Ivy
Cute Knight Deluxe contest entry: Dark Fates
#1 by Ivy - May 21 2007
Cecilia blew over her none-too-warm hands.It shouldn't be that cold at the middle of June… A gust of damp wind made her shiver in her violet and pink gauze costume… well, violet and pink rags, if one had to be honest. The pale coloured gauze had looked quite lovely two years earlier, when she had bought the material at the shop, together with the cheap glass ornaments, and fashioned the fairy-like costume for herself. A slightly sexy fairy, to be sure, but what a success it had been! For two summers she had danced and sung her way to Magic class. It was hard to believe what a pretty face and a supple and partially uncovered body could make in the way of money. Not exactly enough to fund an entire course in Magic, but quite a good deal, and Cecilia had never cared for the spiteful looks her classmates had thrown her way. She had played defiant: after all, no one in the whole College had half her talent for magic, and the day would come when everyone would tremble before her, trying hard to make her forget how they had despised the girl who had to earn a living as a street dancer, amongst other things…
The sudden rumble of a thunder startled Cecilia out of her reverie. After hovering in the sky the whole day long, the early summer storm had unleashed, chasing everyone from the square. There was no point in staying there anymore, no one to dance for, and Cecilia broke into a run as the first, large, cold drops of rain fell from the darkening clouds. Her faded gauze dress and strangely hued hair were sodden when she took repair under the porch connecting the stables to the inn.
She hugged herself as tight as she could and sat fornlornly on a stone step, watching the pelting rain. She was cold and wet and had nowhere to go and, even if the few coins she had earned that day had been enough for a bowl of soup, she wouldn't have crossed the threshold of the inn.
Between thunderclaps, from within came a hum of loud talk and laughter and music, and Cecilia felt very much like crying. She could picture all too vividly the malevolent looks and the lewd sniggers that would meet her in the smoky room… Cecilia balled her fists and bit her under-lip. That was so unfair!
She watched as the lightening coloured the muddy yard, the roofs, the church's spire and the woods a livid white. She wished that lightening would set the whole town afire, she wished she could do it herself with some formidable charm, some charm she did not know, some charm she would never know, now…
The storm thundered on.
"I've heard you have been thrown out of Magic class…"
Cecilia could still hear Carmen's smug, mocking words and the sinking feeling they had given her.
"No… I didn't do anything…" she had stammered, but Carmen, gossiping, heartless, calculating Carmen had only shrugged and thrown over a shoulder that sickeningly false smile of hers, as she walked away. Carmen had no time to loose with a disgraced Magic student.
Still unbelieving, Cecilia had run all the way to the College and pounded on the door of the Magic classroom, until the Lady Orchid herself had come.
"No, not you." had said the Magic teacher "You are banned from this class: you have been giving my daughter dangerous ideas."
And the sparkle of hate in Orchid's eyes had driven home the truth of Carmen's words. Thrown out of Magic class.
Cecilia shivered again, both with the memory and the chilly rain that a capricious wind was blowing every way in the grey dusk. The storm had subsided somewhat, leaving behind a heavy, dull rain and the wind. Much as she tried to rub some warmth into her bare arms, she felt wretchedly uncomfortable. The light of candles shone so invitingly out of the inn windows… Cecilia shrugged the temptation off and dragged herself to her feet. May be her defiant days were far gone, may be she had just had all she could stand for that night, but she would not go begging for a place near the fire…
Besides, there were other ways to get a warm place for the night.
With a sigh, Cecilia threw a glance around to make sure no one saw her. She spared a wry smile to herself: apart the glow from the inn windows, it had grown pitch dark… but living in the streets had given her the cautious instincts of a hunted creature. She did not like to dwell on just what sort of creature… Shaking the thought away with a toss of her head, she slid noiselessly and unobserved in the inn stables and crouched in the darkest corner she could find. She knew that somewhere, on the other end of the low building, some stable-boy was keeping guard on the horses, either grumbling to his bad luck or sneezing on the job. Cecilia hoped it would be fat, slow-witted Bert: the man made a point to be thoroughly unpleasant to her whenever he got the chance, but on such a chilly night, it would take nothing less than a full-scale horse theft to draw him from his cot and his cheap drink. Cecilia waited for a short while and, when she was sure her entrance had caused no alarm, she stole in the first stall, praying the wooden door would not creak. It didn't, but Cecilia was started to find the stall was not empty as she had believed. A small, sleek mare stood there and looked disapprovingly at the bedraggled girl invading her quarters. The animal snorted softly and even started a plaintive neigh.
