Book 2, Chapter 18: Romancing The Pipes

“Brin, remind me how to address a duke properly.”

Putting the finishing touches on my hair, she rolled her eyes at me. “Well,” she curtsied like a puppet, smiling as if I were joking, “you address him as ‘Your Grace’ at first and then ‘my lord’ afterwards. However, given that you are the princess, the rules are less strict for you.”

“’Your Grace,’ ok, got it. Some people call me that, too. What’s with that?”

“You get both. Dukes and duchesses only get the one. The king would get a ‘Your Majesty,’ on top of all that.”

“Thanks. Do I really have to be this dressed up?” The bath, despite my protests, had been a godsend after this week of travel. My skin was clean again, they’d put a floral scent around my neck, so I no longer smelled like horses and sweat. My hair was in a single braid, down my back, two errant strands of hair cascading in twirls just outside each eye. I had them keep the powder light on my face, to let my skin breathe. They insisted on a clear, glossy lipstick, which caught the light and emphasized my pink lips. Dark blue eyeshadow running across and onto my cheek, breaking into dots in front of my ears. My lavender eyes looked striking against the blue and somehow the girls added a lighter version of lavender under my cheeks.

I hated to admit it, but the girl in the mirror was hot. They somehow made me look older than my age while accentuating my youth. It was disturbing. If I ever became a bartender, I was carding everyone.

It was doubly strange because just a few hours ago, I’d been fighting for my life and nearly lost. I couldn’t wrap my head around how quickly these events took place. A part of me wanted to head back into the bath, then under some blankets for a week, just to process all this.

One of the girls pulled my hand to her lap, started filing my nails. “Really? You’re going to do my nails in a battlefield?”

She smiled at me sweetly, “We’ll have your nails looking just as pretty as ever!”

“You know I killed three people today with that hand.”

She focused more intently on my nails, saying nothing. Her smile frozen in place like someone had pinned it there. She hummed. Took some brush out, brushed my fingers a bit, then took a small glass bottle off the desk. It was filled with red dust. She dipped a tiny glass utensil sporting a little sphere on the top into the jar, touching it then to each fingernail. The light metallic red dust spread across my nails, a sun-like pattern forming.

“You were glorious, Cayce!” Brin said. Then, directing her attention to the girls, “She leapt onto a stallion, charged across the battlefield behind the cavalry – dodging arrows and missiles of all kinds – into the charged lightning field of the mages and speared them like a hero out of legend!”

“Wow!” and “Really?!” and “You’re a warrior princess!”

“It, ah, it really wasn’t like that. At all.”

“Then Cayce, in her shadow and gold armor, leapt off the horse and speared another wizard! He died calling her name and begging!”

“Goddamn it, that’s not how it went!” I jerked my hand away from the girl, standing up. “I was thrown off the horse, then it died, burning alive in front of me! I can still see it crying in pain. Smell its flesh cooking. And the blood! Pouring out of the woman who’s neck I sliced open. She begged me not to, tried to stop my sword with her hands. Her blood all over me – get out! All of you, out of this . . . fucking tent. Out!”

The girls ran from the tent, but Brin grabbed me into a fierce hug. “You’re ok, you’re ok,” she said over and over while I cried into her shoulder.

“All those people, Brin,” I said between sobs, “all those people I killed. I can still see their eyes.”

More hugging and after a time we sat down, she wiped my face and under my eyes. “They were trying to kill you. Kill all of us. You did what you had to. Trust me, they’d shed no tears for your death.”

“Probably have a celebration.” I wrapped my arms around her neck, buried my face into her. Somehow, it felt comforting.

“Cayce?”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve gone and messed up your face. We’ve got to start the make-up over, from the beginning.”

“Ah, fu- . . . fudge. Fudge.”

She smiled, put her palm over my eyes to close them, and I let her work her magic. Her fingers on my chin, lifting me up.

“Also, you scared away your new ladies in waiting.”

