Sand Ch. 8: Darkness

The next week was a nightmare for Lady Kessil. She had officially pronounced Jada dead and, by the orders of the High Court, held onto the body until they could send an investigator. Consequently, she had been forced to leave Jada with Stefus while she went about her regular duties in the infirmary and among the private quarters of the nobles. Jada had become naturally conscious a day ago which, although it meant less demand on Kessil’s healing skills, meant that she, Stefus, and the rest had to exercise much more care.
Kessil felt grateful now more than ever that Sir Niclin had granted her requests to expand the infirmary, adding private examination rooms instead of just the former endless rows of beds. It would have been impossible to keep up the deception with the former layout of the infirmary. More people showed up at the infirmary than ever, not to be treated, but to see if the rumors that the last Erif Drathil had died were true. Kessil’s keeping Jada under lock and key with a jengda guard seemed a very natural thing to do for such a high-profile patient. It was obvious even to Sir Niclin, who usually bowed easily to his wife’s whims, that the presence of Jada’s body should not distract from the usual routine of the castle.
Kessil sighed as she turned the corner and entered the dining hall. It was not as opulent as the Great Hall, which was still under repair from the fight, but it was a nicely-appointed room. Usually Lady Kessil preferred to eat in her private quarters next to the infirmary in case an emergency came up, but her presence had been specifically requested here by a note signed with a name she did not recognized; she assumed it was the investigator from the High Court.
She looked around and saw Eirana sitting at a table, eating with Sir Ziro. How she wished that she could join them and enjoy their company. Instead, she moved to where Sir Norbert, who was also an unusual sight in the dining hall, and a man she did not recognize sat at a table. It as clear that this was the investigator from the High Court, and that he wished her to join them.
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance at last,” the man smiled as she took a seat and a jengda served them tea. “Your healing skills are legendary. I have already had the honor of meeting your gifted magician here.”
“You flatter me. May I ask who I have the pleasure of addressing?”
“I am Tartath Riya Dru. I was sent here by Sir Shath of the High Court; usually he would come here himself, but other matters keep him in Jegundo for the time being. He wanted me to look into certain rumors that you have the body of Jada Erif Drathil here.”
“Interesting name for a High Court investigator. Are you, by any chance, of the Riya Dru tribe?” Sir Norbert could usually pick out anyone by their accent from his knowledge of linguistics.
Tartath Riya Dru laughed. “I am, in fact, Rashdan. I know that it is strange for a Rashdan to work for the High Court, but I have a personal interest in this case, and Sir Shath was more than eager for my help.”
Kessil glanced at Norbert.
“What sort of personal interest?” Sir Norbert asked.
“Let’s just say that Jada and I used to know each other fairly well,” he said evasively. He stared off into the distance, then snapped his eyes back into focus. “Now, where are you keeping the body?”
“In an examination room in the infirmary. You may see it when you wish.”
“Right away.”
“Of course,” Lady Kessil replied, mind reeling. She finished her tea and stood. Tartath and Sir Norbert did the same.
“It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir Norbert; so it’s thirty five daikka for room and board?”
“Yes, if you intend to stay the night. That package includes live entertainment and use of the card parlors.”
“I’m looking forward to it. I hear that you have the best place to stay in Delixia.”
Sir Norbert thanked them and left, obviously anxious to make sure that the lunch crowd at his pub was comfortable. He temporarily had Gawen taking over Jada’s act, doing comedy and juggling instead of dancing. It did not have the same draw as Jada had, but it was better than nothing.
Lady Kessil took Tartath to the infirmary and gave the coded knock she, Stefus, and Jada had agreed upon beforehand. There was a rustling of keys, and the door swung open as Stefus opened his mouth to invite them in. He seemed, however, to suddenly lose his tongue. “Tartath?”
“Stefus?”
Obviously, they knew each other.
“What on D’nal are you doing here, dressed like a jengda nonetheless?” Tartath asked, incredulous. “I haven’t heard from you in quite a few years now.”
“My mayda thought I could profit from a broader education,” Stefus shrugged.
“Sounds like something she would do. She mentioned something about you being away at the University, but I never thought like this.”
Kessil was stunned. What were the odds?
Tartath turned to where Jada lay. He took her pulse and could find none. He put his hand over her forehead and asked, “What was the cause of death?”
“She bled to death from her wounds. Surely you heard about the fight. I’ve cleaned them up since, as you can see, and magically cleaned her clothing; otherwise, it would have been a rather unpleasant smell here. I sealed the body to stop the decomposition.”
“She definitely has no magic signature,” he said as he moved his hand from her forehead. “Is she still wearing all of the clothing from the time of death?”
“Yes, but it’s been cleaned.”
