corcoran. When he got to the counter, he gave me a peck on the cheek. He tucked in silently, soup was safest acos it was least likely to make him sluggish in a fight. Soon as he was finished, he stood and signaled for the door to be opened. I kept feeding Pounce scraps from my plate.
"Are you worried about the challenge?" I asked, and he shrugged, staying both aware of the door, but trying to come closer to me. It kills him, these moments, when we could get caught.
"A little. Turpan is a bit taller – and stronger – than I am, but I'm faster than him, and marginally more skilled with daggers than he is. From those facts, I think we're evenly matched," He spoke quietly, reaching over to give my hand a squeeze before his sharp ears heard something and he trotted over to his throne, kicking up his feet in a way that said, 'I'm powerful, in-charge, and bored,' though at that moment he was anything but.
The usual crowd moved into the room; Katie, Brian, Aniki and Kora, each taking their places somewhere and chatting loudly. About an hour into the evening the door banged open, and in stalked a man I assumed was Turpan and a few of his Rushers. Rather than making pleasantries Turpan stalked toward Rosto's throne, challenging him with a hiss. Rosto accepted with a snarl. I stood up from my spot and moved over to a corner table where I could see, without being a distraction. I was joined a moment later by none other than Tunstall!
"What's going on, Beka?" he asked with a whisper, and I told him about Turpan's challenge. "Another one? My goodness, and I thought those only happened on Happy Bag nights," he chuckled but I think he realized I was too intent on the fight to answer him.
Goodwin scooted into a seat next to mine, and I was more confused. Why in the name of the Mother were my Dogs hanging around the Dove on their day off? Goodwin answered me, "I heard about the duel. Brian can't seem to keep his mouth shut. Also, I heard that Corcoran makes a good goose." I nodded, keeping my eyes on the two men in front of me.
Turpan started the fighting, leaping at Rosto. As the fight continued Turpans fighting got quickly less civilized and controlled, and far more aggressive. He was throwing cheap shots, and Rosto was trying to control the fight so it wouldn't destroy the Dove without any luck. Turpan caught Rosto with a nasty blow to the back of the head, throwing him into Bold Brian's table. I jerked forward, pushing my chair back, ready to spring in.
"You don't want to take him on, Beka. Turpan's a berserker when he gets a taste of blood in his mouth. Hold off," I heard Goodwin hiss, grabbing my arm. The blows were getting worse and worse; Turpan clipped Rosto near the eye, busting open the skin so it started bleeding, and Rosto struck back ripping his dagger through Turpans arm, so that blood pooled at their feet. When their daggers locked, I knew Rosto was in trouble. Turpan had been fighting Rosto, not the other way around. Rosto's style is more subtle and flighty, rather like a crows. It hits, then backs off, then hits again, and backs off. Turpans a bull, he gets in there, locks horns, and then uses his weight to bear down on his opponent. Rosto's skill was no good when he was being held by Turpan's size. Quick as a snake, Turpan stuck one of his own daggers into Rosto's side and I saw Rosto crumple to the floor. I could see his face, the Rogue slipping away quickly, and Rosto's eyes stared into mine. He was going to die, and he was ready to accept it. I hauled myself to my feet. Turpan looked manic, and he raised the dagger high.
The door banged open, distracting the entire room for a moment. It took only a second, but whoever was at the door raised their hand and shot bolts of gold mage-fire at Turpan. He burst into flames that didn't burn, screaming as he tried to hit them, and eventually his voice caught and he dropped like a stone, dead, on the floor.
Rosto stood and the person from the door said quietly, "If you kill him, I cannot talk to him." She turned her nose at the body and turned to face Rosto. Everyone's eyes were on her. Dressed in a black travelling cloak over a green dress, was the most beautiful woman I'd probably ever seen. She was the picture of a princess: a great mass of loose gold curls framed an ivory white face, set with deep blue eyes, the color of a lake in high summer, and a pouty pink mouth set in a smirk. She looked both beautiful and immensely dangerous, what with her gold mage-fire glinting around her hands.