***

The sun set across the river, past a darkening mountain range far off in the distance. The blue sky faded slowly to a rusty red, the underside edges of clouds reflecting gold and scarlet, like a ribbon of fire in an orange pastel ocean weakening, appearing to lighten, until dark purple crowded its way in, taking over the sky.

For our meeting, many bonfires were lit, brightening up the place. Near the royal tents, small iron stoves were set up with long metal stacks going up into the night. Odd symbols were carved into these, symbols I didn’t recognize. Some had floral designs, others more Celtic in appearance. The fires within them painted the symbols bright orange. I felt as though I was standing in a land of tall candles.

Fires flickered and shadows danced around them. We girls moved from pipe to pipe, admiring the beauty. I had apologized to them, and they seemed to accept it, chatted on, while I largely remained quiet, in awe of the contrast between so much strangeness and beauty and the horrors of the day. What else should men celebrate, finding themselves still alive, but life?

The wine and ale barrels were open to all, a grand celebration underway, despite the enemy across the river. In these circumstances, I was to meet the infamous Duke Bechalle.

He, too, washed and changed after his long battle. All this social etiquette prevented us from meeting until well after sunset. I did not see him and his entourage ride in, nor park their horses, and soon they were in our camp, heading my way.

The duke was, apparently like most of the men in my body’s family, tall. Not quite as tall as the prince had been, nor as well muscled, the duke was a thinner man, dark hair cut short and a well-trimmed beard. He wore a dark wine-colored jacket with metal studs covering it in a grid pattern over a thick black shirt, matching pants that went just below his knees and hose under that. I expected a large pirate hat with an enormous, billowing feather, but resigned myself to disappointment. He wasn’t wearing a hat.

“Your Royal Highness,” he said, bowing and taking my hand to his lips, “a true pleasure to finally meet you as an adult.”

“Your Grace,” I gave him the best curtsy I could, “the pleasure is mine. Your arrival rescued the kingdom and my men.”

“I brought you a gift,” he waved his arm behind him. A man was walking a large, black horse this direction. One of its legs was white and its mane long. Its saddle was black with golden trim, as with the reins. “My finest. A true champion of a breed – and more of them waiting for you at the castle. Enough for a thousand men.”

“I . . . I don’t know what to say.” I really didn’t and hadn’t prepared any gifts for him. I forced happiness into my voice, “It’s a beautiful horse!” but felt diminished for not having thought to get him anything.

“And I had these dresses made for you. I hope they are to your liking.” A man behind the horse was carrying several wooden boxes, stacked. He set them on the table and, with a touch of flourish, pulled open the top one. Its lid was so tight that it pulled up its bottom and only slowly came apart. The dress inside was a deep red, with black laces tying it together. The next box held another dress of blue and gold, and the third box a short jacket, suede, also red and black.

“Wow, these boxes,” the pine smell of the boxes was heavenly, “smell so lovely!”

“The boxes?” He straightened, tilted his head, “Yes, the wood discourages insects.”

“And the dresses and jacket are stunning,” I assured him, though now I had to wear them at some point and wasn’t looking forward to it. Brin had won again. No armor for me for the foreseeable future. “Your Grace is ever so generous but . . . I am an ass and haven’t prepared any gifts for yourself.”

“Think nothing of it. You were fleeing an enemy, not coming for a relaxing visit. Come, walk with me on this dark and heavy night. Make it lighter with conversation and laughter,” he took my arm in his, leading me away from my tents, toward the burning orange pipes. My ladies in waiting and his entourage followed along just out of earshot, chattering amongst themselves.

“Princess Cayce, I have been told a great deal of your bravery and am simply astounded. I’ve never heard of a person, let alone a woman, slaying wizards before. My mages claim that you prevented the Ketzillians from gaining magical dominance over your army.”