- Oh, don't! -whispered Cecilia, tentatively laying a hand on the mare's neck- Shush, shush… please? -
The beast reared swiftly, more in objection to the unwanted contact than in fear, and in so doing stirred her bridles, that were hung nearby and apparently sported a quantity of small silver bells.
The faint tinkle almost made Cecilia scream. She swore softly, instead, and took a step away from the mare.
- All right! -she hissed- I'm not touching you! Just let me stay and you won't even know I'm here…How would you like to sleep out in the rain? -She felt silly, reasoning with a horse, but somehow her whispers calmed the mare, who gave another low snort but did not object otherwise when Cecilia curled down in the straw, as far as she could from her unwilling hostess. She lay there, straining her ears to hear whether the stable-boy had been roused, but nothing came from the far end of the stables, except the occasional thump of a shoed hoof, equine snort and softer, unmistakable human snoring.
Cecilia let out a small sigh of relief and wiggled to a slightly more comfortable position. That was definitely better. The straw was clean enough ,the rain was drumming a steady pattern on the tiled roof, and the air , much as it smelled of horses and straw, was reasonably warm. Even the presence of the other occupant of the stall felt oddly comforting.
- See? -Cecilia whispered, as she allowed her tired muscles to relax- And don't tell me I'm bothering you, because I'm not… -
The mare just sniffed, but very quietly.
Cecilia was almost asleep when a sudden noise startled her. She sprang to her knees. Someone had entered the stables with a lantern. Before she had the time to hope the intruder would pass by without seeing her, Cecilia had instinctively scrambled to her feet, her hand on the handle of the wavy kris she always wore in her belt. The sudden movement startled a loud neigh out of the mare, and Cecilia cursed herself as a man kicked the stall-door open. The lantern he held high in his right hand blinded Cecilia too much for her to see anything of the stranger beside a glimpse of brightly coloured clothes, a small, slight figure and a gleam of steel.
At least, she thought, it was not Bert.
As the man made no threatening move, at least, nothing more threatening than brandishing a dagger, Cecilia dared to hope she could talk herself out of this particular corner.
- And what do you think you are doing? -she asked, lifting her chin in her haughtiest manner.
A chuckle came from the stranger.
- May I perhaps ask what do you think you are doing? -he replied, in the most mocking voice Cecilia had ever heard.
Now, if only this man were not the owner of the mare…
- Not that it is any concern of yours, -she snapped back- but I just arrived and I am taking care of my mount myself, since the servants of this place do not strike me as particularly eager… -
She was all too aware of how ill both tone and words would match her dishevelled appearance, but you don't earn a living, let alone Magic School, by performing in the streets without learning to keep up a creditable pretence under the worst conditions.
Nonetheless, she could hardly blame the stranger, when his answer came in a voice dripping with sarcasm.
- I see… -he said- You are taking care of your mount! Which appears to be perfectly dry, although you just arrived in the middle of a damnedly wet night and are, pardon my rudeness, quite wet yourself… -
Cecilia could have laughed at the oddness of it all: her beggar-like self and this dagger-wielding stranger engaged in the most polished verbal sparring in the inn stables… and, if one had to be honest, she was loosing ground.
- You need not concern yourself any further. -she said icily, with as much of a glare as she could muster- I can dry myself at the inn, before I start my performance. -
- Your performance… -repeated the stranger, in that maddening way of his.
- You heard that right! -Cecilia snapped- I happen to be a dancer. I happen to be here to entertain the guests. -
She was not sure this was a wise move, although it could vaguely explain her apparel…
It wasn't, after all. Somehow, this seemed to pique the stranger more than all the rest.