With her well shined boots clicking on the wood floor she made it to Rosto's side, snapping her fingers and issuing a command that someone remove Turpan's body from her path. It was done with silent efficiency. She strolled over to Rosto, looking him over as he tried to shake away dizziness.
"What did I tell you about fighting fair?" she said, her voice cool and liquid, like she was talking to a student and not the King of the Rogue. She also spoke in Scanran, purring her r's.
"It doesn't win fights. I know," Rosto grunted a bit as the blonde mage examined his wounds. I watched, ready to leap on her if she should hurt Rosto. He winced once, and she glared at him.
"What's wrong?" She asked, her hands still floating lightly, the gold mage-fire healing wounds that might have taken a few days to heal had any other healer done them.
"You're hands are bloody freezing," he grunted.
"It is cold outside." She said matter-of-factly. "What did you expect? Hold still, Rikkisram." Rosto grunted and then winced when she poked his leg.
"Ow! Not so hard. That's still broken, you know," he snapped. She gave me another sharp look, then reached up and cuffed him on the back of the head. Almost everyone gasped. It takes a lot of brass to hit the Rogue upside the head, right in front of his own Court.
"Stop being such a baby, Rosto," she said to him. Clearly a woman who had known Rosto very long. A slap to the face is an insult. A slap to the back of the head is a wake-up call. But that this woman, whoever she was, could hit Rosto with some degree of authority and he would submit to it, irked me. He clearly knew her well enough to trust her implicitly.
"Cooper. You've been listening to these wolves growl longer than I have," muttered Goodwin, "What are they saying?" I sat back down, and whispered the translation as carefully as I could.
"They know each other," muttered Tunstall. "She's pretty. But I highly doubt that the Piper associates in any way with women who aren't." He gave me a look with a wink. I glared at him.
"Forget that she's pretty, will you Mattes. Look at that skill. She's a damned good mage, and I want to know why she's here, and how she's going to make our lives miserable?" Thank you, Goodwin, I thought to myself. You could count on her to be grumpy and surly, rather than awed.
The woman brushed her hands off, signifying she was done, "I've done the best I could, but your leg will still be a bit tender for a few days, and you'll likely be dizzy, as well, from the blood loss," she said, still speaking in Scanran. Once she was completely done, she very unceremoniously hauled Rosto from the floor, forcing him to get his bearings quickly.
"Listen, Rosto, there are a number of reasons I've traversed all of Scanra in the past few weeks, in the freezing winter, and it has nothing to do with your inability to fight." A low blow, is she trying to aggravate Rosto further? "Though, if I knew this was how you handled challengers in your Court, I'd call the Patsov. I have a delivery." Bingo, my mind said, racing to connect dots, this woman is one of the Patsovlieri. She's a district chief to the court of the Rogue in Scanra.
"Long way to come for a delivery. Did you bring me something for Midwinter?" Rosto teased her, wincing as his leg shook.
The woman was about to answer when I heard Pounce hiss loudly and a small caped body flew out from underneath one of the coat racks near the door, hurtling into the woman's arms. The woman crooed to the little person, who was very obviously a child. "See, maleni, it's just the Cat." I let my Gift hearing go, since they were talking quieter and quieter.
"It's got funny eyes," sniffled the small voice from beneath the cloak. Its Scanran sounded like the yips of a little puppy.
"I know. It means he's special. Come on, maleni, you have to speak Tortalli now." She kissed the child on the cheek and turned to face Rosto. Pounce sat in the middle of the floor like he owned the place, every inch an Immortal.
The child took the hood down from around its face and I heard a collective gasp work its way around the room. I felt myself gasp. White-blond hair in a boy's cut covered a pudgy child's face, and big ebony-brown eyes looked out at the world from behind soft gold lashes.
