Into the Deep Wood

Val slept against him, undisturbed, until morning. He had sat awake, staring ahead until he, too, drifted to sleep. In the morning, he carefully lowered her onto the pillows and disappeared out the door.

What was happening with the girl was not an illness. He heard her thrashing and crying out in her sleep in the middle of the night. Her head hit the headboard repeatedly until he could crack the lock. He feared she would break her head open by the time he got inside. Her muscles were spasming, and she was desperately gasping for breath. She’d vomited the second he shook her awake. When he had his hand on her back and around her, she was soaked in sweat.

He examined the stairs to the attic. It did not appear as if anyone had gone up there in a long time. The dirt and dust had settled on every step, and spiderwebs hung loosely from the exposed rafters above.

Rats.

“And what a morning!” Behind him, Ezra had appeared. “To be up so early.”

“Good morning, Ezra,” Marat muttered, his eyes still on the stairs.

“I trust you slept well?” The innkeeper continued.

“Yes, thank you.” Still uninterested, Marat tried to shoot down the conversation. What was Ezra even doing on the third floor? Only three rooms were housed here, and they’d occupied two.

“Is there something I can help with, Master Marat?” Ezra offered, insisting on his presence. He’d noted Marat’s interest in the attic and was clearly suspicious of it.

“Do you happen to have a rat problem?” Marat asked, turning to him. “I thought I heard some in the walls.”

“Oh, by the All-Father, no!” Ezra threw up his hands in protest. “I poison them regularly in the basements. There are no rats here. The building is old; it squeaks and creaks, and I am not about to allow some rodents to chew holes through the support beams.”

Marat nodded, examining the little old man.

Ezra was short, narrow-shouldered, and had a big nose. His clothes were once likely fairly nice but were now frayed and stained after years of neglect. On his face sat small reading spectacles. Behind them, a pair of bright gray eyes.

“Would you mind? My companion swears she heard noises in the ceiling - I assured her I would check it out come morning.” Marat said, gesturing toward the stairs.

“It is in great rack and ruin; I cannot in good conscience let anyone up there.” Ezra shut him down, waving his hand away from the passage.

“I will be careful.”

“You will not! Now please leave,” the little old man angrily turned and started off to the second floor.

Marat waited for him to disappear and turned back to the stairs. He had to figure out how to get there without disturbing the dust. They could not afford to be asked to leave. There was little chance they could find other lodgings this close to the political events.

At that moment, Val appeared out of her room. Marat was taken aback by how ghastly she looked in the daylight. A few shades paler than normal, he could see the thin blue veins in her face and under her eyes. Her lips were dry, and her skin peeled slightly at the corners of her nostrils and mouth.

“How are you feeling?” He asked her, although he could guess.

“Short of breath,” she answered, “but I am alright. I just need water and maybe food. Although, I think the soup I had yesterday may not have sat too well.”

He was almost relieved she chalked it off to the food.

“Get dressed, please.” He told her, making it a point to examine the attic at a later time. There was too much depending on that day.

She nodded, disappearing again behind the door. The second she did, he fell to the floor, his face very close to the wood of the sill. Examining every speckle of dirt, scratching at it with his nails, he looked for anything indicating foul play. But no coin, no thread of yarn, no crushed leaves of tea were present. It was not a hex. The threshold was clear.

He went into his room, digging through his pack. He produced a knife, a needle, and a small red wooden box out of it. Hurrying as not to allow Val to see, to worry, he scratched a small sun to the right of the door - right in the wood. Above it, he stuck the needle into the doorjamb, carefully hiding it from sight. Taking the red box, he opened it and took a pinch of salt out - scattering it across the threshold.

He’d done all he could think of. There was no guarantee that any of it would give him the results he needed - but it was something until he could look into it further. These were the only wards he could think up in a place like this.

The rats in the walls.

Val got dressed, her hands shaking, and everything she picked up felt like it would fall out of her grasp. Was she ill? She did not feel ill, just tired. But the night prior had created a gloom that she knew would follow her around until she went to sleep again. It must have been the foreign spices.

