Journey of the Messenger Cycle 2 Part 3e

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Ijah walked arm in arm with Roddarra as they made their way back to their rooms. They were a bit tipsy but not drunk, despite Lord Nelleen’s persistent generosity with their host’s fine alcohol. She had enjoyed herself immensely during the dinner, much to her surprise, she had also managed to embarrass herself a bit. She really had not been able to prevent herself from doing so, the encounter with Lavett Den’Daleen earlier in the day had rattled her.

She had only worn two pieces of the jewellery the mage had created, to the dinner with Roddarra’s family. Yet, so impressed had she been with the dress and performance costumes that she had gone on at length about the subject. At first Roddarra’s cousin had clearly been a bit envious, but after a while, Morathagga had politely but firmly changed the subject. Ijah had been chagrined when she realized she had been babbling on like Berri, somewhat more coherently she hoped.

Of the two, she had preferred Nelleen’s company over Mora’s. He had been full of interesting stories from his younger years and of the children the two of them had together. Mora had been serious, almost sombre and had gone off with Roddarra for part of the evening to discuss family matters.

As they came up to their suite, their assigned servant opened the door for them and asked if there was anything they needed. Roddarra said there was not and dismissed the woman, who happily headed off to her small room. Roddarra’s mood had been somewhat improved when they had gone off to the dinner engagement together, but Ijah could feel her friend’s tension now and her earlier melancholy had returned.

“Did Morathagga have unsettling news?”

Roddarra stopped her aimless wandering around the main room, shrugged her shoulders with a sad expression on her face, “Nothing new about what is happening at home…”

“But…?”

“More of the same. Troops being gathered in West Port, as well money, supplies, weapons and transport. She expects me to lead them home and turn the tide of battle, push the Tannicans out, marry an appropriate man then get on with repairing the losses the last couple years have caused. Oh, and of course, having babies.”

“Obviously you are not interested in taking on the mantle of that responsibility. May I ask why?”

Roddarra looked more unhappy, “It’s no simple matter. I’ve spent much of the last decade and a half avoiding such considerations, confident that my brothers, any of them, would be more willing and able to do so. Lord Jostan was not the only man I turned down, though he is the only one who did not end up hating me for doing so.”

“Go on.”

“More recently, my father had seemed to come to terms with the fact that I did not wish to marry. He had started to direct my efforts along more diplomatic and mercantile lines… Then Freeton happened, our contacts there had been killed and I blindly walked into the trap that ended with me being captured and most of my retinue dead. Not to mention I lost nearly five hundred horses. I’ve done nothing but shirk my duties and fail at the alternatives that were offered, I cannot lead my people to victory. I am a failure.” She flounced down onto the couch beside Ijah with an expression of dejected despair.

“Ah, well. I’m sorry you see yourself that way. I think you are selling yourself short.”

“I’m not trying to sell myself, nor seek excuses as to why I’ve failed. It is just a fact.”

“Perhaps that was a bad turn of phrase to use, let me say it another way. I see a woman who defied tradition for her own well being and future happiness. You kept your independence in the face of other people’s expectations. Then, despite the horrid situation you found yourself in in Freeton, you survived and were eventually freed. In the aftermath of that you were one of a small handful of women capable and willing to fight for that freedom and help protect the others we had rescued. Since then I have seen nothing that would make me think you are incapable of accomplishing anything you put your mind towards… In fact, you are likely the only one who feels otherwise.”

“I did not suffer like the rest of the women.”

“Ah.” Ijah saw the anguish and guilt on her friend’s face, perhaps self loathing as well. She knew there was little she could say or do under the present circumstances that would help. She move a bit closer and raised an arm, Roddarra hesitated a moment then leaned into her. They sat quietly together for a long time.

Eventually they did stir themselves enough to go to bed. Naked they lay together, Ijah staying awake until she was sure her lover had fallen asleep.

There would be wiser women in West Port that could help Roddarra, if she was willing to accept their help. She slipped into unpleasant dreams, centred around a young sadist and the terrible things she did to that man. In life his death had been quick, almost merciful, in her dreams he suffered greatly.

