Chapter 14: The Turner
"Biluria. Biluria wake up! Biluria! Biluria?" I could hear the shouting through the wall. Morning sunlight flooded the bedroom, making everything seem eerily sharp. In an instant, I was out of the bed and opened the door to the maids' room. Jeranine and Mora were standing over Biluria's bed and trying to shake her awake.
I rushed in, and pressed my fingers to the woman's cold throat. Mora continued to shout, but it was no use.
It was impossible wake the dead.
I turned my head in time to see Jeranine's accusing glare. I was being held accountable, I was given the blame by someone who was horrified to know that she could do nothing to me, and I would never be judged.
Another woman dead, at my hand. There was just so much harm I could inflict, even without trying to. I was numb, with the fear of last night, with the failure, with sleeplessness and now this was added to the whirlpool of dismay.
If this was what happened when I didn't mean for it, what would happen if I killed with the intention of killing?
I drew away from the maids, from Jeranine who was shaking with outrage. I had made her a murderer. I transformed her into something she never wanted to be. Even if I successfully sent her home, I would never redeem myself. Not in her eyes.
Not in my own.
But I didn't need redemption, I told myself even as I fought back tears. I didn't need my soul to be mended. I could never go back to the person I was.
I was tainted. I tried to contain my shivering. Even if I destroyed everything that came into contact with me, it would all be alright if I could only save my sister.
Afali appeared in my room along with the fourth maid, Megila and the sawbone. Her hair was flat and her face pale. Even though the mask she wore today was magnificent—spun gold filigree that made up the shape of a stag, complete down to a set of branching horns with green beryls and emeralds set in a circular pattern around the eyes—everything about her spoke of exhaustion. While the sawbone rushed to attend to Biluria, she crossed her plump arms and leaned against the wall.
Whether she saw the gleam in my eyes or my trembling lips, she made no sign of caring. "Lord Waryn Eloroan arrived last night without so much as a warning. He came with Lady Leah Acavia and Lady Nava Somaer. If that isn't bad enough, his guards went missing—we found them drinking with Lady Leah—and then there was the young servant girl who went on a rampage."
"A rampage?" I croaked.
"The little cretin was caught sneaking out and then, instead of facing punishment, she ran for it. The whole house was roused, searching for her. They found her sleeping in her bed, and she tried to pretend that nothing happened. We sent her back to her family...disgraced."
A disgraced servant had her hair shaved off, her scalp was washed in horse piss, her clothes torn, smeared in mud and feathers and then she would receive five or ten lashes. Abetha didn't deserve any of those things, and yet she was punished in my place.
It could've been worse. At least she was alive. I clasped my hand over my mouth as my stomach twisted in protest over the spinning of the room.
The pale-faced sawbone announced that Biluria had died early during the night, and I spent the rest of the morning in Afali's suit as priests of the Twin gods of mortality cleansed my room from death. Her maids brushed my hair and prepared me for the day. I was given a mask—a silver one inlaid with jade on the corner of the eyes. It was one that had been sculpted with silver clay and followed a traditional maiden style, shaped to resemble the face of a spectre.
Afali took pride in showing me how she shared in her father's work of running the state of Velamia. A steady stream of servants and councillors came and went while I was being prepared. I was given to wear a gown of green with a tight bodice embroidered with goldthread in patterns of wolves, and heavy skirts of thick satin that shimmered when I walked.
"This dress belonged to Lady Golia?" I asked when I was finally deemed ready and joined Afali for breakfast in her sitting room. After our trays were laid before us and our tea was poured, she told the servants to leave us.
"She won't wear it again. Father made her give up some of her old gowns until your new ones are ready."
I took a bite of buttered white bread. I was hungry after last night. My plate contained a savoury cheese pastry, similar to the kind mamma used to make. I forgot my grace as I cut it up, but Afali was equally hungry. With the tangles of guilt churning in my belly, it was a marvel that I had an appetite at all.
"When do you meet Lord Waryn?" I asked, once my immediate hunger was satisfied.
"We'll dine together this evening. You'll receive serum right after breakfast and the mask-maker will get you something more fitting. Then, we have to—"
I reached across and touched the back of Afali's hand. None of what she said was likely to happen in the way she thought it would, but for now I had to keep going. "You need rest before you meet him, Afali."