He reached down and read Jada’s pendant. It was unmistakable. “Well, the rumors were correct for a change. Jada is dead.” He continued to search her.
Kessil wondered what he was searching for. Surely the pendant was identity enough, was it not? The longer he stayed, the harder it would be for Jada to keep up her act. If she held it too long, it would become reality. He didn’t seem to find what he was looking for, however, and he leaned back and sighed. “I guess I have to clear her for burial. May I have her ashes to take to Folona?”
“Her ashes, Tartath?” Kessil quirked an eyebrow.
“She always said that she would prefer cremation,” he explained. “She said that it fit the work of her tribe. A beautiful work; it always filled the sky with light.” He leaned down and looked closely at Jada’s supine form. Too closely, Stefus thought.
“We do not practice this in Delixia,” Lady Kessil said quickly. “We bury the body in the ground.”
“Very well, then. May I witness the burial?”
“Certainly. It will be done tomorrow morning, at dawn.”
“At dawn,” Tartath repeated, looking down at Jada.
He quietly rose and left. As soon as the door was shut again, Stefus moved over to where Jada lay and put his hand on her head. Jada blinked her eyes and slowly rose, rubbing her temples. “What a headache,” she moaned. “Did he buy it?”
Lady Kessil and Stefus were silent for a moment.
It was Stefus who finally spoke. “Tartath was the investigator.”
“What?” Jada was shocked.
“He did seem to buy it,” Lady Kessil said quickly. “How do you all know each other?”
Jada blanched. “He used to court me, but I turned him down.”
Stefus added, “We were in the same class at the Rashdan school in Folona.”
Lady Kessil stood agape. The entire situation gave her the chills. Finally, she said, “Tomorrow morning at dawn we bury you. How do you intend to survive on such little oxygen?”
Jada shivered. “The same thing I do to hide my magical signature actually causes me to be dead for that amount of time. All physical signs of life, including breathing, disappear. My body survives on the magic I’ve transferred to my identification pendant. If it were to be removed from me, I would die. Fortunately,” her tone brightened, “it is an ancient Rashdan custom that the pendant must be worn from the time of birth to the grave; it cannot be removed for any reason, not even death. To have the pendant removed is to be entirely cut off from the Rashdan people, and it is the greatest insult imaginable to remove it after a person’s death. It is burned with the body at cremation.”
“You’re not being cremated.”
“Still, not even Tartath would stoop to such an insult. It is the greatest shame known to our people, and not even Tartath’s hatred for me would cause him to do this.” Jada’s words sounded braver than she felt. What if the Council had sent him to do this?
“He actually seemed quite fond of you still,” Stefus informed her.
“That is a possibility,” Jada thought about it. “It would be good if it were true, for then he would have the respect to leave me alone. It’s a risk, but one I’m willing to take.”
“So, you’ll die if the pendant is removed?” Kessil was anxious.
“Yes,” Jada replied. “Also, what I store there, because I am not in the best of condition right now, will only last for about twelve hours. After that, I will lose my ability to wake up; I will die.”
“That means that I will be digging you up around sunset.” Stefus frowned. “There’s so much that could go wrong with this.”
Jada took a deep breath and sighed. “I know. But it is the cost of freedom.”
Freedom, Lady Kessil thought. The one thing she doesn’t have. Maybe we can all be free someday. If she can break out, so can I.
“Very well,” she said out loud, and returned to the infirmary; there were many things to do yet today, and from the looks on her friends’ faces, they needed some privacy.

“Evening, Tartath; what can I do for you?” Sir Norbert looked up from his accounting in a corner of his pub as the Rashdan entered and pulled out a chair for him.
“You have a nice place here,” Tartath commented as he sat down. “I just have a few questions for you, and then I’ll continue enjoying the comforts of your establishment.”
Sir Norbert frowned. His establishment did not offer the same sorts of comforts a man like Tartath would enjoy, and questions were generally a bad thing.
“There’s only a handful of magicians on the planet as talented as you, but you employed Jada anyway. Why? Surely you could sense who she was.”
Sir Norbert raised a glass of tea to the light to check it for poison. Even in his own pub, he was paranoid about such things. “I do not concern myself with politics,” he said carelessly. “I did not desire my job at the University. I’m a scholar, not a teacher; there is a difference. To make up for the job I hate so much, I run this establishment. I enjoy competing with Lady Judith. I know good entertainment when I see it, and what better entertainment than a fully trained Rashdan performer? I would have turned her in eventually; I do not want trouble. Nothing makes a place fill up like speculation. Her unfortunate demise has turned me quite a profit.”
