Empty.
Numb.
As Kora shambled along the path towards Lonely Fort, it gnawed at her that she hadn’t cried. What kind of girl didn’t cry at the death of her father?
The color, and with it, his life, had completely faded out of him and his body desiccated at an alarming pace. It wasn’t long before he was crumbling to ash and flaking into the wind, a ghoulish snowfall escaping into the night. Gram had quickly scattered her father’s ashes over the ubu gardens, beseeching Gaeus the Green to usher Kora’s father into the next life to a seat of import. Tears streamed silently down Gram’s cheeks all the while.
Kora’s were dry.
And beyond that, they had turned from brown to iridescent purple.
Maybe she was heartless. Or soulless.
Her father and Gram had told her stories of the Folke, beings that had supposedly left this world centuries ago. But these creatures were on her farm. They had poisoned her father with something so potent it had turned him to dust in minutes like some nightmarish fairy tale. She doubted anyone would believe her if she told them.
But it had happened. And Gram was convinced there would be others. And so they fled, looking for the only person they could think of that might help them. Kora’s father had said that if anything should ever happen to him, that they should seek out an old companion of his in Lonely Fort: Orison.
Unfortunately, Gram was as much in the dark about Kora’s father’s pre-farm life as she was. Growing up, whenever Kora would ask her about father, Gram would simply throw up her hands in defeat.
Kora knew this path. Her world was maddeningly small, but she had at least been to Lonely Fort with her father to barter. A trip to Lonely Fort would be the highlight of her year. The little lizards that were constantly underfoot fascinated her. Green anoles, orange and blue skinks, and even the occasional silver king lizard darted through the grass and reeds. Most could fit in the palm of her hand, but some were the size of dogs, and occasionally you could spot one the length of a draught horse. Her father had always taught her to be vigilant on their walks, as those larger lizards could be dangerous, he claimed, especially if surprised. However dangerous the lizards were, though, it was always the human travelers that caused him to reach for his pommel. Before last night, that just seemed another example of her father’s unwarranted distrust. Now she wasn’t so sure.
Today, Gram would have to be vigilant for both of them. Kora could barely lift her gaze off the path in front of her, and if some obscenely large lizard wanted to devour her, it was welcome to. It was all she could do to keep forcing one foot in front of the other while gripping Meg’s reins.
Meg was a chestnut molly with distinctive streaks of yellow hair in her mane and tail. She had a steady gait and a gentle temperament and had been Kora’s closest confidante in recent years. Meg knew all of Kora’s secret thoughts and wishes, having been told them during their countless hours in the fields together. Meg dutifully listened to all Kora revealed, always grunting in agreement, and never betraying any signs of judgment. She was packed up with all that Kora and Gram dared to load without harming the trusty girl, including blankets, bags of ubu beans, water skins, clothes, Kora’s lute, the crossbow and quiver of bolts, and her father’s long sword.
Lonely Fort was only a few hours walk from home and it was still morning when they first caught sight of the little seaside village. ‘Village’ was a distinction that was only fair on market days when farmers and fishermen came from the surrounding areas to sell and trade their goods. They would set up their tarps, wagons, and push carts filled with all they had to peddle, just outside the Lonely Cog Inn. When the market wasn’t in town a visitor would only have the Lonely Cog and the Anduiri military outpost, with its single dock, to indicate that this stretch of shore was any different than the miles of shore on either side of it.
Today was Midsummer’s Day however, and Lonely Fort was as crowded as it ever got. The single dock was packed with small and medium sized fishing boats. Several canoes had been pulled up onto shore. Tents, like a vibrant quilt of reds, yellows, and greens, crowded the little courtyard outside the Cog. It was a warm bright day with a gentle breeze coming off the sea that made the quilt of tents gently flutter and ripple. Midsummer’s Day in Lonely Fort always culminated with the Festival of The Crab, a food-and-dance-filled occasion to celebrate the middle of the harvest season.
Kora hoped against hope that there would be something here that could distract her from the numbness that gripped her. “What if we don’t find him? Can we stay here tonight?”
Gram sighed, “I don’t know. Let us pray we find this friend of your father’s. And that he turns out to be trustworthy.”
“Surely we’ll be safe while we’re surrounded by people?”
“Don’t assume such. Stay wary, Booba. Draw your hood up and keep your head down.” Gram could barely look into Kora’s eyes now. Kora could tell the purple made Gram uneasy, as if some sentient malevolent force had creeped in behind Kora’s eyes.
