Holding the emerald green rose, practically effulgent with color, just beneath his nose, Masis Domrae took another long, deep pull, marveling at the apple-pie aroma.
How did she do it? Masis wondered, again.
Lady Luck or the Luck of the Land was a rare flower, practically extinct. Most thought so at least. In spite of their rarity and the fact that they normally only bloomed in mid-winter, adding to all of that they couldnt be cultivated in a hot house, Calla, the family Domraes housekeeper, Masis second mother in all but blood, had found one just for today, a day Masis had looked forward to for quite some time.
Shes a wonder and no doubt, he thought, peering about his room verifying that he had forgotten nothing.
His bed sat beneath the large windows, occupying nearly the entire wall. Shutters thrown open, the casement stood opened fully to allow the early morning breeze to clear away the nights stale air. Rumpled and tossed aside, the bed linens lay exactly as had he had left them upon arising. He normally gave them a cursory straightening, in part to prove to himself that he didnt fall into the high-born stereotypes of entitlement and arrogance, and in part to prove to the staff the same.
Today he hadnt bothered. He had flung himself from his soft, embracing mattress, not lying in its folds as he usually did in the morning counting the tree rings in the ceiling above him, not batting an eye that he lived in a couple of giant trees molding and shaped by magic. Skipping his morning routine, had had found his sportsmans apparel neatly laid out on the round table that grew out of the well-polished floor and on top the entire assortment, he had found the rose.
Laying the flower aside, Masis checked himself over one more time. Gloves tucked into his belt that hugged smartly about his middle. His fingers tugged the bottom of his jerkin, insuring none of the deep brown leather puckered above the belt. Stomping down, Masis wriggled his toes before checking that his breeches were neatly tucked into the boots that came up over his calves.
Giddy energy thrummed through him as he checked the cuffs of his shirt for the fifth time. Today promised sport. It promised competition and hopefully victory.
He had planned it. Hopefully, prepared for every contingency. And if he had learned anything from watching and helping his father, the duke, the Forest Lord of Asthurn, over the years, today would come off without a hitch, or at the very least with only a few broken bones.
Four weeks. Four weeks of anticipating, formulating, stressing, and frustrating had led to today. Four weeks of bemoaning the creeping pace of time had left Masis jittery, his fingers twittering when his hands lay idle at his sides, his feet tapping not to music, but the unused impulse bound in his legs. Four weeks waiting for a day that seemed to linger in the future, the Planning Day for this quarter of the year and thus a day with no work, a day when all the lieutenant foreman and lesser nobleman under his father came to Hyrbn and with them his friends. Four weeks praying to Werold, Wilo, Mona, and Mani that the day would be fair.
Those twenty-eight days had tried his two decades of patience nearly to its limits. It had only just held.
Now, staring out the window, the forest encasing Hyrbn stretching out before him, Wilo no more than a few fingers risen, the few stray clouds appeared more as wandering sheep rather than ravening, dark wolves menacing the light. Mingled with the greenwood bright bursts of color revealed the groves of morning blossoming trees with their bright reds and oranges, magentas and blues. They like the Lady Luck he had just picked up had probably been magicked by some mage long ago, back before the Waning—a time that marked the decline of mages and their kind—back when trees were shaped and other creations made by any with a passing fancy.
But Waning notwithstanding, the day appeared magicked just for him.
Insides trembling, Masis let out a great whoop, tearing from the room. Bursting through his door, he nearly collided with a maid, her arms full of bed linens. Nearly dropping the lot, a squeak and squawk jumbling from her mouth, the bewildered maid jumped back, pressing herself against the wall.
Sorry, Mildred, said Masis, breath heaving. His smile didnt slip, but his pace had hiccupped.
What were you thinking bursting out of there like a nightling from the shadows, she retorted, catching her language too late as her hand moved from chest to her mouth for what she had said.
Masis grin grew with a wicked gleam. Dont worry, Mildred. I wont tell on you. He added with a cheeky wink.
Where on earth are you going to in such a rush? she asked, shaking her head, but reluctantly sharing his smile.