Looking around the room, it was obvious; the place was teeming with people not so interested in the food, the cards, or even Gawen’s entertainment, but very interested indeed in seeing the place a dangerous criminal advertised.
“Excellent point,” Tartath replied.
“You Rashdans have a definite talent for attracting attention,” Sir Norbert looked over the rim of his glass at him. “Jada may have been a criminal, but she was excellent entertainment. Now that she is gone, I’m going to have to work hard to find someone that good.”
“That is a hard act to top; I worked with her once,” Tartath said. “It was interesting.”
“No surprise,” Sir Norbert intoned as he returned to his books.
“I’m not going to report you, but may it be known that if you ever attempt this sort of publicity stunt again, you could find yourself without a pub, a classroom, or anything to call your own except a cold, dark cell in Jegundo.” Surprisingly, his tone was not threatening. He even smiled. “I like you, professor; I do not want this to happen. I can relate to your dissatisfaction with the job you’ve been given. Maybe I’ll come back and stay here again sometime when you have a new performer here.”
“My pleasure,” Sir Norbert said, not looking up from his books. As Tartath proceeded towards the bar to assail a rather large mug of beer, he privately thought, My pleasure to see you writhing on the floor in agony someday. He amused himself with the thought for a moment--it would be so easy to do, as he prided himself on being a master bartender as well as a card player, but that would not be good for the establishment. Employee deaths are interesting; patron deaths are bad for business.

“We have holes drilled into the outside of the coffin so you can breathe as long as we’re on the surface,” Stefus told Jada as she settled down into the rough wooden box.
“How considerate of you,” she replied glibly, shifting her weight around. “I believe it is appropriate even for a corpse to have a pillow or something,” she said.
“Of course,” Stefus pulled one down from the shelf. Lady Kessil had masterfully engineered the scheduling of the medical complex so that the mortuary would be empty for their use. She had convinced the mortician that she had plenty of experience embalming bodies as a medical student (she always prided herself on doing the jobs no one else desired, as it earned her more freedom from her supervisors), and promised that she would take care of it herself, with the aid of a jengda--Stefus.
He slid the pillow under her head. “That’s better,” she thanked him. “An unfortunate side affect of having such a long neck.”
Stefus knew she must be nervous indeed to be speaking in sentence fragments.
“Will you be all right down there?” He asked, concerned. So much could go wrong…
“Just don’t be late, all right? I asked you to do it because I know you actually tend to be on time to things. If you’re late, I’m staying here.”
Stefus chuckled weakly. “I’ll be early if I can. Good thing you don’t have claustrophobia.”
She smiled for the first time since the Festival. “I always enjoyed exploring the parts of the tunnel system that haven’t been renovated. There’s something I like about the dark, enclosed spaces--I feel safe there, so deep in the ground.”
“Then you’ll feel very safe today.” He paused. “When we were dancing at the Festival, you asked me a question. Do you remember what it was?” He couldn’t believe he was actually doing this, but he had to, in case something went wrong. Maybe he wouldn’t tell the whole truth, but he would tell some of it.
“Why do you stay?” She gave him a searching look.
Bashkt, why did she remember? Why was he doing this? “I stay because you are my friend.” He wondered how much she would read into his tone, his expression, and he pointedly looked away from her because he knew she was a master at reading his eyes. “You have opened my eyes. If something goes wrong today--”
“It won’t,” she interrupted, but said no more.
“I see the work you’re doing in the forest, and I don’t want it to stop. I’ll carry it on.”
“Thank you,” she sighed in relief. She reached up her hand and turned his face towards hers. Her hand felt cool against his cheek. He was ever more conscious of how warm he felt. “Believe it or not, I am afraid.”
“I would be, too.” He was amazed, however, that she would admit such a thing to him.
“Not for myself, but for the Council of Oak Rock Forest. You give me comfort.”
He felt his cheek grow warmer. Presently, he heard Tartath greet Lady Kessil outside the door of the mortuary. “Lr A’dl dih rah yae,” he said quickly.
“Sih rah yae.”
She closed her eyes, and he could see her systematically relax her muscles into the appearance of death. She was very convincing, with the scars across her face and the unbandaged wounds on her shoulder, gleaming as red as the dress she still wore in the lamplight. She did not wear the bandages, for it would have destroyed the deception. He knew that this caused her great pain.
The door opened, and Tartath and Lady Kessil stepped in. “Before we proceed,” Tartath said after they exchanged proper greetings, “I need to make a rubbing of her identification pendant for Sir Shath in Tre-revaj. He has an interest in Erif Drathil design.”
Stefus blinked as Tartath moved to take the pendant off Jada’s neck. “Can’t you do it without taking it off? You know our customs.”