Even before they arrived amongst the throng of peddlers, a rush of smells assaulted them. Perch stew, grilled skink, steamed clams and crabs, charred meats, cheeses, and ubu beans prepared in dozens of ways were all for sale should any sellers or buyers get hungry through the day. Only a few soldiers and priests manned the Anduiri military tower. On Midsummer’s Day the soldiers could be found roaming the square, ostensibly to keep the peace, but more likely to partake in the freshly prepared foods and the views of the farmers’ daughters. Kora imagined it must get lonely manning that remote tower and lighthouse, even if the soldiers had the Cog to patronize when not on duty. She had felt the gaze of the men linger on her the last time she visited. It was the first time anyone had ever looked at her in a way that made her want to pull her cloak tight; to make herself smaller.
Her father had once told her that the Lonely Cog was built by a former Admiral of the Anduiri navy named Pythos who had spent more than his share of time at this tower and had always recognized the spot as one where the right inn and tavern could flourish. It was close enough to Chrais to be easily sailed to, yet far enough away that the nobles felt they were “getting away” when they stayed for a day or two. Pythos built the inn for his noble friends, so it was a much nicer establishment than it had a right to be considering its removed location. A wide veranda that looked out over the sea extended off the front of the inn. This was where most supped on a wide range of foods from an affordable fish stew to a rare and expensive dish like grilled narwhal. Inside the veranda was the tavern proper, but even that was more of a courtyard than a hall, as it had no roof unless rain was expected, at which time they could quickly unfurl and fasten a huge tarp that covered the entirety of the room. The tavern had an airy clean feel to it and at night Pythos had the veranda lit by multi-colored lanterns – will-o-wisps swaying in the sea breeze.
Kora led Meg to the stables while Gram crossed the veranda and entered the tavern.
“That you, Kora? Why the hood on a lovely day as today?” The stable boy was an eager, fair-haired lad with an unfortunate olio of freckles and pimples taking residence on his face. He always lit up when Kora made her rare visit, and despite his awkwardness, he was the only boy her age that she actually knew. Last Midsummer’s Eve he had boldly reached out and touched pinkies while they were watching the Crab Dance. The appendage tryst lingered until she pulled her finger away when she thought her father might catch her in the act. She had replayed the jumble of emotions from that night in her head often. When would something like that happen again? Ever?
“Hi, Mimm. You must be busy.”
The boy forgot about her lowered cowl. “Hoo! I was up before dawn helping to prepare, that’s sure. Could well be the busiest day of the year. Will you be here come sundown?”
“I’m not sure,” she replied as she handed over Meg’s reins.
“Well, there’s the Crab Dance, and y’know… I’d be able to slip away for a few minutes anyway.” His freckled face turned a deeper red as he led Meg to a post and tied her to it. “If you’re in a mood to dance only, is all I’m saying.”
“Oh. I… I’ve never done the Crab Dance.”
“No? Well, there’s nothing to it. I’d lead you. I mean, if you’re in a mood to dance only.”
“How much?” She readied a few coppers.
“Nothing. Not for you.” He moved closer to her and smiled awkwardly. “Whoa. Your eyes. I don’t remember them being so… bright.”
She turned away, cursing herself for being careless. “Sorry.”
He reached forward and turned her chin back toward him. “No. It’s… they’re real pretty.” He looked at her with a mix of expectation and fear.
Blood rushed to her head.
Something powerful must have overtaken Mimm because he thrust his head forward and jammed his lips against hers. After a beat of pressing their lips together like two tiny tense squid, their mouths softened. Kora was completely off balance.
A boy was kissing her.
A boy was kissing her.
It was Mimm, sure, but a boy was kissing her! She knew this was blasphemous, but she didn’t care. It was something, anything, to replace the void.
Mimm gently pulled away, then grabbed her hand and put her into an awkward pinkie-lock. He appeared completely shocked. “Wow. I… I’ve never done nothing like that before.” He looked toward the stable entrance and then led her by the fingers toward an empty stable in the back.
As soon as they were hidden, he stormed her. He was all lips and hands, and Kora imagined a camel that had been led to water after a fortnight in the desert. He seemed to be kissing her for a very long time, but she didn’t mind. In truth, she was trying to figure out how it all worked. There seemed to be endless variations: kissing just one lip, a lick of the tongue, a light brush, a forceful press, dancing around the mouth to the chin, cheek, nose. She tried to reciprocate but she was sure she was bumbling it all up. She gasped when his hand brushed against her breast, and she imagined her father looking down at her from the gardens of Gaeus and scowling. That’s what he gets for leaving me, she thought. After flirting with it for several beats, Mimm’s hand finally settled on her left breast.