The fields! Masis began to edge toward the stairs, his fluttering insides not allowing him to settle for long.
Oh, I might have known. Thats all youve been able to talk about for the past few weeks.
Im sorry for startling you, Mildred, but I have to be going
He bolted. Both hands shot out to the walls to keep him on his feet rather than tumbling down the long flight of stairs.
Mildreds voice chased after him. Well, good luck then. Make a few good wraps for us all, milord.
Masis didnt slow his pace. His feet, moving far faster than his mind, nearly stumbled a few times but he managed to catch himself before tumbling headlong down the stairs to the next level. When the stairs ended, he dashed forward, passing doors and a few openings for hallways that branched off. He didnt slow to examine the side tables that lined the curved wall, sprouting from the floor, each unique as their surfaces the trees rings. Twenty years had not worn away their novelty in Masis mind. Still there were days where, when he found the corridor empty, he would count how many years each table represented, then marvel over the vases that formed out of the tops of others. The soil within never needed watering and the flowers and other plants they held must have approached the dwelling itself for age.
He would often wonder who in his long and ancient line had conceived the Forest Towers—as they were called by all in Hyrbn and Asthurn beyond—before the Waning, before magic had begun to fade from Mankind, resolving its abilities to a few dwindling family lines and those choice few that manifested abilities randomly. Who amongst his many antecessors that had magicked these great trees had conceived of this or that particular table and had bent their will upon it? So many small details, on every door, patterned in every cornice, wrought upon the very floor, meant a wealth of beauty went unobserved. A lifetime would be needed to seek and find all the subtle artistry of the place. In his free time, away from tutors, family obligations, or obligatory labor amongst the various forest crews, Masis had wandered his home, the immensity of it transforming him from a denizen to a foreigner in strange climes. In his wanderings, he had found wonders. Rooms long forgotten, untouched for generations. Walls that yielded to his touch, shrinking in on themselves to reveal passageways stagnant from disuse. Nooks in which the very grains of the tree had been magicked into ancient and flowing script and design. Crannies designed for reading. Closets meant for concealment.
In fact, one such hide-away lay just around a few corners and doorways. Masis had forgotten his copy of The Lay of the Great Wolves Fall there, having read into the night. His pace slowed as his mind considered the path to retrieve it.
It wouldnt take me that long, he thought to himself. No! No distractions today!
His mind filled again with the thrill and anticipation that always accompanied the pounding of hooves and the whirling burr flung off by the bolo.
Coming to the next set of stairs, Masis bolted down them before any other distractions could hinder his way. He came to the next landing. Dashing forward along the curve of the tree, he didnt slow as he barreled down the last flight of stairs. They had grown so wide he could no longer support himself with both hands on either wall, so he had to grasp at the banister, flowing elegantly from the very wall. Leaping over the last two stairs, Masis landed heavily, but his stride barely faltered. Arms pumping, lungs laboring, feet hardly scuffing along the hardwood floor, Masis pushed his body to its limits as he sprinted through the great hall, wide enough to stand six men fingertip to fingertip across. Blistering passed doorways and over the massive mossy rug that grew from the very floor, he had almost made it to the front doors, well as wide as the room, when the dulcet tones of his mothers voice pulled him to a stumbling stop.
Oh, Masis!
He grimaced. I knew it! For Manus sake I knew it. Why do I always have such blasted Shadows luck?!
If he had gone to fetch his reading when the sudden impulse had taken him, he could have slipped down the secret staircase and fled out the kitchens. No one down there would have tried to stop him. Over the years they had grown accustomed to his antics and sudden appearances and disappearances. His mother on the other hand, the Lady Domrae in both name and bearing, was not someone you denied or disobeyed.
He turned sharply on his heel, forcing a smile unto his face. Yes, mother?
She stood in the door-less archway leading into the small room where they took their breakfast each morning. She offered not a single word, only a faint smile on her sweet mocking mouth.
With no words given, Masis slumped forward as the command to follow hit him. Slogging forward as though each step required great effort, he sagged against one of the doorways lintels, all the while kicking himself mentally for not having slipped away when he could have.
