Chapter 60
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Izar lead her through the palace to the guest rooms. A guard bowed his head as they passed from one section of the palace to another. She wondered if the visitors from the Dark were aware of how closely they were watched as she noted the shimmering light throughout the halls, easily mistaken for the dance of the sun through the windows.
He probably realizes, she thought remembering how quickly the room had turned to darkness. She shivered at the memory of the touch of it. Around them, servants moved quickly preparing for the evening meal and entertainment. Tonight they would be served a simple dinner but there would still be dancers and players for them as well as wine and delicacies. Her mouth watered at the thought.
She met a servant at the door of the apartments. "You're late," the woman said.
Usoa tucked the board under her arm. Sorry, she signed.
The servant shook her head and pressed the tray containing the tea and fruit into her hands, pushing her forward. "He's in the garden, resting."
Usoa nodded and walked outside into the garden. The setting sun met her, orange and pink across the sky. She frowned and looked down, away from the sky. At her feet a dark mist flowed, softly swirling and reaching cloud like lines out to her. She followed it as it grew thicker, leading her deeper into the garden, to an open tent.
The sun cast just enough light on the Lloren to see him clearly. He slept peacefully on a pile of cushions, his darkness thick and lazy around him. Unafraid, she moved forward, setting the tea down carefully on the low table, the board beside it.
Unencumbered she walked around it to get a closer look at him. He had shed the hood dark robe for plain pants and a long shirt made of light, drab material. She looked closer at his face, noticing this time his youth. Across the room he had been imposing but here, asleep, she could see that he was not so old. Maybe somewhere around her own age. A scar ran down his neck, old and white against his skin. Given his entire appearance, he seemed common and if she had not seen him use such power or if she did not stand in his shadows now, she would not have believed he was much of anything at all.
Finished her inspection she reached forward to wake him.
"Oh, are you done looking now?" he asked, his voice smooth and deep with his laughter as he opened his eyes. Twin storms stared at her and she moved back, embarrassed, her face hot.
She scrambled for the board as he sat up, yawning and stretching.
My name is Usoa, I'm here to serve you during the evening tea, she wrote with the chalk that she had brought.
"I know who you are. You're the daughter of the second wife. The one who is coming to draw the Light in that place we go when we fall asleep so it doesn't swallow up the Sorgia. You're her maid, awake and asleep."
Usoa gritted her teeth and nodded.
"And you know who I am. So there is no need for introductions. But how far does your service extend?" he asked his eyebrow raised.
She sucked in her breath. I am just here to serve you tea and keep you company until it is time to prepare for dinner. I can talk or play card games.
"Talk?" he said, a smirk on his face.
I communicate just fine, she frowned as she wrote.
"So you do. Did you bring any cards?"
She bit her lip and shook her head.
"Talking it is then. Well, you should pour my tea," he said, still smiling.
She moved, pouring the dark tea into the glass for him. It is very strong, would you like sugar or milk?
"Prepare it how you take it," he said.
She looked at him curiously but did as he asked, dropping in two cubes of sugar and a stream of milk, the tea turning creamy and sweet, but not too sweet. She handed his cup to him, a smile on her face, as she had been taught.
"And why was I given such an honor?" he asked sipping his tea.
To thank you for your performance this afternoon, she wrote.
He smirked, "If he really wanted to thank me, he would have let me sleep instead of sending his curious daughter to my side."
Tonight's dinner will not be too much. You will be able to rest afterwards and much of tomorrow, she explained, ignoring his jab.
"Oh, will no one call on me for tricks again?" he asked, his tone mocking even as he opened his hand gathering the darkness to him to form a fish that jumped from his palm into his cup.
She laughed, in spite of herself, shaking her head. It was rude of my brother to ask such a thing. I apologize in his stead, she wrote.
Her words seemed to surprise him and he frowned, before drinking from the cup the fish had disappeared into. "Why do you apologize for him?"
Because it is right. May I ask you about the show you gave us? He nodded and she continued, erasing her last question. Why did you show a hawk fighting a snake?
He smiled broadly this time, pleased. "So you were paying attention. But is that all you saw? Tell me what you thought."
