This song (Adelina, by Johnny Swim) was the very beginning of my journey with Adelina Bendithio and all of her world. It's one of my favourite songs, and I would really like it if you listened to it along with this chapter!
The Skevetic need for fanfare wears on me more every time I see it, but at least this time it's not a parade. Instead, Mirabel and Garen stand on a platform in the very center of the city courtyard outside the castle portcullis. The day is significantly brighter than yesterday, yet the overbearing grey walls of the buildings make for an oppressive setting. Ragna and her daughters tried to make it a bit more jovial by placing colorful streamers around the square, but they only serve as a pitiful juxtaposition of the barren grey stone.
Cairo and I walk the square in a methodical circle. We walk in opposite directions, crossing only in the middle. Each time we meet, we nod subtly to signal nothing out of the ordinary has been found. Emilio and Branon stand on either side of the engaged couple, while Maso stands on the roof of the tallest building, catching a birds eye view of the proceedings.
Mirabel and Garen are introduced by Monika, then Garen gives a small speech riddled with reminders of the cities past glories. Mirabel makes a short greeting after he is finished, proclaiming the virtues of the two Skevetic cities she has seen. She easily beguiles the crowd with her winning smile and flattery. When the pair steps down from the platform, the people of Miraclus are cheering loudly. I even catch some of the citizens with tears in their eyes. Their simple desire to be great again tugs at my heart strings. I can't imagine what it must be like to live in this cheerless city, especially the people who remember Miraclus when it was a thriving place full of celebration.
Mirabel and Garen slowly back off of the platform and back into the castle, Emilio and Branon covering their backs. I stay outside, keeping an eye on the citizens as they disperse. I don't expect much from them. The people of Miraclus look fine, on the surface. Most of their clothes are sturdy and well made, if rough and colorless. But I can see that their eyes are dull, their hair lackluster. Bony shoulders and knees stick through their clothes. None of the children have the round cheeks and chubby arms of youth. Clearly Ragna has been trying desperately to take care of her people, selling every spare piece of furnishing in an attempt to find the basic needs of the city.
No wonder she's ready to join a half-baked revolt.
Once the people have disappeared, Cairo and I go inside the castle to pack. We are scheduled to depart this afternoon for the next destination on the engagement tour. This journey will take us the longest, and takes us through a bog known to slow travel by weeks in the wet season, which, being winter, is now.
It's the perfect time to amass an army without anyone noticing our disappearance for over a month. It's a haphazard plan thrown together by Mirabel, Garen and Ragna while I was scouting out the city square this morning. I'm not thrilled that they made plans without me, but I am relieved to be done with this charade. It will feel good to be doing something truly productive with our time.
I return to the meeting room where we ate dinner last night. Only Fin and Alida are missing, both having left to search the countryside for the Gricadan resistance. The chairs look overly comfortable, so I decide to stand. Garen, Ragna and Branon all decide to do the same. Mirabel and Monika are sitting, but it's clear from the way Monika picks at the stitching on her sleeves and the way Mirabel chews her lip that both are high strung.
"Are we all sure we want to do this?" Garen asks quietly.
"Of course not. But we've made the best choice available to us. That's even more true since we've learned exactly what Alaric really is." Ragna answers bluntly. Non of us argue with her.
"In that case, we need a base of operations, a place to accumulate as many forces as we can." Surprisingly, the suggestion comes from Monika.
"If I had a place to send them, I can have whatever forces Torrain can spare moving there by tonight." I supply.
Garen speaks up, "I had thought about this. I was planning to use my families northern retreat. I have never visited it personally, but I know where it is. And as far as I know, Alaric doesn't know anything about it."
"Why do you say that?" Mirabel asks, her usual curiosity peaking through.
Garen shrugs uncomfortably, "My father told me about the castle, suggesting I live there after Alaric became king. He himself had only visited it a few times as a child, but my grandfather made it his chief place of residence. Alaric never knew about it because I don't think my parents wanted him to know. Even then, I think they knew that there was something... Ruthless about Alaric. I think they worried he might try to hurt me to secure his place as king."