His mother had taken her seat again at one of the ends of the substantial table. It too grew up from the floor, but its surface lay concealed beneath a crisp, white tablecloth. Occupying a place at either side sat Masis two younger sisters, Danya and Saret, the former eight years old and the latter ten.
Both girls handled their utensils with the expected dexterity of their age. Masis hardly held back chuckles as scowls puckered their faces with frustration at the foods wandering tendency. A particular morsel would elude their forks, sliding about with an apparent determination to escape its demise. Especially for Danya whose fingers still didnt grasp the instrument with practiced confidence, frustration would scrunch her face until, near boiling out her eyes, she would ready to spear the insulting food, only to glance at her straight-backed mother, uncertainty staying her slaying stroke. A single piercing glance would smother back Danyas ire, sending her back to the chase round her plate.
Masis hand covered his eyes, as his small chortles shook through him. He shook his head, knowing full well the strength of his mothers eyes and the will they exuded. One look at set him scurrying in his younger years as he recalled.
Luckily, Im twenty now and not a child, he thought, lowering his hand.
Those cool, commanding eyes met his. He stiffened, stepping back.
What do you want, mother? he asked, stepping forward, blustering away his lapse into boyhood.
A smile blossomed onto her lips, small and dainty, as delicate as a dewdrop flower. Her eyes laughed with that smile, twinkling as they dropped back to her plate, her knife and fork, moving in such fluid economy, they appeared to dance as they escorted the food to her mouth. She swallowed.
Where are you heading off to in such a hurry? Her knife and fork continued their rhythmic shepherding. With no scrape of metal on ceramic, her attention remained wholly downward.
You know quite well, said Masis, handling the flower delicately.
Remind me, please.
He sighed.
His mothers utensils stilled over the plate. Without the unnecessary dramatization, please.
Im going to the bolae match, mother.
Hmmm. She took another bite.
Masis freehand fidgeted as he waited for her to chew and swallow. Youre enjoying this a wee too much, ma.
Youve known about
A single slender finger stopped him. All the while the ghost of a smile laughed in her eyes. Laying aside her knife and fork, she took a sip of her tea. Who all will be there at the match?
My friends, he said, resolutely. There was no arguing with her. The lieutenant foremans sons.
Will any of their daughters be there?
Maybe.
Cocking her head as she wiped the corners of her mouth with a stark white, she arched a single eyebrow.
We didnt keep the match a secret, mother, Masis huffed. Im sure there will be a few spectators. Some of them may even be female, yes.
You know how I feel about that, Masis. She took another sip of her tea. Her eyes never left her son.
Years had taught Masis how effectively his mother could use those instruments far more than the average person. Her eyes spoke and scolded, lashed and loomed, dissected and diagnosed. They were keen, nigh unto trenchant, though she, herself, was a gentle woman not quick to anger.
Those eyes even now peeled away at his poorly constructed pretense, laying bare his hidden thoughts, not with a delight for his alarm or resistance, but rather with a determination to know Truth. Extracting Truth, by nature, required pain. Masis determined how much he paid out to those ironically earthy eyes. If he yielded, he paid little. If he strove, his tax was levied with interest.
Today he didnt have the time to indebt himself unnecessarily.
Yes, mother, said Masis, clasping his hands behind his back, you have made your opinion quite clear on the matter.
But I can see She sighed as Masis rolled his eyes.
Why does everything have to be a lecture? he thought.
Masis, most of those girls dont give a fig who you are other than the title you would give them if they could snare you.
Oh, mother, you know Im not serious with any of them.
That very statement is another cause for concern, said Lady Domrae, laying aside her utensils. These girls are not your toys. They are someones daughter. Someones sister.
I dont treat them like toys! he blustered, his hands coming before him to emphasize his words. You know me better than that. And I already know very well how people wish to use me, if they can.
Favors asked, fluttering eyelashes, and friends who were not friends flashed through his mind. Such memories always carried a bitter aftertaste.
Its just a bit of harmless flirting, he said, making his air nonchalant leaning against the wall.