She looked away before writing again. It was like a dance. The colors were so beautiful.
He sat down the cup, leaning forward, his eyes greedy, "Tell me what you saw."
It was like when crystal catches the light just right. All of these colors were in every part of what you made but they were dark. I can't explain it, she wrote.
When he looked back at her, his gaze moved from the board to her face, it was as if he saw someone different. "Will you not have tea as well?"
She nodded and poured her own cup, matching his. Why did they turn into flowers, she asked.
He smiled, a secret, playful smile. "When you understand that, you will understand the story I was attempting to tell."
The light dropped lower, casting deep shadows over the tent. She frowned. There should be servants to light the brazers, she explained, standing to go and find the boy in charge of the duty.
He held up his hand, stopping her. "Let me show you an old trick. We cannot make light but we can make fire." He held out his hand, a orb of shadow forming in it. At its center it began to glow, a tiny flame that grew in the pure air. He sent it to the braziers, one by one, lighting them.
How, she wrote, curious.
"The same way anyone would make a fire, rubbing to things together to make sparks. There are thousands of small things to use, even dust. The trick is to be able to rub them fast enough and to keep feeding it. It is harder than one would think."
You are very pleased with yourself, she wrote, raising her eyebrow.
"I am very impressive," he replied. "If you could be heard then what would you have done for me tonight? Surely the draw of this isn't to chat for an hour or two."
If my sister Porras had been called she would have sung or played an instrument, I think. Sometimes she dances, she wrote.
"Can you not dance?" he teased.
There are no musicians here, she wrote before placing the board down and refilling his cup.
"That is not what I asked, Usoa," he said.
She paused at the sound of her name on his lips. She focused on him, frowning slightly.
A servant cleared their throat behind them. Usoa turned they man bowed, "I am sorry to interrupt but it is time to prepare for dinner."
Usoa nodded and turned back to Lloren, shrugging. She had been quite late, their time was up. She stood, preparing to take her leave.
He smiled richly and shook his head. "Another time perhaps you will answer me then. You haven't asked me the question you really came here for though."
I came here because my father told me to, she wrote.
He stood then, his smile still on his face. He's tall, she thought looking up at him. He snapped his fingers and her scarf dropped from the air between them, settling in his waiting hand. He shook it out and laid it over her head as he bent towards her. She could feel the same touch of darkness against her skin as she had felt before in the throne room when the world turned to night. Feather light and soft as the flowers against her legs and hands.
Close to her ear, his hands holding the edges of the scarf, he whispered, "This color does not suit you. Thank you for the tea."
He released her and she nodded, shaken by his closeness, the feel of his breath on her ear. She turned, leaving him with the servants and to return to her own rooms. I have to prepare for dinner myself, she thought, trying to drag her mind away from the strange man in the garden. In the halls she slowed and looked at the scarf in her hands. But why was he looking at me at all?
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Izar lead her through the palace to the guest rooms. A guard bowed his head as they passed from one section of the palace to another. She wondered if the visitors from the Dark were aware of how closely they were watched as she noted the shimmering light throughout the halls, easily mistaken for the dance of the sun through the windows.
He probably realizes, she thought remembering how quickly the room had turned to darkness. She shivered at the memory of the touch of it. Around them, servants moved quickly preparing for the evening meal and entertainment. Tonight they would be served a simple dinner but there would still be dancers and players for them as well as wine and delicacies. Her mouth watered at the thought.
She met a servant at the door of the apartments. "You're late," the woman said.
Usoa tucked the board under her arm. Sorry, she signed.
The servant shook her head and pressed the tray containing the tea and fruit into her hands, pushing her forward. "He's in the garden, resting."
Usoa nodded and walked outside into the garden. The setting sun met her, orange and pink across the sky. She frowned and looked down, away from the sky. At her feet a dark mist flowed, softly swirling and reaching cloud like lines out to her. She followed it as it grew thicker, leading her deeper into the garden, to an open tent.
The sun cast just enough light on the Lloren to see him clearly. He slept peacefully on a pile of cushions, his darkness thick and lazy around him. Unafraid, she moved forward, setting the tea down carefully on the low table, the board beside it.
