Rage and Rebellion (Histories of Havenhearth)

6.8 Cerys

Dear sister,
I know not how long I have been here, it has perhaps not even been a full day, though it feels like a week. I am not even entirely sure where I am. But I am mostly comfortable at least, I have a private room with a most luxurious bed, and a wardrobe and chairs and a desk, within which I found a quill and a parchment: hence this letter. I am bored more than anything right now and unsure of what is happening.
I was here visiting a friend who had to leave suddenly. I was told to remain here and under no circumstances to leave. It was only from remaining here and quiet that I would be safe. I should have found that frightening, but in fact I found it exciting. I do believe I am a different person since I've arrived here, I wish we could meet and I could tell you about it. About my new friend especially.

Sister, I have a neighbour, whom I think is Tainish, or at least speaks Tainish. I tried to speak to her, but there was no response: I will try again as I am now somewhat hungry, and have gone through nearly all of the water that was in the room and am starting to worry about how long I must remain here without knowing what is happening. But Let me assure you that I do remain safe and unobserved I believe. My dear, I did not wish my first letter to you be under such strange circumstances, but here I am. I will not burden you with any doubts as I am convinced that no wrong will come to me. I am just disappointed that my friend has not yet returned to tell me what has happened.

Cerys put down her quill and returned to the window to see a quiet empty courtyard. She stretched her arms above her head and sat on the bed, surveying the room, the armoire, the desk and wooden chairs, the hangings on the walls, the furniture, the curtains of the bed. There was a strange taste in her mouth.
Where's that paste, she thought, I have nothing better to do. Iwatched him do it, I can do it by myself. It can't cause any harm. She sat in one of the chairs.
Pulling the drawer from the desk, she assembled all the tools in front of her on the desk. The paste, the wooden pipe, the candle, the little spoon for the ergot. She examined each of them.
She had seen him make a little ball from the paste. Her fingers moved nobly to roll a ball. She put it in the pipe and moved it back and forth over the candle flame. The paste began to melt, and the smoke appeared. The pipe. Pulling the smoke into her lungs, the sweet smelling smoke, she let out a cough or two. Her eyes closed. More, she thought. Another. She repeated the process and fell into an empty peaceful languor, dropping the pipe on the desk and floating to the bed, curling up under the covers, aware of her own body, the blood flowing in her arms and legs, the thump of her heart, the rhythm of her breathing.
Her friend appeared. "Floren, when did you get here?" She asked lazily, "come to me," he lay down with her, side by side they stayed, only their fingertips touching.
"What is this place?"
"It's the Birds of Paradise,"
"Yes but what is it really?"
"I think you already know, don't you?"
"I saw the women today,"
"Mmhmmm, how do you feel about being here?"
"I've always wondered about these places, I've even dreamed of them, being seen in a way where everyone desires you? I didn't expect it, but I hoped to find it. Mystery, desire, thrill, luxury," she gazed softly at his face.
Floren laughed, "you find that here?" A lock of hair had fallen across his forehead and she brushed it back gently.
"And more,"
She moved her hand to stroke his shoulder, and he extended his arm for her to lie on it, the warmth of their bodies coming together. She lay quietly for a while, basking in his warmth, but her blood , her heart was pounding inside her. She still felt nervous, fidgety. She smiled at their reflection.
***
Cerys eyes shot open, and she froze as an alien noise thundered into her head. She had fallen asleep. How long had she slept? Floren was gone. Why didn't she ask him what was happening? She had seen him, hadn't she? When had he been there? She couldn't remember. She got up out of bed and plodded across the room to peer out into the courtyard through the slit window, a series of peepholes which from the outside must just have looked like old worn stone bricks from the outside. A crowd had entered the courtyard, and the noise came from a large number of huge drums they were thumping on. They looked angry, and carried swords and spears, even some farmers' rakes. Her blood should have chilled but instead she felt exhilarated- she was in the middle of an adventure, somewhat hidden, somewhat safe, but able to observe it all. It was near impossible that everything she had heard was true! About the rebels. It was really happening! She did not feel any hatred towards them, she was more curious about why they were doing what they were. Foreigners in Cassion surely couldn't be that bad, could they?

The drums suddenly ceased, and movement in the crowd also. When the echoes of the drums died down, Cerys saw someone who looked like protectorate enter the courtyard. The woman was atop a horse and was flanked by a fan-shaped escort of foot combattants in white tunics, all with flashing swords drawn in the fading light of day. A tall woman in a long dark cloak came out into the courtyard and exchanged with the rider. The courtyard was now in a sinister silence and Cerys might even have been able to understand some of the conversation if her Cassioni had been better. After a few moments, orders were given and
Idly, Cerys watched as several of the drummers and a few pan pipers went into a room off of the courtyard, coming out without their instruments. The rest of the courtyard then emptied out.
It didn't matter. It was time. Another pipe. Another puff.