She and Marat left soon after. Today was the day they were to meet up with his friend. A start to a plan, some direction - something besides sitting in a small muggy room.

They walked the streets for a long time - the Cathedral at the center of their horizon. She had never seen a building so tall and large - so bright, white, and grand. And they had not made it even close before they turned away from it to the north. A canal ran there, and on the other side of it, horses and buggies - one of which Marat spoke to, gaining their passage.

They rode down cobbled streets, the ground rough and uneven. Potholes here and there would scare Val as they hit them, the feat of a wheel breaking or the horse hurting itself always present in her mind.

Val got out first as they pulled up. This part of town was significantly cleaner and much better maintained. There were bushes and flowers purposefully planted along the tightly built houses. Here you could see certain differences in the beautification of the buildings - a carving of a rooster or horse, lattice work over the windows, and ugly winged animals carved of wood on the fence posts.

The streets did not smell like feces here, the market stalls were fewer in between. In place of the outdoor peddlers, the storefronts on the first floor of the buildings displayed their wares. They stopped in front of one, the big letters Void&Co carved into a large, freshly painted sign. The windows to this store were adorned with gold lattice and intricate trim, and its front door looked to be very heavy.

“Here.”

Inside the shop, they were greeted with rows of polished tables and velvet chairs. There were dark bookcases with small collections of tomes on each shelf, but mostly, no other wares were displayed.

“This is so strange, what do they sell?” Val asked, scanning the elongated room, which ended with a double set of doors on the other side.

“The things that hunters procure.”

“Oh.”

“Wait here,” Marat ordered, walking toward the double doors.

Val looked around; everything was so clean. The wooden bookshelves were as tall as the ceiling and smelled of mahogany. The tables were so polished that the wood they were made of almost looked like glass.

She stood awkwardly, feeling that if anyone came in, she would not know what to do with herself or how to act. She felt so out of place here. This must have been where nobility had come to buy things for prices she could only imagine. Likely more coin than she had ever seen in her entire life.

The doors swung open. At their threshold appeared a tall blonde woman, followed by Marat.

Val’s eyes got big; she had never seen anyone like this. The woman looked about Marat’s age, maybe a little older. Her long blonde hair was slicked back tight and braided into one long braid adorned with gold cuffs every few inches. It looked very heavy and weighed down. Her face was stern, her eyebrows shaped and well-groomed. She was in a deep blue tunic with gold buttons. Under it, she wore pants - something Val was not used to seeing women do. This woman was someone who carried authority and grace into the room all at once.

Her eyes were immediately on Val, and she smiled hospitably.

“What a pleasure it is to finally meet you, Valeria!” She exclaimed, walking toward Val. As she approached, it became clear that Val only came up to her shoulder - it made her feel like a child. It made her feel as if she stood next to Marat.

Not knowing what to say, Val bowed at the waist slightly, as was the proper way to greet strangers in her childhood home.

“Please, no need.” The woman’s smile was genuine. She was perfectly poised and only barely nodded back to Marat, “I wish I could say that I have heard a lot of you, but it seems our mutual friend here is fairly tight-lipped when it comes to his confidants.”

Marat looked down at the floor. Val couldn’t help but notice he was almost bashful in her presence. Was this the friend-of-a-friend?

“My darling, my name is Theodora. I am so pleased to make your acquaintance.” She took Val’s hand in hers, and they enveloped it entirely. “I have also heard that you may be a special guest of honor in my home today, which bears good tidings.”

She put a special emphasis on the word ‘bears’ and it made Val’s stomach drop.

What had Marat said? What had he told her?

The woman turned and elegantly pushed past Marat. He gave Val a pleading look to follow.

They entered an even more impressive room. It was all the color of emeralds with gold accents. In the middle of it stood a large, heavy desk, and behind it, a series of cabinets - some of them with glass doors that displayed various objects. On the table stood a very out of place bouquet of dead roses. Theodora motioned for them to sit in the opulent velvet chairs in front of the desk while she removed the flowers from sight and sat at the head of the desk.