The next day was busy with all the party preparations, more guests arrived and Lord Jostan’s army of servants saw to all the small details. Her costumes were picked up and taken down to a room adjoining the great hall, a bit later in the afternoon a servant came to see to their hair and make-up. Ijah let the woman style her hair and pin it up but insisted on doing her own make-up. She kept it simple, darkening her eyelids, highlighting her cheekbones slightly and applied a bit of colour to her lips. Then the servants helped them dress, after which Ijah put on the delicate looking necklace and slipped the bangles onto her right wrist.

Roddarra was stunningly beautiful and expressed the same opinion towards Ijah. A servant escorted them to one of the palace gardens where Lord Jostan, garbed in his fancy dress uniform of the Black Tower Mercenary Company, awaited them with a number of important guests and a photographist.

Ijah did not understand the ritual that followed, but she stood patiently with a number of people against the backdrop of a garden hedgerow while the photographist fiddled with the positioning of a modest sized box supported by three adjustable legs and flashed them with some sort of combustible concoction. Thankfully the day was clear and the afternoon sun mitigated most of the chill. That being said, most of the ladies and a fair number of the men had dressed for the warmth of Jostan’s palace, when the sun started to slide behind the nearby mountain they retreated inside.

Jostan, Roddarra and she stood at the main entry to the great hall and greeted many of the guests as they began to file in. When the sun was nearly set they moved to the head table within the hall and took their seats as the other guests were escorted to their places by the servants. Lord Jostan stood and formally greeted everyone, raising a toast to the queen and proclaiming the start of his event.

Music, light food, stories and drink started the evening. A servant came to escort Ijah to where the performers were as the first course of the feast was being served. Eventually Elli joined her, having come down from the minstrel’s gallery that overlooked the hall. As the evening progressed the noise from the revellers gradually increased. Everyone seemed to be having a good time.

Elli did her solo set and a while later Ijah performed her first set to the music that was more traditional to her people. The performance was well received. After the main course had been served the two of them went out to perform their duet which caused a stir among Lord Jostan’s guests. After the set many of the guests talked to them, praising their skill and beauty. As the main feast finished with the second dessert course, those gathered were getting boisterous, quite a few of them already well into their cups.

After Harlon’s fire performance, Ijah went out for her last set, it was strange seeing a hall full of Maldorn’s gentry, ladies and highly ranked officers stomping and cheering, many getting up to dance themselves. After the applause and accolades wound their course Lord Jostan, fairly drunk by this point, made a final speech, gathered Roddarra on one arm, Ijah on the other and made his exit.

What followed was fairly predictable. Lord Jostan was drunk, with his passions riding high, he had been easily convinced to have the johr-ne-gahl brought up from his display room. Ijah had danced for him a couple of times, secured his promise that the swords would be hers and then proceeded to perform a final dance for him, unclothed. By the end of the dance both Roddarra and he were mostly naked as well. The three of them moved to Jostan’s very large bed, after a bit of drunken groping he passed out. She and her companion settled down on either side of him, Ijah felt that the night had gone about as well as could be expected.

Later, on the verge of sleep, Ijah was disturbed by a cool breeze across her bare back. She glanced in the direction of the bedrooms main windows and saw a woman slipping through the open door of the balcony. As she turned to quietly shut the door Ijah slipped out of bed to confront the intruder.

She was dressed in dark leather, armed with a few knives of a familiar design and when she turned to face Ijah, the Kereshi was not surprised to find the woman she had seen skulking around previously. “You.” They both said, in unison.

Ijah closed to pin the woman before she had the chance to draw her weapons. The moment she grabbed a wrist, the woman gave her a shove. Ijah gave a shocked cry as she flew backwards into one of the bedposts at the foot of Jostan’s bed, which broke with a loud crack. She was caught up in the hanging linens, many of which were torn free as she bounced and rolled onto the floor on the opposite side of the bed.

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