“Of course,” Tartath slowly let the chain fall from his hands as he took out a sheet of parchment and placed it over the pendant, rubbing a block of charcoal over it to capture the design. “I know that you and she were friends. I’m sorry.”
“As were you,” Stefus added, feeling relieved about the pendant. “I understand that you and Jada were quite close.”
Tartath sighed. “We were. I would have married her, but she would have nothing of it. She wanted to wait to grow wiser. I would have waited for her, but then her brother started stirring up trouble. I’m afraid I became somewhat angry with her, but it was not her fault. Maybe the Council would have pardoned her and given her sanctuary if she had stayed in Folona.”
Stefus didn’t buy this. He and Tartath had been friends in school, and he knew that Tartath didn’t like to wait for anything. Also, it was Tartath’s father who had attacked Jada the night she left Folona, and he highly doubted that things could have gotten much better if she had stayed.
Tartath finished the rubbing and Stefus carefully shut the heavy lid of the coffin. He and Lady Kessil moved to carry it, but Tartath exclaimed, “A lady carrying a coffin? It is not right. Let me take that for you, Lady Kessil.”
It was, indeed, one of the oddest experiences of Stefus’s life, carrying a coffin with his old school friend Tartath that contained a very much alive Jada. Fortunately, the graveyard was not far away, nestled next to the castle wall, for it had been added by the Tre-revaj invaders a century ago. The Rashdans who had built and used the University beforehand believed in cremating the dead and taking the ashes to Folona to go in the great crypts there with their ancestors. Thus, they had no need for graveyards. Of course, many Rashdans had been scattered or buried outside Folona out of necessity, but it was outside of custom.
The sky was filled with orange light, and the ground was soft. Stefus was glad that someone had already dug the grave--actually, it was customary to leave a grave open in the jengda section, as the need for it often came up unexpectedly. Unlike the massive gilded monuments built to the rich in the section for nobles, there were very few markers here, and if there were, they were crudely carved out of wood or clumsily scratched in a stone from the forest. With ropes Stefus and Tartath lowered the coffin into the grave.
As Stefus reached for a shovel, Tartath said, “What about the words of burial?”
“Very well,” Stefus put the shovel down, wondering why he had forgotten something so important. He prayed that Lr A’dl would forgive him for using the ritual words for one who was not dead.
“By Lr A’dl are we made;
To Lr A’dl we return.
May memory never fade
Although our bodies burn.
May the dead be spoken for
As we remember evermore.”
“I speak as a friend of Jada,” Tartath intoned. “She was beautiful and powerful, strong and weak. The deeds of her kin and the law of the land betrayed her. May she not be sentenced by them. So do I speak before Lr A’dl.”
“I speak as a friend of Jada,” Kessil obviously felt odd using Rashdan customs, but she caught on quickly. “She defended the weak though she was, also. So do I speak before Lr A’dl.”
“I speak as a friend of Jada,” Stefus’s mind was racing. What could he say in Tartath’s presence? He knew that Jada was listening. What a strange situation. “She was wise in the ways of the human mind. She understood that which puzzled me. So do I speak before Lr A’dl.”
Stefus and Tartath chanted together,
“By Lr A’dl are we made;
To Lr A’dl we return.”
Then, silently, Stefus picked up the shovel and began to cover her grave with the soil. Kessil slowly turned and left; she had duties in the infirmary. The University was starting to stir with activity, and as the nobles who stayed in private residences on the lake emerged from the trail through the forest, they looked with mild curiosity at the two Rashdans standing there.
Tartath did not leave. He had an unreadable expression on his face that gave Stefus the chills. Finally, he said, “Stefus, it’s been years--where are you working these days?”
“I work at the Red Dragon; Sir Norbert has given me the day off.”
“The Red Dragon? I’m staying there,” Tartath seemed pleased. “Your mother does know how to give you a good education; it’s a fine establishment. What do you do there?”
“I’m an entertainer. Sir Norbert had me working with Jada.”
“Bashkt, you’ve changed since the old school days.”
“Maybe a little,” Stefus smiled. Tartath really had no idea.
“Are you still as good with chrys knives?”
“Maybe,” Stefus said slowly. “You were always better than me. You know my strength lies in archery, the craft of my tribe.”
“I’ll help you with that, and we can spar like old times. What do you say to that?” Stefus looked up and could tell that this was genuinely Tartath’s escapist partying attitude.
“Sure,” Stefus answered. “I need some breakfast, though. I haven’t eaten.”
“Neither have I,” Tartath grinned. “Why don’t I treat you to some? We can catch up over a good meal and maybe play a few hands of cards with Sir Norbert--I’ve grown to like him.”
