Barnaby the Wanderer

Chapter 45: A Secret Refraction of Light

Jewel stared upwards as the cart rattled along. The trip went pleasant enough. Now they rumbled along a boulevard more formal than the dock streets, past solemn statues staring into the distance, indifferent as Jewel to the shadow theatre of the living. Summer's stars making a spill of diamonds across black velvet sky. Bats flitting, cloud whisps sailing the night winds that rustled the dark banners of this darker Persephone.

When the Infernum's fiery fuck does this oration end? she wondered. An impatient thought, entirely from habit. In truth she felt content just to watch the world roll by. Clearly, the 'seeming death' extended even unto thoughts and feelings. No matter.

It'll end at dawn. I can just sleep.

But she felt as indifferent to sleep, as to rising. Gazing open-eyed at the night sky was enough.

She listened to the two soldiers argue. One favored abandoning the cart, going to a tavern, spending coin to gather news, get their spying done while downing ale. The other declined, and he sounded in charge. Probably the one whose knife drenched blood upon the cart, turning the ride warm and sticky.

That would upset me, without the spell, she observed. Was this peaceful indifference what her father felt hanging from a rope, watching his child struggle to cut him down?

Oh, that should make me furious. Pappa had no right to peace. But this is like being outside myself, just looking in the window. All the anger is in there, not out here.

She felt the soft weight of the spider-necklace upon her chest. Perhaps Perry worried for her? She should explain to it that she was not dead. But what did a magical spider know of life and death? Well, what did a kitchen-girl know?

This feels wonderful, she informed Perry. I should cast 'seeming death' on myself ever night.

She pictured lying in her cot in the scullery. Hands folded upon chest, legs straight. Eyes staring fixed into the oblivion of ceiling shadows. No more tossing and turning, gnashing teeth at memories sent from Infernum to make her rage, weep or despair. Just this pleasant cool clay peace.

Memories... she had good ones now. She recalled every step of the escape from gaol. Cedric encouraging her, not calling her stupid. And Val; that mad bard horse-thief friend of nobility, had treated her as an equal.

Best night of my life, she told Perry. And then I was given you.

Again, she felt the spider twitch. To say 'glad I found you', she decided.

Hey, you think Cedric saw us set fire to one of those shadow-things? I didn't even know for sure I could do that.

Her thoughts turned to the heretic cleric.

I'm sure I heard his voice on the boat. Good to know he escaped. Maybe we'll meet again. Perry, do you think he's too old for me? No gray hairs, no paunch. Just that elder attitude clerics put on with robes. But nice. I'd bed him.

That last admission would have embarrassed and angered her if she were inside the house of herself. But no, outside looking in the window, she could be honest. Why the Infernum not?

She stared upwards as the cart rolled through a grand archway of stone, dark as caverns of Nix. Folk passing by showed no least interested in the cart's grim contents. Most wore robes of cloth heavy and dark, as though to muffle the life within. Monks of St. Plutarch, Jewel informed Perry. Kids at home scare each other at the hearth fire, telling of their wicked practices.

The spider pendant twitched. In alarm? No; Jewel decided Perry told her: don't worry. Not that Jewel did worry.

Now came distant chanting, falling and rising in pleasant echoes off stone arcs and arches. The light of altar candles did not reach up to the church ceiling, but cast a pleasant glow upon pews, statues and frescoes.