Chapter Two
"Tusheba, which meant land of many riches,
was high up on the social scale.
The Barons and Baroness’ were compassionate sovereigns,
and always gave every criminal a fair trial before the sentence was proclaimed.
This, in the end, led to their downfall,
when the Chailan mercenaries came several years ago,
and were in full control of the palace within hours of their entry.
The Baron Ranear is held hostage still …"
--The Pasegean Scrolls
"Get away from me, you horrible man! I am not your chattel!" Catrin screamed as he twisted her arm and pulled her towards the town gates of Tusheba. She calmed herself and spoke again. "I said …"
His leer spoke of nothing but superiority. "Ha! I care for nothing you say, girl, and either shall the Baron … so you’d best learn that silence is golden." His accent was strange, different from the others in the land. But then, she’d never been out of Menilan before.
Another man pulled her away from the first, and smiled. Such a smile made her nauseous. "Ah, lahkir, I am sure Caleander will have much fun with you. Such fire, such spirit." Revolted, Catrin could look no more upon their faces. She searched the crowd of newly-sold slaves for members of her family.
She saw her mother, far away behind her … or was it Mrs. Faille? "Damn these awful times! What is the land coming to when a daughter cannot pick her own mother from a crowd of people she has known her entire life?" Then bitterness crept into her thoughts. "What am I saying? It is a time when Chail and her queen cannot be satisfied with the size of their province so much that they have to deprive others of a simple life."
Again she was grabbed, this time by a woman. She pushed her into a small group of girls around her own age. "You’re to work in the castle scullery and kitchen," she said, her voice hard and spiteful. "Hope that’s good enough for you Menilan scum!" Spitting in their general direction, she walked off to organise another group.
"Oh, that’s good enough for us, don’t worry. You just go home to your happy family and enjoy the good life." Catrin would have said the words out loud, but she was ushered off inside the city.
Daily shoppers looked upon her and the others with disdain and dislike. "What have we ever done to them?" Catrin thought confusedly. "Menilan is peaceful. The only reason we are here is because we lost in Chail’s evil power struggle with the capital."
Now, there was no time to think. To have fun. Only time to work, or die. To live you must work. Yet, when you worked as a slave, you did not live. Your life was meaningless, nothing significant would ever happen to you.
New images filled Catrin’s head. They mixed together to for memories of her past life. A large type of castle loomed ominously above her. She had never seen a castle but for the storybooks her father had read to her when she was an infant. Stories of a girl who lived as a slave in a castle, yet she was a princess who would attend the royal balls in three beautiful dresses that she incased in a single nutshell.
Another image. A statue of Elanora stood nearby the drawbridge of the palace. She nearly laughed as she recalled her first encounter with the statue. As the goddess looked much like a woman, Catrin had decided that it were a doll and had dressed it accordingly. Her older sister had walked inside at that moment, and was shocked at her blasphemy. Yet the goddess had smiled upon her childish actions. Catrin was always the luckiest in the family. "I guess that’s why I’m alive right now and all but my mother are resting in Elanora’s retreat."
As Catrin wiped a tear from her face, she was shocked to realise that there was a statue of Keori, the dark deity of the seven-pointed star on the opposite side of the drawbridge. "No, not him," she muttered under her breath. "He’s what started this whole mess."
Or that was what everyone was saying. Queen Chunia of Chail was using evil spirits to assure her victory, and Keori was the only evil spirit Catrin could think of. She shuddered to think of his rumoured magical powers, strong enough to transform a persons features entirely.
Catrin was brought from her reverie by a shout in her ear. She also realised where she was—a rather poorly kept kitchen. "This is the palace?" she thought, shocked. "What a dump!" Then, deciding that it would be in her best interests to listen to the screeching voice, turned her attention away from her thoughts and back to reality.
"… don’t need no slackers here, you hear me girl?" The woman was not yelling at Catrin though, as she had originally thought, as the decibels coming from the bellowing woman’s lungs were extremely piercing. The loud female slapped the girl across the face then moved, revealing her front.
