In some
ways, she was right that the following day would be the same as the
one before. However, there was one important difference. Harbonius
was absent and replaced by Heinrich and Ellisu. Although she was
still awkward and fumbling, these two were far more patient with her
and, while Felix was still there, and still insufferable, he was much
more subdued now that the numbers were against him. By the fifth
game, she found herself actually enough at ease to slow down and
think her moves through more carefully and, with that, came the
realization that, in such circumstances, she actually had some
measure of skill, she must to not be completely embarrassing herself
on her second day playing the game. At one point, Heinrich actually
complimented her on the cleverness of a move she had made, and she
turned to him, eyes wide in surprise, mouth half open in a hesitant
smile, a bit afraid to fully commit. But, when her eyes met his, he
seemed confused and a bit uncomfortable so she quickly looked away to
avoid causing him more discomfort. Among themselves, they were all
so sure of their skill that they must not need or, maybe, even want
compliments. In fact, they seemed rather to thrive on needling and
putting down each other, as if the criticism showed they were good
enough to make the other feel threatened.
After about a fortnight of this bliss
there came a day when he did not tell them to return the next day and
KazaKu's one comfort was that it was them. After the first
day, he never invited her individually and she had never seen him do
so with any of the others so he simply did not make his usual general
announcement. As she was leaving, she felt a presence close beside
her and turned to see Heinrich there. “That was very entertaining,
wasn't it?” he asked, with his strange smile that made him look
slightly old for his years. Her mind on other things, she made a
vague noise, half assent, half confusion. “When Felix thought he
had such a strong position with all his fire elements and made an ass
of himself bragging about it...”
“And then we joined forces and just
completely plowed him under? That was something.” She gave a quick
half smile, then sighed.
“Kaz.” They had all taken up her
nickname and she was not so pleased about the fact. “Kaz, are you
alright?”
“Just a bit worried about Beaturs, I
guess.” There was no guessing involved, but she was doing her best
to act casual, though she could feel her face heating as she spoke.
“Don't be. This happens from time
to time. He takes time to himself to do his drawings and such, or
just him and Ellisu. He'll be wanting us all back for more Alchemy
in a matter of days.” As he spoke, they had reached the door of
the monastery and were looking out across the square, extra crowded
with all the shopkeepers scrambling to close up their stalls as the
light faded. She must have still looked unsure, for he added, with
surprising eagerness, “Besides, if he takes too long, I'll just
organize a game myself without him, so no worries.” Fortunately,
at this point, KazaKu was able to duck into the crowd and get away,
feeling more uneasy than before though, now, for different reasons.
She desperately hoped that Beaturs would not be indisposed for too
long and not only because she was already craving to see him again
but because the idea of having to deal with the strain of trying to
play Alchemy without looking foolish, and calmly tolerating the
aggravation of the likes of Felix and Harbonius, without even the
repayment of his presence was a grim prospect indeed. But, if
Heinrich did issue such an invitation, she could not refuse. If they
saw that she was only present when Beatrus was, that could lend
weight to any unpleasant speculations that, doubtless, were already
in existence.
And she knew it was Beaturs
too, who was present during the games of Alchemy. She could guess
what happened during his retreats and why. This was when he took
time alone to be Karak and she felt a hot rush of jealousy as this
was the time she would have wanted most to be with him. Jealousy of
nothing really as all the others, except, on occasion, Ellisu, who
was himself difficult to read, were also banned from his presence at
this time. Again, she spent the bulk of the night awake, a nervous
quivering inside, trying to imagine the secret self of Karak, behind
Beatrus, feeling sad that she could not see it. But even the sadness
was pleasant in a way, a kind of sweet melancholy when she thought
about him and, beyond, it was not a sorrow without hope. While, she
might be barred from the blessing now, perhaps, someday, not.
Someday, the doors of the sanctuary, his heart, might open to her.
Not in the romantic sense of him falling in love with her as Shalana
might have imagined, but in the form of being chosen as his closest
confidant, honored with his deepest trust. Someday, but, in the
meantime, she had the far less pleasant prospect of Heinrich's
alternative game to contemplate.
She need not have worried. Two days
later, he had them all back and it was as if nothing had changed,
though she could not help being curious about what might have
happened while she was gone. She had been a bit concerned as well
about how he would let her know it was time to return as she highly
doubted he would send a messenger to the sanctuary to inform her and,
if he did, it would raise some most uncomfortable questions among the
wardens and other girls. Instead, when she was out in the square,
Heinrich approached her and, while he did not speak to her directly,
gave her a glance in passing, then looked towards the monastery,
leaving her in no doubt as to the meaning. In a way, she was hardly
surprised by this, but she was surprised by what happened the next
time he saw her, when he apologized profusely for not speaking to her
directly. She had never imagined that the courtiers would see her as
anything other than lesser because of her low birth and had not
cared. Karak was an exception. His thoughts and feelings did not
follow any kind of normal logic. However, it now appeared that she
was wrong and they viewed her as an equal, with the possible
exception of the likes of Harbonius. Indeed, Heinrich seemed
positively guilty, truly frightened that she would think he looked
down on her, explaining he did not want to raise awkward questions
from people who knew her or make them think... Well, he wasn't
exactly clear on what they might think but KazaKu could easily guess.
She bristled internally at the thought, though a tiny whisper in the
back of her mind, barely audible, certainly not to be listened to,
pointed out that, if people, thought that about her and Heinrich,
they would not think it about her and Beatrus. Aloud, she thanked
him for his discretion and agreed that his approach was probably
best.