Unencumbered she walked around it to get a closer look at him. He had shed the hood dark robe for plain pants and a long shirt made of light, drab material. She looked closer at his face, noticing this time his youth. Across the room he had been imposing but here, asleep, she could see that he was not so old. Maybe somewhere around her own age. A scar ran down his neck, old and white against his skin. Given his entire appearance, he seemed common and if she had not seen him use such power or if she did not stand in his shadows now, she would not have believed he was much of anything at all.
Finished her inspection she reached forward to wake him.
"Oh, are you done looking now?" he asked, his voice smooth and deep with his laughter as he opened his eyes. Twin storms stared at her and she moved back, embarrassed, her face hot.
She scrambled for the board as he sat up, yawning and stretching.
My name is Usoa, I'm here to serve you during the evening tea, she wrote with the chalk that she had brought.
"I know who you are. You're the daughter of the second wife. The one who is coming to draw the Light in that place we go when we fall asleep so it doesn't swallow up the Sorgia. You're her maid, awake and asleep."
Usoa gritted her teeth and nodded.
"And you know who I am. So there is no need for introductions. But how far does your service extend?" he asked his eyebrow raised.
She sucked in her breath. I am just here to serve you tea and keep you company until it is time to prepare for dinner. I can talk or play card games.
"Talk?" he said, a smirk on his face.
I communicate just fine, she frowned as she wrote.
"So you do. Did you bring any cards?"
She bit her lip and shook her head.
"Talking it is then. Well, you should pour my tea," he said, still smiling.
She moved, pouring the dark tea into the glass for him. It is very strong, would you like sugar or milk?
"Prepare it how you take it," he said.
She looked at him curiously but did as he asked, dropping in two cubes of sugar and a stream of milk, the tea turning creamy and sweet, but not too sweet. She handed his cup to him, a smile on her face, as she had been taught.
"And why was I given such an honor?" he asked sipping his tea.
To thank you for your performance this afternoon, she wrote.
He smirked, "If he really wanted to thank me, he would have let me sleep instead of sending his curious daughter to my side."
Tonight's dinner will not be too much. You will be able to rest afterwards and much of tomorrow, she explained, ignoring his jab.
"Oh, will no one call on me for tricks again?" he asked, his tone mocking even as he opened his hand gathering the darkness to him to form a fish that jumped from his palm into his cup.
She laughed, in spite of herself, shaking her head. It was rude of my brother to ask such a thing. I apologize in his stead, she wrote.
Her words seemed to surprise him and he frowned, before drinking from the cup the fish had disappeared into. "Why do you apologize for him?"
Because it is right. May I ask you about the show you gave us? He nodded and she continued, erasing her last question. Why did you show a hawk fighting a snake?
He smiled broadly this time, pleased. "So you were paying attention. But is that all you saw? Tell me what you thought."
She looked away before writing again. It was like a dance. The colors were so beautiful.
He sat down the cup, leaning forward, his eyes greedy, "Tell me what you saw."
It was like when crystal catches the light just right. All of these colors were in every part of what you made but they were dark. I can't explain it, she wrote.
When he looked back at her, his gaze moved from the board to her face, it was as if he saw someone different. "Will you not have tea as well?"
She nodded and poured her own cup, matching his. Why did they turn into flowers, she asked.
He smiled, a secret, playful smile. "When you understand that, you will understand the story I was attempting to tell."
The light dropped lower, casting deep shadows over the tent. She frowned. There should be servants to light the brazers, she explained, standing to go and find the boy in charge of the duty.
He held up his hand, stopping her. "Let me show you an old trick. We cannot make light but we can make fire." He held out his hand, a orb of shadow forming in it. At its center it began to glow, a tiny flame that grew in the pure air. He sent it to the braziers, one by one, lighting them.
How, she wrote, curious.
"The same way anyone would make a fire, rubbing to things together to make sparks. There are thousands of small things to use, even dust. The trick is to be able to rub them fast enough and to keep feeding it. It is harder than one would think."
You are very pleased with yourself, she wrote, raising her eyebrow.
"I am very impressive," he replied. "If you could be heard then what would you have done for me tonight? Surely the draw of this isn't to chat for an hour or two."