- It happens, -he shot back, a new edge to his voice- that the guests are already being entertained. By me, you know. -
Cecilia's heart sank.
- This is ridiculous! -she exclaimed, in a last desperate attempt- I'll have the innkeeper explain himself! I'm not used to share my audience with… with… -she measured her opponent with a glance as he finally hung the lantern on a hook, revealing a mop of flaxen hair and particoloured clothes of purple and green- …With a mountebank! -
She would have stalked out in feigned indignation, perfectly happy to leave it at that, but the man caught her wrist in a surprisingly strong hold.
- Nice try! -he laughed, giving her a mock bow- I might even have bought it. Except, you see, this is my mount. -
There, inwardly raved Cecilia, just her luck! She wriggled savagely, trying to free her wrist, but the blond man, whose eyes managed to look both very amused and very hard, wouldn't let go.
- So-o! -he said, giving Cecilia a spin so that he could look her in the face- What do we have here? A thief? -
Given the circumstances, the assumption was not completely unfair, and there were many less bland descriptions the mare's owner could have turned up with, and yet the accusation stung Cecilia as a slap in the face. However, she was spared the choice between being called a thief and throwing herself at the mercy of the stranger when a rougher hand wrenched her free from the blond man's grasp, and she found herself manhandled by the forgotten stable-boy, Bert.
- Let me go, you oaf! -screamed Cecilia, and Bert shook her rudely by the arm.
- Happen I'll teach yer manners, before! -sneered the stable-boy, and threw the girl to the ground.
Quick as lighting, the kris appeared in Cecilia's hand. It was an impressive little weapon, in its way, with its water-like gleaming blade and the elegant hilt, but the girl handled it clumsily, and the beefy stable-hand only had to take a step forward and kick the weapon out of her hand.
Cecilia screeched with rage and scuttled back along the stall's wooden partition.
To her surprise, the stranger stepped between her and Bert.
- There's no need for that. -he said, in the calmest voice. He still had his dagger and Bert eyed him warily.
- I'll see to that one. -the stable-boy grumbled, reaching to grab Cecilia again- what did she steal from you? -
The blond man did not stir, except to throw a cold glance to Cecilia over his shoulder.
- Nothing, that I can see. -he said- I'm not even sure she is a thief. May be there was some misunderstanding. The lady says she's a dancer, come to perform at the inn… -he let the sentence trail as Bert broke in a roaring laugh.
- Ay, some lady, ain't you, 'Cilia? -he barked- And some dancer! But I'll teach yer a few steps, I tell yer… Out of my way, little feller! -
And then everything happened together. Bert gave a shove to the stranger, who stumbled back, and Cecilia did not stop to think. Even as she struggled to her feet, she made with her fingers the sign of the Sun right in Bert's face. A small bright light seemed to explode from the palm of the girl's hand, and the stable-boy staggered back, howling in pain and momentary blindness. Cecilia pushed past the two men and ran out in the rain, her worn satin slippers squishing in the mud.
She did not stop until she reached the porch of the College. The school was closed and would be for some weeks, there was little chance of anyone looking her up there. Too bad that the gates were closed and barred, and the stately portico offered very little shelter from the still pelting rain, but it would have to do for that night.
Breathless and shivering, Cecilia leant against the gate and slid to the marble threshold. She felt miserable. It was doubtful she would ever manage to sleep at the stables again, she had lost her kris, her arm hurt where Bert had grabbed her and her gauze dress had been torn in the struggle… Worse still, she had cast a spell and hurt someone! And all because of the green-and-purple-clad mountebank… Bitter, heart-wrenching sobs fought their way through her throat. When a child at the orphanage, Cecilia had made it a point of never crying, no matter what happened to her, always steadying herself with the dreams of the great mage she would become some day… how had she ended up like this, a shabby street dancer and worse, roughing it up in stormy nights, her chosen way barred forever, without hopes, without dreams, without a soul that cared for her… The irony of it all struck her there and then, making her sobs louder and louder. She had picked pockets in the streets, she had danced half naked, she had stolen rubbish from heaps in the slums, she had slept with men for money in order to pursue her dream and, for all this, what had cost her everything had been her one kind act. She had lost herself the day she had befriended one lonely, shy child, promised her to be her "big sister"… just because the child had seemed to care for her.
