31. An absence of light

Flee!

The singular, overwhelming urge sank its fangs deeply into her core, attempting to devour her crumbling reason.

Control!

Angelica closed her eyes, painting out the steel-like grip about her arm from her awareness, willing time to stop as her desperate mind fled to a safe memory to keep control.

Gentle gilded light washed through the garden, Cardinal bees lazily ambling home though the lingering touch of the sea breeze. One decided there was yet time, and stole upon the bunch of fresh picked flowers she held, drinking its fill of the priceless drops of nectar before unceremoniously falling off the flower, tumbling carefree into flight just above the grass then rejoining its fellows aloft and on to home.

Angelica inhaled slowly through her nose, allowing her senses to reconnect with now, events rushing about her again, but her mind was still.

Control. If I am to die, at least it will be with dignity.

She was propelled forward, strength far beyond any Child of Mann in Brizanda’s parting shove. Angelica’s eyes flicked open briefly, calculating eyes drinking in the chances. Rather than resist she turned into the momentum, veering right half a step.

As she went through the gap her dress brushed the guard and she stumbled, twisting and falling she clutched the guard for support but dragged him down as she fell. Swish and rip of fabric then thuds, they landed in an undignified tangled heap on the floor.

A slow clap greeted her entrance. “My my” a dry voice dripped with feigned chagrin. “I tasked you to fetch the Lady’s maid and you deliver … what, a clumsy muck picker?” he laughed softly, then continued “no, a picker would have far better balance.”

Angelica stayed down, the dagger she had pilfered from the guard neatly folded into her dress, as she waited for the guard to move first.

Firm hands grasped her and lifted, but brought her only to her knees. Two guards, one each side behind me … the one who went down remains close as well.

Control!

She allowed her breath to escape slowly, a gentle gift to help the bee on its way home. Crushing down the fear threatening to bubble up from below her heart, she permitted her eyes to work normally as she lifted her head to face the voice.

The vast head was tilted to one side, contemplating, one eye fixed upon her, scales glistening in the night air.

Wait … why is his eye like that?

Relief washed over her as if she had stepped under a waterfall on a scorching day. Angelica desperately struggled to stifle a sigh of relief, transmuting instead it into a whimper of not-entirely-false fear.

“Now, miss, we need to talk” the voice hissed, all traces of mirth banished. “You need to understand.”

Nearly perfect, but the eyes are wrong. He’s wearing a mask!

The guard Angelica had tripped was ordered forward at a word by Brizanda, falling to a kneel half a pace to Angelica’s left. The Mann’s eyes shone with a mix of dread and hope.

“So there is no misunderstanding as to my resolve, or about your worth to me.” The huge Mann in the dragon mask made a slight gesture with his gauntleted left hand.

A flurry of motion in blue to her left, Brizanda flowed forward to stand behind the motionless guard. Steel hissed on leather, the guard’s sword light in her hands, then in a motion that flowed as beautifully as any dancer Brizanda dipped low then drove the sword into the small of the Mann’s back. The tip cracked though the guard’s sternum, ruined chainmail rings raining on the stone floor with a soft chime of steel on stone.

Brizanda lifted the helpless impaled guard off the floor, then with a casual flick of her wrist twisted the sword.

Final lingering moments of life ebbed away to the crack of bones and soft whisper of the Mann’s last breath. In morbid salute to her Lord, Brizanda dipped her blade sending the lifeless husk thudding onto the stones before Angelica’s wide eyes. Tendrils of steam escaped into the cold night air from the hot blood seeping onto the stones, a growing dark puddle slowly advancing towards her.

Angelica could not tear her eyes away from the scarlet drops so casually wasted, falling slowly to join their kin on the stones from the glistening blade in Brizanda’s prettily gloved hands.

Control!

Rocking back, bringing her arm up to block her eyes, she turned her head from the carnage and tried to crawl backwards, drawing a snicker of ridicule as she hit the wall of soldiers behind her.

“Good sword, I was surprised it didn’t snap” Brizanda said casually as she dropped it with a clatter into the blood before Angelica and stepped back.

“His sword is yours” Serpentius chuckled. “You killed him the moment you took his dagger.”

Angelica held her eyes closed, ears tracking the soft steps of the huntress in blue, careful not to react other than to recall how much it hurt to be stung by angry Cardinal bees when stealing their honey.

“Now” the Mann in the mask continued “now she really does a fabulous job of enjoying her work. On the other hand, your acting could use a great deal more practice.” he chided.

“M’Lord” the acknowledgement came not from where Angelica had placed Brizanda in the circle of threats in this deadly dance. Damn she is good.

“Now little wildcat, enough of these games.” Serpentius gloated “you have three choices here. You can take up the sword and serve me, and perhaps someday earn freedom for your soul as he did.” Angelica watched as he tapped the corpse with his boot. “You could save yourself decades of toil by simply telling me everything there is to know about your Lady. Everything.” he emphasized. “Then you would live in luxury for the remainder of your natural life, under my protection. Perhaps if what you tell me is worthy, you might even have a family some day if you choose and I would protect them as well.” He lowered the huge mask, then said simply “Or I can devour your soul, after all this is a banquet and I’m hungry.”