Kora pulled back, but she wasn’t being demure.
She heard the bray.
Meg had a very distinctive sound she made when she was afraid. Mimm looked like he was about to apologize when Kora put her finger to her lips to keep him silent. She peeked around the side of the stall, but because Meg was in a stall herself, Kora couldn’t see what was happening. She got down on her knees to spy underneath the walls of the stall and that was when she saw them. Two sets of feet in Meg’s stall. Various items were spilling to the ground. Someone was ransacking Meg’s saddlebags.
“I don’t see it!” one voice whined quietly.
“Look everywhere!” demanded the other voice. “And be quick about it!”
One set of feet had brown leather shoes with bright green buttons on the outsides. The other man wore sandals with exposed toes – fat, veined sausages that begged to burst free from their leather constraints. Mimm got down for a look and Kora had to silently plead for him not to move or say anything.
“It’s not here I say,” a voice squeaked. “Let’s leave before we’re seen.”
“Fah! My luck…” The bulging sausage toes kicked around in the hay, just in case. “That settles it then, you do your thing.”
“What if I get caught?” implored the squeaker.
“It’ll be a good deal less painful than if you refuse, that I promise,” warned the other.
Mimm pulled Kora up and whispered in her ear, “Let me stop them.”
She violently shook her head, no. She lowered herself again, but the feet were gone. She peeked around the side of the stall, but the stable was empty again.
“I don’t know. I wanted to watch them.” It was the truth, but not the whole truth. It was also because she feared what the men might do to Mimm.
“Did they take anything?” he asked as Kora began to repack Meg.
“I don’t think so.”
“Let me go tell someone.”
“No!”
Kora’s head was spinning. The feet clearly didn’t belong to those white-skinned creatures that took her father. Who would be searching Meg? They were hunting for something specific. Why?
“I have to talk to Gram.” She spoke as much to herself as to Mimm. There were two doors leading out of the stables and Kora made for the exit that the men hadn’t used.
“Oh. Well, if that’s what you want.” Then Mimm called out, “Thank you.”
She stopped and looked over her shoulder. “For what?”
“Thank you is all. This is the best day of my life.” His eyes meandered to her bosom.
Mimm wasn’t particularly handsome, it was true, but who knew if any boy would ever kiss her again? There were so many things she could learn with him right now. Try. Practice.
Why now? Damn.
Kora looked around outside the stable, but the rummagers had already disappeared into the morass of tents and shop carts. She kept her hood up and her head down as she hopped up the steps onto the veranda and crossed through one of the wide openings into the inner courtyard of the Lonely Cog. It was early for the midday meal and so the place was only about a third full. The inner courtyard was thick with heavy, intricately carved wooden tables and benches and adorned with paintings of a variety of common sailor dreams: mermaids and mermen, pirates, krakens, warships, giant octopi, and stormy seas. The morning sun cast half the courtyard in a soft glow while the other half was cloaked in gloom. The gloom was where Gram Heega sat waiting.
“Where have you been, girl?” Gram struggled to hide her exasperation.
“Talking with the stable boy,” was all she owned up to.
“Don’t meander. My ancient nerves can barely stand the slow and steady work of the field. Fretting for your life does not fit me.” Gram smiled, but Kora knew she wasn’t really joking.
Kora leaned in and whispered, “Out in the stables…”
A barrel-chested man with a blonde handlebar moustache appeared, looming over their table. Kora could tell this man had money because of the lightness that had been applied under his eyes to hide the wrinkles. His hair was also streaked with blonde colors to hide the grays. All the older wealthy visitors of Lonely Fort used dyes and powders to appear younger than they were. Applying the concealers was a much sought-after skill and the very wealthy could trick even the most-seasoned observer, her father had once told her. To Kora, though, it only made these people seem older.
“You asked for the owner?” the mustached man was obviously not that rich, because Kora could see the applications. Still, he looked down at their dirty fingernails and dusty clothes with skepticism.
“I did, sir. Please, sit.” Gram motioned to the bench across from her, and Kora slid down to make room. “I have only a cup of tea, tis true, but I expect you’re a man who treats all guests with open arms.”
He eyed Gram suspiciously and slowly sat. “I’m an innkeep. And if a customer who’s paying for a room wants this table, you and your cup of tea will be warming the chaff outside, tis true. What is it you need?”
