The Arcana: Shadow Wars, Codex I

VIII

Farewells and Stratagems

In which Bessa plans to destroy an enemy, and gives an extraordinary gift to a faithful servant

To Bessa’s left, tendrils of smoke rose from the remains of what had been a row of detached houses. To her right, the soot-blackened stones of the apartment building. All had stood there since before she was born, as part of Grandmother’s plan to entice the better laborers to their estate.

In much of the empire, apartment buildings were deathtraps, built of cheap wood and prone to fires. So, Grandmother insisted her apartment building, three stories tall, be built of brick and stone. On the lower level she provided a water closet, and a kitchen with running water. As a youth, Bessa’s father used the apartment to prototype a water screw which provided water to the upper levels. Grandmother used it as another selling point.

A bath house stood between the flats and the houses, across the courtyard from where Bessa now stood as she clutched a small leather chest.

Grandmother’s tactic had worked: entire families came from all over Silura, Sirônasse and Tartessia to work on their estate. The workers responded with their own lively touches, putting gardens on their rooftops and mosaics on their floors and walls. Laughter and songs often rang out from their quarters.

Until the giants.

In the plaza Bessa found what she sought: her dead laid out, covered in shrouds, silenced forever.

Pain lanced her heart when she spotted the smaller shrouds. She remembered when those children were born.

Bessa had delayed her coming only for as long as it took for Lenora to fetch her the bronze strongbox she now clutched in her hands. The box was usually stored in the family library, but Bessa had never seen anyone use it. Grandmother forbade its contents to be employed for petty slights.

Slowly, Bessa forced herself to approach the first shroud. She knelt down beside it. After several heartbeats her nerves steadied enough for her to lift the fabric, revealing the face of the first victim.

The woman appeared to be sleeping. Her brow was still furrowed in concentration, as if she’d died in the midst of one of her many tasks. In life the woman kept her brown hair in tight bun, excepting the grey lock curling on her forehead. Now her hair resembled a bird’s nest, which would have outraged her if she saw it. Bessa smoothed her hair, trying to put it back in place. Alive, the woman had been a bundle of energy. Now she was too peaceful: Ria, mother of Oran.

Bessa opened the box and took out the knife, sharp obsidian; and the bowl, red and etched in white with patterns of blackthorn blossoms. She pierced her thumb, letting her blood fall into the bowl. Lifting Ria’s hand, she repeated the procedure. All down the line of dead, Bessa collected blood.

As ordered, Lenora had also provided a pot of fresh myrrh ink. The ink of priests and sorcerers, which Bessa mingled now with the blood. The box held blank lead tablets, consecrated long ago. Beaten flat and smooth, the tablets were soft enough for her to write upon them with her iron stylus. She dipped the stylus into the bowl, then swiftly inscribed the names of her dead.

Finished, Bessa stood now and cried out, “Hear my plea, O Mighty Ones! I, Elisabet Bessa Philomelos, petition you in the blood of my dead, as witness against those who slew them. Let it be: by Aletheia their deceptions shall be uncovered, and by Sorcha, their secret plans shall be brought into the light. Let it be: by Khratu, wise counsel shall be withheld from them, that they are yielded up to spirits of Confusion and Dissension. Decree it so: by the Huntress, they shall be pursued on all sides, and their strongholds besieged. Their very lives shall be delivered into my hand, that I may in turn deliver them to the Destroyer. Let it be: by the Destroyer, they shall be cast into the Abyss.”

The carpenters were already working on new back doors to her house when Bessa arrived. Quickly, Bessa got out of the way, then took to the stairs two at a time as she hurried to her apartments. She had asked Edana to meet her there.

The first room was her office, or “the command center,” as Uncle Hedrek called it. Here she had channeled her imagination into running the vineyard.

