Chapter Twenty-Seven

 

 

Aren sat reading the books Danya had brought her. She had heard about the rights before, basic items that the throne enforced for all people. Yet the throne did not protect children from abusive parents, nor did it ensure food for orphans. She had always found that odd.

Education had been added to the rights, that much she knew, but that right only counted for those who came to ask for an education. Learning had to be asked for. Once asked, it could not be denied. Not to the poorest child or the richest lord and at no expense to themselves.

The throne could add to the rights, but taking from them took a great deal more effort. A united land, a council of ranks and commoners alike. Not like changing a tax or changing the ruling of the previous queen to sit the throne.

The rights in the books explained how ranks behaved. It gave a person a right to their bodies, right to control themselves, but offered no protection. Aren could only assume that, in a perfect world, everyone simply allowed others their rights. Yet there must always have been those who tried to snuff out the rights, therefore they must have been protected, somehow.

By the throne, most definitely. More than once the throne had sent out men to start a war, or put down a rebellion. There was more than one myth about the throne sending warriors, sending the mate of the throne, to retrieve a single woman from the other side of palace lands.

He would arrive just in time, astride a shining white horse, dressed in the regal armour of a lord, to save the young woman from her father or brother.

“You look curious,” Danya said.

It startled Aren out of her thoughts. The healer had snuck up on her.

“Thinking about the myths I've heard in relation to the rights,” Aren said. “The throne protects the rights of the people, but surely the throne cannot see every slight, cannot protect against every indiscretion.”

“My mother used to tell me stories about warriors,” Danya said, sitting on the cold floor beside Aren. “You haven't mentioned my mother to Rewel, have you?”

“Of course not,” Aren said. “He comes in and grunts at me, makes some threats, takes out the chamber pot and, if I've been good, he'll bring it back right away. We do not speak.”

“Good. He can speak to some of them, but only the men, and only a handful of them.”

“And you?” Aren asked, handing Danya the book she had been reading. “You could speak to the women?”

“No, just my mother,” Danya said quietly. “The others, those who remained alive, cared for me until I was seven and then they lost interest, I guess. My mother started talking to me then, telling me tales about history, explaining the rights. Even explaining what she could of the rights. Talking to one of the Others isn't like a conversation. They can mainly only make odd comments, nothing that is useful, no direct questions. But Mother loved talking.”

“What did she say about protecting the rights?” Aren asked.

“It is the duty of every rank to protect the rights for everyone, especially themselves,” Danya said, flipping through the book idly. “A warrior who comes across a beaten woman will beat the man who beat her, then take her in. Once she has her feet under her, he'll beat her as well, for not standing up for herself.”

“But a beaten woman is afraid to defend herself!” Aren said.

“It was my understanding that, yes, that was the way of things. But it wasn't just when she was healed from her physical wounds. The warrior would bait her, draw her out, teach her how to defend herself, and then beat her. If she didn't try to defend, he'd do it again.”

“Av hit me once,” Aren said.

“Why ever would he do a thing like that?” Danya asked.

“He slipped his hand up my skirts, discovered who I was and my magic went off. The only way to defend myself was to knock him unconscious.”

Danya sucked in a breath. “From what you've said, Av believes in equality.”

“That was when I was kidnapped by a madman,” Aren said. “He and Jer came out to save me and once I got back to the palace, he gave me a little nudge. I was a bit dazed, you see, anyhow. I basically came to and he pegged me right in the face. Told me it wasn't nice to kiss and then hit.”

“Well, it's not nice to kiss and then hit,” Danya muttered.

“Then he refused to train me more because he claimed the throne wouldn't throw anything at me that I couldn't handle.” Aren made a motion around the chamber. “I think this says otherwise, Av. You moron. Maybe if he had trained me in the first place, I wouldn't be in this mess.”

“That sounds like anger,” Danya said with an edge to her voice.

Aren focused her emotion, and her magic, on the metal of the manacle. It was still difficult, but getting a little easier each time she felt something. Yet it seemed she felt more and more. Anger and hurt, remorse and guilt. Being left alone in the dark was terrifying. She didn't want to be alone any longer but Danya could only spend so much time with Aren without drawing more attention to her.

The magic created by her emotion was fed to neither the throne, nor the link in the manacle. Wherever her magic went, it no longer benefited anyone.

Rewel visited daily and attempted to drive Aren to emotion, but what he did draw out of her never made it farther than her wrist.

“It's best not to bury or suppress emotion,” Danya said with a sigh. “Best to feel it all. Easier later on. Might have prevented you from ending up in this spot as well.”

“You're still working under the assumption that the throne claimed the ‘right to rest’ for me,” Aren said.

“Yes, because you needed to rest. You still do. You are a highly disturbed young woman.”

“I'm not disturbed, I'm very stable,” Aren said to Danya.

“If you're stable, then I'm a queen,” Danya snapped back at Aren.

“We probably shouldn't fight,” Aren said, lowering her head. “It's not like we have other people to talk to.”

