Arts of Dark and Light: Book 01 - A Throne of Bones (28 page)

SEVERA

Severa thought that if she had to listen to one more tale concerning to whom one of the less discerning daughters of the village peasantry was granting the pleasure of her dubious favors, she would demand the flogging of the entire female population of the estate staff. It wasn’t that the servants in the city gossipped any less, but at least when she was residing at the domus in Amorr, there were far more interesting rumors to be heard and stories to be told. Her great-grandfather had built what were really rather civilized baths in the nearby village, but Severa increasingly found herself inclined to use the smaller one on the grounds even though it lacked a tepidarium.

It was quiet and isolated, and about all it had in common with the city’s great social center was clean water in varying degrees of temperature, but bathing in lonely silence was to be preferred to the endless chatter about who was sleeping with whom. She would have been dreadfully bored too, were it not for her brother’s letters, which were delivered faithfully every week by her father’s messengers. Their regular arrival every second or third day convinced her that he was up to something, although what that could be she could not imagine. It was not like him to remain at a distance when the Senate was in session, nor to stay in close contact with his clients or anyone else in the city when he had retired to his estate in Salventum to escape the worst of the summer’s heat.

Aulus Severus Patronus might have reached his fifty-ninth year, but Severa found it impossible to imagine that he finally decided to relinquish his grasp on power in the Senate to his many rivals. Indeed, it was easier to imagine that he would force Death to relinquish its skeletal grasp on him, such was the force of his indomitable will. It was unwise to have crossed him, Severa freely admitted that to herself now, and foolish to think the mere stubbornness of a young woman could hope to conquer the resolve of one who had broken many far stiffer spines than hers.

She sighed, thinking about Silicus Clusius, the extraordinarily handsome young gladiator who had captured her heart from the very first time she’d seen him. His dark, smoldering eyes still held her fast, penetrating her dreams with all the savagely burning intensity he brought to the sands of the arena. She was no less his victim than the luckless men who died before his blade, and she was more of a prize than he could ever have hoped to win.

Alas, after being caught sneaking out to meet him, her tears and her pleading had availed her nothing, and her father had unceremoniously packed her off to the rural countryside in Salventum, the center of House Severus’s power for the last seven generations. Calcetus, the traditional family seat, was now deemed to be too close to Amorr to serve as a retreat and Severa had only visited it once as a child. She was desperate to discover what had befallen her beautiful young man since her banishment from the city. She feared the worst and didn’t dare asking her father about him again; she had seen coldness in his eyes but never before that awful night had it been directed at her. She shivered at the memory.

None of the family messengers would take her letters to the city, no matter to whom it was addressed or how extravagant a bribe she offered. None of her friends in Amorr even knew where she was, nor did she expect their letters would be delivered to her if any of them happened to guess correctly and address one to her here. Her mother and her sister were here as well, and as for her three brothers, Regulus was too busy serving out his year as quastor, Aulan was marching through one province or another with the family legions, and while Marcius Severus wrote to her, he dutifully refused to tell her anything that was even remotely related to the arena, much less Clusius. No doubt he did well to obey what was doubtless a direct order from Father, but her brother’s meek compliance irked her even so.

But she had to find out about Clusius! Was he well? Had Father harmed him in any way? She winced at the thought of that perfect body striped with the marks of the whip, that godlike face twisted with pain. And all because she loved him and he dared to love her back!

It was so unfair! She would have hardly been the first patrician woman to take a gladiator lover, though admittedly that was usually the act of widows, divorcees, or the sort of scandalous women to whom Amorran society turned a blind eye. And then, none of these abandoned women were the daughter of Aulus Severus Patronus. Father had never spoken to her about her indiscretion, not even hinted by any word or gesture that he even knew she had been in contact with what amounted to a fighting slave. His very silence on the affair alarmed her. What was he hiding from her? She had to know! She simply had to know!

There was only one option left to her. It might be wrong, it was almost surely wrong, but she couldn’t think of anything else and she couldn’t bear to wait any longer. She rose from the divan on which she had been lying and walked across the room to a little table upon which was set a little silver bell. She picked it up and flicked her wrist; it produced a clear and distinct ring that was audibly different from the bells belonging to the other members of the family.

Eudiss appeared quickly enough that she must have been either waiting in the corridor outside or simply happened to be walking by. “My lady,” she said softly as she entered the room, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

Eudiss was a tall young woman with dark, reddish skin and black hair that was long and straight, but needed a brushing. More handsome than pretty, she moved with all the lack of grace of a newborn colt, but she was both kind and close-mouthed, two attributes which set her apart from the rest of the estate staff. She was two years older than Severa. Severa had claimed the woman for her own due to her ability to guard her tongue, much to the irritation of the other servant girls who obviously believed Eudiss to be better suited to the kitchens or the cleaning staff.

There was another reason why Severa preferred Eudiss, though. Unlike most the local Salventians, who were staunch members in good standing with the Church, Eudiss was the daughter of a slave who had been brought to Salventum from Illyris Baara, and she wore three earrings in both her ears. In Amorr, Severa had heard many whispers about women who did not worship the Immaculate, or even God Himself, but secretly worshipped a goddess instead. She had not really credited the stories at the time, since they sounded too farfetched to be true, but supposedly, three earrings was the symbol of the goddess.

“Close the door,” Severa ordered, and the young woman complied. “I have a question for you.”

“I will answer it, if I can, my lady.”

You don’t worship the Immaculate, do you?”

Eudiss’s eyes widened with instant alarm. “No, no, my lady. I am clean! I am pure, like a good Amorran.”

“Don’t be afraid. I saw your earrings. They signify the Three, don’t they? It’s okay, I’m not going to tell anyone.” Severa walked over to Eudiss and placed her hand on the other woman’s shoulder. It was bony and trembling with fear. “You have nothing to fear from me. I need to find a wise woman, a woman who knows the secrets of the moonblood. I imagine there must be a woman like that around here somewhere, in one of the villages.”