How Garen had lived with that knowledge for so long, I don't know. Why he didn't run, I understand. He could never abandon his people to a man like Alaric, brother or not.
"So, where is this castle exactly?" I ask.
"About ten miles from the northern Gricadan border, in a dry canyon nearly seventy miles long." Garen answers. I wonder to myself what a canyon is.
"If that's our destination, we better get moving." Branon offers, "That's nearly a two week ride from here."
"Hold on a minute," Ragna demands, "you will be taking Monika with you, as well as a detail of my most trusted guards."
Garen manages to keep the shock from his face, but Branon looks like he just swallowed a watermelon whole.
"That could be very dangerous..." Garen says slowly, looking at the gentile Monika.
Monika clears her throat daintily, "I may not be a warrior like my sister, but I have my own ways of taking care of myself."
Ragna nods, "She is to be my advocate in all things. Her word is my word."
That is an awful lot of trust to be placing in anyone, even a daughter. Perhaps there is more to Monika than I thought.
We stay and talk out endless details long into the night. The truth is that for all our planning, it means nothing without the Gricadan resistance fighting with us.
We leave the next morning, early. Only the guards who were not included in our late night discussions got any sleep, and the rest of us are nearly falling off of our horses. Ragna added another carriage to the one we already had, and we cleared enough space for one person to lie down on top of Monika's blankets. We've taken one hour shifts of sleep, starting with Mirabel and Monika, but it's hard to get any real rest in a jostling carriage.
Life goes on like that for a week as we pass through grey rocky landscapes, encased in grey, cloudy skies. It's dreary, bumpy, and drought with high tensions and harsh words. It's only made worse by the daily frozen rains falling on us. Garen says the further north we get, the more it will rain, possibly even snow. It feels like the hot and windy climate of Cantabrar is an entirely different world from here.
It makes me think longingly of the frosted trees of the Torranian Forrest. By this time of year there would be the very first dusting of snow, decorating the pines and the bare trees in sparkling white. The children would be dancing under the snow flurries as the caravans hurry to their winter lodgings. Soon, it will be winter solstice, and parents will give presents they acquired during the summer trading season.
Instead, I am stuck here, in the bitter cold wind and rain of an alien world of grass and rock, flung into a fight for life and country.
Mirabel rides up beside me, huddled into her clock, teeth chattering.
"You weren't hear for a minute. What were you thinking about?" She asks.
I sigh longingly, "I was just thinking about what it must be like at home right now."
Mirabel smiles knowingly, "The first snowfall was always your favourite time of year."
"After Summer Solstice, of course." A bemused voice says from the other side of me.
Mirabel and I both turn to see Cairo, also bundled into his clock. His nose and cheeks are pink with cold, which brings a jolly look to his face.
We laugh, "yes, after that."
The celebrations of Summer Solstice are unrivaled, with imported fruits and dancing all through the night. It's the night of Fekro and Zatyavi, Spirits of peace and love. There have been many marriages and children conceived on Summer Solstice night.
"We stop here for the night!" Garen calls back to us. We are currently in a small canyon, which I learned is a deep gouge cut into the earth, supposedly by water. How even an element as mighty as water could do such a thing, I cannot imagine. Regardless, the water is long gone, leaving a deep scar that gives us some shelter from the biting wind.
We set up some canvases sent by Lady Ragna to serve as cover from the rain, using the canyon wall as shelter at our backs. Branon builds a small fire with brush and horse dung, which smells terrible but supplies much needed warmth. In this cold, we become much more willing to break boundaries, as we huddle together to retain vestiges of heat. I find myself wedged between Monika and Cairo, facing the foul fire.
"How much further?" Branon moans from underneath a pile of blankets. He has never traveled from the southernmost parts of Skevet, where the temperatures never drop below freezing.
Garen pulls a map from his travel pack that I have never seen before, "If I am correct, then we should arrive by late tomorrow, if we make good time."
