Rhapsody: Child of Blood

55

“Hey, give me that; you’re going to eat them all.”

“What, you wanted to set them in store for winter? Besides, I’ve been sharing.”

“Right. One for me, six for you, one for me, four for you—”

“Well, you’re a tiny little runt. You need less food.”

“Watch it,” Rhapsody said, trying to look stern and failing miserably. “We’ll go ten rounds with mace and chain and we’ll see who’s a tiny little runt.”

Jo swallowed the bonbon and made a face. “Mace and chain?” she said in mock disgust, wiping the chocolate smear from her face with the back of her hand and snatching another sweet from the tin. “Firbolg toys. Give me a dagger any day.” Rhapsody smiled and made a grab for the last chocolate on the top layer. Jo snagged it and popped it into her mouth, grinning.

“Dagger is a weapon with more finesse, I agree,” Rhapsody said, settling for a dried apple. “But it won’t do you much good if you need to maintain some distance. What do you think of this candy?”

“Sss mgooddd,” Jo answered, her mouth full. She swallowed and pulled out the empty divider, opening another layer of the box for exploration. She dove in, scattering comfits and sweetmeats onto the bed and floor around her, hooting with delight as she discovered more of her favorites, with an expression so gleeful that Rhapsody could not help but laugh in pleasure at the sight of her. “But I can still taste that shit you fed me to ward off poison. Honestly, who would put poison in a gift meant to curry favor with a king?”

Rhapsody gave her an amused look of disbelief. “This is Achmed we’re talking about here. I’m amazed it wasn’t full of acid.”

“Is that the reason you refused to wear the lovely garnet earrings sent by the benison of Avonderre-Navarne?”

“No, I was afraid those would turn my ears green, the tawdry things. I have to admit I’m a jewelry snob. I don’t wear much of it, but I like it to be nice.”

Jo took a bite of another candy. “Except that one day in Bethe Corbair, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear anything but that locket,” she said, pointing to the gold lavaliere that dangled from Rhapsody’s neck on its thin chain. Rhapsody took it in her hand and looked at it for a moment, but said nothing.

“Anyway, whoever this Lord MacAlwaen is, he has good taste in things that taste good,” Jo said, unwrapping some caramelized nuts.

“He’s a western baron; his lands are a little to the south of Sepulvarta,” Rhapsody said, stretching out on the floor. “Be careful; those are harder than they look. I would guess his gifts are purely a courtesy; he’s not particularly vulnerable to Ylorc.”

“As if Achmed could be bought off with candy.”

“Well, that’s not all he sent. It’s actually a pretty clever gift, because it tacitly recognizes that there is a new sophistication in the leadership of the Firbolg.”

“Tacitly? I guess that sophistication doesn’t include me. What in hairy balls is tacitly !”

“Sorry; it means basically, naturally, silently. Are there any more nougats?”

“Not anymore,” Jo giggled, tossing the last in the air and catching it in her mouth. “They are tacitly gone.”

“Wench.” Rhapsody smiled at Jo; it was good to see her laugh. “I think I’m going to keep your present after all.”

Jo rubbed her mouth with the back of her sleeve and sat up in interest. “Present? What present?”

“Well, I just thought with all these gifts of state pouring in for Achmed that you deserved a little something, too. But you’ve been such an unbelievable hog with that box of sweetmeats that—”

Jo’s eyes widened. She quickly grabbed the first thing she could find in the box and offered it to Rhapsody with a comic sincerity. Rhapsody looked down; it was a prune. The two burst into gales of laughter.

“All right, all right,” Rhapsody said, rising and shaking the chocolate crumbs off the long skirt of her nightgown. She went to the high wardrobe, brought by cart from Bethany, and hauled out a large wooden crate. She dragged it across to the bed, and with an elaborate curtsy presented it to Jo, who grabbed it and pulled the top off, spilling the wood chips used for packing all over Rhapsody’s chamber.