"Hello, Patsov Rosto." And then he put his arms around Rosto's waist, hugging him.
"Sweet Mithros, you're kidding me." Rosto said in Tortallan and the room began to titter and whisper. I couldn't help but lean back in shock myself. Not having heard all the conversation, and not understanding the meaning of some of the words, I had to guess that the little blonde boy was somehow related to Rosto, if not directly related to Rosto
"Relax, Rikkisram, I'll explain" said the woman, and I wanted to stand up and tell her that no matter what she says, she's just about cemented Rosto's reputation as a spintry. Pox rot her.
"Stay." The words left Rosto's mouth "You can stay. Both of you." I felt my mouth drop open WHAT!?! Why?! My brain was screaming at me. Who were they? What made them so special that they could stay here!? He knelt to look the little boy in the eyes "Gavarishli puno Tortalli?" he asked the boy, who shook his head no.
A hand descended lightly on the boys shoulder: Kora. She asked him, quietly and in Scanran, if he was tired or hungry. He looked back and Lorena and then nodded fervently. "I'll take them to a room, have one of Corcoran's girls bring them a bite" she said to Rosto.
"Good night, Rosto," she said. And with that, she and the lad were gone. That was the last straw for me. I translated as best as I could for Goodwin's sake, then stalked out of the main room and up the stairs.
Right now, I'm confused, and hurt, and angry. The boy is obviously related to Rosto. If not his son. But he can't be more than four. This would mean that he was born while Rosto was still in Scanra. Meaning that he left this child behind, like every stupid rusher does, just like the men who'd been with my ma had done. Pox rot him! Pox rot him to the Black Gods Realm and back again. How dare he?! He said he wasn't that type of man. He wasn't that type of Rusher! But how could he leave a child of his blood with that mage-woman and just skip off to Tortall?! And that mage-woman, who is so beautiful and so trusted by Rosto, I couldn't stand it. Blonde, buxom, blue-eyed, and a full blown mage with an active gift. I threw a dagger into the wall, annoyed that he trusted her when he was dying, and couldn't trust me when he was alive.
I've been trying to keep my thoughts organized and calm while I write this, but I fear I'm going to rip a hole in the page, because of my frustration. Pounce has just let himself in. I'm going to sleep, perhaps that will diffuse this awful head-ache I have.
December 17th, 247
Morning-Just after breakfast.
Supposedly, trying to sleep with a headache was not a good idea, as it only compounded during the evening, and I managed to wake up with a skull-splitting migraine. Not fun. Pounce wrapped himself around my neck, purring, trying to make me feel better. It worked a bit, taking out most of the bite from the headache. I washed and got dressed and tip-toed quietly downstairs, careful to make no noise near Rosto's door.
Cookie had already finished a first tray of breakfast biscuits when I came down. I plunked down on a chair and he limped over. "What's wrong, love?" he says, sitting down next to me.
"Cookie, I think that boy is Rosto's son. And the implications of him having a child, gave me a headache." I put my head in my hands and he pulled me into a hug.
"Lass, you're worrying yourself sick. Dinna do that," he whispered into my hair, much like Mya used to do. "No one knows aught right now 'bout that little lad, so it dinna do you no good to fret." He rocked me a moment.
"Cookie, Tell me you have some magic remedy for head-aches," I whispered
"One or two," he said and he hugged me tighter. I felt the headache cede a little bit. "You look worn thin, lass. A little food should wipe that headache away like a blank slate." He pulled away a bit, and I laughed. Cookie thinks food is the best remedy for everything that ails you.
"Okay. But it's your fault if I eat myself so fat I can't work." I laugh a bit, and Cookie puts a kiss on my forehead afore he hauls himself up and puts food down in front of me. I tuck in, and because I know Cookie's biscuits and breakfast rolls are filled with love and warmth, I can feel the headache disappear. I even relax enough to get up and make him a cup of tea. Turns out he likes Copper Isles Red Griffin as much as I do. He and I sip the hot liquid until Rosto comes down.