“Is…is my lady with child?” Eudiss asked nervously.

Severa stepped back and covered her mouth with her hand, shocked. “No, of course not!”

“Oh, I thought…well, there is a woman in the village of Seijiss who knows many things. Many secret things. She is wise, perhaps she is the one you seek?” As she spoke, Eudiss ran her first finger lightly along the line of her left ear, touching each of the three earrings in turn.

One, two three. Maiden, Mother, Crone. Yes, that was exactly what she sought.

“What is Seijiss? Is it far? Can you take me to there?”

“It is the next village to the east. It’s not a long walk.”

“Even less if we ride.”

“It would be better if we walk. I could take you to where she lives, my lady. But I do not know if she is there today.” Eudiss shrugged, her eyes still fixated. “Also, I fear it might not be wise for the daughter of Severus Patronus to be seen visiting her house. It would be the subject of much conversation, here in the house and in the town too. People would…assume things of you. But if you were to give me a token of your desire to speak with her, I am sure she would arrange to meet you in a more discreet manner.”

“Yes, of course,” Severa agreed reluctantly. There were times when being a patrician’s daughter felt like being trapped in a gilded prison. Everything thing one did or said was an object of interest to someone. Even if they had no legitimate interest in her, it might be a weapon against her father, or someone else in the family. If she had learned anything from her sudden removal to Salventum, it was that she could not be too cautious.

“What sort of token would you recommend? I would have her understand that it is important. Urgent, even.”

Eudiss nodded. “If you had need of her services, I would suggest a coin. Silver, not copper. But since you speak of secrets, and wisdom, then I think jewelry would be the better choice.”

Severa smiled. Of course. It only made sense. She went to her jewelry box, a yellow-white square said to have been carved from a unicorn’s horn, and withdrew two golden hoops, small, but thick. But when she extended her hand to Eudiss and offered them to her, the young woman withdrew in alarm.

“Gold, my lady? If you are not with child, then surely your need is not so dire!”

Severa wanted to slap the woman. My need is more dire than you could ever imagine, you country cow! But she held her tongue and smiled sweetly instead. “Let us say I wish the wise woman to understand that I am very serious about my desire to speak with her.”

Eudiss could not take her eyes off the earrings. She had not moved to touch them. “Only one, for now, perhaps. I will tell her that you will present her with the other when you meet.”

“Very well. If you are certain that will not offend her.”

The servant woman laughed. There was a note of near-hysteria in it. “I promise you, she will not be offended, my lady. Seijiss is a poor village, and although many have need of her, few have much to give her in return.”

“Then go,” Severa ordered after the woman finally reached out and delicately took one of the little hoops in her long fingers. “Go now, and if anyone stops you, tell them you are on an important errand for the Lady Decia. For my lady mother, mind you, not me. And tell your wise woman she shall have both its match and a silver coin when I speak with her. But before you go, tell me, what is her name?”

“She is called Idemeta, my lady. Idemeta Venfica. I shall return as soon as I can.” Eudiss nearly ran from the room.

Idemeta, mused Severa. Idemeta the witch. That sounded promising indeed, although it was a pity she was already so well known in the nearby villages. She would have to create an excuse to see the woman on a regular basis, and one that didn’t cause her father, or as was much more likely the case, her mother, to suspect she was stealing off to see another young man.

Three days later, Severa was on her knees, pretending to pray before the shrine of Saint Malachus, the patron saint of Salventum. According to the garrulous sister of the order which was nominally charged with maintaining the shrine, long before the fall of the Andronican kings, long before the imperial conquests of the Sacred Republic that followed, Saint Malachus had been tortured for thirty-nine days and nights by the pagan king of Salventum. On the fortieth day, he had died of his multitude of wounds, but not before inspiring the Salventian king, who was duly impressed by the saint’s boundless courage, to cleanse his soul.

As was so often the case in those simpler times, as the king worshipped, so too had his people to worship. Now the Salventians were as reliably immaculate as the Amorrans themselves. Indeed, much more rigidly so, from what little Severa had seen of them thus far.

The paint on the small statue at the shrine was faded and flaking away, but the stone face underneath still revealed a calmly stoic expression. It was a face to inspire bravery, and the thought encouraged her, even if Saint Malachus himself might not look any more favorably on her less-than-immaculate intentions than her mother or her father. But she was determined even so. She bowed her head and prayed—neither to the saint nor his God, but to the mysterious goddess of the three earrings.

Bless me with love and beauty, Maiden. Grant me my heart’s desire, Madonna. Teach me your secret wisdom, Crone. And please, please, tell me that he lives. Tell me that he loves me still!

“The sisters say he was one of us in the end.”

A voice behind her stirred her from her prayers, which had subsided into a wordless wave of tears and hope and longing. Severa wiped at her eyes and turned her head. Behind her, in the dim light, she saw a small, hooded figure wearing a simple brown robe. Judging by the sound of her voice and the shape of the robe, it was an elderly woman, stooped with age. Could it be Idemeta Venfica?

“The sisters?” she asked, unsure of whether she should ask the old woman if she was Idemeta.

“The sisters.” The woman drew back the left side of her hood, and Severa saw that her hair was white and she wore three earrings in her left ear. Severa’s heart beat faster when she noticed that the bottom one was the hoop she had given Eudiss two days before. The woman gripped the unpainted stone of the creche and carefully lowered herself to her knees. She raised her face to the saint and her hood fell back, revealing wrinkled, desiccated features and thin white hair, streaked here and there with grey. Her lips were thin and colorless, her jaw was strong and masculine, but her eyes were unfilmed despite her age.