“Ah, I, uhm, didn’t have much choice. It was either that or they would have killed us all.” I did not want credit for the people I killed, nor could I tell him about the snipers and their special arrows. I also didn’t know how to have a conversation with him. So, I mirrored him. “I’m also impressed at, uh, how well you defeated the enemy. You saved us all and reduced their forces to a third.”

“That was but simple tactics and numbers, I’m afraid. We were fortunate to run into their cavalry regiments separated from the main body. The only problem we had there was, honestly, your baggage train.” He laughed, “the enemy tried using the wagons as the younger brother uses a table when his older brother wants to beat him.”

“Well, I’m glad you saved our baggage train. All those women and children.”

“It was the least we could do, really.”

“It must have been quite a ride back for you today. After capturing the enemy baggage train, I mean.”

“No trouble at all. We’ll divide the goods between us.”

“The goods?”

“Yes. I’m having their wagons and equipment brought to my castle. They’ll come through here first, and won’t arrive until midafternoon tomorrow, though. We’ll do the dividing then.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. The, uh, looting part.”

“Well, you’ve had your mind on other things. Allow me to convey my deepest sympathies for your family. Truly, a greater loss the kingdom has never known. A terrible, terrible tragedy. And Cayce,” he said, turning to face me, the orange light of the pipe aglow on his face, “let me assure you that you have all the support I can give you. I insist that you come stay with me, with us at the castle. Rest and recuperate as long as you need.”

“And my soldiers? Surely we would be a burden on you.”

“Not at all! You’ll have to leave the bulk of your soldiers here, of course. But not alone. Not at all, I will be leaving an equal number of soldiers to yours to guard this bridge against the Ketzillians. I will call in my bannermen, raise troops and then we shall drive them from my lands and your kingdom.”

“You would help me retake my castle?”

“Of course! If I don’t, those awful Ketzles will be camped on my land and I can’t have that. We defeated a great many of them today. I would wager they are considering a safe retreat home. Now,” he said, once again taking my arm in his, hand over top mine, “come, tell me what happened to drive you so near my castle.”

As we walked, linked arm in arm, I told him of the military defeat, the betrayal, the awfulness of the dowager, and confided in him my many mistakes – losing the gold, giving up the hostages and probably losing the kingdom.

“Cayce, I have a secret to tell you.”

“Yes?”

“I always hated that bitch, too. I’m glad you drove her off, but I secretly wish you’d killed her.”

“Might have saved me a bunch of future problems.”

“Ha! Yes, you have them now. After expelling the Ketzles, you’ll have to ride to Barclay castle and appropriate your money. In the meantime, you take whatever gold we’ve recovered from the Ketzle baggage train.”

“Oh, no, we can split it as you suggested earlier.”

“Truly, I insist. You have an army to pay if you want to keep it. Otherwise, the men may desert.”

“Really?”

“It’s already done. The gold is yours.”

“You are too kind, and I thank you.”

“It’s a difficult life, that of a ruler. One only you and I can truly know.” He turned to me, his face somber and serious, and I worried that he’d talk about marriage. “Let us keep our conversations to ourselves and, if you would indulge me, I hope to have many more private discussions with you.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

“Alone as we are, call me Albian.”

“With pleasure, Albian.”

He again lifted my hand to his lips, kissing it softly, “Let us return to the party, for surely we are missed.” I couldn’t help but notice how red his lips were. Not quite thin, but sharp and red in the candlelight.

I smiled and he led us there, arm in arm, the perfect gentleman.

A man who, hours earlier, had ordered and joined in on the slaughter of at least 6000 unarmed men and who knows how many camp followers, the women and children of that army. Unless they were part of the loot we were dividing.

***

Tonight’s supper was a celebration and, as such, a feast. A boar roasting over a nearby firepit, venison and beef on the table, apples, oranges and other fruits, breads and cheeses. Vegetables, well, they were lacking. As for drinks, ale, wine and mead, all passed around.

It was, I have to say, the first time I’d had mead. I’d never actively avoided it but, because it was made from honey, thought it was probably sweet and didn’t want to drink it. Wrong. Not sweet at all and tasted like a very good, wonderfully smooth and silky white wine. It devilishly sucked me in and well, you’re only fourteen for a year, so I indulged.