Oh, flirting is many things, but I would never call it harmless. Lady Domrae tucked a stray lock behind her ear, turning her gaze to her daughters who hastily went back to eating as they had stopped to listen. Masis, please – softening her gaze – take care. All too often ones life can hinge on a single word and once they have been loosed, we cannot call them back.
Didnt that work well for you and father though. You were the daughter of a lieutenant foreman and he the son of a Forest Lord.
Yes, she said, retrieving her knife and fork, he and I were in love and I didnt give two straws about the title he could give me.
Very well, he said straightening, Ill be careful. In fact, – pressing both hands over his heart as to swear but careful not to crush the rose – by all things sacred, Both Wilo above and Werold below, the light of Mona and Mani, the blessed Moons, may Manu, the Trickster Moon, take me for treachery, I, Masis Domrae will watch my words so that they neither entrap me or beguile another.
An impish grin possessed his face by the end of his half-true pledge. Lady Domrae had no other recourse but to shake her head with resigned chuckle.
Oh, Masis, whatever am I going to do with you?
Let me go to the Bolae match, so I can claim victory.
No
He opened his mouth to protest.
First you will sit and take some breakfast with us, like a civilized human being. She pointed him into a chair with her knife.
Very well. He tossed down the rose alongside his plate as he plopped himself onto its cushioned seat. Hasty helpings of the simple fare were shoveled as quickly as possible onto his plate—eggs, potatoes, a scone, a few links of sausage. With even greater dispatch did the food travel to his mouth, his mothers disapproving, sidelong gaze not slowing his antics. Mouth stuffed, teeth chewing with vigor, Masis hardly tasted what he swallowed.
Danya and Saret, sensing that their mother had said her piece, pounced on the silence, rending it with questions.
When is the match, Masis?
Are you going to win?
How many people will be there?
Have you ever gotten hurt playing Bolae?
Can girls play?
Could I play someday?
At first Masis had tried to answer. His initial attempts ended in choking gasps that gave to hacking coughs. Throat tight and hotly protesting, Masis took a long drink from his glass, the cool water forcing the clogged bit of food down, each inch an agonizing throb. The torture finally ended as the blockage fell away into his stomachs pit. Another sip and a few sputters set him to right.
Despite all that the questions hadnt ceased.
Will you be riding Ava? Saret asked.
Of course, he will, said Danya. Will the victors be kissed by the ladies there?
Danya! Lady Domrae said pointedly.
What? Its tradition.
Tradition or no, your brother wont be kissing anyone today. Will he? Lady Domrae directed her keen stare right into Masis.
No, he said, taking another sip of water, averting his eyes. No, he wont.
Somehow, shed find out and tan my hide, thought Masis.
But why not? asked Danya, eyes scowling with confusion. Its tradition.
Danya, lets not kill your brother with questions, said Lady Domrae. Please, finish your breakfast.
The scowl remained on Danyas face, but she offered no further argument. Few had the resources to resist Lady Domrae. For long that is.
At least they didnt ask me the one question I thought they would, thought Masis relieved.
Mama, said Saret.
Yes, love.
May I ask one more question?
No, thought Masis.
Well, you already have, said Lady Domrae with a tidy smile. But I suppose so.
No, no, no, stammered out Masis in his mind.
Can Danya and I go to the match?
Curse me a Shadow for even thinking it!
Despite his inward cursings, he made no outward move, nor did he dare even glance at his mother. His fork traveled between his plate and mouth twice as the silence stretched with agonizing slowness it near screamed. He dreaded what she might say. Still he did not look up. Still the silence lay unbroken. The few bites of food in his mouth just sat there as saliva pooled about it, urging him to swallow. He resisted the impulse. Silence. The potatoes began to disintegrate. His mother cleared her throat.
Masis head sprang up, the impulse beyond checking any longer. Oh, just answer the question already. Or better yet I will. – turning to his sisters – Yes, you may both go to the match.
Lady Domrae sat there smiling. Her hands lay beneath the rim of the table, but they would be neatly folded one on top of the other. Her petite frame sat naturally erect as though born to perch with ease amongst polite society. Masis sometimes envied her. Where she seemed to adeptly navigate the treacherous channels and currents of society, he always got tugged this way and that by every eddy. Not his mother though. She was the current and individuals opposed her at their own peril.