"That would be best," Monika says grimly, "We are running very low on supplies."
We all know that by supplies, she means food. Already our bellies growl with hunger near constantly. As if to demonstrate her point, a loud grumble emanates from one of the two guards sent with her from Miraclus.
"How about some cheering up?" Branon suggests hopefully, "I know a funny little sea shanty my mother picked up from my grandfather."
To my dismay, he starts to sing without waiting for an answer. I'm afraid my friend is more tone deaf than the man from the caravan whose throat was torn by a bear.
We make it through his painful rendition of "The hole in my left boot" before Cairo retrieves his Miranga and offers to play for us. Mirabel sits up immediately, her eyes aglow.
"Oh yes please, I've missed our musical genius. Haven't you?" She directs the last bit at me, a sly smile on her lips.
I only nod for Cairo to begin. He plays a short children's song about a misunderstood frog to start with, his lilting voice soothing and engaging. He sings several songs, some I recognize from home, but most I do not. He sings sea shanties from Pyronoi, dredging work songs from Midrian mines, and hymns from the Skevetic church. The night grows darker, the fire burns down and heads begin to droop. My eyes are glued to the glowing embers of the fire, hypnotized by the glowing patterns, grateful to not think for a while. That's why I don't immediately notice that the music has stopped and the musician is talking to me.
"Hmm?" I mumble, forcing myself to focus on the words being spoken to me.
Cairo's thin lips are tilted into a smile, "I asked if you would join me for a song? I think your voice would sound lovely on 'Lady Lily'."
My cheeks warm, and this time it's not from the fire. Lady Lily is a song about a woman who tends a garden of wild lilies deep in the woods and a man who falls in love with her when stumbles upon her in the woods. What he doesn't know, is that at night she returns to the sky as a constellation, so they can never been together. It's a beautiful, ancient song. One of my favourites in fact. But it's also terribly intimate. Singing a love ballad with Cairo... There mere thought of it quickens the pace of my heartbeat.
"If she doesn't I will." Mirabel purrs.
That snaps me out of my hesitation, "I would be honored to join you." I say a bit too hastily.
He smiles, and I notice that he only has one dimple. The notes from the Miranda are soft and crooning, rising and falling in slow succession. Singing the part of the woodsman, Cairo starts, praising the beauty of the trees and the sun. Anticipation quivers in my hands and throat as my part approaches. Cairo's verse ends, he plays a short interlude on the strings.
Then I open my mouth and sing. It starts softly, lightly. The Lily Lady sings of her flowers, and how she loves her visits to the earth. She doesn't notice the woodsman watching her, she only feels the breeze in her hair and the dirt under her feet. I build into a crescendo as the lyrics change. The Lily Lady wishes she could be human, so she could feel love for more than just her flowers. It is now that the woodsman joins her in a soulful chorus, the harmonies twining together in a beautiful minor key, haunting and addictive. I revel in the music, grateful to lose myself in the music again. It's like greeting my dearest and oldest friend after far too long apart.
We finish, the forceful notes closing to a mournful decrescendo as the Lily Lady returns to the sky for the night. The woodsman waits for her in the garden until she returns for the morning, morose that he can never bring her home as his wife.
I open my eyes, allowing them to readjust to the red light of the fire. I hadn't even realized I closed them. The sleepy heads and tired eyes of my companions are gone- instead they are all wide awake, staring at us in utter rapture.
"I had no idea you could sing like that." Branon exclaims in awe.
I shrug, "How could you?"
"Still, it was very impressive, Adelina." Garen intones. I accept his faint admiration with reluctant glee.
"On that note, I think it's time for bed." Monika says, standing from her place by the fire, "no pun intended."
"I've got first watch," Mirabel groans out. One of the Skevetic guards joins her.
I stand and follow Monika to the bedrolls. The girls and boys have been separated into two distinct clumps, hoping to garner a bit more warmth from huddling against the canyon wall. As I pass him, Cairo leans over and whispers-
"Thank you."