Part of me felt guilty, for my bodyguards weren’t able, weren’t allowed by Brin to be clear, to sit or talk with us. They nevertheless kept careful watch on me, never further than twenty feet away. Of course, no one bothered me. Not here, not at such a banquet. Yet I couldn’t help but wonder, was it Morry’s angry stare that kept all men but the duke from talking to me?

Despite the guilt, I couldn’t help myself. A celebration! Meat and mead – and I did battle today – I was a Viking and enjoyed myself accordingly. I saluted silently and took a drink, ‘To Valhalla!’ And in the mead, I could hear my brothers cheering me on. The battle! Skal!

One of the duke’s men stood up to tell yet another tale of the duke’s bravery. The duke told no stories of himself. “And that’s when we saw the phalanx coming down the hill to join the battle. Well, you lot looked like you needed a bit of rest! Fighting all day and that. So, the duke himself led the charge. Damn, the look on those pikemen as we broke through the forest! Duke Bechalle lifted the first pikeman clear off his feet in the first charge and his pike, hahaha, his pike! It crashed into his friend, it did. Hit him right in the eye and that’s when the duke’s horse reared up, didn’t take kindly to that soldier, not one bit! Then we raced through their ranks – no better feeling in the world. Pushing them apart with our spears, cutting them down with our blades. It was all we could do to keep up with the duke, heading such a reckless charge.”

One of the new ladies in waiting, Chandra, asked the duke, “And your spear? How did you manage to hold onto it, stabbing through all those men?”

“Why, luck I imagine,” he replied.

“Oh, the duke is being too modest. It’s all skill, you see. You have to-”

“You know,” Duke Bechalle said, standing, “we’ve heard enough exaggerated stories about myself. I want to hear Princess Cayce’s stunning and heroic charge straight into death itself.”

“Oh, I, there isn’t much to tell,” I said, my eyes dropping to the table.

“Nonsense! No one has ever single handedly slain wizards in combat.”

Brin took my hand under the table, getting me to glance at her. Her eyes widening, eyebrows up inquisitively, tilting her head, she wanted a signal. I smiled, weakly, and then forced mirth into my eyes, slight bow, and a hefty drag on my mead.

Brin stood up and told a long and embellished story, colorful and full of expression and I held my composure, trying not to think of my sword cutting into that woman’s fingers while she pleaded for me to stop. And then her neck.

***

As the night continued, the stories, the laughs, I grabbed a jug of mead, two more cups and made it over to my guards.

“Princess, perhaps now isn’t the time to shirk etiquette?”

“Nonsense. How can I have my two favorite men sitting, I’m sorry, standing over here thirsty?” I handed each man a cup, then filled it for them.

“He’s scowling at you right now. Into your back.”

Tread added, “He really is.”

“Who cares? My tents, my rules. Cheers!”

“It was,” Tread began, “it truly was a brave thing you did, my lady.”

“Nothing you wouldn’t have done. I mean, if you had the armor. That’s all, I just had the only armor that is magical proof. That’s it, really.” Another drink. “That’s all.”

“No,” Morry said, “you proved your brother wrong. The dowager wrong. You were right to take up arms and train.”

I half-smiled up at him.

“If this was last week, you’d have fallen off that horse the moment he galloped! Then we’d all be dead!”

“Hahaha, you bastard!” I play hit him in the chest.

“And you still fell off the horse! You’re the worst rider I’ve ever seen, Princess.”

“That’s right, I saw it, you fell hard!” said Tread laughing into his cup.

“Well, I blame the teacher personally.”

“I have to admit,” Morry said, “he is a real ass. If only he taught you to hold onto a spear, you’d still have one.”

We all chuckled.

“Oh! That reminds me, I have to get Brundle to put together a team to find that spear.”

“That may take a while.”