Stefus shrugged the affirmative, inwardly rejoicing at the chance to have Sir Norbert read Tartath’s surface thoughts--the longer they spent with Sir Norbert, the more information they could receive about what Tartath had been up to all this time.

The morning passed swiftly with a lavish breakfast and endless hands of cards. Tartath didn’t seem to care if he won or lost, he just played, and he seemed more than eager to keep both Stefus and Sir Norbert in his presence at all times. The lunch crowd was starting to pour in by the time Tartath showed even the slightest trace of boredom with the cards.
“I say, you have some beautiful women going to this university,” he sighed as he watched some beginning healer women sit down at a table nearby, discussing antidotes for food poisoning. “Is there a woman in your life, Stefus? I don’t know how you could avoid finding one here.”
Stefus laughed out loud. “You know me. You were always the one trying to get me to improve my skills with the ladies, though I think that my mother’s lessons in manners worked better than your hints. Besides, I don’t have time for it.”
“Time for what? It’s not like you need to marry one, just have fun with her.” Tartath grinned. “Watch this.”
“Famous last words!” Stefus chided as he saw that the woman he was headed towards was Alaviel, who was sitting at a table alone--a very bad choice indeed. He watched as Alaviel listened with a strained smile to whatever Tartath was saying, then gave some sort of reply that caused Tartath to bow politely and walk away. “How did it go?”
“Tough broad,” Tartath said brightly. “Didn’t slap me, though.”
“She can’t; she’s a jengda. Jengda get beaten for things like that.”
Tartath looked unconcerned.
“So what about that knife match?”
“We could have it here, if Sir Norbert would allow,” Stefus glanced over at Norbert. Aside from having an aversion to the practice halls in the castle, here there would be plenty of witnesses in the event of foul play.
“On the stage,” Sir Norbert approved. It was the sort of dramatic act that he liked.
“All right, then. Three bouts, first contact wins?”
“Sounds good to me.”
Sir Norbert announced it, and conversation in the room hushed as they looked up to watch the rare spectacle. Stefus smiled, thinking of what an everyday occurrence this would be in Folona. “I’m a little out of shape,” he warned as he bowed. “I have not had occasion to practice recently.” Recently meaning the last week, since he usually practiced against Jada so that they could both keep their skills up. But he wasn’t going to tell Tartath that.
“I haven’t either, so we’re square.”
They both fell into a rhythmic trance as they focused on blocking and attacking. Blow for blow, block for block, the metal always clashed on metal. Of course, Stefus hadn’t pulled out his latest trick that Jada had been so kind to teach him last week. . . He’d had nothing better to do but to practice it while she was unconscious. He would not pull it out until he needed it. Instead, the pace of the fight accelerated, and the blades moved faster and faster. Finally, Tartath won by sliding the flat of his blade down Stefus’s arm from a block.
Stefus laughed. “Okay, you win. Do you remember what the weapons teacher used to say when you pulled that trick?”
“A cheap ploy that does not work in battle? I remember it well.”
They bowed to each other again, and this time Stefus let Tartath believe he was tiring for a while until, in a flash, Stefus dove for Tartath’s legs and tapped his left boot with the flat of the knife.
“Weird move,” Tartath frowned. “Where did you learn it?”
“A woman taught me.“ Stefus shrugged, thinking back to the memorable practice when he thought he was beating Jada and even had her in a blade lock when she had let go of her blades, dropped to the floor, slid between his legs, and caught her blades as she recaptured her footing, standing up to hold the point of the blade between his shoulder blades. His use of her trick had been less practical, but it had worked.
“A woman?” Tartath egged him. “You sly dog, you can’t lie to me.”
There was laughter and applause, and they bowed to each other for the third time. Stefus let this one last a particularly long time, and he could sense the crowd growing more and more anxious as he played up impressions of exhaustion. At the last minute, however, he rose into the air, tapped his blade on the top of Tartath’s head, and landed smoothly to tumultuous applause.
“Impressive,” Tartath exclaimed. “Did she teach you that, too?”
“Who?”
“The woman, of course.” Tartath’s eyes twinkled as they sat down once more at their table. “She really must be something.”
“Are you kidding me?” Stefus poured himself some more tea. “That was a joke.”
“Then where did you learn how to do that?” Tartath looked pointedly at him.
Fortunately, Sir Norbert cut in at that moment. “Great job, both of you! I should’ve had you and Jada do that alongside the dancing.”
“Jada, eh?” Tartath’s eyes narrowed. “So that’s the woman. You must’ve known it was her all along. Why else would you be here? Bashkt, I knew it was someone, but I never thought it would be you.”
“What are you talking about?” Stefus frowned.
