Journey of the Messenger Cycle 2 Part 3a
Ijah
Lord Jostan Harlk was the sort of noble, or person, that Ijah generally disliked. He was only a few years older than she and despite having actively served with the mercenary enterprise he now commanded, he appeared to be in questionable physical condition. Additionally, his inner being was underdeveloped regardless of his claims of having had one of the best educations money could buy. He was obsessed with wealth, appearances and the social pecking order, the latter of which he was near the top of, at least within the duchy, certainly within his own domain.
Since her arrival at his palace he had been trying to impress upon her just how spectacularly important he was. There had been feasts, a hunt, a tour of the palace, then a day-long tour of the Black Tower Mercenary’s training base and fortification. She had certainly seen many interesting things and had taken careful note of what she had learned about the mercenaries. The man himself however had few redeeming qualities. Worse, she was in his debt for the help he had provided with her legal problems.
So, while she was glad said legal problems had been put to rest and she would not have to spend numerous eight-days waiting for the dwarves to come to a proper ruling on the incident, she was finding it extremely difficult to nod and smile every time her host sought her approval.
The worst thing about Lord Jostan was his obsession with all things Kereshi, which now included her. Somehow over the past decade the Kereshi and various aspects of their culture had become very popular in Maldorn. There were books, both fiction and otherwise, of which his Lordship claimed to have collected them all. He had other art, some of it actually done by real Kereshi, but most of it was art done by others about the Kereshi. He had an extensive collection of weapons. Only a few had originally been crafted or used by her people, most of the collection was comprised of ornate, highly decorative, imitations. All these treasures were kept on display in a single room for the purpose of impressing others.
Of the weapons only a few knives, a pair of hatchets, a long spear and a set of johr-ne-gahl were authentic. Most of it she did not care that he had in his collection, but the matching long-and-short swords, that was another matter entirely. They had been heirloom weapons, passed down from one generation to the next, belonging to the great Marjad family. The Marjad, those who had travelled with the great fleet to this northern land, had been assigned to the capital of Elquin. Those blades should be returned to the family.
She had a few thoughts about how she could acquire those blades. Sadly, none of them sat particularly well with her.
She glanced over at Roddarra. Her friend had received bad news about her people’s war with the Tannicans. By all reports things were not going well for her family; her father’s fortress had been taken, his fate unknown, the western horse lords had been killed or forced to withdraw eastward and the two city states along the southern coast, long time allies of the Herlington, had been repatriated into the empire. Ijah was surprised that Roddarra had not been more upset about the news, even now she seemed not to be overly concerned. Sitting on a couch in the window alcove of their room, she read a book while idly twirling a lock of hair, she appeared content and at ease.
Ijah stood, “I need some exercise. Come train with me.”
Her lover glanced up from the book, blinked a couple times and looked outside, “It’s pretty damp out there, no doubt cooler than you’d like.”
“Seemingly you feel the same way. Regardless, the exercise will warm us and we both need some vigorous activity.”
“Have you decided what you are going to do about Lord Jostan’s request?”
“I think so. I’ll tell you while we train. There are less ears on the practice grounds.”
Roddarra was resistant to the idea, she glanced at the book in her hands, then to the window again and gave an exaggerated shiver, “You’re a cruel mistress.”
Ijah scoffed, “Just feeling cooped up and frustrated by our delayed departure.”
“Alright, let’s go train. I want to change first.”
“Likewise.”
They changed out of the clothing Lord Jostan had gifted them. There had been much of that since their arrival. Mostly clothing, some jewellery, a few books and odd nick-knacks that could only be found in Maldorn. Ijah did not know what she would do with most of it. Likely, she would end up selling it or giving it away, she did not think she would be carting it back to Swampdon when she returned north.
The training yard was empty. The cool grey day and slight drizzle had kept most of the palace inhabitants inside where it was well heated. So much so that Ijah found the transition to the outside more than a bit jarring. Lord Jostan liked to keep his palace summertime warm throughout the autumn and winter, an expensive luxury.
Ijah stretched and did limbering exercises until her body was putting off enough heat that she no longer felt the chill. Then the two of them did some strength training, followed by grappling, then transitioned to balance forms and meditation. It was a good workout. Roddarra seemed to be in a better mood, she eventually asked, “So you’ve decided to dance for Lord Jostan’s guests?”
“Yes, though not a sword dance and certainly not naked.”
Roddarra looked at her, skeptically, “I suspect he’ll be less than pleased. He’s sent riders out to everyone within three days ride, this autumn ball will be attended by most of his vassal lords. He may reconsider sending us to West Port in his yacht. I told you he’d have some uncomfortable expectations.”
“I’ll still be dancing during his party, perhaps more than he expected. But, I’ve had a change of heart about your other suggestion.”
Roddarra looked shocked, “Really?”
“I’d have not said it, if I was not serious.”
“Why the change?”
“Well, as you pointed out, he is a powerful lord and he has done and plans to do a great deal for us. Thanks mostly to you, I believe, despite his other fascinations. So, if you think he would like a liaison with the two of us, then I think we should oblige him. In that context I will do a sword dance, naked, as he had requested for the party.”
“Okay. You had previously said, no, never. This has more to do with just being politic. What are you up to?”
“I intend to convince him to give me the two swords from his collection of Kereshi weapons.”
Roddarra gave her a considering look, “You really think you can do that?”
“I’ve no doubt. Your friend is oddly obsessed with my people and very much desirous of your suggestion. My loss of dignity will be a small price to pay, if I’m able to return those swords.”
Her friend shivered, “I’m getting cold. Let’s head in.”
They did. They had a hot bath followed by a light lunch. Afterwards Roddarra picked up her book, “I’m going to visit our host. Shall I inform him about your willingness to dance privately for him?”
“Yes. I think it best if it should happen during the night of the ball. Alternately the day after may work as well. Try to build up his anticipation.”
“Oh, he will be as anticipatory as you could hope, of that I have no doubt.”
After her friend left their suite, Ijah sat on the very expensive Tannican rug in the centre of the bedroom to meditate for a while. She entered a deep trance and was well beyond herself. Yet, on finishing the exercise her thoughts immediately turned towards Berri.
She was concerned about her initiate. If the coach trip had gone as expected, then Berri would be in West Port within a few more days. The city was huge, Ijah expected the girl would need a day or two to sort herself out and find the enclave. Unless there was an unusually long delay she had not anticipated, Berri should still get there ahead of her, airship or otherwise.
Ijah was worried about how Berri would be received, she was far from being an ideal initiate and without being there to provide a guiding hand… There was all kinds of trouble Berri could get herself into. Worse yet, Ijah was more concerned about the possibility the girl would be delayed for an extended period or not show at all. A messenger showing up without a satchel, not knowing what happened to the messages she was supposed to deliver? Ijah would have some explaining to do and certainly lose face if that turned out to be the case.
It was the sort of concern that one could do little about. Dwelling on it certainly would not be productive. Ijah decided it was time to seek out the bard Lord Jostan retained. Thandi Lottle spent most of his time in the well appointed music room, where he and the half dozen minstrels regularly practised. The music room was sanctuary for a few of the other performers and a small number of the court. Ijah brushed her hair back, sliding a pair of combs snug to keep it in place, she draped a couple lengths of expensive cloth over her shoulders and put on some of the jewellery she had been given. There was a show to put on, a lord to seduce and a pair of swords that needed rescuing. It was time she played her part.
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