Jo unwrapped the stiff paper at top of the box to find many small flat disks with metal spikes in the center. She looked at Rhapsody quizzically. “Oh, thank you,” she said sweetly, “just what I wanted—cockroach traps.”

Rhapsody laughed. “Keep going.” She watched as Jo dug further and brought out a handful of candle tapers, both tall and short in multicolor hues. “I thought since you didn’t have a fireplace in your room, you might like to have some warmth and light at night.”

Jo looked amazed. “There must be a thousand in here.” she said, examining one closely. “In all my life I only ever had one, and it was for emergency use only. Got it off a dead soldier.” She carefully returned it to the box and looked up, a strange look in her eyes. “Thanks, Rhaps.”

“You’re more than welcome,” Rhapsody said, touched by the expression on her face. It was like looking at herself a few years back. “Don’t hoard them, use them. We can always get more. I mean to make your life a brighter place than it used to be.”

“Which is why you brought me to live under a mountain surrounded by Firbolg.” Jo smiled. “Let’s go try them out.” She pulled herself off the bed and lifted the large crate. Rhapsody opened the door, and they scurried across the hall to Jo’s room, lugging the heavy box.

Rhapsody let out a little shriek as Jo opened the door. “Gods, what happened in here?” she said, surveying the mess. “Your room has been ransacked. I’ll go tell Achmed and have him get the guards.”

“What are you talking about?” Jo asked incredulously. “It’s fine—it’s just the way I left it.”

“You’re kidding,” said Rhapsody, looking at the clutter in bewilderment. “You did this on purpose?”

“Of course,” answered Jo indignantly. “Don’t you know anything about hiding stuff?”

“Apparently not.”

“You’ve gotta do it in plain sight,” said Jo, wading through the litter, pulling the crate with her. She sat down on the rumpled blankets of her unkempt bed. “That way nobody can find anything.” She rummaged through the box again and pulled out a variety of candles, then began spearing them onto the metal candleholders.

“Including you,” said Rhapsody, observing the disorder with a mixture of horror and amusement on her face. “You could get lost in here yourself, and we’d never find you, Jo.” Gingerly she stepped over a pile of dirty clothes and around some debris from an in-room snack, to a small wooden chair onto which several pairs of shoes had been thrown. She removed the footwear and sat down cautiously.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jo retorted, tossing a few of the tapers at Rhapsody along with some of the disks. “I know where absolutely every last thing is. I’ll prove it. Give me an example.”

“Oh, Jo, I’d be afraid to ask.”

“Go on, name something, and I’ll tell you where it is.”

Rhapsody cast a glance around the room, then set to work on the candles, hiding her smile. “All right, where are your wrist sheaths?”

Jo gave her a disgusted look and held up her wrists. “Ahem.”

“You wear your daggers to bed?” Rhapsody asked in astonishment.

“Only two,” Jo answered defensively, covering the sheaths with the sleeves of her nightgown again. “The rest I keep under the pillow.”

“Gods. All right, where do you keep your money?”

Jo glared at her suspiciously.

“Never mind, bad choice. Let’s see, how about that book I gave you to practice your letters in?”

“Ah-ha!” Jo crowed triumphantly. She shot out of the bed and bustled over to an enormous stack of crates, cloaks, and tins of dried meat. After shifting the equivalent of her own weight in garbage and rummaging through several cloth sacks, she finally held up a tattered bound manuscript. She blew the dust off and dropped it in Rhapsody’s lap, a smug look of victory on her face.

“I can see you’re studying hard,” Rhapsody said in dismay.

“One more. Ask me another one.”

“No, that’s not necessary, Jo, I believe you.”

“Come on, Rhaps. This was just getting good. Ask me another.”

“Well, where do you keep your clean undergarments?”

Jo looked uncomfortable. “Define clean.”

“Eweeeyuuu.” Rhapsody looked sick. “What do you mean, define clean? There’s clean; there’s not clean. What else is there?”