Exhausted, hurting, chilled, Cecilia sobbed more and more quietly, and eventually cried herself to an uneasy sleep, haunted with dreams of Rose, the only child of the Lady Orchid, and her own sworn sister.
In the stables, Bert rubbed his burning eyes, glad to see again the light of the blond man's lantern.
- The little bitch! -he grumbled, as he dragged himself to his feet- Always sneakin' around, drivin' a feller daft an' then doin' 'er dirty little tricks on 'im… -He halted in mid sentence as a golden gleam caught his still foggy eyes. In the straw, half hidden in it, lay Cecilia's kris, just where he had kicked it. It struck him that, apart from the satisfaction of knowing the girl had lost it, he could either keep it for himself or make some money out of it.
He bent and reached out to grab the weapon, but a swifter, slender-fingered hand beat him to it. Bert's jaw dropped, and he straightened to tower over the small, slightly built blond man.
- Look 'ere, little feller… -he began, but a better look at the man's steel blue eyes made him pause.
- I don't think this is yours.-the stranger observed, tilting his head just back enough to stare at the stable-hand. He held both the girl's kris and his own dagger.
- It ain't yourn, either… -Bert groused, but still he took a step back.
- True. -the blond man smiled, a sunny, devil-may-care smile that made Bert shudder- But you wanted to keep it. I, on the other hand, mean to give it back. -
And with these words he picked up his lantern and sauntered away, leaving a still dazed and very baffled Bert to scratch his none-too-clean head in the dark stables.
The next thing Cecilia knew was a hand on her forehead. Without losing time to figure who, where, why and what, she reached for her kris, only to find it missing. She struggled to sit up, and the world began to spin all around her.
- No use, you know… -said a man's voice- You don't have it any more. -
Cecilia wanted to cry out, but her sore throat and parched lips gave only a pitiful moan. She struggled feebly, but it made her all the more sick, and she found herself unaccountably thankful for the hand that was holding her shoulder.
- Steady, there! -ordered the voice- You've got a fever, and no wonder, sleeping in the rain like that… -
Cecilia cracked her eyelids open. The bright sunlight made her head hurt, and she squeezed them closed again. Even that hurt, but then, she was hurting everywhere.
- Take your hands off me… -she whispered and, with an agonizing effort, she managed to turn and bite deeply in the wrist of whoever was bothering her.
- Ow! -the man gave a startled yelp and shook her- You blasted vixen, you! -
He was still calling her names when Cecilia lost consciousness and pitched forward into his arms.
- Thank you, Doctor. -Cecilia said- Once more. -
The Doctor sighed and pushed his glasses back on his nose.
- You are very welcome, Cecilia. -he answered- I suppose it's no use telling you to take care? -
Cecilia shrugged.
- It just seems I can't keep out of trouble... -she murmured- I'm lucky you don't tire of patching me up. -
The Doctor eyed her, looking very thin and pale in her borrowed plain vest, and shook his head.
- I never will, -he said- but I think you could keep out of trouble doing something else than dancing in the streets… -He sighed again when he saw the girl's eyes harden.
Cecilia managed a tiny, forced laugh.
- And just who would want me for anything else? -she questioned, a touch of sharpness in her voice.
- You know I could use one more nurse. -the Doctor offered- And if you don't like it, Sister Anna can… -
Cecilia, mouth set and eyes cold, hugged harder the bundled remains of her tattered dancing dress and put out her chin, almost defying the Doctor to continue his list of merciful offers. She felt still weak after a week's fever, and she did not know how much longer she could stand the man's kindness.
- You should know better, by now. -she teased, with a feeble attempt at humour. She did not want to quarrel with the Doctor: she might need him again. She almost certainly would. And, if one had to be honest, he did not deserve it.
She was relieved when he just gave up, and the set of her shoulders relaxed a little.
