Prophecy: Child of Earth

44

Rhapsody crept down the cold gray hall, watching furtively for any Bolg that might have wandered into the inner sanctum. It had been a while since she had spent the night in the Cauldron, and she was unsure as to the timing of the changing of the watch, the excuse the Bolg sentries had used in the Past to steal a peek into Achmed’s private rooms.

She was dressed in a long blue nightshirt, covered with a hooded robe, and was carrying an enormous basket of sweetmeats from the bazaar in Sepulvarta, a peace offering to Jo, who had seemed distant and testy of late. With any luck, Jo would be alone and open to the idea of a late night chat. Rhapsody shifted the huge hamper to one arm, bracing it against her shoulder, and knocked.

After a few moments the door opened slowly, and Jo looked out from be hind it. Rhapsody swallowed at the sight of her—she was thinner, with a dullness in her expression and her skin; her straw-colored hair was darker and without its usual shine. She stared past Rhapsody.

“Yes?”

“Jo, are you all right?” Rhapsody asked, concern knotting her stomach and rising into her throat. “You don’t look like you feel well.”

“I’m fine,” she said tersely; then she looked down at Rhapsody. “What do you want?”

“Ah—well, I thought you might, I thought we could have kind of a girls’ night again,” Rhapsody said awkwardly. “I’ve missed you, Jo; I’ve missed our talks and spending time together. If you’re not up to it, though, I understand.” Her voice trailed off self-consciously.

Jo stared at her for a moment, then her gaze relaxed. “Sure,” she said, opening the door wider. “Come in.”

Rhapsody handed her the basket. “This is for you. I know how you love bonbons. There was a wonderful confectioner in Sepulvarta who had all kinds of sweets and dried fruits—” She stopped in shock. Jo’s formerly messy quarters, once full of carefully scattered possessions to provide hiding places for her most prized valuables, were neat as Rhapsody’s own. And the hundreds of small candles Rhapsody had given her were nowhere in sight. In their place was a single lantern, casting a dim light and filling the room with a noxious smell.

Jo took the basket to her bed and sat down, cross-legged, and began sifting through its contents. Rhapsody pulled the jug of spiced mead from the basket and filled the two small cups she had tucked into her robe pockets, leaving one for Jo on her bedside table and taking one with her to the pile of pillows across the room. She settled into them and took a sip, hoping the warm liquid would ease the conversation that for the first time seemed so labored. It had always been a comfort- bringer with Oelendra.

“So, what’s been going on up here?”

“Nothing.” Jo unpacked the basket systematically, cursorily examining its contents, setting her preferences aside. Rhapsody took another drink, wondering what had happened to the eagerness, the excitement Jo usually exhibited, unable to keep from diving into presents like these, leaving pieces scattered all around. “The usual, you know; putting down rebellions, capturing and subduing villages, training the army. Nothing interesting.” She selected a paper cone of sugared grapes, and threw Rhapsody a packet of sulfured apricots.

Rhapsody watched Jo pop a few into her mouth, noting that she had avoided all of the sweeter confections she normally gobbled down. Maybe she’s just growing up, she thought, trying to banish the apprehension that was making the hairs on the back of her neck tingle, and the moment the idea occurred, she relaxed. Of course. Jo was just maturing; she was human, and she was at the age of change. The thought both comforted her and made her sad.

“I was thinking that maybe you and I need a holiday,” she said, pulling the black ribbon from her hair and running her fingers through the glistening tresses. “You know, maybe a journey to some interesting places, just the two of us. What do you think?”

Jo popped another grape into her mouth. “Dunno. How would Ashe feel about it?”

“He’s got things to do, too,” Rhapsody answered, feeling her eyes drop under Jo’s intense gaze. “I’m sure he’ll keep busy. Besides, he knows I want to spend time with you.”

Jo said nothing, but stretched herself out on the bed, tucking her arms under her head.

“Would you like me to play something for you, Jo? I brought my lark’s flute,” Rhapsody asked, still casting around for a comfortable conversation. “If you want.” Jo’s voice was noncommittal.

Rhapsody pulled out the tiny instrument and began a soft melody, aimless and wandering, without repetition. She caught notes from the songs of the forest and the open meadow, soothing and mellifluous. She could see Jo begin to relax, the tight expression on her face ease somewhat. Matching the movement of the shadows from the lantern light, she wove a soothing air that hovered in the room and let it lightly come to rest on her sister.

As soon as Jo seemed comfortable Rhapsody began weaving a suggestion into the song; a subtle hint that she should be forthcoming about whatever was bothering her. She loved Jo far too much to use her music to enchant her or to force her to reveal anything against her will; the tune was just a wordless encouragement. “Rhapsody?”

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Rhapsody sat forward on the pillows, a look of delight on her face. “Oh, Jo, of course you can, anything,” she said earnestly. “Haven’t you always been able to? What do you want to know?”

Jo sat up on the bed and leveled a steady look at her. “Are you going to marry Ashe?”

“No,” Rhapsody said. The lantern light flickered across her face, revealing no sadness.

“Why not?”

“We haven’t even discussed it. Lots of reasons. He’s royalty; I’m a peasant.”

“Peasant? I thought you were the Duchess of Elysian.”

Rhapsody lobbed a pillow at Jo’s head, enjoying the return of their old camaraderie. “All right, I’m Firbolg royalty. Which, by the way, equates to something beneath Cymrian peasantry.”

“Snobs,” said Jo. “Hang them and their stuck-up pretensions.” She downed the mead in her glass, then refilled it from the jug. Rhapsody held out her own glass, and Jo poured.

“Can I ask you something else?” Jo looked at her intently.