Nerves jangled all over her body as she glanced around. In times past she used the mural of the naiad queen Kyane frolicking with her asrai handmaidens, to calm herself when she needed to relax and regroup. A border of gold waterlilies, centered in panels at regular intervals, bisected the wall horizontally. The floor was a mosaic ‘rug’ of sky blue tiles, with a blue waterlily inside a square with a geometrical border. All quite relaxing.

Bessa fingered Papa’s catoblepas aegis, still around her neck.

The walls opposite the mural had shelves built into them, where she kept codices. On a center shelf she displayed a plate-sized, gold-glass family portrait, made when Papouli and Papa were still alive.

If she failed, mementos could be all that was left of her family.

Her eyes landed on Edana’s gift, where Lenora had placed it on her desk. She paused to again admire the book, and the pen. Would she live to write a play worthy of this gift?

She stepped into her bedroom. Her sanctum, as she called it. Far simpler in design than her office, with carmine walls and gold panel moulding featuring black filigree patterns in the center.

Success in business afforded Bessa an occasion or two to indulge in extravagance. For her this meant the curtains surrounding her bed were white shimmersilk—a delicate, sheer fabric—and embroidered with tiny red roses. Because she hadn’t slept in bed last night the curtains were drawn back, revealing the soft summer-weight bedclothes which were still turned down, awaiting her.

“Farewell, soft sweetness,” Bessa muttered, as she made a beeline for the cabinet where she kept her clothes. Wisps of perfume wafted out when she opened the door, thanks to sachets of dried spikenard and sweet woodruff. The sweet-smelling herbs kept away moths and insects.

Gently, she lifted a particular stack of clothing, reaching far back into the cabinet until her fingers touched metal. With a firm grasp she pulled, bringing forth a small box. Openwork bronze formed a pattern of myrtle flowers, backed by mother-of-pearl and abalone. Bessa ran her fingers over the flowers. On her wedding day she would be crowned with myrtle. Such was the custom.

Inside the box, nestled in silk, gleamed Bessa’s pledge ring. Two stones set in a golden figure-eight, one gem a persimmon-colored topaz, the other gem a lapis lazuli. The stones represented the sun and the moon, an arrangement her future father-in-law said was a family tradition. As his wife, Bessa was to be the third point of light in Lysander’s life.

She had not been invited to the negotiations for her betrothal. Grandmother made the arrangements, after carefully vetting the potential matches. One day she left Falcon’s Hollow, and returned two months later with Lord Pherekydes Xenakis, father to the one Bessa would marry.

At first Bessa only felt relief, that it was not the old man himself she would marry. She was twelve, and still reeling from the fact that she had crossed into a phase of life she never thought would apply to her. Never, until Grandmother explained why she had begun to bleed.

Staring at the ring, Bessa brooded. In all these years, her future husband never wrote to her. All along she supposed Lysander would write, or better still, visit as their wedding drew nearer. Such was customary with arranged betrothals.

So absorbed was she in her apprenticeship in running the vineyard that Bessa never gave Lysander’s silence much thought. Besides, she also never met anyone compelling enough to make her regret her betrothal.

Still, now, Grandmother expected Lysander to look after her, as thoroughly as Papouli had looked after Grandmother during the Furi Incursions. Grandmother and Papouli had fallen in love while defending Falcon’s Hollow against sea raiders who had attacked villages all along Silura’s coastlands.

The townspeople had looked to Grandmother to lead them, and Papouli did the same when the centurion he was enslaved to was gravely wounded. In one telling Grandmother smiled impishly at Bessa, and confessed that she improvised a lot of her tactics on the stories her own father told her about his days in the legion.

“I’ll have to improvise a lot,” Bessa muttered.

“Bessa?” Edana stood in the doorway.

Bessa jumped, reflexively snapping the box shut. “Come in.”

Accepting her invitation Edana looked around, taking in the changes to the room since she last saw it six years ago. Her eyes lit when she saw the miniature kitchenware set on a shelf near the armoire.

The set was a favorite part of the games she and Bessa played when they were little. In those days, Bessa kept it on a table in the middle of her bedroom, with her doll occupying one of four chairs. The other three chairs were reserved for herself, Edana, and Edana’s doll.