“Why she turned me down, of course.” His eyes softened. “Not that it matters any more. You seem clueless enough, and she’s dead now, so what does it matter?” As a waiter passed by, Tartath flagged him down. “Beer, please.”
Stefus looked down into his tea. “Just so you know, I did not know that it was her until she started working here, and that was only two weeks ago. I had no idea what happened to her in the years between then and when she left Folona. It could not have been me by a long shot.”
“It doesn’t matter any more.” Tartath’s drink arrived. He looked at it for a moment, then raised it to the light. “Here’s to secrets!” He washed it down in one gulp, and he ordered more.
Stefus glanced over at Sir Norbert; he was massaging his temples absentmindedly, a subtle indicator that he was receiving some seriously strong signals, and he looked relieved that Tartath was finally starting to order alcohol; it would soften the pain in his skull. Stefus would have dearly loved to use the opportunity to leave; it was starting to be late afternoon, and he did not want to be late to his sunset appointment. As he began to rise, however, Tartath said, “No, don’t go; I could use your company. I’ve missed you. How about another few rounds of cards?”
Hesitantly, Stefus sat down again. “Just one more round. I have to be someplace at dusk.”
Unfortunately, after Stefus won the first round, Tartath requested another. And another. And another. Stefus glanced nervously out the window; the sky was still light, but the sun was starting to touch the treetops of Oak Rock Forest, sending rays of light out over the lake. “Listen, I have to go; I’ve really enjoyed this--”
“No problem; I’m always glad to see another Rashdan.” He was quite drunk now. “Sorry about what I said about you and Jada; you could not have learned those tricks in two weeks. Good luck with the woman.”
“There is no woman.”
“Of course not,” Tartath winked. “Lr A’dl dih rah yae.”
“Sih rah yae.”
Stefus quickly picked up his cloak and left the pub, hoping he would meet no one on the path. Unfortunately, as he was walking through the woods, Terpsichore and Navira accosted him. “We’ve been looking for you all day. When are you going to explain what’s going on?”
“Tomorrow night!”
“We need to know.”
“Tomorrow night!”
“People are saying that Jada’s dead--is it true?”
“You’ll find out about it tomorrow night.”
They hounded him, even when he started walking as the sky turned gold, then orange. It was already a dark shade of purple as they finally left him and he lit a scarsh fire to hide him as he dug. It had been a sunny day, so the ground had dried, making it harder to dig. The sky was pitch black now, and the stars were out. He started to panic, but forced himself to keep digging. The lights were already on in the castle as he finally cleared the dirt off of the coffin and frantically opened the lid.
She looked so pale in the faint light of the castle windows, so still. There was no color in her cheeks. As he put his hand on her head to wake her up, he sensed nothing. He concentrated his effort, actually pouring energy into her, but nothing happened. She just continued to lay there, still in the starlight. He was too late. Perhaps her wounds had become infected, perhaps she had run out of power--it was impossible for him to tell.
“Don’t be dead,” he murmured. “I went through this once, I don’t want it to be real this time. We need you. Don’t be dead.”
But there was no response. She was so cold. He dug deep within himself and prayed to Lr A’dl as he had never prayed before, but still there was no response.
“Why?” he asked the starry sky, his face turned toward it. “Why wipe out the last of a good family--why take her? Why take her brother? Am I next?”
“I don’t think so.”
“How do you know?” he asked.
“I’m still here.”
He whirled around. “Jada!” he whispered hoarsely. “I thought I’d lost you there.”
She was still lying down, obviously too weak to move. Even so, she smiled; it was apparent that all the strength she had regained in the last week had fled from her. He took her in his arms and lifted her out of the grave, setting her down on the hard ground. Her eyes filled with tears as she breathed in the fresh air while he refilled the grave.
“Can you walk?”
“I-I think so.”
She slowly tried to stand up, but she stumbled and fell. Stefus caught her. He opened a flask from his hip pouch. “It’s dentra. It’ll help you.”
She drank it in deeply. “Thanks,” she said weakly.
“No problem.” He held out his arm to offer support, and for the first time he could remember, she took it willingly as they made their way to the small cabin provided for them next to the Red Dragon. As he lay her down on her sleeping mat in her own room separate from his (Eirana and Kessil had conceded on that point, though they thought that it would be safer if they stayed in the same room), he said, “Lr A’dl dih rah yae.”
“Sih rah yae.” As she said this, however, she did something unusual--she slowly sat up and kissed him on the cheek. Wordless, he turned and settled into his own room, sitting on his mat, staring at the covered cage of his falcon--there was too much to think about for dreams.

“That was one of the strangest funerals I’ve ever attended. I’d read about Rashdan funerals before, but I didn’t realize that they were so… brief.”
