A Magic of Dawn

Rochelle Botelli

Stag fall was more beautiful than any description she’d had of it.

The palais sat in the center of hundreds of acres of mountainous forest, clinging to the side of one of the tallest slopes like a limpet, with arms of thick-hewn timbers that supported its many balconies and wings. The approach to the villa was long and arduous, the road winding back and forth across the face of the heavily-wooded and ancient mountains of the range. The switchbacks would have drawn any enemy laying siege to Stag Fall into long, vulnerable lines, and there were cliffs above many of the sections where defenders could easily send boulders, arrows, and spells down upon hapless attackers. Morning and night, thick, white mists rose from the valleys, so dense that they muffled all sound and confused any sense of direction.

The palais itself was built from rich oak and adorned with other precious hardwoods. It was polished and gleaming, its dark-paneled rooms large with huge inviting hearths that were used year-round; even in summer when Brezno would be sweltering, the nights here still held a chill. Rochelle had thought Brezno Palais foreboding: a fortress of cold stone. Stag Fall was a glimpse into another world, a forest world. Stag Fall was softer and more inviting than Brezno Palais, but it was no less formidable and no less a fortress.

A caretaker staff remained permanently at Stag Fall to care for the villa when the Hirzg or other notables were not there, but with the Hirzg and his family arriving, the permanent staff was placed under the control of the Hirzg’s personal staff. Paulus ci’Simone was no Rance ci’Lawli, and it showed in his rough and almost territorial interaction with the two staffs. Rochelle had seen Rance’s ability to smooth ruffled feathers between staffs; Pauli was far less polished, and tended to bark orders rather than listen to explanations. Rochelle witnessed it daily.

“Damn it, woman, the Hirzgin won’t eat the venison cooked that lightly. Do you know absolutely nothing about how your mistress prefers her meat? Another half-mark of the glass on the fire, at least! There should be no red left in it.”

Paulus glared at the cook, who slapped the cut of meat back onto a spit and thrust it over the open fire again. Paulus made a sound of disgust. “Rhianna!” he barked. “As soon as this incompetent has the meat acceptably cooked, make certain the meal gets up to the Hirzgin’s room while it’s still hot. She’s been waiting too long already. I can’t waste my time here any longer-I have to see to the Hirzg’s attendants now; they seem to have misplaced his riding leathers.”

Rochelle curtsied, and Paulus stalked away from the kitchen. “Bastardo!” she heard the cook mutter as soon as he was safely out of earshot. She was a stout woman of middle years, the skin hanging under her arms wobbling as she moved. “He thinks he’s already ca’-and-cu’. I’ll spit in his food tonight-see how he likes that.” The rest of the kitchen staff chuckled.

“He’s just scared,” Rochelle told her. “He knows he’s swimming out of his depth.”

“Well, he’s no Rance ci’Lawli, that’s certain, may Cenzi rest his soul,” the cook responded. She shook her head and turned the spit. Grease hissed and crackled as it dripped into the cook fire. “That was a terrible thing, his murder. The White Stone, they say. Wouldn’t surprise me if that worm Paulus was the one who hired her, just to take old Rance’s position.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial husk. “They say Rance was laid open from throat to cock like a filleted fish, and every wall of his bedroom was covered in his blood.” The skin under the cook’s chin was as loose as that under her arms; it swayed as she glanced back at Rochelle. She pushed back the red turban wrapped around her head to absorb the sweat from the kitchen fires. “Did you see any of that, girl?”

The image of Rance open-eyed in death came back to Rochelle, and she shivered. She touched the pebble in its pouch under her tashta. At least I don’t hear his voice… “No,” she said, then shook her head. “I mean, I saw the body, and it was nothing like that. There was very little blood. I was told that he was killed by a poisoned blade.”