“Well, there’s sort of clean,” Jo said, looking sheepish. “You know, stuff that’s only been worn this month or last.”

“Please, I beg you, don’t tell me any more,” Rhapsody said seriously. “You win, Jo. As soon as I go back to my room, I’ll adopt your system. Just please, don’t make me ask you anything else.”

“Oh, who are you kidding?” Jo retorted, standing up with the candles in her hands. “If you don’t have your clothes organized in order by color of the rainbow with matching accessories stored in attached bags you go into an apoplectic fit. Where do you think we should put these?”

Rhapsody looked around the room. “Didn’t you use to have a dresser in here somewhere?”

Jo brightened. “Good idea,” she said, and navigated over to an enormous mound decorated with clothes in all different states of soil. With a sweeping motion she shoved the clothing onto the floor, revealing the dresser, and began setting the candles carefully on it.

Rhapsody shuddered, lifted the hem of her nightgown, and picked her way through Jo’s treasures until she made it to the other side of the room. She began surreptitiously straightening some of the area under the guise of setting up her candles on a large trunk.

“I’m not sure this is such a good idea, Jo. I would hate to see a fire in here.”

“Don’t worry,” Jo said, rummaging through the dresser. “I’ll move everything into one or two big piles in the middle of the floor; that ought to do it.”

“Only if you then set them ablaze,” said Rhapsody. She touched each taper and concentrated on the fire within her soul. The wicks glowed, then snapped with flame.

“Whoa,” said Jo, watching from the other side of the room. “That’s impressive. Where’s your flint? I can’t find my tinder-box.”

Rhapsody rose and crossed the room again and stood next to Jo. Despite the girl’s greater height she wrapped an arm around her shoulder and touched the second group of candles, setting each of them alight as before. Jo continued staring for a moment, then sat down on the bed once more.

The glow from the candles settled over the room, bringing a warmth and heat to the musty air. The mess retreated into the darkness and the chamber assumed a friendlier, more comfortable atmosphere. Rhapsody pulled her knees up in front of her on the chair, smiling at Jo from across the room.

“Well, how do you like it?” she asked, watching Jo’s eyes in the candlelight.

Jo was silent for a moment, looking all around her in amazement.

“It’s marvelous,” she said, the hard edges of her face receding in the dark. “Light at night. I’ve never seen anything like this before, except where they light the lamps in Quimsley Garden, the rich section of Navarne. I tried to sleep there one night, but after the lamplighters make their rounds the town guard make theirs, and when they find you they make you more than willing to return to the darkness of the friendlier streets. Anyway, it really makes the room look nice.”

“My mother used to say that the simplest house was a palace in candlelight,” Rhapsody said, looking thoughtful. “Now I see what she meant.”

“I’ll bet she never imagined your house would be like this,” Jo said, stretching out on the bed, her arms beneath her head. “She probably would have a fit if she saw you here.”

“You’d be surprised,” Rhapsody smiled. “My mother was hard to rattle. She lived through a lot of ugliness, but she never let it touch her. It was like she carried candles in her eyes that could weather anything without blowing out.”

Jo was quiet again. Finally she pulled a dagger out from beneath her pillow and began balancing it, tip first, on the fingers of her outstretched hand. “You must have loved her a lot.”

Rhapsody looked into the candles burning brightly near her. “Yes.”

“And she probably loved you too, right? Well, didn’t you just have the nicest life.”

Rhapsody made note of the bitterness in her voice, and took no offense at her words. “Yes, Jo, I guess I did. But that didn’t stop me from throwing it all away.”

“Yeah? That sounds pretty stupid.”

“It was,” Rhapsody agreed.

“Then why did you?”

Rhapsody’s hand came to rest on the locket at her throat again. She stared into the light of the new candles, trying to force the words out that had never been spoken to another soul.

“It was for a boy.”

“Oh.” Jo switched hands. “Was he your first?”

“Yes. And my last. I’ve never loved anyone like that since. I never will.”