Dont you two have the best brother, said Lady Domrae, breaking Masis from his thoughts. I was going to say no, but now that he is insisting that you go with him, I have no objections.
Masis mouth hung open. Idiot! You ruddy wightie!
Masis, please close your mouth, his mother ordered. Its rather vulgar to see your food on display.
He snapped it shut.
Girls, I think that youve had enough breakfast. Why dont you run along and change into your riding gear while Masis finishes his food? Im sure he doesnt want to be kept waiting.
Danya and Saret both abandoned their food with gusto, their dresses rustling as they left the room as quickly as their legs would carry them. A few giggles scurried back in their wake.
Masis hadnt moved. His mother had maneuvered him expertly, allowing him to use his own words to hang him. It wasnt that he disliked his sisters. Each was dear to him. He would give his life defending either of them. And it wasnt as though he disliked spending time with them, but today of all days, when all the lieutenant foremans sons and a few of the nobles sons, Masis didnt want anything or anyone slowing him down and that included his sisters.
Oh, groaned his mother, drawing him out of his ponderings, setting the proper example for your sisters can be exhausting after a while.
Breaking her perfect posture, she slumped back into her chair. She snatched a piece of potato off her plate and popped it into her mouth, sighing.
Masis always had the hardest time reconciling this side of his mother to the prim and proper lady he normally interacted with. For the nearly the first decade of his life, he had only gotten hints—hints which he dismissed with a shake of his head. All that had changed when he and his mother had gone on a trip to visit her family, Masis grandparents and aunts and uncles. Amongst her parents and siblings, in the atmosphere that had molded her, all the constructs and etiquette of polite society had sloughed off her right before his eyes.
The transformation had shocked him. No, shocked did not begin to describe what Masis nine-year-old self had experienced.
Right before his very eyes, he had watched as his mother, the very model of propriety, shed her loving but strict façade to transform into another person entirely. Not gently like some insect emerging from a cocoon, having to dry in the open air before its full transformation could be revealed, though. No. In one instant, his mother had become a riotous person, spewing sarcasm, fueled by pure competitive stubbornness. She had out gambled, out drunk, out done all her siblings and even her parents and had let all of them know in loud crowing victory.
From that week on, Masis never saw his mother in the same light again. She may have tempered her behavior when at home, still Masis, knowing what to look for, caught glimpses of that lively, spirited woman in the way she teased his father at times or the subtle sarcasm that skimmed right over younger minds.
She winked cheekily, popping another bit of potato in her mouth.
Why dont you just take them to visit your family? Masis asked, popping a bit of potato in his own mouth. Then you wouldnt have to.
She chuckled, her hands resting on her middle as it bounced with her levity. Im not sure they are ready for that yet. I still remember your eyes on that first night. As round as saucers if I remember right. Saret might be able to survive the shock. Shed probably join in a round of drinking songs. Oh, but Danya – shaking her head – She would have seizure and no doubt.
Masis chuckled, imagining how Danya would react to see his mother in all her unbridled glory.
Besides, Lady Domrae continued, that isnt how I always acted, even when I lived with all your aunts and uncles.
I know, said Masis, fighting to keep a smirk out of his voice. Uncle Abrecan told me a few stories and Id say you were usually worse.
She just shook her head, a knowing glint in her eye cutting at him. Oh, Masis, my bonnie boy, youd best be off. You dont want to miss your match.
His belly shook with suppressed laughter as he rose to leave.
Masis, please, take care of your sisters today.
Yes, mother.
And, – grinning wickedly – beat those wighties to the Dungeons Beyond, will you?
Shock at hearing his mother swear, melted into a smile to match hers. Yes, mother!
She sent him on his way with a nod of her head.
Masis went to suss out his sisters, pondering what secrets his father might be hiding from him. Did he have some past that would utterly floor Masis? How well do I even know my parents?
*DON'T FORGET TO VOTE*