Eyebrows clambered toward red cloth. “You saw his body? Truly? Well, I suppose you would know then.” The way she said it, Rochelle was fairly certain that no one in the kitchen staff preferred the image of Rance’s actual death to the cook’s more gory and visceral one. She suspected that the blood-bathed version was the one that would prevail in staff gossip. “Well, this meat should be done enough for the delicate tongue of the Hirzgin, eh?” The cook lifted the skewer from over the fire, the thick sleeve of her soiled tashta around the iron bar, and slid the meat onto a plate with a large fork. “There you go, girl. You’d better hurry. You’ve a bit of a climb to the Hirzgin’s quarters…”

Rochelle nodded and placed the plate on the tray with the rest of the Hirzgin’s meal, covered it, and left the close heat of the kitchen. The servants’ corridors of Stag Fall were narrower than those in the Brezno Palais, and cold after the kitchen. She moved quickly up several flights of stairs, occasionally passing another of the staff with a nod or a quick greeting, until she reached the royal family’s level. There were a pair of gardai there, of the Brezno Garde Hirzg, and one of them examined her tray while the other watched with a hand on the pommel of his sword. Finally, the garda nodded toward the door and, with a clatter of plates, Rochelle moved on.

She wasn’t happy that Paulus had assigned her to the Hirzgin. She still wasn’t certain whether the Hirzgin entirely trusted her. It was almost as if she knew the connection between Rochelle and her husband. And the Hirzg-for all the interest he’d shown in her at first, now he acted cold and distant toward her. He ignored her if she were in the same room with him, and a few times she’d caught him staring at her with an appraising look on his face.

He knows who you are. He knows, and the knowledge terrifies him. The thought seemed to come to her wrapped in the voice of her matarh.

She knocked on the door to the Hirzgin’s chambers. The door opened a moment later, and Rochelle was looking down at Elissa. “Hello, Rhianna,” the girl said. “Matarh has gone to see Vatarh. She said for you to put the dinner on the table in the outer room and leave it.”

Rochelle felt muscles relax in her back and abdomen, and she realized that she’d tensed without realizing it. She smiled at Elissa. “Then that’s what I’ll do,” she said. Elissa opened the door wider, and Rochelle entered, moving through the bedroom and into the outer reception chamber. She placed the tray on the table there and arranged the cloth over it to keep it warm and any ambitious flies away. She started back toward the servants’ door.

“Matarh is going with Vatarh to see the troops, then come back here later to be with us,” Elissa said. “I heard Vatarh tell Paulus that he wanted you to be on the staff that goes with them.”

“Ah…” Rochelle smiled at Elissa, though she wasn’t certain how she felt about the news. “And what did your matarh say to that?”

“She wasn’t there,” Elissa answered.

Rochelle nodded. He wants me to go with him.

“I’ll miss you, Rhianna,” Elissa said. “So will Kriege and Caelor, even if they wouldn’t say so. Eria won’t, though.” Elissa’s face twisted into a frown. “She’s too little and stupid.”

Rochelle laughed. “Don’t say that about your sister,” she said gently. “She’s still learning, that’s all. You should teach her-she looks up to you.”

“I’d rather have a sister like you,” Elissa said.

Rochelle caught her breath. In that moment, she could have blurted it all out. The words burned in her throat. I am your sister, Elissa. .. But instead, she nodded. “Thank you, dear one,” she said instead. “That would be wonderful if it could be that way, and I’d be the best big sister you could have. But Eria is growing up-and walking and talking and getting into things-and you’ll need to be the big sister for her. You’ll need to show her everything, and help her so that she learns what she needs to learn. She’ll be watching you, and wanting to do what you do, just as you do it.”

“Did you have a big sister?” Elissa asked her.

“No. I had a big brother, though he was much older than me, and he left before I was very old. And I didn’t have a little sister-or brother.”

“You would be a good big sister, Rhianna. You would teach her everything you know.”

Rochelle touched the stones under her tashta. “No,” she said. “I don’t think I could.” She curtsied to the girl then, hurrying to finish before the girl asked any more questions. “I have to go now, Elissa, or Paulus will be wondering where I am. Is your matarh coming right back, or should I send one of the other maids up to be with you?”

“She’ll be right back,” Elissa said, and they both heard the outer door begin to open in the same moment. “Oh, there she is now,” the girl said, running to the door. “Matarh, Rhianna has brought your supper…”

But that was all Rochelle heard. She hurried to the servants’ door, closing it quickly behind her before Brie could see her or call out after her. In the dimness of the corridor beyond, she leaned against the door, and her fingers caressed the stone in its pouch.