“Usually they aren’t, but there were only three of us there. Usually, anyone is allowed to come, and anyone, friend or enemy, is allowed to speak. You can often tell how much of a dent a Rashdan made on the world by how long their funeral lasts. I went to one that lasted two days once.”
“Interesting set of beliefs.”
“Will she be well enough to come to the Council tonight?”
Jada had foggy impressions of voices as she slowly woke up. She’d had the most terrible dream about being put in a coffin and buried alive, and Tartath had been there. . .
“It’s a miracle she made it out alive; the ground sucked most of the warmth out of her, and we’ve definitely taken a step backwards on what progress I have made on the wounds.”
Jada was suddenly aware of the soreness in her shoulder as the memories of the previous day returned to her. A small matter. Why shouldn’t she be able to go to the meeting?
“The Council is in panic. They think she’s dead. They need to be able to see that she’s alive.”
“I admire what you’re doing, but I think that you need to have more caution.”
“If we were any more cautious, we wouldn’t have a Council at all.”
“Listen, Stefus; you’ve been awake for how many hours? Don’t tell me you slept last night--the circles under your eyes betray you. If you’re not careful, you’ll wind up like her.”
“Gee, thanks,” Jada said sarcastically as she opened her eyes. She was lying on her sleeping mat with several of her blankets piled over her. Her rug, her table, and her soft cushions already lined the room. Stefus and Lady Kessil sat on two of her cushions, talking; bandages and a few bottles Jada recognized as belonging to Lady Kessil sat on her table, along with three bowls of what Jada recognized as Gawen’s specialty, gruel.
Both Stefus and Lady Kessil looked extremely tired as they shifted their gazes towards her. Stefus smiled, warmth showing through his eyes despite the dark circles starting to form underneath them. “Good morning. Gawen made us some breakfast before he went to work; I’m trying to talk Sir Norbert into letting him live here, too.”
“None of you would ever get any sleep, then,” Lady Kessil laughed. “How are you feeling this morning, Jada?”
“Well enough to go to the meeting tonight,” Jada shot back.
“I’ll determine that,” Kessil gave Jada a warning look. “Do I have to be mother for both of you? Jada, please be more specific. You know what I’m looking for.”
Jada tried to be honest. “I feel a little sore in the shoulder, but it’s not bad. I just feel a little cold, and a little weak; I could probably walk it off.” She sat up carefully, her arms shaking as she used them to support herself; even though it was obviously daytime, the room was lit by an oil lamp on her table. There were no windows.
“Well, no wonder you’re cold, seeing as you slept in your clothes,” Kessil exclaimed, eyeing the thin red and gold silk that made up Jada’s costume. “Why didn’t you remove them?”
“I didn’t think that Jada would appreciate it if I did that, and she was in no state to do so last night of her own accord,” Stefus stammered.
“Thank you, Stefus,” Jada chuckled.
“You should have come and gotten me, then!” Kessil was really flustered. “Jada, I want you to change into some warmer clothes as soon as possible, and I want both of you to get some rest today. Then, I guess I can’t prevent either of you from going to the meeting, but when you do, either use a scarsh fire or disguise yourself well, Jada. For all public purposes, you are dead as both Keri and Jada; you cannot be either of them in public again.”
Jada groaned. “That means I have to build a new identity from ground up, all over again. . . I thought I would be free from that.”
“Actually, Sir Norbert’s already decided for you,” Kessil informed her. “You only have to come up with your appearance, which I don’t think will be too hard for you to do.”
“Well, who in Bashkt’s name am I now?”
“Stefus’s wife.”
“What?”
“What?”
For the first time that morning Kessil’s face broke into a smile as she laughed--hard, the sound of it reverberating in the deathly silent room. Eventually, she calmed down and continued, grinning evilly. “Sir Norbert realized that there’s a market for Rashdan entertainment, and didn’t want to give either of you up as performers. Stefus, luckily enough, has failed to attract undue attention to his personal life as you have, Jada, and so it would make perfect sense for him to have been married all along and now, having a stable, well-paying job, finally bring his wife to live and work with him.”
“Why didn’t Sir Norbert tell me anything about this?” Stefus asked tersely, thinking of Tartath up at the pub.
Kessil shrugged. “He thought you had enough on your mind already. Anyway, Jada, your name is Sarepta, and you two met and got married in Clevia on some of Stefus‘s visits with Wylth. You were a librarian in the temple there--Wylth has generously procured the paperwork necessary, and since no one but Wylth ever goes down into the library, there‘s no one in Clevia who could refute this story. You have spent the last few years with Mikya Astul Lethya learning how to be a proper Rashdan.”
“I should have known my mother was in on this,” Stefus moaned.
