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| image by bergioata.org |
Clinician Nocdoramus stood with a slender hand on the window, her attention riveted upon the storm. Although she stood several feet away from the Human boys her fascination with the storm was evident in every line of her stance. Teine longed to flip the page, and take a sketch of her to see if he could capture on paper the tension and excitement he saw in the Aiofe as they watched these storms. He hated passing up the opportunity to draw something so challenging from life, but he could not shake Seymour loose, and he knew it. Tenacity was bred into his odd friend, as certainly as Teine’s red hair and amber eyes were bred into him.
“I don’t know why you’re in such a hurry. You’re going to be in here for another day, at least.” Teine groused. “And it’s not like you’re never going to see me again.”
“You could get your assignment any moment.” Seymour urged. “I mean, you could be in Capital City by this time tomorrow.”
“Unlikely.” Teine mumbled. He was going back over the sketch, deepening the shadows, and picking up the lightest colors in the highlights with a special rubbery eraser made of the sap of one of the native trees. It had a vaguely minty smell, and it was making him hungry. He’d been planning to have dinner in the Commons with Leis, and he was already well overdue. Of course there was no telling if she’d be able to make it, after all, with her new duties. For all he knew, she could be sharing a meal with the young Master. What kind of meal would they have, in the Demesne proper? he wondered. Leg of lamb, with mint dressing?
Teine’s stomach grumbled.
“Damn.” muttered Seymour, raising a dark and bushy eyebrow. “You’d better hurry before you die of starvation.”
“Scary!” Seymour enthused, with the same delicious fearful shudder from the kinds of stories the boys would trade, after lights out. “That dragon is even better than the one in the Zoo. Is it done?”
“Yes.” Teine concluded. Tearing the page free of the book at the perforation, he handed it to Seymour.
“No. No! Sign it!” He held his hands up, as if he could ward the unsigned work away. “It could be worth something, when you get famous.”
Teine couldn’t help but chuckle. Out of all the other boys in his cohort, only Seymour and Marcus could say something like that, not only with a straight face but in complete sincerity. He took the picture back, signed with slightly more than his usual flourish, and then dated it for posterity. On the back, he inscribed: “For my friend Seymour, who likes scary dragons.”
Seymour took the picture with a grin, looking at it for a long time. “Thank you. I really do love it.”
“I wish I’d done this one in oil.” Teine admitted grudgingly.
“Dibs.” Seymour laughed.
Before Teine could give him a hard time, the door to the infirmary banged open. Clinician Nocdoramus jumped as if startled, and turned to look.
“Ah, Sigolier Zan, you’re early.” Nocdoramus moved away from the window. “I really didn’t expect you till tomorrow.”
“My train came early.” The petite Aiofe woman bounced into the room, eyes bright and cheeks flushed with excitement. Her features were cute, almost pixieish, thought Teine. There was a quality to Zan’s expressions that made her seem more approachable than Nocdoramus, although the two of them did look like they should be related. Teine found it hard to look away. “It was supposed to make another nonessential stop, but it went right through to beat the storm.” She and Nocdoramus took each others hands and embraced briefly. “So, tell me, how have things been?”
Nocdoramus smiled, catching Teine’s eye. She began steering the Sigolier toward her office with a hand on the small of her back. “We’ll have plenty of time to get caught up, Zan, since you can’t do updates on any of the boys sigils with storm threatening like this.”
“So, we’re dismissed?” Teine asked. “We can go?”
“Yes, yes.” Nocdoramus called over her shoulder. “All you IM’s are dismissed. We’ll leave you a note in your boxes with your rescheduled appointments for your sigil update. It won’t take but a minute.”
Seymour made a face. “We’re still stuck here.”
“Teine, can you tell the kitchen that the boys are ready for dinner?”
Pausing with the medical gown pulled halfway over his head, Teine’s reply was muffled. “He says, “Certainly.” Seymour called out.
Marcus was already pulling his trousers on. “Have you noticed how she always asks you for anything?” he muttered to Teine. “You. Always you.”