“Now, I am afraid I do not have too much time to devote, as much as it absolutely devastates me. All four states are here, and the demand for my time is boundless. So, as Marat knows, I prefer, we will get right to the point.” She said, and the gold in her hair and ears jingled slightly. “He has made a very good case for you, my darling. One that I have great interest in. Seems, you are slightly damaged goods - but nevertheless the womb of the All-Father himself.”

Val sank back into her chair. She did not expect to hear those words.

“You wish to go north. You wish to attend the Negotiations to find a benefactor to uphold your right to travel with the King’s company.” Theodora continued. The emotion on her face read as polite and pleasant, but her words were hard and ones no one would dare to interrupt. “Tell me, Valeria, do you know anything of Korschey?”

Val shook her head no. She was not brave enough to speak.

“Right.” Theodora sighed, leaning back in her chair slightly. “And how about the Negotiations?”

Again, no.

Marat shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“We spoke of it briefly.” He muttered, almost seeming embarrassed in front of the woman. She did not acknowledge that he spoke, her eyes still on Val.

“Korschey is not someone that you wish to meet, not someone that I am sure,” her eyes went to Marat momentarily, “that he would like you to meet. So, my reach will only extend to getting you to the Cathedral. Your fate will be in the hands of your companion once I do so. I do not wish to sign a death warrant for you, Golden. ”

Val nodded, stealing a look at Marat. He was adamantly focused on Theodora.

“My favor does not come easily. Fortunately for you, Marat and I have a long account of both a personal and professional history.” She continued. “But even this is not without a price. I’ve named it already, but just as a man cannot decide your fate - he also cannot decide your price.”

Val heard her words but was only acutely aware of what they were. Personal history?

“I wish to study you. I wish to bring someone in to study you. It is not common for one to meet a Golden.” Theodora told her, not acknowledging Marat who slumped back, avoiding Val’s eyes. “Briefly, do not fret. It will not hurt much, and it will not take anything from you. But I do wish you to myself for a few hours so that I may do so. That is my price, my darling.”

“Alone?” Val said, her voice feeling like it was going to break, and she had to swallow hard. Theodora nodded. “I suppose I have to.”

“Forget ‘have to’. You do not ‘have to’ do anything, love.” Theodora said insistently. “I am not here to persuade you into anything or sell you on a ware. It is a direct trade. As Marat would tell you, I am fair, and I do not seek to deceive you.”

“Theo, and the other thing?” Marat asked, suddenly piping up as if he had woken for the first time since they had been there.

“I will examine all aspects.” The woman held their eye contact. He was the first to drop it.

“What other thing?” Val asked, looking to him for answers. It was not lost on her that he had used a very familiar name.

“Do not worry, my darling. A little trust goes a long way - especially when it comes to the present company.” Theodora assured her.

“Alright,” Val said cautiously. “I will do as you ask.”

“Exceptional!” Theodora exclaimed and then turned to Marat. “Give us a few hours, then return. I will provide all that was promised.”

He stole a glance at Val, looking for any indication that she was hesitant or uncomfortable. Then, he stood and briskly walked out of the room.

“Now then.” Theodora pulled a cord that had been at the back of the desk by the display cases. “I will not take much of your time. Now that Marat is gone, I feel that we can be transparent in our dealings. He may have brokered this, but my business is with you - my darling.”

“What would you have me do?” Val asked. Being alone in the room with this stranger, this very intimidating possible past fling of Marat’s had made Val’s jaw strain and chest get tighter.

“Just sit. I seek only knowledge. Tell me, do you know much about the Golden?” She asked.

“Only what Marat has told me,” Val admitted. She tried to remember back to their first conversation. He had spoken about the whole thing in such a reverent tone. This was long before she knew him or he knew her.

“Marat would have presented to you the very theistic version of things.” Theodora leaned back, getting a bit more visibly comfortable. “He is not a man of science but a man of belief. His take on things is deeply rooted in the faith surrounding the All-Father. I have a much more simplistic approach.”

“He said that the Golden birth gods.”

