The Curse of Cal'Riel

At a Threshold

Everything changed when Mother fell.

None of us saw it coming. One moment she was measuring angles of the ceiling rafters, hollering at Geri to hold the ladder still, the next she was limp in his arms, his face white. Thank the gods he caught her. Geri is strong, with a frame of a mountain dwarf and tall like our father, but even he trembled in fear while Mother lay unresponsive in his arms.

"What happened, Geri?" I said as I dashed to them. "What the fuck happened!?"

"I-I don't know," he answered, panicked. "She was fine. I swear she was fine when she climbed the ladder!"

We rushed her to the local healers, they handed her off to specialists, the specialists scratched their heads and suggested the elite medical college three towns away, and by the time they concluded their cluelessness, my family was in debt to the point of losing the Oakensmith Playhouse–our home. At least what was left of it without Mother running the show. She was the foundation. And now she was crumbling in her bed, still unable to tell us how she felt and what the hell happened the day of her fall.

Me, Vix Geri, even Father took whatever work was offered so we could afford to bring in new healers and new opinions. We pulled them from everywhere, all types, priests, shamans, witch doctors, one dead end after the other, one more debt while the Playhouse's ceiling rafters went unfixed.

Performing was what we knew. But our usual acts couldn't cover medical costs and production costs, nor could we afford to hire a stage manager as masterful as Mother. We had to split up the act, take our talents outside of home. Father went back to sales work, a skill he'd mastered before meeting my mother. His knowledge of the trade came in handy when sussing out the snake oil peddlers from legit healers. Geri took whatever able-bodied work he could find, sometimes accepting a salary of construction materials so we could maintain our home. Vix took a position at the palace, a personal assistant to one of the officials, available for their every need and whim no matter how menial the task. And all while wearing her unflinching smile. She always came home in a bad mood, reserving one final smile of the day for Mother's goodnight kiss.

I turned to the night life. It was a scene I knew well so how hard could it be to bring my stage presence into it. I'd spent many nights dancing in this space, the only difference now was being on the stage and not the floor. Moving for the crowd, not with them. No problem, easy money, sobriety optional.

It wasn't long before I caught the eye of a palace official, likely someone my sister worked with. I have no idea if they knew of our relation but they knew what they wanted and requested a private session. The money was too good to pass up.

It became a regular arrangement. Each session...I'll just say, got progressively more expensive. They always had the coin to get exactly what they wanted and I, well, I was a performer. They grew to adore me, to crave me, and at times even respect me. Our sessions spanned across several weeks. Their obsession kept the healers coming to Mother's side, one after the next. So long as they were willing to pay I was there to perform. They believed I wanted to be there with them. I never told them about my mother.

My client was ignorant of my personal life, beyond recognizing me from my family's past shows. I, on the other hand, was learning more and more of their private affairs. They were getting too comfortable with me, forgetting themself and their pact with the palace when the drinks were poured. I could've filled the daily paper with the gossip they spilled. I picked up bits of gossip Vix would relay from the palace and pieced together that my client had racked up a list of dangerous enemies.

Inevitably, one of those enemies found me.

"No one gets as close as you do," said the shady lawman as he slipped me a blade and a down payment under the table. "You up for this?"