“Only a question to be answered, is all.”
“I don’t like questions I have to sit for,” he grumbled. He clutched the edge of the table like a horizontal tower shield, bracing for a blow.
“We must find someone.” She was whispering now. “His name is Orison.”
“Never heard of him. Is that all?” The man sat back, a little relieved.
Gram clearly wasn’t expecting that answer. Her face was stricken with doubt. “Are you sure? Orison? I was told I could find him here. A man of renown. A traveler, probably.”
A server appeared at the man’s side and put a cup of tea down in front of Kora. She grabbed the cup and let it warm her hands as she brought it up to her lips. It smelled of peppermint. Then, as the server crossed away from their table, she saw them.
The server’s shoes.
The bright green buttons.
Gram implored the owner, “Sir, we have some coppers.”
“Spend it on my food then. He’s not a regular. That I can assure you. I know my regulars.” He slid out from the bench.
Kora brought the tea she had not ordered up to her lips, pretending to sip.
The innkeeper was only a few steps away when she began to cough violently. She stood with a jerk, so that her bench tipped over behind her, crashing to the floor. A convincing flourish, she hoped.
The anointed and dyed innkeeper turned around.
“What is this?” Kora heard herself demanding. Her own voice, fueled by her adrenaline, startled her. “This is disgusting! Is this supposed to be tea?” She looked over and saw the server with the green buttons on his shoes across the room. He was a gaunt man with greasy black hair, and he clutched his shirt at the neck.
The innkeeper looked around at the other patrons before he came back to the table. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Server! I want to know what this is!” she demanded.
“Let me see that…” the innkeeper reached for the cup, but Kora jerked it away.
“NO! I want him.” Her heart was pounding in her chest.
“Child, sit!” Gram urged her.
Kora ignored her; eyes locked on the server with the buttoned shoes. “I want him to taste this and tell me this is proper tea.”
The innkeeper motioned over to the server. “Gee-en. Another tea.”
“No! I want him to taste this one!” she demanded again. The innkeeper sighed, annoyed, and motioned Gee-en over.
Gee-en turned pallid and seemed to take a lifetime to cross the room. Kora held the tea to him. “Taste that.”
Gee-en’s right eye began to twitch as he squeaked, “You drank it?”
“Of course I drank it. Taste that. Tell me that’s proper tea.”
Gee-en shook his head and whispered, “…no.”
The innkeeper’s face crinkled up with impatience. Everyone had stopped eating. “What is this foolishness? Gee-en, taste it. If it’s bad, replace it.”
Gee-en took a step back and crinkled up his nose like a little boy. “No.”
“Why won’t you drink it, sir? WHY WON’T YOU DRINK IT?!” Kora’s voice cracked and she knew she was on the cusp of crying. She could barely catch her breath.
The innkeeper grabbed Gee-en by the shirt. “All of you. Follow me.” He dragged Gee-en toward the kitchen. Kora and Gram followed them through the kitchen and into what must have been the innkeeper’s office. Half the room was stacked with extra crates and barrels, but the other half had a small desk and chair covered with papers, quill, and inkpot. The innkeeper closed the door and Gee-en immediately fell to his knees.
“Please, girl! I didn’t mean no harm to you!” Gee-en explained.
“What in the name of the gods are you talking about? Speak true Gee-en or I’ll have your tongue.”
Kora didn’t doubt that the innkeeper meant what he said.
“The stranger. The fat man in robes. He promised me. He did. Gold. And plenty of it. All I had to do was slip it in her tea.” He squeaked so high Kora could barely understand him.
“A bit of leaves is all. He said she wouldn’t come to no harm. It was Magesty, he said. To make her tell the truth is all. I swear by the Rat and all the gods!” He made the sign of Leen the Rat and then followed it with the sign of Gaeus the Stag, just to be sure.
Part of Kora felt triumphant at having outwitted Gee-en, the other part wondered why anyone would want to force her to tell the truth.
“How dare you!” bellowed the innkeeper. “I want to know who this man is!”
“I don’t know him. But I’ll point him out to you, I swear. Anything to…”
“The man with the sandals,” Kora interjected.
Gee-en stopped and looked at her uncomprehendingly. “Yes… How, how did you know?”
“These two men tore through Meg’s saddlebags,” she explained to Gram.
“Is this true?” The innkeeper’s shade of red deepened. He was almost purple now. “I’ll have your hands!”
“We didn’t filch nothin’! He was only looking for one thing. He didn’t want nothin’ else.” Gee-en pleaded, hoping to keep his hands. His right eye had almost completely shut from twitching.