The dagger whirled between her fingers. “And you ran away with him?”

Rhapsody wrapped her arms more tightly around her knees, the shadows from the firelight dimming. “No. I ran away to find him. Never did. He got what he wanted from me, and then he was gone.”

“Why didn’t you just go back home?”

“That’s a question I ask myself every day.”

“And now you can’t?”

“No. Now I can’t.”

Jo listened in silence, but her sister said nothing more. Rhapsody continued to watch the candle-flames, lost in memory. Finally Jo sat up and began running the dagger along the edge of her boot.

“So what’s it like? You know, the mother thing.”

“Hmm? Oh. Wonderful. At least mine was. Some of my friends and their mothers hated each other; I’m convinced that was why so many of them married early, just to get away from home. But my mother was extraordinary. She had to be; she was the only one of her kind in the whole village.”

“Kind?”

“Yes; she was Lirin, the only survivor of the destruction of her longhouse. When she first married my father I’m sure she had to put up with a lot of nonsense, but she undoubtedly bore it as she did everything, with gentility and grace. I don’t believe I ever heard her say anything unkind about anyone, even those who had been unkind to her. Indeed, when people were cruel to my brothers, she never let them give in to anger over it. By the time I came along—I was the sixth child and the only girl—everyone in the village loved her.”

“She sounds special.” Jo’s voice was noncommittal.

“She was to me. The favorite memories of my whole life are of how we would sit, after dinner, in front of the fire, just she and I. She would brush my hair and sing me the old Lirin songs, and tell me the old tales so they wouldn’t be forgotten when she was gone. We could talk about anything. I think of her now every time I sit in front of a fire; in a way, it comforts me. Of all the things I miss in my life, I think I miss her the most.” Rhapsody fell silent, and around the room the candles flickered for a moment.

Jo stared at the wavering shadows on the ceiling. “Well, at least you had a mother who wanted you. It could have been worse.”

Rhapsody came out of her reverie. “Tell me about your mother, Jo,” she said gently.

“What’s to tell? I never knew her.” Jo manipulated the dagger over the back of the knuckles of one hand, then the other.

“So how do you know she didn’t want you?”

Jo dropped the dagger on the floor, then bent to retrieve it.

“Is this a trick question? If she had wanted me, if she had loved me at all, don’t you think I would at least be able to look all weepy like you and say nice things about her? Don’t you think I’d at least be able to remember what she looked like?” With an angry stabbing motion she slid the dagger back under the pillow and lay down again, hands beneath her head once more.

Rhapsody rose and came across the room. She sat down on the bed at Jo’s feet. “Not necessarily,” she said, trying not to catch Jo’s eye. “You have no idea why you were separated. Maybe she had no choice.”

Jo sat bolt upright. “Or maybe I was more trouble than I was worth to her; maybe she couldn’t wait to be rid of me. You have no idea either, Rhapsody. It’s great that you had a wonderful mother who loved you; I’m happy for you. But do me a favor—spare me the nice thoughts, all right? It doesn’t help.”

“Besides, it’s easier to believe she didn’t love me; then I can just hate her and not feel bad about it. What’s the point of believing otherwise? One way or the other I’ve been alone as long as I can remember, and it’s not going to change. In the end it doesn’t make any difference whether she loved me or not.” Angry tears spilled out of her eyes.

Rhapsody took Jo into her arms and cradled her as she wept, shuddering with painful, ugly sobs. She caressed her sister’s hair as she cried, whispering a song of comfort so low that Jo couldn’t hear it above the sound of her own misery.

After a moment the tune had its effect and Jo grew calm, but she left her face buried in Rhapsody’s shoulder until the Singer pulled her away gently, and took her tearstained face in her hands.

“Now you listen to me, Josephine the Unnamed. It has changed; you are not alone, and you never will be again. I love you. We belong to each other now, and I am here to make it better for you.”

Jo sniffed. “Make what better?”

