Chapter 14: Married Life - Dirty Hands

“Cousin, please wake up.”

A burning throb covered half of Raviathan’s face. The fine grain of old wood against his cheek was the only tie he had to gravity. The rest of the world insisted on twisting about like it was trying to buck him off. Dizzy with pain, he tapped his hand against the platform hoping that was enough of a signal for Soris to give him a minute.

Angry shouts swarmed in the distance like a wasp nest had fallen in the middle of the alienage. Maker his face hurt. Not since his mother’s training had he experienced pain like this. Why... ? Raviathan bolted up. The pain in his face slammed a wave of nausea that threatened to turn up the contents of his stomach. Nesiara. “Where is she?”

Everything looked too bright. Raviathan winced as the glare of sunlight shot past his eyes and straight into his brain. Soris’s eyes were red. “They took her. Shianni and Valora too.”

With Soris’s help, Raviathan struggled to his feet. They were alone on the stage. Valendrian stood in the center of a large crowd of elves across the other side of the square, his voice ringing out over their protests. That shem stood with him. For a second, the light became a bright, indistinct glare, turning the alienage sideways. Raviathan swayed, clutching at Soris to stay on his feet. “What happened to the Mother?”

“She left. Rav, what are we going to do?”

“Would she have gone for help?”

“Mother Boann? To who? Vaughan commands the city guards. The templars won’t get involved.”

As he walked, Raviathan’s vision cleared, his steps becoming steadier. Ness. “How long was I out?”

“I’m not sure. Twenty minutes?”

Did he still have time? “I’m going after them.”

“Rav? You ... you can’t. It’s not possible.”

Raviathan pushed the gathered elves out of the way to get to Valendrian. A few turned in anger but stayed silent when they saw him, their faces shifting to pity. That shem stood there, useless. Valendrian spied them and beckoned. “You’re awake. Your father has gone to the bann he works for to ask for help.”

“I’m going after them,” Raviathan growled. His voice didn’t sound like his own anymore. Lower, deeper, his voice carried over the shouts easily.

Valendrian’s face fell.

“You can’t!” Elva screeched. “You’d risk us all for a few? You go, and we’ll have a purge for sure. Vaughan isn’t going to show any restraint now that his father is gone.”

Valendrian raised his hand for silence as a dozen more elves added their voices to the cacophony. “Elva, this act of aggression cannot be allowed to stand. That Vaughan would do this ... in the open with no fear or consequences. As it is, another purge may be inevitable.”

The momentary silence broke as scores of elves shouted out. There was no one voice to unite them, no single view of what should be done. Some gasped at the idea of a purge. Others raged against the injustice of the invasion.

Their voices pounded through Raviathan’s skull, further setting him on edge. All of this was wasting time his wife and kin didn’t have. For the first time in Raviathan’s life, Valendrian’s authority would have no impact on his decisions.

Raviathan turned to leave. He had taken three steps, when an hand on his arm pulled him back. Raviathan snarled at the shem, ready to cut the man’s hand off if only he had a knife. “Back off, shem.”

“Rav,” Valendrian’s voice warned.

Before he could finish, Raviathan cut him off. “What do you think they’re going to do? Every minute here is wasted.”

Duncan shook his arm. “And you think to rescue them unarmed? Where is your head, lad?”

“You’ll not stop me.” If he could, Raviathan would put a dagger in this shem’s stomach.

“I’m not trying to. You will get further if you dress as a servant.” Duncan’s advice was so unexpected, Raviathan felt it like a slap. “Get changed, and quickly. I’ll lend you my sword and bow.”

“Where is Isa?” Valendrian called out. “She can take you there.”

“Go into the grounds. The side entrance for servants is on the right. Second door. Goes to the kitchen”

If Isa hadn’t looked sick with fear, Raviathan would have kissed her. “Any advice?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t come here often. Uh, watch out for dogs. They were fond of mabari.”

“Get going,” Raviathan said. Isa fled through the streets like a mouse searching for cover. In seconds, she was gone from sight. “Calm, Soris. Stay behind me. Let me clear a room before you follow.”

“Okay.”

Raviathan glanced back at his cousin. They had argued about a purge on the way over, but it didn’t matter as far as Raviathan was concerned. Maybe their hahren could figure a diplomatic way out, but as long as Vaughan was in charge, there would be no safety anymore. Not for any of them.

They hurried through the grounds. The estate was quiet. Not even a guard at the entrance. Vaughan’s confidence that no one would challenge him betrayed his arrogance. That arrogance was the only window of hope Raviathan and Soris had to exploit. Perhaps Duncan had a point that a couple of servants wouldn’t be noticed. Soris carried their two weapons, borrowed from Duncan, wrapped up in a thin blanket so they wouldn’t attract attention on the way over.

Raviathan took a shaky breath outside of the servants’ entrance to the kitchens. There was no going back. Once Vaughan invaded the alienage, the laws that allowed elves their own space free from the pain of shems was gone. How fragile those laws appeared to him now.

What would he find though? Guards on the other side of the door? Would they have to kill servants as well? People who were innocent? Would the city guards interfere? How far would they get? The glare of the over bright sun was strong in the courtyard without the high alienage walls all around. Raviathan felt naked without the walls, vulnerable. Would his people ever be safe again?

The door was unlocked. “Are you ready, cousin?”