Control! Hot fury swirled behind her eyes, it would be so easy to give in and attack … control!

“Or - ” Angelica riposted.

“Or? There is no other ‘or’!” he roared, reaching out his right hand, into which two of his guards rushed to place a huge metal warhammer. “By our laws, any living thing is forfeit when it steps ashore. You were mine the moment you set foot on my cove, just as your Mann was. All it took to get him ashore was a couple of barrels of ale which ‘happened’ to wash up over the night. You are mine, you must choose!”

“I will never betray my Lady.” Angelica said with soft finality.

“We will see about that” Serpentius lifted the hammer “this won’t kill you, but it will make you rethink your decision.” he chuckled “It always does”.

“So there are no misunderstandings” Angelica said quietly as he raised his hammer to strike “You have no claim on me” As quick as a Foxcelot her arm darted out and grabbed the bloody sword “but I do thank you for the gift of such a fine blade.”

Serpentius roared in fury, then swung the warhammer down in a vicious strike. But Angelica was not there as the hammer smashed into a Mann instead with a sickening crunch.

What just happened?! Angelica struggled to understand as she was hustled off into the crowd by two strangers garbed head to toe in scarlet, the incurious revelers swirling about them lost in their own conspiracies.

I was going to deflect the blow but thought the sword might shatter under the hammer anyway. But I went backwards … someone ... no, they. Three someones, burst through the guards. She thought carefully about the blurred tangle of images just moments before. Two grabbed me and pulled me backwards while the third dove between the hammer and I.

A sudden rush of guilt and fear washing over her, threatening to make her vomit up her recent supper. “Oh Qin damn it” she uttered softly. “Thorstein”.

This time, the tears that fell were real.

---------//---------

A stone pillar hung with scarlet banners loomed into view behind the revelers. Without ceremony Angelica found herself walking past Lord Souzou in his lion mask, who simply gestured casually through the high stone archway to his right. Mind racing at what was going on, she permitted herself to be whisked through and into a marquee.

A young woman in a light slip bowed as Angelica entered, and two other women curtsied. Angelica returned their courtesy, perplexed.

“Quickly now, off with your mask and dress” said one of the women, who held a black and silver gold gown.

Ah. Angelica reached up to hold the mask as one of the others untied the laces, then lowered it and placed it in the waiting hands of the young woman. The dress was next, one of the women helped the young one put on Angelica’s dress, while the other helped don the silver gold one. They were meticulous in not touching the blood splattered on Angelica’s dress. One pointed to the sword she still held, her expression carefully neutral. Angelica shook her head slightly, and the older woman nodded taking the sword and with practiced hands wiped it clean of blood then cleaned it again with an oiled cloth.

They are not talking, this is meant to stay discrete. Angelica reflected as they worked. Her necklace was next to swap over. As soon as the young woman was dressed, Angelica put her hands in front of her, palms up cupped one in the other in a resting pose she often used back home at Court, quickly mirrored by her mimic. Wait! Angelica gestured as the other began to leave, pulling off the gloves she wore and offering them; rewarded with a quick nod.

After the mimic had left with the two guards as Angelica had arrived, one of the women offered Angelica a wash bowl with flower petals in it. “No tears” she said with a genuine smile “and smell not you” as she worked with a soft cloth. The accent was strange, nothing Angelica could place, yet the women were every bit as quick about their work as any handmaid could be. They then rapidly changed her hair, now braided back and down, adding yet more tiny, pretty flowers. Another servant briefly walked in, leaving an empty scabbard and sword belt in supple black leather behind as he left without a word.

One of them fetched a silvered mirror, and Angelica did not even try to hide her delight at the transformation. Her lips faded to neutral as she looked though … this dress is from home. How in Karcion? The cut flattered her perfectly, the fabric was old, very old. But there was no mistake, it was … There is a painting of Mother in this dress in her chambers. So much for never visiting the forbidden islands!

“Permit me” one of the women held a necklace, waiting.

Angelica dipped her head slightly, granting her consent, the necklace applied without the woman so much as brushing her skin, dropping softly into place after it was clasped. A soft gasp escaped Angelica’s lips as the light caught the gems … star crystals. They are worth more than a whole Duchy!

Icy chills ran up her spine as the realization struck her that she felt rather like she had just had a very shiny apple put in her mouth. Instead, she smiled broadly at the two women waiting expectantly, they had done a fine job in remarkable time as they tied a new mask of white on her. They courtseyed, one gesturing back the way Angelica had come in. She adjusted her sword belt slightly so it would be perfect on the draw, nodded again and left.

The Lord had gone, but one of his servants bowed and presented his arm as Angelica emerged from the marquee. As she took it he whispered “My Lord invites you to not ruin his party just yet. It is far too early for that.”