"I do not—"
"You need to be at your best, otherwise this won't work. You have some of the most important people in Vynam to entertain today, and you mustn't present yourself as anything but their superior."
She drew a deep breath, and her lack of response made me realise that, in her desperation, Afali had forgotten that she didn't trust me. "At this point, I'll be happy to manage to come off as just their equal."
"Don't fail yourself before you even tried."
Afali's eyes widened at my words. "Why, Dylana... what a silver tongue you have."
I laughed. "I prefer gold," I replied.
She yawned and tilted her head to the side, considering me. "If I sleep," she said, "who will attend to my duties?"
"Can't I?"
"As if father would allow that."
I shrugged. "Then no one will for one morning."
"I suppose... I suppose if I slept while you had your fitting and serum... then you could come and assist me?"
"With pleasure."
She sighed, rubbing her temples right by the border of her mask. "And you're alright returning to your room?"
I had my hidden treasures to return to. Even if Dylana would be mortified by death, Afali was blind to the possibility. "Other than the girls attending to you, do you have fresh servants who can replace my own? I don't think they'll be able to focus today, and if the grief of what happened disturbs the casting of the mask or the process of taking serum, I'll not be in correct condition to receive Lord Waryn."
Afali nodded her head slowly. "They won't be as skilled as those girls..."
"We'll have to make do," I said.
"It's so hard to find competent servants." She had completely forgotten to mock Dylana for her southern ways, and praise her northern servants.
"After casting the mask, I'll come find you here," I said.
Again, she nodded. We made idle conversation as we ate, and the fuller Afali's stomach became, the heavier her eyelids. She was looking at me with different eyes, she was hearing my words with greater patience. Afali hugged me when I left her room, accompanied by a group of maids who were less vigilant than the previous one.
Despite the fact that she was a glowing Lady, and had an agenda that served only her, she had a heart that yearned for connection. It was odd seeing human emotion where I didn't wish for it to be. Her growing attachment towards me would be to my benefit, if my meeting with the mask-maker wouldn't mark the end.
But it was also unwelcome.
I was scared of being loved as Dylana. I was scared of feeling affection in response.
***
Two burly soldiers with longswords at the ready stood to each side of the door to my bedroom. They wore steel Somaer tiger masks, and Somaer colours. I shrunk at the sight of them. They looked exactly like the men who had taken Marin.
"Are you Lady Tvereman? Lady Dylana Tvereman?" asked one of them.
My mouth was almost too dry to speak. "Yes..." I stopped myself from saying more. I had almost addressed this man as 'sir', and that wasn't how a lady would address someone below her.
"The chemist and the turner have arrived. They're waiting within."
I stepped inside. The room was freshly clean. I could smell the scrubbing salts and soap. Incense was lit in the servants' room. The maids accompanying me were stopped at the entrance. "Only the lady can attend," said the guard.
The door was closed behind me as I stepped into the room.
Two men were in the room with a locked box the size of a large book on a pedestal between them. One was elderly, and sat on a stool. He was so bent, his white beard nearly touched his stomach. He wore a plain, dark platinum mask, a material reserved for those who were not Lords themselves but held high favour with Lords of the greatest power. He wore no sigil, or marking.
Nor did the other man in the plain silk mask. I recognised the signs of serum. He was bursting with life, and it was impossible to tell his age. No matter his features, his beauty was beyond what the eye could see. In a sense, though, he was different from the Lords. His skin was too luminous, his teeth too white, and too much lustre to his black hair.
He looked only as real as a painting of a beautiful man.
"Good morning, Lady Dylana Tvereman," said the elderly man on the stool. "I'm Rin Gastiv, the chemist. Forgive me for being so late upon arrival. It is not easy to travel at my age and the rain detained us."
"It's no matter," I said. Where did these people come from? What were their roles? Gastiv sounded like a Genalian name. I was afraid to ask, lest my questions reveal my lack of knowledge of the innermost secrets of the nobles.