“Of course.”

“When you lost your virginity, did it hurt?”

“No.”

“You’re lucky.”

“Why, Jo?” Rhapsody asked, her stomach turning to ice suddenly. “Are you—are you all right?”

Jo shrugged.

Rhapsody searched her face, concern washing over her like a cold ocean wave. “What are you saying, Jo? You’re not a virgin anymore?”

Jo looked at the wall. “No. And it still hurts. I haven’t really felt right since.”

Rhapsody came to her, sat on the bed and drew the taller girl into her arms. She stroked her hair and kissed her forehead tenderly, rocking slightly to comfort her and to avoid letting Jo see the look of anxiety on her own face. “What do you mean you don’t feel right? Tell me what’s wrong.”

Jo said nothing. Rhapsody pulled back gingerly and looked into her face; as Jo tried to turn away she gently rested her palm on Jo’s cheek and looked into her eyes.

“Tell me, Jo. I’ll help you, whatever it is.”

Jo watched her for a long time, still not speaking, and Rhapsody made note of her haggard appearance, the graying of her skin, the loss of weight in her face and hands. Finally she said, “I can’t keep anything down. My stomach feels strange all the time. My whole body aches. Everything hurts.”

Rhapsody blinked back tears. She rested her hand gently on Jo’s abdomen, seeing if she could feel the presence of a different soul, and she did detect a strange vibration, but there was something wrong about it, something alien. She tried to sense further, but Jo pushed her hand away.

“No, Rhapsody, I’m not pregnant. Leave me alone.”

Rhapsody made her voice as mild as she could. “Are you sure, Jo?”

“Yes. Now stop it.” Jo rose and walked across the room, taking her mead glass with her.

“I’m sorry, Jo,” Rhapsody said. “You know I’ll do anything I can to make it better. I have lots of herbs and roots that can settle your stomach and ease your aches. Come home with me to Elysian and I’ll put you in a nice warm tub.”

“It’s all right,” Jo replied, taking a deep swallow of the amber liquid. “It’s probably just that my first time was a little, well, a little rough, a little violent. I’ll be fine in a week or two, I’m sure.”

The words chilled Rhapsody’s soul, and she felt anger, like a blush, rise to her face and choke her. She tried to keep her voice steady. “Jo, I am so sorry,” she repeated, trying to stay calm. “Have I been away so long? I wish I’d been here for you, you know, to talk to. I mean, I hadn’t realized you were seeing anyone.”

Jo turned and looked at her for the first time from across the room. The expression in her eyes was unwavering.

“I’m not seeing anyone. Actually, you’re seeing him.”

!

Rhapsody stared at her blankly. Jo continued on, as words tumbled over each other in their rush to spill out. “It was Ashe, Rhaps. I’m really sorry. It was just once.”

“Jo, what are you talking about?”

“It was Ashe,” Jo repeated, her face beginning to harden. “I had sex with Ashe. The night of the meeting, when I ran out of the council room, and he came after me—he found me on the heath. He didn’t tell you, did he?”

Rhapsody said nothing, but the color drained from her face.

“I thought not,” Jo continued, watching Rhapsody turn white and avert her eyes. “He probably told you he couldn’t find me, didn’t he? Scum. I tried to make him leave, but he wouldn’t. And, well, we did it. Actually, although I enjoyed it a little at the time, it was pretty grisly overall. I don’t think I’ll ever get the image of his face as he was knobbing me out of my mind. Honestly, Rhaps, I don’t know what you see in him. Don’t you have anything better to do than let him rut on you?”

Her words were having their intended effect; when Rhapsody looked back up she was in tears. She stood up and, as if in a daze, pulled the covers back on the bed.

“Why don’t you get some sleep?” she said, not looking at Jo. “I’ll put together some tonics for you and bring them by in the morning,” Jo watched as she gathered up her hair ribbon and the lark’s flute, and left the room, closing the door silently behind her.

Ashe sat up in bed as the door to Rhapsody’s chamber opened softly. He had expected that she would stay the night with Jo, and the delight he felt in her return showed immediately on his face. He pulled his hood back a bit and held his arms out to her, but she turned silently from him and went to the wardrobe where she slowly hung up her robe.

“Rhapsody?” he said, pushing himself up on his knuckles and putting his feet down onto the frigid stone floor. “Are you all right?”

She turned to look at him and shock crossed his face as he saw the tears streaming down hers.

“Aria, what’s the matter?” He started to stand, but Rhapsody held her hands out in front of her, as if to keep him at bay.

“Please, just stay there.” She crossed her arms in front of her, looking like she was fighting nausea.

“What happened? Did you have an argument with Jo?”

Rhapsody walked a few steps nearer to him, her arms still clutching her waist. “She—said that you had sex with her the night of the meeting out on the heath above the canyon.”

Ashe’s face went blank, then shock and fury roared through him like a flash flood. Rhapsody could feel the change in the electricity of the air around them as the dragon in him bristled and started to rise. She came to him and rested her fingertips on his lips as his mouth opened in protest.

“Don’t say anything, please. I know it isn’t true.” The tears fell like rain, and she began to tremble.

His denial cut short, Ashe put his arms around her and pulled her onto his lap. He held her tightly to his chest while his hands caressed her shining hair, caught in a chasm between uncontrollable anger at the lie and heartfelt joy at her unwavering trust in him. “Why would she do that?” he asked incredulously. “Why would she want to hurt us, hurt you like that? Do you think it’s in retribution for us not telling her sooner?”

Rhapsody raised her face and looked directly into his eyes. For the first time since he had met her he saw fear in them.

“No,” she said, shaking. “I think she met the Rakshas.”