Time passed and she became used to the
rhythm of the meetings. They met nearly every day, but about twice a
month would come a time when Beaturus would take to himself, never
more that two or three days at a time and she grew more easy with it
as each time passed without incident. Still, she was never
completely free of a dark, hard core of anxiety that this would be
the time...at least that Henirch would actually carry out his
threat...offer...to meet without Beaturus. Perhaps she could pretend
she did not understand his signal? Perhaps she could pretend she had
misunderstood it and though he had said to go to the monastery
instead? She knew she would never dare to do such a thing but it was
pleasant to contemplate. As time went on, her Alchemy skills
improved as well, and, while she was never more than mediocre, she
did reach the point where performing at that level no longer took her
full attention and she was able to engage in the conversation that
took place during the games. Most of it was not very interesting,
the nobles discussing, reminiscing, or, in Felix's case, complaining
about the lack of, their lives in the royal palace. KazaKu was
unable to see the need for or even truly comprehend the type of
luxuries they described but she listened intently none the less for,
occasionally, Beatrus would appear in their accounts and she was glad
of the opportunity to learn more about him. He himself never
contributed to the conversations, at most making a comment like
“That's amusing” in response to one of their stories, not always
one that was meant to be amusing.
As her confidence grew, she was able
to put forward her own tales and jokes as well, earthy peasant
accounts, meant to be enjoyed with a mug of ale around the evening
fire to lift the spirits after a hard day's work. The first time she
told such a story, Harbonius turned up his nose, Heinrich looked
uncomfortable, and Felix did his best to express his disdain, though
she could see him him giggling behind his collar. Humiliation
coursed through her, not just at her personal disgrace at being
thought crude and foolish, but at the idea that she was crude and
foolish because of her birth, that it was the cursed lot of all who
lacked their privileges. Even Heinrich, who had been so concerned
that she see him as an equal, plainly disapproved. She looked at the
ground, wishing she could sink into it and, when this did not happen,
feeling the heat build towards boiling inside her, struggling to hold
herself back, for Beaturus would almost certainly disapprove of her
murdering his comrades with her bare hands.
Into this seething torment, cut a
sound, not a sweet sound like the ripples of a cool stream, but a
harsh barking sound, shredding through her embarrassment and anger
and turning it to smoke. It was the sound of Beatrus laughing, its
strident grating more beautiful than any melody. What mattered what
the others thought when she had pleased him, brought him joy?
Turning, she saw his lopsided grin, his big teeth, rather like a
horse's and knew she had been given the greatest gift there was. An
entire kingdom prayed weekly for this man to smile and she, she,
had done it. Wild joy spiraled through her, less for the seemingly
impossible achievement, then for the fact that she had given a rare
and special gift to the one she loved, a gift that few others could
provide, though they tried their hardest. From then on, she shared
her jokes and stories as often as she could in the hopes they would
win her a repeat blessing. Not all did, but enough that it more than
repaid her effort in racking her brains for all the examples she
could remember and even listening to pick up new ones when she had
the opportunity. The others resigned themselves and, of necessity,
curbed their disapproval, in deference to their leader, though the
strange, sad look, never wholly left Heinrich.
So things went on, until a time came
when Beatrus had not called them for several days, over a week, and
she was, again, finding it increasingly hard to concentrated on
anything other than his absence. Had he forgotten about her or
decided he no longer wanted to see her? But no. For on the last day
he had not asked any of them to return and for him to tell the others
by message simply to exclude her was too deceptive and too much
effort for his detached, straight-forward personality. Besides, why
should he try to hide his thoughts. She was a peasant girl, a
nobody. He could simply order her thrown out or the doors barred to
her if he did not wish to see her. Besides, she knew none of the
others were going there either. On most days when she had not been
asked to the cloister, she either kept her former vigil on the roof
or watched the entryway to the monastery from across the square and,
in neither case did she every see any sign of the other courtiers.
On those occasions when she did look down into the courtyard, she
almost never even saw him come out by the well so, evidently, it was
not some ploy to evade her as things did not proceed as normal in
these cases. Yes, she had been over all this before, many times and
things had always returned to normal. But never before had it been
so long, and that alone was enough to set her thought racing around
and around like a hound chasing its tail.
She could not be at peace. Without
him there was no purpose and her mind searched frantically for a way
to find meaning in her life. It was all empty, empty, empty. It was
only ten of the clock and she was already done with her work for the
day, having kept up the habit of extreme efficiency during their
separation, so she would be ready when he called her back. If things
were as they should be, she would be heading out to cross the square
to the monastery now. And then, most strangely, almost like
something in a dream, she realized she was outside, crossing
the square. Her force of habit had taken over, driving her to do
what she had been thinking of. She froze, ridged in the middle of
the street, while the crowds of people swirled around her, almost
sweeping her on. How fortunate that she had realized before she had
done something truly stupid. Taking one step, she half turned, ready
to start back to the sanctuary, against every fiber in her being,
moving away from what she craved. She was so close. There was the
monastery door a few short yards away. Even in the crowd, she could
reach it in minutes. But then...? She stood braced in the press of
the crowd, almost panting, as the world seemed to teeter on the brink
of a precipice, her stomach lurching in longing, in terror. Then
slowly, desperately, each step willed, she began to walk, like a lost
man staggering towards a desert oasis that was likely to turn out a
fatal mirage.
And so, a moment later, she stood,
trembling before the door, not able to believe how she could have
dared this. There was still a chance to turn back before she ruined
everything but, even as she thought this, her hand moved of itself
and rapped on the door and she stared at it in disbelieving horror as
the echos died away.
© Amanda RR Hamlin 2025