If my sister Porras had been called she would have sung or played an instrument, I think. Sometimes she dances, she wrote.
"Can you not dance?" he teased.
There are no musicians here, she wrote before placing the board down and refilling his cup.
"That is not what I asked, Usoa," he said.
She paused at the sound of her name on his lips. She focused on him, frowning slightly.
A servant cleared their throat behind them. Usoa turned they man bowed, "I am sorry to interrupt but it is time to prepare for dinner."
Usoa nodded and turned back to Lloren, shrugging. She had been quite late, their time was up. She stood, preparing to take her leave.
He smiled richly and shook his head. "Another time perhaps you will answer me then. You haven't asked me the question you really came here for though."
I came here because my father told me to, she wrote.
He stood then, his smile still on his face. He's tall, she thought looking up at him. He snapped his fingers and her scarf dropped from the air between them, settling in his waiting hand. He shook it out and laid it over her head as he bent towards her. She could feel the same touch of darkness against her skin as she had felt before in the throne room when the world turned to night. Feather light and soft as the flowers against her legs and hands.
Close to her ear, his hands holding the edges of the scarf, he whispered, "This color does not suit you. Thank you for the tea."
He released her and she nodded, shaken by his closeness, the feel of his breath on her ear. She turned, leaving him with the servants and to return to her own rooms. I have to prepare for dinner myself, she thought, trying to drag her mind away from the strange man in the garden. In the halls she slowed and looked at the scarf in her hands. But why was he looking at me at all?
Izar lead her through the palace to the guest rooms. A guard bowed his head as they passed from one section of the palace to another. She wondered if the visitors from the Dark were aware of how closely they were watched as she noted the shimmering light throughout the halls, easily mistaken for the dance of the sun through the windows.He probably realizes, she thought remembering how quickly the room had turned to darkness. She shivered at the memory of the touch of it. Around them, servants moved quickly preparing for the evening meal and entertainment. Tonight they would be served a simple dinner but there would still be dancers and players for them as well as wine and delicacies. Her mouth watered at the thought.She met a servant at the door of the apartments. "You're late," the woman said.Usoa tucked the board under her arm. Sorry, she signed.The servant shook her head and pressed the tray containing the tea and fruit into her hands, pushing her forward. "He's in the garden, resting."Usoa nodded and walked outside into the garden. The setting sun met her, orange and pink across the sky. She frowned and looked down, away from the sky. At her feet a dark mist flowed, softly swirling and reaching cloud like lines out to her. She followed it as it grew thicker, leading her deeper into the garden, to an open tent.The sun cast just enough light on the Lloren to see him clearly. He slept peacefully on a pile of cushions, his darkness thick and lazy around him. Unafraid, she moved forward, setting the tea down carefully on the low table, the board beside it.Unencumbered she walked around it to get a closer look at him. He had shed the hood dark robe for plain pants and a long shirt made of light, drab material. She looked closer at his face, noticing this time his youth. Across the room he had been imposing but here, asleep, she could see that he was not so old. Maybe somewhere around her own age. A scar ran down his neck, old and white against his skin. Given his entire appearance, he seemed common and if she had not seen him use such power or if she did not stand in his shadows now, she would not have believed he was much of anything at all.Finished her inspection she reached forward to wake him."Oh, are you done looking now?" he asked, his voice smooth and deep with his laughter as he opened his eyes. Twin storms stared at her and she moved back, embarrassed, her face hot.She scrambled for the board as he sat up, yawning and stretching.My name is Usoa, I'm here to serve you during the evening tea, she wrote with the chalk that she had brought."I know who you are. You're the daughter of the second wife. The one who is coming to draw the Light in that place we go when we fall asleep so it doesn't swallow up the Sorgia. You're her maid, awake and asleep."Usoa gritted her teeth and nodded."And you know who I am. So there is no need for introductions. But how far does your service extend?" he asked his eyebrow raised.She sucked in her breath. I am just here to serve you tea and keep you company until it is time to prepare for dinner. I can talk or play card games."Talk?" he said, a smirk on his face.I communicate just fine, she frowned as she wrote."So you do. Did you bring any cards?"She