“Didn’t I always tell you she meddled in things that were not her concern?” Jada added. “I guess it helps that I did actually do librarian work in Clevia back before I was a fugitive…”
“And I did come to visit you once or twice while you were there,” Stefus suddenly remembered. “Wylth must be as bad as my mother.”
“Did Eirana have a hand in this?” Jada demanded.
“Somewhat, yes,” Kessil replied, amused. “As a matter of fact, the three of us met together to act in your best interests. Now, I hope you don’t mind, but I have work to do today.”
“Sleep while you can!” Jada snapped at her as the door shut behind her.
There was an awkward pause as the two Rashdans were left in the room, suddenly having an entire marriage to fabricate out of thin air. It was a daunting task, and not a comfortable one.
“The food’s getting cold,” Stefus reminded her. “You need to eat if you want to go tonight.”
“Oh, so now you’re my ‘husband’ you can order me around?” she retorted, and quickly regretted it. This was not the right way to start it off.
“You know very well that it doesn’t matter what I say, you’ll continue to find ways to endanger yourself, starting now with hunger.”
No doubt about that. “I guess we’ll be quite convincing, then--married couples are almost always arguing about something.”
“Not all the time, and so far we’ve gotten along well enough. I don’t want this stupid disguise our friends set us up with to ruin it.”
“Neither do I,” Jada added truthfully. “Just friends, right?”
“Right,” Stefus answered.
They both sighed in relief.
“With that out of the way,” Jada said brightly after swallowing a deliciously large lump of oatmeal, “describe your dream woman.”
“What?” He looked genuinely puzzled.
“My appearance. I think it’s about time you had a say in it, seeing as you’re probably going to be the one to see it the most, and the disguise is no longer my own--it’s ours.”
“Well, I like redheads, but that’s your natural color. . .”
Jada grimaced. It was time she revealed the truth about that. “Actually, it’s not,” she confessed. “I started dyeing it when I was twelve. I wore the blonde wig until my natural color, which is what you see right now, grew out.”
“What?” He seemed to find the revelation quite entertaining. “All right, so what about black?”
“I look awful in it--my skin has too many red tones.”
“Fine. You’ve never been a brunette before, right?”
“Never; that should be fine.” She fumbled around on her table to find some paper, where she wrote a note down. “Eyes?”
He gave another puzzled look. “I really don’t think about that. Blue?”
“They’re already that color.”
“Really?” He squinted. “They look grey to me.”
“They change,” she shrugged. “They shift between grey, blue, and green.”
“That leaves brown, I guess.” He frowned. “This is bad. If I don’t even know basic facts about your appearance, what about when people start asking me questions about what kind of person you are?”
“Hey, it’s not like I’d have answers for them, either.” Jada knew that at this point, she probably knew Stefus fairly well, but she knew that she had kept a good deal of herself secret for the sake of her disguise. Suddenly, another truth hit her. An awkward one. “Do you know I’ve never kissed anyone?” she confessed.
He put his hand to his cheek.
“No, I kiss people there all the time--it’s a greeting, in one or two of the places I’ve been.”
He nodded in understanding, astonished. “Not even on stage? Not even. . . Tartath?”
“No, not even him. Stage kissing is just bumping cheekbones, remember? I don’t know if I can fake this!” She leaned against the wall, irritated. “I mean, even my parents, who did their own share of arguing, displayed physical affection occasionally in public. I guess we can avoid it as long as we don’t allow anyone to observe us too long.”
“We’re entertainers. We’re meant to be observed.” Jada could not exactly read his tone--it wasn’t bitter, as she thought it would be. She shrugged it off as he continued. “We dance enough on stage, though, and that should suffice.”
“Right!” Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard after all.
“What about the questions?” Stefus asked nervously.
“Well, we’ll be spending enough time together anyway, it’s about time we sat down and really got to know each other.” Her own suggestion scared her, though she did not know why. Of all the people to trust with that information, Stefus would probably be the best.
“We do know each other.”
“Not well enough.” She looked up at him, noting once more the subtleties in his expression that betrayed his exhaustion. “I will not enter your mind without your permission--”
“About that,” Stefus cut in, “I’m sorry about doing that last week.”
“You had to,” she replied kindly. “I know you do not like mental communication. That is why I suggest that we spend one hour every day talking.”
“Sounds like a plan,” he agreed. He looked more weary than ever.
“Go get some sleep for now, all right?” Jada smiled at him.
“Yes, Jada.”
“I do not want you collapsing, too.”
“Yes, Jada.”
“Will you stop saying that?” She frowned.
He gave her a wry grin as he got up and moved toward the door.
“Yes, Jada. Eventually, but at the moment, it works.”
Who was she to argue?