“What was he looking for?” Gram said it with a calm sense of inevitability. She knew the answer already.
“Flowers. Purple flowers, he said.”
* * *
The colors cast by the setting sun blanketed the sea in a way that reminded Kora of summer nights with her father. Shortly after Gee-en’s story, the innkeeper had apologized profusely and offered Kora and Gram a free room for the night if they promised not to spread the tale. They accepted and spent the entire afternoon sleeping in the room overlooking the sea. Gee-en’s days of serving at the Cog were over, but the innkeeper had promised to keep him on the lookout this day to call out the stranger in case he returned.
Kora and Gram agreed that they couldn’t spend the rest of their lives stashed away in the room, as comforting as it was. They conspired to leave the room at sundown set on finding Orison at the Midsummer Night celebration. They could be gone before sunrise. But to where? Gram had suggested Chrais, the Anduiri capital, as the next place to seek out Orison.
All her life, Kora had begged her father to take her to Chrais. Heega would tell stories of its white spires and cupolas reflecting the sun more brilliantly than even the Silver Sea at its crenellated shore. The great city was famous for its chivalrous knights and noble families, defending the kingdom from dangers at all borders. The gods favored Chrais, Heega would insist.
Kora’s father suffered the stories in silence, only occasionally grunting in derision, and only once telling his daughter, never underestimate the vanity and ambition of men, all men. The words weren’t delivered with his usual gruffness though. There was a remorse in his voice that Kora hadn’t heard before, and she had never forgotten those words.
Kora pulled on her boots. “Last night. When I told you about the flowers. It scared you. Didn’t it?”
Gram hesitated, weighing her options. She gritted her still-strong teeth. “I s’pose it’s best I tell the tale. Though I was convinced it would go with me to the grave, untold.” She sat up straight, steeling herself, and stared blankly ahead, excavating long buried memories.
The sun retiring behind the glorious mountains to the west. Greenforge Castle. The rooftop garden. Two great statues inlaid with silver. Twin sentinels at either side of the roof. One arm raised as a perch to a great eagle, the other raised overhead with a fist. Iron lanterns hanging, decorated with stained glass.
That night.
That night.
Both moons positioned in the night sky perfectly. Two shafts of multi-colored moonlight shining down on the flowerbed from opposite directions. And there they were. Without warning. The flowers. Colored like some terrible bruise. Heralding the visitors.
Gram focused now. “My memories are wisps of gossamer, child, sure to dissipate if clutched at indelicately.”
Two men. Come to buy the bruised beasts. The fop and the bear. She spied as she worked. The fop laughed, praised, and preened. But the bear… those eyes. Round citrines piercing all they gazed upon. Or were they rubies? No, citrines. “How did you come to know of these?” That laugh. A pat on the back, but so much more.
“But was it?” Gram questioned aloud. “Do I really remember? I’ve replayed these scenes so many times over decades. Perhaps my memories are like secrets passed from ear to ear, changing only slightly upon each retelling, but being unrecognizable by journey’s end.” Despite her uncertainty, the story continued.
“I will keep one for myself,” her patron demanded. A smile. A snuff. “What need has a miner for flowers?” Tense words. A thinly veiled threat and all but one flower paid for. One? A few? Maybe. A scream in the night waking her. More. Strangers in the night. A dozen. Hundreds? Thousands? It seemed so many. So many screams. The crack of wood, crash of steel. Rushing for the roof. Her garden. Heart pounding. The secret cache. A spy hole. The hooded figure entered and set directly upon the flower. She held her breath until he crept away. Screams. Cries. Those cries, filling the halls with unimaginable pain.
Gram was still far away, eyes wet with tears. “They said a band of thieves. Looking for gems. I knew better, but Gaeus forgive me, I didn’t have the courage to speak. I was so young.”
Kora reached out and held the quaking woman’s hand hoping to console, but Gram still appeared caught in a morass of memories.
“The whole of the keep slaughtered. Many of the marauders slain. For what? For that one flower? Why?”
Kora wondered how long she could hide under the bed in this room before being discovered. Could she stow away on a caravel headed for distant shores? Join the Anduiri military? Would they have her? She didn’t want these flowers! The gods take them! With her mind racing down one track, her voice chose another, “Let’s go find out.”
Damn. Gram nodded a silent assent, and they began packing up to leave the room. The last thing Kora put into her bag was the flask of truth tea she had taken from the waiter’s cup.