The old man indicated with a gnarled finger at a chair across from him—my chair. "Please have a seat, lady. This isn't a quick matter, especially since it's your very first time. There are things we must discuss first."
I shot a quick glance at the other man, the turner, his expressionless face and expressionless mask were somewhat unsettling. Then, I sat myself across from the chemist.
"You will be the first of your family in many years to take serum," he said. "There may be... unwarranted side-effects."
"Such as?"
"Well..." The chemist hesitated a moment. "Death."
I was as startled as the chemist to find myself laughing. I clasped my hand over my mouth, trying to regain seriousness. "I apologise, Mr. Gastiv, when you said side-effects I..." I paused as another bout of laughter overtook me. "Imagined a rash. Or a nasty headache..."
"Lady Tvereman, this is not a joking matter. Please pay attention to what I'm about to say." The poor old man, he probably killed before with serum. "If anyone off the street, a merchant, a farmer, a mask-maker, would attempt to take serum, their chances of survival would be slim. If the parents of the child did not take serum, then there is no guarantee that the dose will not kill you."
My laughter was gone. "If only one parent took it?"
"If you had a parent that was taking serum, then yes, you would be safe. However, I do not know of anyone in Desmelas who has taken it, Lady Tvereman," said the chemist. "There is a chemist in every state where serum is in use, and every change to our books is updated. According to our records, your family has stopped taking serum two hundred years ago."
The chemist, of course, didn't know. But Afali knew, and so did Lord Aspertin. Lady Dylana, with Lord Aspertin as her father, should have been safe taking serum.
But I wasn't.
"Do you understand the risk, Lady Tvereman?" asked the chemist.
"Yes."
"And yet, you wish to proceed?"
If I wouldn't take it, what could I possibly tell Afali to justify my decision? In making me take serum, she didn't only bind me to the role I was in, she bound me to her house. That meant that Afali had other plans for Dylana, beyond what she initially told me.
But this could be my way out—if only I found the right story to tell Afali later.
"If I were to take it," I said, slowly. "Is there anything I could do to increase my chances of survival?"
"No—" began the chemist.
"Yes," the turner said at the same time, causing Mr. Gastiv to roll his eyes. I hadn't been sure the turner could speak until that moment. He took a step towards me and crouched down, examining my face. "Yes," he said again. But he continued looking at me, and didn't say more.
After a long moment, I directed a questioning look to Mr. Gastiv who was taking long steady breaths. "It would appear, Lady Tvereman," began the chemist in an agitated tone. "That the turner believes—"
"Hasn't he a name?"
"No, turners don't have names. They forget them after a time. Their sole purpose is to handle the serum. Even when contained inside a bottle, a dose for a woman your size is no more than a few drops, but it creates a residue. Turners are exposed to serum from a young age, and by the time they grow to be adult-sized, they do not remember who they were."
Adult-sized? Were they never adults? Or had they surpassed age?
Shivers ran up and down my back. I tried not to look at the turner, who appeared to be stuck where he was, examining my face. "So what does he believe?"
"He believes you can will yourself to be inconspicuous while taking the serum, and thus survive."
"Will myself to be inconspicuous? I don't understand."
Mr. Gastiv cleared his throat. "You see, Lady Tvereman, when you take the serum, if you take it, and if the process will be...eh... unsuccessful. Then a spectre will come, and will have you, no matter how many masks you wear."
I sucked in a sharp breath. The thought that a spectre would come for someone masked was...grotesque. I realised that I was shaking only when the turner grabbed my shoulders to steady me. Now, he wore an expression on his face, and it was more disturbing than when he wasn't.
He was smiling. "You can. I believe you can."
I couldn't look away from the ethereal beauty that hid, somewhere behind a forgotten self. I wondered, just for a moment, why his stare broke my heart. The turner blinked his onyx eyes slowly and inclined his head into a nod, as if he could read my thoughts.
In a way I couldn't understand yet, we were somewhat the same.
"Lady Tvereman," said the chemist. "What is your decision?"
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
I hope you're enjoying this book. If you are, PLEASE LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS. I'd love to talk to you, and know that you're here, what you're thinking, feeling, theorising. Comments are my candy.
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Anyway, love you all and see you tomorrow with the next chapter!