The girl in question was Eloise. Catrin’s best friend. Fury dwelt in the violet depths of her eyes, yet the glare was icy. Seeing her friend hurt in such a dismissive way was infuriating, to say the least. Catrin lunged at the woman, pushing her to the ground.
"Guards, to me!" the woman screamed as her and Catrin tussled on the ground, rolling over and over again. "Guards!"
Several men in red and yellow striped tunics ran in, and began to peel Catrin from the woman. "Begone, Korrelyn. We shall deal with this feisty one. Take these others to the scullery." Korrelyn did as she was told, and Catrin was hauled up from the ground roughly.
Catrin shrugged them off. "Do you not know how to treat a lady?"
One of them laughed. "You are not a lady, Menilan rabble o’the earth!" Catrin winced at their harsh words, but this would not shake her. She had to stand strong, show that her kingdom was one that bred good people.
"So, what are you to do with me?" The instant the words were from her mouth, she regretted them. Another guard smiled at her, not as the previous smiles outside had been, but a pleasant one.
He looked older than the others, probably mid-twenties. Yet so had the men outside, and they had be awful. "Only to the dungeon." At the look on his face he reassured her. "They’re really quite nice, you know … not like Chailan dungeons." The final comment had resided on astringent ground. Catrin felt a bond with him somehow, like he was someone she could trust.
She let herself be rope-bound, then was escorted to a cell. The well-spoken guard told her to get some rest, as the Baron would most likely want private audience with her later. She sat down on the hard cot to wait until she was called upon.
"Baron Ranear summons you to his throne room. Go forth quickly, as he is easily angered by idleness." This was not the voice of the friendly guard from earlier, but Catrin was quick to rise from the stiff bed.
Having much time to think during her several hour wait, she had decided that maybe it would be in her best interests to stop agitating the Tushebians. Then she also decided that not airing her opinions was not her way of life.
Catrin Moore had never been the one that kept a secret. Or at least, kept quiet about what she thought of the people in the secret.
Besides, what was the point of having a secret if you couldn’t tell people (or at least tease them about it). Catrin wasn’t a gossip, she just liked to tell people what she thought. Whether they would like it or not. It was her.
The guard unlocked the chamber door, and closed it with a bang. As Catrin’s hands were still tied, he had nothing to worry about. Catrin didn’t want to struggle; she was determined to look good in front of the Baron.
The corridors of the immense castle were unlit as it was not yet near twilight, and the gloominess of the interior reflected the exterior. Other prisoners called out to Catrin, some, insane, calling her Mrs. Jarston and bidding her good day on her shopping; more taunting her with lecherous comments; others derisively telling her how nice she’d look inside out. Yet she held her head high as she walked through the torture and despair that was the Tusheban dungeons.
She survived it, however, and emerged into the throne room, after a fashion. Both the Baron and his son were seated at the thrones, their faces concealed behind expensive linens. "They hide behind their riches so to hide from the poverty-stricken world. The wars that wield the sword that cuts through the treaties is unknown to them; yet they are not naïve, or are they? Elanora only knows what passes through their minds, and if it passes throughout without making a single imprint on the impeccable brains of the Barony. Does it? Or is their hope for the monarchs of the Arsinuae republic? As I have thought before, Elanora only knows."
The guard bade her sit at one of the wooden chairs, and she suspected that someone of her current status would not even be allowed to look at one of the luxuriously embroidered imperial chairs.
The Baron placed his veil down; it could be called a veil, and Catrin was not one to mince words, or thoughts. She stood to speak. "Good Baron, I appease you to forgive my unruly behaviour several hours previous. I was not thinking straight; all I saw was a friend being hurt badly, so I acted upon a whim. I beg of your pardon for the unfortunate episode, and pray that Elanora watches over your city-state." At this, Catrin re-seated herself, and awaited the Baron’s response.
His twitching face soon gave way to the feeling inside of him. Laughing so hard that tears ran down his face, Ranear of Tusheba was a sorry sight. To see a man of such high rank in a position such as this was appalling. Catrin looked on in horror.