“I’ve noticed.” Seymour added. “I think she just likes redheads.” His eyebrow wiggle was playfully lewd and suggestive.
Teine stared at him, wide-eyed. Seymour was irreverent at times, but that was one line he shouldn’t cross, even in jest.
“Great Mother in Heaven!” Seymour clapped Teine on the shoulder, waving off Teine's horrified expression with an mischievous grin. “Have you no sense of humor?”
“Hmmm.” Teine gave him a stern look that he hoped would hit the mark, as he pulled on his own trousers.
Seymour sat down on the bed, and crossed his arms across his chest. “Fine.”
“Someday, you’re going to say the wrong thing in front of the wrong person…” Marcus added.
“I said ‘fine’.” Seymour looked away from the pair of them and feigned interest in the other IM's that were packing to leave.
Marcus looked as though he was going to say something else to soften his earlier comment, but Teine shook his head, “no.” Without saying anything further, he loaded his personal gear back into his bookbag, slipped on his shoes, and headed for the door. Marcus, who was mostly packed, threw his last things into his bag, grabbed his shoes and scrambled out the door behind Teine before Seymour could harangue him any more. “Wait… wait for me.”
Once out of the infirmary, Teine slowed down for Marcus to catch up. “I hated hurting his feelings like that.” Marcus explained.
Teine shrugged. “Sometimes, that’s the only way to handle him. I’d rather him have some hurt feelings that some stripes on his back or a Disciplinary on his record.”
The pair of them paused for Marcus to pull on his shoes. While Teine stared longingly toward the Commons, noting the extremely long supper line, Marcus was hopping on one leg like a funny looking bird, trying to shove his boot on without unlacing it. There were people everywhere, guests from the auction and their servants, digging in and buttoning it up before the storm. Teine recognized some of the musicians in the dinner line, and noticed his full sister Samia standing with her new family, holding hands with her new Aoife Mistress. The girl looked happy, and so Teine would be able to tell Leis not to worry. Even though he was in a hurry, he longed to go over and introduce himself to see what they were like.
“Huh.” Marcus breathed, interrupting Teine's thoughts. The bigger boy had forgotten his footwear problem for the moment, and was staring off into the distance. “That’s odd.”
One of the children, wearing Solmurry livery, was running toward them as fast as she could pick up her feet and lay them down again. “Teine!” she yelled. “Teine! Wait!”
Teine’s heart leapt into his throat. The only reason he’d be summoned to the house is if something had happened to Leis. He fled Marcus’s company with no explanation- none was needed- and met the runner about halfway across the lawn.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded, grabbing the girl by the shoulder. She was gasping for breath, having run as hard as she could. “What’s wrong?” Teine repeated. He had to force himself to let go of the child when he she winced away from him. “Is it Leis? Has something happened?”
“No!” the girl huffed. “No, nothing like that.” She stepped back, out of his reach and eyed him warily. “It’s just you’ve been Summoned. His Lordship wants to see you in his office, right away.”
Shamefaced, Teine took in the child's demeanor and immediately apologized. “I’m very sorry- you just surprised me, and I thought something had happened to my sister.” He was so relieved that what she said hadn’t yet registered to him.
She rubbed her shoulder and gave him a dirty look. “That hurt. You should be careful grabbing people smaller than you.”
“Sorry.” Teine sighed. It was really all he could do. It was a bad mistake and he felt appropriately and genuinely guilty.
Raising an eyebrow, the child seemed to look him over. “I suppose you’re forgiven. But, you’re going to catch hell if you don’t get to the Demesne proper right away.”
“To see Lord Solmurrian?” Teine repeated, feeling rather stupid. It seemed improbable.
“Yes, you fool.” she glowered, giving him a visual once-over. “Go now. I suppose what you’re wearing will have to do, but you should at least tidy your hair. Go in through the front, he’s got guests.”
“Guests?” Teine muttered, hurriedly trying to pat down his fuzzy auburn curls into some semblance of order. “What in the world?”
“Go now.” The girl stood with her feet shoulder width apart, put one hand on her hip, and pointed with the other. The posture was so bold and dramatic, that Teine couldn’t help but smile. Apparently someone took the "official" part of their "official duties" very seriously. It was cute.