“Well, it is perseidian iron. Can’t go losing my mage killing spear, now can I?”

“Knowing you, you’ll manage to lose it again.”

“And fall off more horses,” Tread chimed in.

We laughed, we drank, we laughed some more.

***

“But, when I was thrown into the river . . . I mean, after I left you, what did you guys do? How’d the battle go from there?”

“Cayce!” Brin grabbed my arm, wheeled me around, and spoke in a harsh and loud whisper, “Why are you being so rude?! You have guests! Uncle is annoyed.”

“He seemed fine. I’m just, you know, hanging out.”

She dragged me by my arm back to the table, where the duke and his men had stood. He turned to me, tight almost smile on his lips, narrowed eyes, “It’s getting late. Thank you for hosting us. I will see you at the military meeting tomorrow.” He didn’t wait for me or my comments and walked away briskly.

“Cayce!” whispered Brin into my ear, again shaking my arm.

I rolled my eyes. Fine, I guess, if this is what royalty demands. I hurried to catch up to him, my dress fluttering around, “Duke Bechalle, excuse me.” He stopped and faced me, fists unclenching. I gave him a lengthy curtsy, “I apologize. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“No, no, it’s perfectly alright. The night is getting long and we have much to do on the morrow. Plus, your men seem . . . anxious.” He cocked his head, “Needing of attention. We’d best be off. I bid you goodnight.”

I curtsied again as he left. “Goodnight, Duke. Gentlemen.” And the further they got, the larger my grin. “Alright. Morry! Go get Brundle and the majors. Hell, get some captains! We are alive and we are having a party.”

Everyone was looking at me like I was the Loch Ness Monster. I couldn’t help myself. “Let’s party like it’s 1999!” Blank faces. “Go! Get people. Let’s share in the food and adult beverages!”

Morry looked at Tread, who smiled. They went, grabbed me my generals, my majors, others whom I didn’t know or met them so briefly I couldn’t recall their names, and I poured them all booze. Me, the princess bartender. I know I promised, but I completely forgot to card anyone.

Gun staggered up and joined us. Clearly, he’d been partying below. Upon seeing me, he froze, eyes wide, like a doe caught in the headlights. “Princess Cayce . . . you look . . . stunning. Beautiful. Like the wild sea.”

No one had complimented me on my appearance for so long, I couldn’t remember how to react. I mean, he was right. I’d seen myself in the mirror, this body, and the girls did a great job. If I didn’t know my age, I’d think I was hot. But since I did, cute was the best I could do. Cute and good luck to the high school boys.

He shot out, “I apologize! I mean no disrespect. Your Highness,” and quickly and stiffly walked past me.

It struck me as odd, then, the contrast between Gun’s drunken honesty and the duke’s carefully prepared demeanor. He hadn’t complimented my appearance yet was apparently courting me. Showered me with gifts, and paid attention to my reactions, but was rather intolerant of spontaneity. Well, I waved my mug of mead, he’s missing out on the party.

Off in the distance, in the valley, tents had been set up. Campfires, everywhere. The soldiers were all drinking, chatting, telling stories, singing. Relaxing. They’d earned it. A week of forced march, clearing forest, leveling the road, killing crazy ass monsters.

We made it. We beat the enemy. Somehow, somehow we were still alive. No better excuse than to enjoy time with your fellows.

I turned and looked to our feast. Brundle, arms around Rand, explaining something, both laughing. Tread, eyes on Brin, sipping at his mead, piece of meat in his other hand. Gun shot me a quick glance, smiled, pretending to listen to Brundle’s story. The captains, well, I didn’t know their names, but laughing and eating and drinking. The ladies in waiting, whose names I’d also momentarily forgotten, giggling and chatting amongst themselves, mostly looking at Brin. My new Sapphire, the leader now. I felt a moment’s sadness for Saph not being here. In so many ways, Brin was awful. More determined, rigid, less empathetic. But she knew this society and its goddamn rules well. And in many other ways, she was lovely.