Later, Bessa put the set away, to make space for projects and maps for their ‘adventures.’ Those went away when she woke up as a woman, and learned what was in store for her.

At that point she and Edana spent their afternoons comparing notes, speculating on what their lives would be like now that they exchanged their childish tunics for pretty chitons. And then, suddenly, Edana had to leave Silura, taking with her all of their plans.

“We need to talk,” Edana said.

Something in her tone caught Bessa’s attention.

“I better explain to you what I’m up against. I will keep my word to Matrona Aurelia and get you to this Lysander. But I meant it when I said I am in danger, and you need to understand what I’m facing.”

As if the years never passed, Bessa and Edana sat on the bench at the foot of the bed, their accustomed place for heart-to-hearts.

Bessa asked, “Are you going to tell me where you got the moonbow blades? And why you know how to kill giants?”

“Ahh, but I don’t know how to kill giants, as it turns out. Did you overhear what the soldiers were saying at breakfast?”

“That killing giants is the most exciting thing they’ve ever done?”

“The giants regenerate,” Edana said quietly, outlining what had happened during her attempted interrogation of the giant.

Before Bessa could dwell on this terrifying implication, Edana brought forth one of her moonbow daggers. The knife took on a red glow in the play of colors, reflecting Bessa’s walls.

“I have killed before. In the Scrubs, after I joined Lady Nensela’s caravan, I spotted the raiders who attacked my caravan. Lady Nensela set a trap for them.” She flashed a mirthless smile. “Immortals are excellent at retribution. By her counsel, I had the satisfaction of killing the gryphon that killed my mother. One of her guards helped me make a cloak from its feathers. I’ll show it to you when we reach Lady Nensela.”

“Wait, wait—doesn’t she live in—?”

“Yes, we’re going there, when I’m finished in Silura.” Her fingers traced the spells etched in the knife. “This weapon is not mine. Both knives belonged to Amalu, the Star Dragon who wanted my help. Our enemies are vicious, wicked people…and I have no room for error. I don’t want you to pay the price if I’m caught.” She rammed the knife into its sheath. “If I’m caught, you can’t stand with me. Understand? Promise to disavow all knowledge of what I’m doing. To all inquisitors you’re an innocent victim seeking the protection of your betrothed. Naturally, your foster sister accompanies you. The story sells itself—” The expression on Bessa’s face stopped her cold.

“Abandon you? At the first sign of trouble? As if I have no honor!”

“What of my honor? I vowed not to get you killed! Or ruin your name. I couldn’t live with myself if that happened. Bessa—you don’t know what this is costing me. I can’t turn back. And I can’t do what I’m supposed to do if it means risking you. I should not have come.” She whispered this last.

Bessa set her jaw. “I know why you came. You came because you’re alone and you need someone you can trust. You came because of what you lost in that desert. You came because I’m the only family you’ve got—and you wouldn’t dare trust anyone else to protect me. So let’s not fight about this. We’re in this together. Both of our lives are at stake,” she insisted.

While counting to ten, Bessa chose her words with care. “Stop thinking like a lone wolf. We’re a pack, and we will watch out for each other. I can help you, Edana. I’ve been thinking about how, and I have an idea.” She stood then, and began pacing.

Silent, Edana watched her, and Bessa inwardly somersaulted. Victory was near; Edana always grew quiet when Bessa succeeded in making a point. So now to push the point home.

“Remember you keep pointing out my family has influence,” Bessa began. “Exactly so; Grandmother cultivated considerable influence for our family. So successfully cultivated that our workers come from as far as Sirônasse and Tartessia. If I tell people what happened here, it will carry far. And if I tell them who I suspect did it that, too, will carry far. Let the traitor’s name be sullied, not ours. When the traitor is dead, how hard will it be to make a case that you or I killed him in self-defense? The traitor must operate in secret, in the dark. We can operate in the open, in the light. Let the traitor be on the defensive.”