- I should, indeed! -the Doctor grumbled, the sad expression in his eyes belying the anger in his voice- I don't know why I trouble at all with such a proud and stubborn creature as you!
- Don't, then! -shot back Cecilia- though I thank Heaven that you did until today… -
And she spun on her heels to leave. She did not turn when the Doctor called her back, but his next words made her stop.
- The man who brought you in… -curiosity made Cecilia throw a look over her shoulder, and what she saw sent her eyebrows high in surprise.
- Yes, the bard. -the Doctor was holding her own kris by the point- He left this for you. -
Cecilia took the weapon and frowned at it. She knew she had wondered about her blade's fate whenever she had been awake in the last week. She vaguely remembered Bert kicking it from her hand, she remembered herself pointlessly reaching for it, she remembered a voice telling her she had it no more, a stranger's voice…
- A very blond young man, a foreigner, I would guess, in bard's clothes… -there was the barest hint of a question in the Doctor's words.
Cecilia shrugged once more, tucked the kris in her belt and walked away.
Three nights after leaving the hospital, Cecilia was back at the College. The Summer Festival was being held there and, much as she had proposed to keep away from the balls and tournaments, there she was, tightly huddled in a mage's hooded robe, her heart thumping so hard that she could hardly believe it went unnoticed by the people crowding the torch-lit quads. Under the robe she was wearing her darned dancing gauzes, but it was a futile pretence and she had not even tried to find a spot to perform. For the second night in a row, she was hiding in the crowd, haunting the well-known courtyards and halls, craving to enter the Wizard's Challenge and not daring to do it.
Although she knew she had to cast a spell for the Lady Orchid to perceive her presence, she did not even venture into Merlin's Quad, along which ran the row of the twenty-four tall windows of the Hall of the Challenge. The Grand Quad, where every night people gathered to dance and celebrate the Solstice, was as near to the Hall as she could induce herself to go. It was more than she had managed the previous night, and for a short while Cecilia was almost proud of herself… But it was a very short while, and then she ran away, raging at herself. What was she trying to do? Even if she could overcome her fear of the Lady Orchid, was it not bad enough to have been banned from Magic Class, without being exposed in the middle of the Challenge? Orchid had made herself clear enough… Breathless, her heart racing wildly, Cecilia found herself in the gardens surrounding the College, where players, fire-eaters and jugglers were entertaining the merry crowd.
This, she thought, this was her place! There would be no more Magic for her, and she should learn to be thankful for summer nights and an abundance of bawdy onlookers! Swallowing the tears of anger that stung her eyes, Cecilia threw up her chin, forced a provocative smile on her lips and discarded her cloak. She chose the first well-lit spot that looked empty and marched there.
She clapped her hand over her head to command attention…
- No, thank you. -
The cold voice froze Cecilia where she stood, poised to dance.
- This is my place, you know. -Cecilia turned around to see who was addressing her- The guests, here, are already being entertained, 'Cilia! -
And there he stood, looking coolly at her, the stranger in the stables, the bard in purple and green clothes, the man who had brought her to the hospital…
- Don't call me that! -Cecilia screeched, her voice raising to an almost hysterical pitch- Stay away from me! -
The bard shrugged and unslung a lute from his shoulder.
- The latter is mutual. -he announced. He began as if to bow to her, and ended shoving her aside roughly enough. Which was no wise move. Many of the onlookers were men, the sort of men who would rather enjoy a piquant dance than hear old ballads. It was not out of chivalry that a good dozen of them closed on the killjoy who had chased the pretty dancer away, showering him with insults and more tangible compliments, in the form of rotten fruits.
Even as Cecilia threw her robe over her shoulders and scurried away in the crowd, the bard was forced to take a very similar leave in her trail, running for dear life or, at least, before his hitherto audience resorted to rocks and sticks.