The Baronet tried to hush his father, allowing his veil also to fall from his face. "You!" Catrin never had much respect for the manners of the sovereignty, but one she had always understood up to now was the disrespect speaking out of turn showed. But she could not control herself.
The Baronet looked towards her sheepishly. "Yes, good lady. I am the guard you met earlier," he stood as a sign of dignity. "And I was very well met, I can assure you." Catrin found herself blushing, if not outwardly, for she had too much control for that, but inwardly somewhat.
"I’m sure you were, but that does not excuse the fact that you did not tell me of your true status."
"Did I not inform you of my status? Oh, I am terribly sorry, dear lady." Walking towards her, he knelt at her feet, and, taking her hand, brushed his lips over it gently.
"This is highly irregular, good sir. I kindly entreat you to return to your throne."
The Baron decided that it was his turn to speak. "Have you not met my son, good lady? I introduce you to Baronet Conner of Tusheba, and you … ?"
"Catrin Moore of Menilan, but I do not underst––"
"No need for you to, Catrin Moore of Menilan. I regard your people with the highest dignity …"
Catrin was indignant at this outrage. "You regard my people with the highest dignity? And I suppose that this is the reason that my people have been sold to you as slaves, while you live the high life in your castle, gloomy as it may be, and worship deities such as Keori, of all gods!"
The Baron was confused. "What on earth do you mean, good lady? I have never done anything to harm your people. If you are referring to the uprising in Chail and their invasion of our homeland, then you are certainly mistaken."
Catrin saw everything clearly then. "Of course! Chail is controlling Tusheba because it is closest to Syriana, where they have invaded …"
Conner stood again. "Syriana has been invaded? Father, did you hear that?"
"Aye, my son. That I did. We have been cut off from news for a long time, but I did not expect this yet," the old man looked weary from the day’s events. "I am sending you to Syriana so to lead the Tusheban guards—or what’s left of them––onto those Chailan rogues …"
"That I shall do, father, to the best of my ability. When are we to leave?"
Ranear looked impatiently at his son. "Will you not let me speak before you start as well? This girl, this … Catrin of Menilan is to accompany you."
"Sir, I could not …"
"You could, and that is why I ask you to go. Help me son, help my country," his eyes were soft as he spoke the last line, "so that we can return the favour."
Catrin had but a moment to make a life-or-death decision. "Then I shall go, Baron, for it is obviously my destiny if you suggest it."
Conner and his father both looked pleased. "We shall start for Syriana at dawn!"
Ranear shook his head. "No, no. That will not do. They too shall be marching along a road nearby that one. You must go via Capurna."
"And how do we get there? Through Chail, which would lead us to a speedier death?"
"No! Always you think the easiest way, the quickest way. You must journey through Alentio down to the Port, as it has not yet been taken by Chunia and her army. Sail out to sea from there, until you spot Port Tonuka. Then stick nearby the shore and you should be safe from rocks and the enemy for a while. Dock at Capurna and surprise them. It is the only way."
Conner laughed. "Only my father could pull off such a plan, and know the exact workings as well. You are a military genius, father."
Ranear beamed. Catrin giggled. Conner grinned. All was far from well in Tusheba, but it would not be long before they would start to resolve the conflict.
"I am not happy with this course of action, General Quadra. Rasha was a good source of information in the area, and he was bribable. Now we only have Lea and Sanrio, who are not half the thief Rasha was. Their stealth is poor, and they will be noticeable."
"My queen, I believed it to be the best solution at the time. It will not happen again, I promise you that."
Chunia stared at Quadra, her red eyes melting through her soul. The warrior shivered as the evil woman examined her hurnefuh count, checking for traces of distrust. She found none.
"You may find me holding you to that promise, general. One more chance. Another wrongdoing and I will reduce you to a mere puddle on the floor––literally." Chunia flounced from the room, returning to her private chambers.
Quadra breathed a sigh of relief. The honor pill was wearing off, and she knew that if the queen had stayed a minute longer, she would be dead right now. She would have to see the apothecary about getting some stronger ones. But, for now, all she wanted was a hearty ale. She went off to find the others.
Copyright 2000 M. Lees