“Anything. Everything. Whatever needs to be made better. And it does make a difference. Your mother loved you; how could she possibly help it? Who wouldn’t? Go ahead, give me all the nasty faces you want; it doesn’t change the truth. I can’t explain it to you, but I am sure of it. She loved you. Now she’s not the only one anymore.”

Jo watched her a moment more, then smiled. She pulled Rhapsody’s hands from her face and pushed back on the bed.

“Well, you certainly have a good opinion of yourself,” she said jokingly. “I never said nobody loved me.” A wicked smile crept over her face.

Interest came into Rhapsody’s eyes. “Oh? And who might we be referring to, hmm? Is there something you haven’t told me?”

“No,” said Jo, sighing. “Not yet, at least. I’m hoping, though.”

“And who might this lucky person be?”

Jo sat cross-legged, picked up a cushion and held it tight to her stomach. “Ashe.”

“Who?”

“Ashe. You know. Ashe.”

“Who’s Ashe?”

“Gods, Rhapsody, are you dead or something? Ashe. You know, the one with the beautiful hair, from Bethe Corbair.”

Rhapsody was utterly perplexed. “Jo, I have literally no idea who, or what, you’re talking about. Who is Ashe?”

Jo rolled her eyes. “You know; the guy with the—well, you know—” Her face turned red with embarrassment.

Rhapsody looked at her quizzically again, and then the memory returned of their encounter with the cloaked stranger in the street market.

“Oh! Him.” Amusement began to sparkle in her eyes, and she leaned forward and whispered in a conspiratorial tone. “Jo, I have it on pretty good authority that just about every man has ‘you know.’”

“Brat.” Jo belted her with the cushion, laughing, but still looking embarrassed. Rhapsody saw her begin to turn self-conscious, and she artlessly changed her tone from teasing to encouraging.

“How do you know he has beautiful hair?” she asked. “If I recall correctly, we didn’t see his face at all; he had a hood on.”

“You didn’t see his face,” Jo corrected. “My angle was a little different—”

“I’ll say,” laughed Rhapsody, earning herself another belt with the cushion.

“I caught a glimpse of him under his hood when he lifted me off the ground. His hair is the color of copper; not dull like copper coins, but like the shiny pots that hang in the tinker’s booth in the market. And his eyes are the most incredible shade of blue. That’s about all I saw, coppery hair and crystal-blue eyes, but it was enough.” She let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Gods, Jo, what if that’s all of him there is?” Rhapsody said in mock concern. “I mean, what if that’s all there is under there—hair and eyes and nothing else? Bbbrrrrrr. Not a pleasant thought. Don’t you think you ought to at least see all of him before you pick out your wedding china?”

Jo crossed her arms in annoyance and fell into a petulant silence. Rhapsody hastened to make peace.

“I’m sorry, Jo; I’m being ridiculous. I’m glad you met someone you like. But if I recall, wasn’t he trying to cut your hand off?”

“No, you were trying to cut his hand off,” Jo said, still annoyed. “He was nice to me, that’s all. Let’s just forget it, all right?”

Rhapsody sighed. “You really have been ill-used, my girl, if that’s what you call someone being nice to you. But who knows; sometimes first impressions are the most accurate. So what do you think your chances are of ever meeting up with him again?”

“Probably none,” said Jo, uncrossing her legs and putting her feet on the floor. “He did say he’d come to visit, though.” She reached under the bed for the chamber pot.

Rhapsody took her cue. “We’ll see,” she said, rising from the bed and heading for the door. “You never know, Jo; stranger things have happened. In the meantime, get some sleep. Maybe this time if you’re more rested you can actually pick his pocket successfully.” She gave Jo a playful wink and opened the door.

“Good night, sis,” Jo answered, laughing.

Rhapsody smiled and Jo felt warmth surround her, like an embrace. “Good night, Jo.” She closed the door quietly, and leaned up against the wall, hugging herself with joy. After a moment, she returned to the darkness of her own chamber, made somehow brighter now.