“All right, I’m going.” Marcus was approaching, but Teine waved him off. “It’s all right.” he called.
“I’ll tell the kitchen the infirmary patients are ready for dinner.” Marcus replied, gesturing for Teine's bookbag. "And I'll drop this off on your bunk."
“Oh, yeah!” Teine agreed, handing over the bag. “Thanks!” He’d completely forgotten his errand, with the surprise summons to the Demesne. Marcus nodded, then crouched to finish his battle with his boot.
Teine gathered his thoughts and began the jog to the Demesne proper. In all his fifteen years, he’d only set foot inside a handful of times. Like the girl who had come to retrieve him and almost every other child born on Solmurry, he’d done a turn at message duty before, but that was about it. Leis and Amagorra had described the inside of the cavernous and imposing building, and Teine’s curiousity had been aroused. Supposedly, the Master had an impressive collection of art, in both paintings and sculpture. Several of the statues in the garden were by well-known sculptors, including a set of three fairies cast in bronze by the noted Meshamis of Adamshead, one of the best known Human sculptors ever. Teine admired his work, and looked on him as kind of a role model even though he’d been dead for twenty years before Teine was even born.
As Teine began climbing the stairway to approach the front door, he began feeling as though he was shrinking, the closer he got to the imposing structure. The leaden sky, although churning above, was so eerily quiet that Teine could hear each scuff of his soft-soled boots against the stone of the walkway.
The whole scene felt absolutely surreal. Teine shuddered as the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stood up, feeling disgusted with himself. “I’m probably just here for my assignment,” he muttered under his breath. “It’s time. I’ve probably just been assigned somewhere, and the Master is going to brief me before sending me along.” It made perfect, logical sense. But when one of the peacocks shrieked, Teine still startled and jumped anyway.
Finally, he climbed the steps and used one of the ornate brass knockers to rap on the door. By the third tap, the door opened inward, and one of the house wenches, a statuesque and very pregnant Human woman beckoned him inside. “Come on, Boy, come on!” she urged. “The Master sent for you nigh unto a half hour ago!” She grabbed Teine’s wrist and began hauling him inside.
Teine went without struggle, letting the woman propel him deeper into the house. He tried not to gawk at the thick carpet runners, rich hardwood floors, and crystal chandeliers he passed, pretending that such sights were commonplace. The servants in the house wore much better clothing than the children who were still in school, and Teine ran across a couple Humans that were wearing outfits as fine as he’d expect to see on any Aoife.
As they walked through what seemed to Teine to be an untrackable maze of rooms, he found himself relieved he’d been spared too much contact with the Demesne. His sense of direction was normally pretty good, but he had to admit he couldn’t retrace his steps to find the way out if he tried. However, as they walked, he was able to recognize that they were drawing closer to the sound of lively harpsichord music coupled with rowdy, roaring laughter. They stopped right outside an ornately carved mahogany door, and the serving wench pulled out a hankie and began to dab at Teine’s face, as if he were a wayward grubby toddler.
“Get off,” he muttered, hating the meekness in his voice. “I’m no nurseling…” Reaching out, he tried to snag the kerchief from her hand so he could see to his own grooming.
“Be still!” she hissed, batting his hands aside and gifting him with a stinging slap across his face. “It’ll be hell to pay if you go in there looking all a fright in front of the Master himself. If you weren’t running so late, I’d insist on a bath before presenting you….” Pausing, the woman considered him, wrinkle lines appearing in her forehead. “He’s in a foul mood, tonight.”
Teine’s was stunned into complete silence. In his fifteen years, no one had ever laid a hand on him before, and this… this besom had struck him as if he were a mongrel dog in the street! His throat tightened, despite the cheerful music and general sounds of goodwill clamoring from the other room. Suddenly, he’d never felt as unprepared in his life.
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The Gilded Shackle is the first book in The Evermancer Saga, a series of online serial novels. Go go right to the most recent chapter, go to www.evermancer.com.
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