“He is not wrong. But, he is misleading. The Golden can birth gods. No one knows what circumstances are required to bring such offspring into the world. If we are lucky that century, there is but one Golden on this earth. Most live and die never knowing what they are, and this keeps the entirety of the four states and their kings in despondent frustration.” Theodora explained.

There was a thump somewhere on the other side of the room.

“And, unfortunately, there are not many ways to find these Golden. There is a place where women suspected are kept. They are allowed normal lives and a family. Each year, a handful of these hopefuls go through a trial. Whoever passes is expected to conceive within six months. And she will go to the highest bidder among royalty. This is a poor way to manage these things, but I have to admit that it is not without success on the historical side of things. Enough talk, though.” Theodora stood. “Are you ready?”

Val felt the gulp and jaw clenching happen involuntarily.

“Yes.”

At Theodora’s call, a man entered the room. He wore spectacles and clean white clothes. With him, he carried a wooden box with a handle. Once he set it down on the desk, Val saw it was full of medical equipment. Some things she recognized, and others were completely foreign and rather intimidating.

“He will not hurt you, my darling. It is just an examination. We want to ensure that there are no physical signs that can be identified.”

The examination took about an hour. Although some of it was uncomfortable, it was nothing that Val would consider painful. The physician was thorough but also completely emotionless and precise in his movements. This gave her some comfort.

By the end, he stood back, looking at her as if she was a prized pig.

“Mistress, there is nothing that I can find. Although I admit, a surgeon would have had more success than I.” He told Theodora, who shook her head.

“We may be a science collective, but not one of barbarians and brutes. Dismissed.” She told him, turning to Val. “That is a… curious scar you have.”

Val hurried to put her clothes back on. The floor was cold, and more than once, she had wished she never agreed to the terms set forth to her. However, seeing that they found nothing was comforting. Perhaps she never was this thing that everyone said. Maybe they were wrong. Maybe the Hag was wrong.

“Sit.”

Val obeyed.

“There is but one other matter I wish to address with you. Woman to woman.” Theodora said, more seriously now, sitting down across the table from her. “What do you see on this table?”

“What?” Val was a bit taken aback, this question had made no sense to her.

“Look around.”

Val scanned the desk. Very few items were on it. Parchment paper, an ink pen, a book without a cover, and a bouquet of roses.

“The flowers, Valeria. Do you see the flowers?” Theodora nodded towards them. It was only at that time that Val realized that this was the previously dead bouquet. It was blooming - the roses red and fragrant, reaching their thorns toward the ceiling.

“They were dried before…” Val said, staring at their velvety petals. She had noticed the flowers. When the woman said there had been a relationship of some sort with Marat, Val wondered if this was where he was the morning they had gotten to the city. She wondered if he was the one who gave her the flowers.

“Do you know what they are?” Theodora asked. Val shook her head. Would the woman brag? Parade it in front of Val? She didn’t want to hear whatever she had to say about Marat.

It seemed Theodora guessed her thoughts. She reached and took a rose out, holding it out to Val.

“They are called Ambrosia Blossoms. They only come alive in the presence of a first love.” She explained as Val took it in her hands, trying to avoid the sharp thorns.

Val’s heart froze. She stared at the flower silently, unwilling to look up at Theodora. The woman watched her carefully, then nodded.

“It is love, then.” She smiled. “Keep it. It will not wilt until the passion does.”

“I don't… I shouldn’t…” At a loss for words, as it so often happened, Val stuttered. She didn’t wish to speak of it, especially to this woman. She was not supposed to feel it at all anymore.

“As promised, I will keep it brief and to the point.” Theodora’s tone got serious. “I have lived a long time among powerful men. My husband passed away years ago now, and I can speak freely. There was a time that I had done Marat a great wrong. One that cost him and his brother a lot in their life. I wish to atone for this.”

For half a second Val thought she saw doubt on the woman’s face.

“So I will tell you this, my darling. I will repay him here and now because I see that clearly a dance is being done –poorly.”

She sat forward.

“Those flowers did not bloom for you alone.”