Cecilia ran away from the festival. She found herself in the zone where the College gardens merged with the King's hunting woods. She had gone a good way before she paused to catch her breath in a small clearing amongst the firs, and only then it struck her that it might not be safe to wander alone in the woods at night. And, sure enough, when she strained her ears for danger, she was startled to catch the sound of running footsteps. And they were quite near, too… Calling herself names for not being more cautious, Cecilia reached for her kris and was stepping away from the moonlight to hide in the shadows, when a panting, angry voice stopped her.
- I saw you! -it grated bitterly- And you needn't fret, I wouldn't go near you for the world! Had I known you were here… You vixen! -
And Cecilia was very annoyed to see the bard again, his dishevelled hair glistening like pale gold in the moonlight, bent double, hands on knees, panting and breathless.
- What do you want with me, again? -she snarled as threateningly as she could, and brandishing her kris for good measure.
She rolled her eyes when the man made a great show of widening his eyes and staring at her, mouth agape, in a player's portrait of outraged surprise.
- What… do… I… want with you! -he gasped. Then threw up his hands and gave a sour laugh- I like this one! Honest, I like it! I find you trying to filch my mare, you almost slay a stableman and I get thrown out of the inn! Then I bring you to the hospital and you bite me for my troubles! Then I'm earning my bread like a honest man, and you come and stir up that mob to go for my throat… and you ask what I want with you! Doesn't this beat everything! -
To Cecilia's surprise, he was indeed acting, but only a little. He was really baffled and heated, enough to loose his elegant manner of speech. Besides, he was bellowing to the top of his lungs and gesticulating wildly with his lute.
She stepped in the moonlight.
- Will you quiet down! -she admonished sternly, but much of the sternness was lost in a not completely successful attempt to suppress a giggle.
- Right! -snorted the bard, in a fractionally quieter voice- All I need now are the guards flocking on me… With my luck, they're sure to think I'm out to murder you, so they'll drag me in jail and… and… -completely out of breath, the man gave up his tirade and bumped down to sit on the grass, legs crossed, lute across his knees- Will you quiet down, Kit…-he muttered darkly to himself.
He looked very much like a sulking boy but, now that she could take a good look at him, Cecilia had to own that he was rather handsome. Small and petulant, may be, but handsome nonetheless.
She took a couple of steps forward, and he looked up at her frowning in alarm. When he saw the kris gleaming in her hand, he shrugged dismissively and, Cecilia couldn't help thinking, with some relief.
- Just so that you know, -she retorted in a voice that sounded overeager in her own ears- I am a thief and many other things, but that night I wasn't trying to rob you! I only wanted a place to sleep, and you got me thrown out! -
The bard shrugged his shoulders, half apologetically, half in dismissal.
- Sorry for that, but considering, I guess it makes us even. -he grumbled, always keeping a wary eye on her- And no need to wave that thing at me, you know. Remember that it was I who gave it back to you. And besides, from what I saw at the inn, you hardly know how to handle it. -
It was Cecilia's turn to stare in amazement at the man's impudence.
- Do I! -she gasped- This from one who is all but cowering before a girl! I wonder just how you got my kris back from that oaf Bert at all! -
Unexpectedly, the bard grinned.
- Sheer effrontery and presence of mind, wisely blended. -he answered, without missing a beat- Although I fancy I could have held my own against your Bert. -
The man's smile was infectious. Cecilia found herself grinning back.
- The cheek of you! -she laughed out, and took a step forward, tucking the kris back in her belt. To her surprise, alarm flickered in the bard's eyes, and he scurried slightly back.
- Now, really… -his voice was tense under a veneer of carelessness- You are not going to enchant me or something, are you? -
Cecilia arched her brows in surprise.
- Silly of me, I know, - the bard chatted on, but never took his wary eyes from her hands -but I think Magic doesn't agree with my constitution… -
Cecilia laughed outright. Of course he could not know that she would not dare to use her Magic, not this near to the College, and in general not when she was in her right mind.
- So, -he soothed- remember my good deeds and don't, please don't throw charms at me, will you, 'Cilia? -
The laughter died in Cecilia's throat and her eyes narrowed to angry slits. Everyone at the orphanage had called her 'Cilia, and she had hated it. She hated it even more now that somehow the ugly syllables had turned up again in her dancing and begging days. But, if one had to be honest, the bard could not possibly know that…
- Let's make a deal. -she proposed in a low, icy voice- I won't cast spells at you, as long as you don't call me that!