He is cranky. Undoubtedly, the healing combined with his own mental turmoil has made him cranky. He's as surly as I was in pain from the headache. He doesn't say anything as he comes down the stairs, just looks at me and grunts.
"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," I mutter.
"Someone wasn't there to keep me company," he grumbles, insinuating that I should have been there last night.
"Don't take your crankiness out on me," I warn him, and I notice Corcoran getting up with a look on his face that says 'I don't want to be part of this fight.'
"Two year olds are cranky." He snips at me, and I sharpen my mental dagger.
"Get used to it. You just found yourself stuck with a two year old," I say, pointedly, hoping he gets the jab. He does, and he looks at me with darts in his eyes.
"He's four," says the blonde woman, walking into the room, "keep your voices down while he sleeps, please." She says, her voice still liquid and cool. "Dobrijo Jutro, Rikkisram." She says to Rosto, extending a good morning without looking at me.
He greets her as well, calling her Lorena. Excellent, I thought, now I have a name with which to curse this woman into oblivion. They speak a bit, exchanging pleasantries as Kora, Aniki, Phelan, and Ersken work their way down the stairs. When Lorena is introduced to Aniki and Kora, in scanran no less, I feel my headache return with a throb. Rosto, Aniki, Kora, and Lorena are all Scarnran. And apart from myself, no one in the house speaks the language.
The only reason I know what they are saying is because I've been learning. Or at least trying to learn. I picked up a book on Scanran grammar and vocabulary when I was at my Lord Provosts house after the incident with Kashana. Kora's been helping me learn and practice. We talk in Scanran while we do our sewing and our shopping, but I've asked her to keep quiet about it because I wanted to surprise Rosto. I even learned a song in Scanran, and was going to sing it for him. But I wanted to present the song and everything only when I was fluent. But I guess now was just as good a time to let him know I could speak just as well as he could.
I listened and listened to the four of them growling in Scanran, until I could see Ersken looked panicky and confused, and Phelan looks as annoyed as I did.
"DOSTA!" I called out. "Enough with the Scanran already!" I said, mixing common and Scanran. I turned my anger on that woman, who had pretty much turned the entire household on its head. "You," I seethed, "You come here, toting that child, but you very rudely do not introduce yourself or the boy, or say why you are here. For a Patsovlieri, you are most extremely rude," I don't usually lose my cool but his has gotten me hissing mad, and I can see the woman jerk back when she not only hears my firm grasp of her language, but that I've figured out she's a patsovlieri.
"No need to shout," she says, affronted by my tone.
"No," I say, dropping my voice to that angry growl I had when I faced off the first time with Lockhorn, "You are absolutely right. There is no need to shout. But do this entire household a favor and tell us what we're all dying to hear. That boy," I say, my anger making me point to the room they were in, "You will tell us exactly who he is, and how he is related to Rosto. Right now, I have a splitting headache, and if you skip around the subject, I will personally escort you from here to the city gates, and you can go back to whatever snowdrift you came out of."
The entire room is agape at my outburst, and I can feel them all staring at me. The woman, Lorena, nods her head and I can see comprehension dawn on her face.
"I am sorry," she whispers to me, "The two of you keep your relationship so well hidden, I hadn't heard about it. My apologies to you, if I'd known Rosto had a lover I wouldn't have kept silent. I would have handled it differently. The boy is not his son," Lorena says to me, her face reading as sincere apology. I sat down.
"He's not?" I say, and I can hear Rosto echo my question.
"No, he's not. The boy is Rosto's nephew. Risaph is the son of Rosto's sister, Angelina," she says and falls quiet.
Not a word is said in response.
Continuing the Scanran-English dictionary, as devised by Lady Wolf
Dosta- Enough.
Maleni/Gavarishli puno Tortalli: See chapter 3 notes.