Morrentz. Off to the side, sipping. He caught my glance. His eyes smiled, maybe for the first time since I’d know him. I strolled over. “Walk with me, Morry.” I put my arm in his.

“Princess.”

We left the ring of stoves and iron smokestacks, their pretty orange glow behind us now. We walked into darkness and the stars lit up, caught my breath. I squeezed his arm, leaned into his tough body. “I like you, Morry.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Yeah.” High above, where the stars were, a bunched-up line of them emerged. More twinkling lights there than anywhere. Thick and hazy with stars. “That,” I ran my arm along it, dislodging from our embrace, “that is the galactic plane.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I think we’re in a spiral galaxy. That clump, where the stars are thicker, that’s the galactic plane. The arms are along that direction.” I made a cutting motion with my hand, “Like your slicing technique. All along a single plane.”

“You really are drunk. That’s the eye of Hersphire.”

“Hahaha, no. Listen, this planet orbits, ah, circles a star. You call it the Sun.”

“It clearly rises in the east, travels across the world and sets in the west. We watched it set today.”

“Well, it looks like that, sure. But we’re moving around it.”

“Hrmph.”

“Yeah, like you said, impossible to tell, but it’s true. Anyways, all those twinkling lights. Well, not all, most. Those, most of those are like our sun. Fusing their hydrogen into helium, releasing tremendous amounts of energy, and orbiting the galactic plane. Just like we orbit the sun.”

“Gods, you are so drunk. Let’s get you some tea, Princess.”

“Morry, give me one night. I just want to get wrecked.” I downed my mead. “You know, see what happens!”

“You’ll end up hungover tomorrow. Trust me, little girl, that won’t be fun.”

“Ha! Little girl. If only you knew. Anyways, I’m hungry, let’s head back. Maybe,” I said to him, all conspiratorial, “maybe if I drink enough, I’ll get a load screen or a save and exist screen. Save an exit! Save and exit screen. Not exist. No need for an exist screen. I already exist.”

“Right. There you go. Come with me.” He dragged me back, made sure I didn’t fall.

“How much alcohol is in this stuff, anyways?”

“What’s that now?”

“Uh, how strong is mead compared to ale?”

“Mead? More than ale. A little more than wine if the meadmaker did his job.”

“Meadmaker? That’s seriously the name of the person who brews mead? How unoriginal!”

“What should their name be?”

“I don’t know, a beekeeper is called an ‘apiarist,’ so a meadmaker should be called, just guessing here, a ‘meadiaraist.’ Something fancy. A little more fancy.”

“Princess, please just drink some tea. Or eat some fruit. Trust me on this, you want to eat at least two oranges in your state, and perhaps an apple.”

He brought me back to the table, shoved fruit into my face. Ok, I was eating fruit. That’s my life now, I thought, looking at the orange. A frugivore.

Somehow, my mead had turned into water, and that’s what I was stuck with. Not sure how they arranged that, every time I poured myself a glass, I got water. I gave up, nibbled on fruit, drank the water.

“Your Highness,” Brundle began, “what you did today was simply amazing. Our entire army-”

“I’ve heard this enough today, Brundle. I did what anyone would do, wearing that armor.”

“It’s extraordinary that . . .” He stared at me for a long while. Then, “Well, it’s part of the reason we’re enjoying ourselves tonight instead of . . . what I mean to say is, thank you for inviting us to your feast.”

“Of course. The more the merrier, which is something nobles around here don’t seem to understand.” I gave Brin a bit of a smile. She scowled in return. “Oh, that reminds me! My spear. Well, my brother’s spear, I need you to fish it out of the river. It’s valuable.”

“Me, personally?” He looked aghast.

“No, get, I don’t know, a hundred men, have them look for it. It couldn’t have gone far, and it should be pretty easy to find. I’d go myself, but, you know, princessly duties and all. Plus, I’ve been in that river once. It’s someone else’s turn.”