- As long as I don't… -the bard was quite baffled- Oh… -
But before they could explore the issue any further, they were interrupted by a burst of loud voices. Six or seven men, apparently merrymakers who had enjoyed too much beer at the festival, staggered in the clearing, singing out of tune and laughing coarsely. They were carrying torches, and the dancing, smoky flames tore into the silvery darkness, making Cecilia and the bard blink.
- Ugh! The thing they are howling was my ballad! -grimaced the bard, and then either the recognition became mutual or the drunks decided they needed no particular reason to start a brawl. They threw themselves on the pair, clumsy with drunkenness but quite bent on making as much harm as they could.
- Oh, hell! -swore the bard, unsheathing his dagger and slinging his lute over his shoulder in one smooth motion. He slashed out at one of the assailants with some skill, or at least enough of it to make the man yelp and take a jump backwards, but this only served to make the attackers noisier, merrier and angrier to this one small man who confronted them.
The bard turned to Cecilia.
- Don't gape! -he yelled- Do something! -
Cecilia, whose inclination would have been to run, shrugged unhappily, but reached for her kris and attempted a lunge of her own. Apparently, it was not what the bard had hoped for. He rolled his eyes as the drunks roared laughs and coarse names at the girl. In the blink of an eye, beating several other brawnier hands, he caught Cecilia by the wrist.
- Run! -he shouted, and dragged her away in a mad dash for the cover of darkness.
They ran like hunted deer amongst the trees, bushes tearing at their clothes and thorns scratching their skin. Cecilia tried a few times to tug her wrist free of the man's grasp, at first, and she was ready to panic when she could not shake him off. She had already begun to move the fingers of her free hand in the sign of the Mirror, when a burst of angry shouts cleared her mind enough to quell the urge to use Magic. This cheeky bard was not the real danger… Their pursuers were, and the Lady Orchid, back in the Hall…
At length, the yells and footsteps died away. Cecilia supposed the men had tired of the chase. Or may be they were unwilling to continue it in the tricky darkness of the woods, for which she could not blame them.
She herself was out of breath, had tumbled twice in the mud and lost one of her satin slippers. Her side hurt from the effort and she felt blood trickle from various cuts and scratches all over her person. When she decided she had had enough, she did not waste either time or breath in arguing. She just threw herself on the ground, trusting that the bard should be too drained himself to run on dragging her dead weight. And fortunately, so he was. As though he had been expecting for nothing but this, he sank heavily by her. Cecilia strained her hears, but all she could hear was the hoot of an owl somewhere. Beside the heavy panting of two very exhausted people.
It was a while before either could find the breath to speak, and it was the bard to break the silence.
- Now, why… -he panted- why in blazes… didn't you charm them? -
Cecilia raised her head a little and lowered it again, with a half miserable, half angry sigh.
The man drew nearer on his knees and grabbed her by the shoulder.
- I mean it! -he whispered fiercely- Why didn't you blind them, or burn them, or whatever, eh? -
Cecilia made a feeble attempt to push him away.
- I can't. -she gasped.
The bard shook her a little.
- You could all right, that night at the stables! -he retorted distrustfully.
Cecilia shrugged free of his hold, fully incensed, now.
- Very well! -she seethed- Then I mustn't! I never do it, not when I'm in my right mind. I only charmed the stableman because I panicked…
- And you didn't panic, tonight? -cut in the bard.
Cecilia threw him a slightly guilty, sideways glance.
- As a matter of fact, yes… -she stammered- I almost charmed you, when you were dragging me that way… -
The bard stared at her in wide-eyed incredulity for a long instant and then, much to Cecilia's surprise, he collapsed on his back, laughing hard, and laughed until he was almost sick.
The whole time, Cecilia knelt by the laughing man, wringing her hands and throwing worried glances over her shoulder.
- Serves me right! -gasped the bard at length- Catch me trying to help a damsel in distress again!