Edana cocked her head.

Bessa smiled coldly and said, “Not only will we kill the traitor, but also his good name, and the trust others put in him. Centurion Makris and Pegasus Prime Senovara’s reports will add weight to what I say. The attack on my family is an opportunity. For us.”

“Mm-hmm…but if you remember, you worked out the traitor was someone powerful. Someone who could interfere with the Watch.”

“Right,” Bessa agreed. “The point is, whoever sits high enough to do that is a visible target, just like my family is a visible target. And visible means enemies. If the traitor falls, who gains? We have more allies than you think. If you must kill the traitor, then let it be me who prepares the ground.”

Bessa was not the only one leaving home. Instead of waiting until after the harvest, when the other children of the village would go, Pippa was to leave straightaway for the Rhabdomachaeum. Bessa promptly decided Lenora would travel with her.

Pippa vowed, “If we’re ever attacked again, I will be able to stop it. I will. I will learn all I can, and then the giants will learn to me fear me. As soon as I finish my studies, I will teach those giants not to cross our paths. Just wait.”

They stood in the front room, surrounded by servants carrying their trunks out to the carriages.

“I didn’t expect for Uncle Linos and Aunt Vesper to let you go so soon,” Bessa replied.

“I insisted. I didn’t like being so helpless last night. Our people were slaughtered, and Uncle Morivassus only had two guards to look after him, and I couldn’t do anything! Gavin said he’ll join the legion the very day he’s seventeen. And when I’m trained, I could protect us.”

And her parents, of course, wanted her out of danger, Bessa knew.

Pippa swore she would take Senovara’s place in the Watch. “The giants better give this town a wide berth.”

A high, girlish squeal cut through the din, followed by the sound of footsteps hurrying towards them.

Lenora.

She was carrying a green chiton Bessa had set out for her. White and yellow flowers embroidered at the hem, and matched the belt looped around the middle. Lovely enough, but Bessa suspected Lenora was excited because the dress was dyed linen. That, and the pretty sandals she held in her left hand.

“My lady! This is a fine gift,” Lenora said when she reached her. She bent slightly at the waist, in obeisance to Bessa.

Bessa went to her and embraced her shoulders. She kissed Lenora’s forehead. Lenora gasped, for there was only reason a slave would be kissed so.

“You have served me well and faithfully, Lenora. From this point forward your life is your own, to live was you will. I put the documents in your trunk that prove it so. Our teachers always thought well of your aptitude, so you don’t need me to wish you luck in your training. Instead, I give you my blessings. May you live a good life.”

Tears slid down Lenora’s cheeks, and Bessa smiled at her joy. When she was younger, Lenora’s parents sold her into slavery to pay off their debts. Her mother; however, was not too desperate to fail to calculate that Lenora would live well on the Philomelos estate.

More to the point, she thought Lenora would be safer in Bessa’s power than in the power of their family’s creditors. To that end, she pleaded with Bessa to take on Lenora as a handmaiden. Compassion won out, but Lenora’s mother surprised Bessa—and earned her respect—by adding the stipulation to not put Lenora to any ‘perverse purposes.’

Serving Bessa paid off for Lenora: a full belly, clean warm clothes, and an education worthy of a free woman. She and Bessa enjoyed many profitable ventures, some of which Lenora came up with on her own.

Bessa released Lenora. As she turned to leave, a thought stopped her. Yes, the girls would have an escort to the school. But...Papa’s aegis weighed against her heart. His protection, wrought by his closest friend. Carefully, she removed it, making sure the cover was closed.

“Girls, attend me: this aegis is the eye of the catoblepus. Aim it at an enemy, uncovered, and the enemy will fall dead. Edana’s father made this, to protect my father in battle,” Bessa explained, settling the chain around Pippa’s neck. “Now it will serve to protect you two. Take care of each other, understand?”

Pippa’s lips quirked. She stood on her toes and kissed Bessa’s cheek. “May the gods be with you, Bessa.”