bit her lip and shook her head."Talking it is then. Well, you should pour my tea," he said, still smiling.She moved, pouring the dark tea into the glass for him. It is very strong, would you like sugar or milk?"Prepare it how you take it," he said.She looked at him curiously but did as he asked, dropping in two cubes of sugar and a stream of milk, the tea turning creamy and sweet, but not too sweet. She handed his cup to him, a smile on her face, as she had been taught."And why was I given such an honor?" he asked sipping his tea.To thank you for your performance this afternoon, she wrote.He smirked, "If he really wanted to thank me, he would have let me sleep instead of sending his curious daughter to my side."Tonight's dinner will not be too much. You will be able to rest afterwards and much of tomorrow, she explained, ignoring his jab."Oh, will no one call on me for tricks again?" he asked, his tone mocking even as he opened his hand gathering the darkness to him to form a fish that jumped from his palm into his cup.She laughed, in spite of herself, shaking her head. It was rude of my brother to ask such a thing. I apologize in his stead, she wrote.Her words seemed to surprise him and he frowned, before drinking from the cup the fish had disappeared into. "Why do you apologize for him?"Because it is right. May I ask you about the show you gave us? He nodded and she continued, erasing her last question. Why did you show a hawk fighting a snake?He smiled broadly this time, pleased. "So you were paying attention. But is that all you saw? Tell me what you thought."She looked away before writing again. It was like a dance. The colors were so beautiful.He sat down the cup, leaning forward, his eyes greedy, "Tell me what you saw."It was like when crystal catches the light just right. All of these colors were in every part of what you made but they were dark. I can't explain it, she wrote.When he looked back at her, his gaze moved from the board to her face, it was as if he saw someone different. "Will you not have tea as well?"She nodded and poured her own cup, matching his. Why did they turn into flowers, she asked.He smiled, a secret, playful smile. "When you understand that, you will understand the story I was attempting to tell."The light dropped lower, casting deep shadows over the tent. She frowned. There should be servants to light the brazers, she explained, standing to go and find the boy in charge of the duty.He held up his hand, stopping her. "Let me show you an old trick. We cannot make light but we can make fire." He held out his hand, a orb of shadow forming in it. At its center it began to glow, a tiny flame that grew in the pure air. He sent it to the braziers, one by one, lighting them.How, she wrote, curious."The same way anyone would make a fire, rubbing to things together to make sparks. There are thousands of small things to use, even dust. The trick is to be able to rub them fast enough and to keep feeding it. It is harder than one would think."You are very pleased with yourself, she wrote, raising her eyebrow."I am very impressive," he replied. "If you could be heard then what would you have done for me tonight? Surely the draw of this isn't to chat for an hour or two."If my sister Porras had been called she would have sung or played an instrument, I think. Sometimes she dances, she wrote."Can you not dance?" he teased.There are no musicians here, she wrote before placing the board down and refilling his cup."That is not what I asked, Usoa," he said.She paused at the sound of her name on his lips. She focused on him, frowning slightly.A servant cleared their throat behind them. Usoa turned they man bowed, "I am sorry to interrupt but it is time to prepare for dinner."Usoa nodded and turned back to Lloren, shrugging. She had been quite late, their time was up. She stood, preparing to take her leave.He smiled richly and shook his head. "Another time perhaps you will answer me then. You haven't asked me the question you really came here for though."I came here because my father told me to, she wrote.He stood then, his smile still on his face. He's tall, she thought looking up at him. He snapped his fingers and her scarf dropped from the air between them, settling in his waiting hand. He shook it out and laid it over her head as he bent towards her. She could feel the same touch of darkness against her skin as she had felt before in the throne room when the world turned to night. Feather light and soft as the flowers against her legs and hands.Close to her ear, his hands holding the edges of the scarf, he whispered, "This color does not suit you. Thank you for the tea."He released her and she nodded, shaken by his closeness, the feel of his breath on her ear. She turned, leaving him with the servants and to return to her own rooms. I have to prepare for dinner myself, she thought, trying to drag her mind away from the strange man in the garden. In the halls she slowed and looked at the scarf in her hands. But why was he looking at me at all?