- I'm sorry… -Cecilia found that she really was- Really, I'm sorry… you don't understand: she can sense it when I use Magic, it scares me… -
This seemed to sober the man enough to raise himself on his elbows and look at Cecilia with some appearance of gravity in his streaming eyes.
- Who is [i]she[/i]? -he asked, not unkindly.
Cecilia shook her head and was horrified to find her chin was trembling.
The bard sighed a long-suffering sigh and rose to his knees.
- Look, how shall I call you? -he insisted.
- Cecilia. -was the unsteady answer.
of all things, the bard chose to lift the girl's chin with his fingers.
- That's a name for a madrigal. -he whispered, a smile in his voice- Who is she, Cecilia? -
And Cecilia melted to this stranger's kindness as she had never melted, except to the sadness in little Rose's eyes and, not caring any more that tears streamed down her cheeks, told him. She told him about the orphanage, her dreams, the hope that had drawn her to the Lady Orchid's school. She told him about the unusual talent she had displayed and how it had won her the interest and regard of the Mistress of Magic. And she told him of her friendship with Orchid's young daughter, Rose, to whom she had agreed to be a big sister.
- …And when she found out that the child looked up to me, that she taught me hereditary charms and planned to enter the Challenge this Solstice because I would, she banned me from School. She ordered me to stay away from her and Rose, she told I had repaid her kindness betraying her trust, that Magic was forbidden to me from that day onwards, and that she would know if I disobeyed her ban, and punish me, and now and then she visits me in my nightmares, to make sure I don't forget… -Cecilia paused, drew a shaky sigh and shook her head- And that's it. They used to respect me, even if I was an orphan and a street dancer, they'd never dare to offend the Mistress of Magic's favourite pupil, but when I lost her favour… Well, you have seen it! -
Cecilia broke sobbing again. She stiffened when the bard drew her in an embrace. She sobbed harder and tried to disengage herself, but he would not let her go. She had already yielded so much, that night, she had told that man so much, she had accepted his kindness… it seemed natural, after a while, to lean in his embrace.
He cradled her gently, stroking her hair.
- I'm sorry I called you a mountebank. -she whimpered.
The man chuckled.
- You should be sorrier that you bit me, got me mobbed and almost roasted me… -he teased- But I'm sorry I called you a thief. I guess we are even, eh?
- I don't even know your name… -Cecilia murmured dreamily. She felt oddly safe in this man's arms.
- Kit. -he answered, and gave another of those dramatically patient sighs that seemed to be part of his repertoire when she did not completely stifle a giggle- I know, I know. A bard should be called something more flamboyant… But I'm just plain Kit. -
Cecilia allowed him to pick her up and lay her under a tree, where the ferns had grown in a thick, soft layer.
- See? -she whispered- I didn't bite you, this time. -
Kit laughed as he stretched himself beside her.
- That's nice, for a change. -he said.
Cecilia sighed. It took her a moment to realize it was a sigh of contentment. The warm summer night, the scent of the crushed ferns, the stars blinking amongst the leaves over her head, the crickets chirping in the grass and someone laying at her side, someone who had told her that she had a name fit for a madrigal and was not even trying to touch her… She had not felt so much at peace in years. So many years that she wondered whether she ever had.
Cecilia was awakened at dawn by the birds saluting daylight. She opened her eyes in the green dusk of the wood and the sight of leaves gently stirring in the morning breeze met her stare. She basked for a moment in the blurred memory of dreams. Real dreams, for once, blessedly not nightmares… She lifted her hands to rub her face and she felt the scratches and cuts of the night run, and it all came back to her. She turned to look and, as she had be half-expecting, half-fearing, Kit was gone.
She sat up with a sigh and proceed to take stock of herself. She wanted something to get angry about, and her ruined dress, lost slipper and assorted bruises and cuts looked like a sound reason to swear a good deal. One would see she could not dance in that state, and one would equally see how this would make her mad. Whereas, being mad at the bard for being kind to her and then leaving her to stumble back to her ugly life…
End of Part One
if you has more stories please post them!
Ivye