“Oh, you can be diplomatic?” Danya asked. “I'm actually quite surprised. Most who sit the throne are too impulsive to look beyond their daily emotions.”

Aren was quiet for a time, considering. “No matter what I actually need, I'm stuck here until spring. Which is—what? Six months away?”

“About four months for us. We're a bit farther north than the palace though, so winter stays here longer,” Danya said.

“That makes it almost time for the winter solstice.”

“The darkest night of the year? Yes, it's in a few weeks. Why is that important?”

“You don't celebrate on winter solstice?” Aren asked Danya. “Even in the vineyard we exchanged small gifts and had a feast. You're supposed to celebrate the lengthening of days, bring holy berry and pine into the house to freshen up the smell.”

“Holy berry and pine?” Danya laughed. “You don't bring that in to brighten up your house, Aren.”

“Why are you laughing? I don't understand. What's funny?”

Danya swallowed her laughter. “Oh, you really don't know, do you? Commoners can enforce certain changes in ranks, or do things to detect them. Holy berry and pine rouses warriors to chasing women. Unless they're already mated, then it just puts a fire in their blood.”

Aren was quiet, considering all the years her mother had pushed her youngest brother towards the arrangements and made grand claims about how they looked. She wondered, briefly, if a warrior could hide the way she could. Though a warrior didn't have to hide from her, given the fact that Aren couldn't tell the difference between a commoner and a warrior.

Besides in Av, besides in Jer.

“To draw out a healer, hang nightshade in her room. She will develop a rash all over until it is removed.”

“Queen's stone will reveal a queen,” Aren muttered.

“Bloodstone reveals a healer,” Danya said. “Commoners who learned how to control ranks through plants were labelled as witches. Controlling others is an insane belief. Everyone has the right to their own bodies and minds.”

“According to my mother, a witch is a queen who uses her magic for the wrong reasons,” Aren said. “According to the palace, a witch is a deviant. Something that exists but shouldn't exist, whose fate is determined by the throne, or the mate to the throne, not by the one who sits the throne.”

“The original witches were commoners. Spells and magic, oh so scary. But what they could do was nothing compared to a queen's rage. The term witch came to mean more over time. We have a long history.”

Danya held up the book she held as an indication to how long the history was. The rights had been transcribed a multitude of times over the years, each time carefully translated to retain the original definitions.

“A long and varied history,” Aren muttered.

“Some time ago—long ago, really—‘witch’ was changed to mean almost what the palace believes it to be, but they had a special name for the witch. It's been struck from my records, but it sounded like a rank. This rank rose up and acted like a warrior but had all the magic of a queen, could speak with the spirits and was capable, at times, of healing themselves.”

“What?” Aren exclaimed.

Danya smiled. “It's not what you think. They were not all these things. Just that, one was like a warrior, one like a queen, another like a healer. They could all speak with the spirits. That's what their rank did. By tapping into the spirit world, they could draw on these huge sums of magic, could even sit the throne if they were paired with a queen. Could fuel the world better than any queen could.”

“The queens became jealous,” Aren said.

Danya shook her head. “The queens accepted them. The problem was that warriors, upon meeting these ones, have an instinctual reaction. They get stabby, is what my mother said. Certainly some queens must have been furious. Who wouldn't be with someone else waltzing in and taking all the credit? So this other rank, this nameless group of people, were hunted to the ends of the world and burned, each one of them. Couldn't hang them, since they'd come back to life more powerful than they were before, talking in tongues. Couldn't cut off their heads, your land would spoil from the blood. Had to burn them, send them straight up to the spirits and leave nothing behind to spoil the land.”

“Were they witches?”

“Once upon a time, a woman stood up in a patriarchal world and demanded equality. She was burned at the stake for being a witch. Times come and go when a queen is burned as a witch. There was a time when every queen was burned as a witch. Witch is simply a term, usually applied to women, usually to women who disobey or break the rules.”

“Men were never burned?” Aren asked.

Danya nodded slowly. “These women all had men. Many of the men slowed down the villagers or warriors who came for their women. The women were only caught because they flew into something like the queen's rage. Or into the queen's rage, and returned to avenge their men, who did not die easily. But yes, more women were burned than men.”

“You know a great deal about witches,” Aren muttered.

“I know a great deal about myths that are the stuff of nightmares. Rewel likes to tell all the ones about ranks and witches. My mother said that myth is based on fact.”

“And given our long history that everyone likes to bring up,” Aren muttered.

“Obviously the myth happened to someone at some point. It's only when you get into the parts where the unranked ones shared their bodies with a second spirit, or there were male queens, or other races walking our world, that's when I start wondering if maybe someone got into the drink before he started telling myths.”

“There are male queens,” Aren said to Danya. The healer swore, which made Aren smile. “Is there any of that drink around? I've never been drunk before.”

“Rewel likes to get into it for winter solstice. Suppose if other people celebrate on that day, it would explain the drinking. I'll see if I can talk him out of a bottle.”

“Wonderful, because I have nothing else to do with my time.”

“I'll bring you more books and one bottle. Nothing more than the one. Don't need you developing a bad habit.”