Angelica inclined her head in acquiescence.

This wasn’t for my benefit. She pondered this step in the dance … it feels as if someone is swapping around pieces on the board while the players take a refreshment break. She stifled a scowl, her face carefully neutral even with a mask. Except we are the refreshments …

Glances and in some cases overt stares greeted her as they moved back into the crowd, but Angelica simply ignored them. The mementos of home that she wore were finer for her control than any armour. With her free hand she touched the stones of the necklace, listening to their song of the stars.

A noble with long red plumes on his dashing hat crossed their path, his maroon and yellow coat flowing about him as he declared “I challenge for this one!”, hand on the hilt of his sword.

None answered him, so he advanced triumphantly, reaching for Angelica, some of the crowd placing bets about how long it would take until she screamed.

I’ll burn them all. She fumed as she contemplated. “I accept your challenge” she replied, the noble rocking back on his heels in confusion. No, this is simply who they are. Angelica chided herself, ashamed. I don’t belong here, I need to get what we require, and leave them be. They had no part in the burning. She watched as the Noble considered his next move. Or did they?

Like stones falling down a dry ravine, a chuckle built into a casual laugh. The noble turned to the sound, then dropped into a deep formal bow. “She is far beyond you Telandior. The night is young, be elsewhere.” the newcomer banished the flashy noble, who wasted no time in melting into the dubious safety of the crowd.

Angelica turned, then dropped into a curtsey as the newcomer bowed to her. She noticed the crowd had pressed back; whoever it was, he commanded respect. Or fear.

Boney fingers in soft velvet gloves reached forward, the long draped robes defying their age to remain fabric. He wore a thin porcelain mask, carefully painted to the likeness of a Manneran face, cracked with age and repaired many times with artfully worked gold. “My Lady” his voice sand on rough rock “would you care to dance?”

A genuine stab of fear twisted in her back as Angelica did as she must, and placed her hand in his. Carefully precise, she added “An honour my Lord.”

The master of the band ran through the crowd to see the signal from the noble as to which dance to play, then ran back to her players, who struck a tuning note that was rapidly joined by the other small groups of players about the theatre.

Angelica’s heart skipped as the first few unknown bars played, motionless with her hand in his as the crowd melted back yet further to give the center of the vast area to the dancers. Dismay washed over her, being so alone with uncounted eyes watching them. So much for blending in. The music swelled, she could feel the pace of it now, as the Lord released her hand, standing a yard distant from her and adopting the first form to being the dance.

Oh thank you! Angelica sighed softly in relief, striking the pose Elbereth had taught her so very recently. Did she see this would happen? The thought was quickly deposed as Angelica was nearly late with her step as the heavy beat sounded. Turn. Face your partner, turn again … she had never been a natural at dancing, stealing apples was far more her forte. But she held the memory of Elbereth’s dance in her mind, holding it close for aid with each movement. Curtsey, wait, stand, spin turn… The Lord, however, was a natural. He seemed to float about the floor, and his grace made even her clumsy stomping look elegant. Left arm up, curve, spin turn. Head dip, turn back, clap clap!

As the music played on, other Lords and Ladies slowly moved out to join the dance, but keeping well distant from the couple in the middle.

“You dance well” the Lord complimented her as they came close.

Carried beyond range of her words by the steps, she smiled and dipped her head in acknowledgement.

“We need to talk, you and I” he said softly, barely audible over the music as they closed. “Are the rumours about the fires true?”

For a moment her composure slipped, the honesty of the question catching her off guard. He took her hand and pulled her close, she spun into his arms. “Yes” she said simply as she spun back out to drop into a curtsy. When she came close again, she said as loudly as she dared “the fires never went out.”

As she danced to the bright music, a tear escaped, running down her face.

The Lord stopped still, she matched him. “My dear, I met your Mother long ago. You do not need to wear two masks.”

She took his invitation and undid her mask, looping it on her belt as he spoke. “I understand now why you have broken our treaty, but had matters been reversed I would have as well.” He took her hand in his “I cannot command the others to assist you, but I can do this”.

Angelica’s heart stood still as he knelt, and kissed her hand where her signet ought to be.

The ripple of conversation flashed about the room as he stood and waved, the music dipping to a close in preparation for a new tune.

“That will keep them talking for years.” he chuckled.

“Good Sir, might I have the pleasure of your name?”

He laughed at her question. “Good, that would be amusing indeed. But I digress. My Lady, I can only recall but one name now.” he lowered his porcelain mask, the brittle bones of his skull lacking any ability to mirror the smile his voice carried. “I am Death.”

She dipped her head in formal acknowledgement, picking the uncounted years of loneliness painted into his mask. “Well met.”

He replaced the mask, and clapped above his head, the new dance beginning, he offered his hand again. “Shall we confuse them some more?”

Angelica could not resist a youthful grin “lets!”

Together, they let the music carry them through the darkness.