“Rav? Will this work?”

No? Even if Vaughan thought nothing of elves, the odds were so far against them Raviathan thought they had a better chance of touching the moon. He opened the door feeling like his blood had turned to shards of ice. The small room was empty. Just a few benches. Light from high set windows and a cook’s fire lit the room beyond the open archway. The room was fragrant with the smell of lunch cooking

Tense, Raviathan jumped when he heard a slap. “You filthy knife ear! How long does it take to peel potatoes? Day after day,” another slap, “and you’re still worthless.”

Raviathan leaned around to look through the archway and found a beefy human holding an elf by the front of his shirt. The elf was bruised and bloody. The human’s broad back faced him. Raviathan motioned for Soris to stand back. Careful, making his steps quick but light, Raviathan padded forward taking a long knife from the wide table laden with food. The other elf saw him, eyes widening slightly, but said nothing. Raviathan gripped the knife, heart thudding. Couldn’t risk trying to knock the cook out. He’d raise the alarm. Had to be fast.

The elf winced as the man drew his arm back for another blow. This shem was larger than Raviathan and the other elf put together. Raviathan slid forward. The human was just a cook. Had never wronged him. But he would, Raviathan knew. If Raviathan had been hired as a servant, this cook would turn those blows on him instead. We’re nothing to these shems. Raviathan took the knife, gripping it in both hand, and drove it down into the human’s left lung. Deep.

The elf collapsed then scrambled out of the way.

Instead of falling, the human staggered about, reaching dumbly behind him. He was too fat, too thick to reach the knife hilt. He turned and saw Raviathan for the first time. The man had heavy jowls, his head sitting atop his shoulders with only a thick roll suggesting a neck. His eyes were small, shocked in his meaty face.

The elf swung a log at the back of the cook’s head, and Raviathan no longer had to look into the eyes of the first person he had ever killed.

“Terran.”

Raviathan tore his eyes away from the spreading pool of red at the human’s back. “What?”

“Terran. My name.”

“Rav.”

Soris came out of hiding, pale even by the glow of firelight. Terran nodded to him in greeting. “You’re looking for the women? Milord’s got them upstairs in his private rooms. I think you still have time since they only just got here.” He shook his head. “If you get them, run. None of us are safe here anymore. With Urien, it was bad, but not ... not like this.”

“Wi-,” Raviathan’s voice cracked. “Will the servants go to the guards?”

“The elves’ll run.” He kicked the body of the cook. The body jiggled with the impact as if Terran had kicked a sack of lard. “This shem had it coming. Most of ‘em here do.”

“Can you help us at all?” Raviathan asked. “A map, some details of the building?”

Why... ? Raviathan bolted up. The pain in his face slammed a wave of nausea that threatened to turn up the contents of his stomach. Nesiara. “Where is she?”

Everything looked too bright. Raviathan winced as the glare of sunlight shot past his eyes and straight into his brain. Soris’s eyes were red. “They took her. Shianni and Valora too.”

. But you’ll still need to deal with the rest that’s stayed on. You can try and sneak your women out through the servants’ passage, but it’s tricky. Easy to get turned around and trapped. And Vaughan. I don’t know. I don’t know what you’ll do. The guards’ll find you soon enough.” Terran glanced at Raviathan. “I don’t know what you’ll be doing to get them out of this. Or yourselves. Suicide if you ask me.”

Soris whimpered, his knuckles white as he clung to the wrapped sword scabbard. “We were told to dress as servants. That we’d get farther if we did.”

“I doubt most guards’ll notice a new servant or two. Those who could signed up with the king or left. You can’t get those women out by pretending they’re servants though.”

“Go on,” Raviathan said to Terran. “Probably best you get out of the city then.”

The elf nodded. “Make watch over you.” Terran cut the dead cook’s purse, and left with a hastily gathered sack of foodstuffs.

“Um, see if you can push him under the table,” Raviathan said. “Then stack some sacks against him. Hide the body a bit.” The first man I ever killed, Raviathan thought as he stared at the lumpy corpse. “I’ll check out the next room. If you hear fighting, and you don’t think you can help, just run.”

“Y-yeah.” Soris put a foot on the body and pushed. Brown spread across the corpse’s pants. “Ugh. What... ?”

“He’s dead. That’s what happens. Just ... do what you can, okay?”

At least Soris wasn’t thinking about his fear. He pulled his shirt up to cover his nose, got on the ground, and pushed with both feet to slowly scoot the body under the table.

The lard heavy shem left a wet stain on the floor. Soris grunted in disgust at the smell. The first person he had ever killed, thought Raviathan. He had seen death many times. Death stalked the alienage like starved wolves in winter, but this was the first that he was the sole cause. Not a disease, or cold, or neglect. Not the consequence of another’s blade. Raviathan stared at the body, seeing shapes and colors as the world unkitted itself in his mind, but not a person.

The loose bowels of the dead never made it into the tales, heroic or otherwise. Memories of his mother’s death rose at the back of his memory, the pain becoming fresh as a wound reopened. The dead have no dignity. Who had he been? Did he have family? There was more to this man than simply a cook who beat elves. Was he funny? Did he save scraps for the arl’s dogs? Had he ever loved? Was he a disappointment to his parents? All that he had been was lost. Now he was a fat lump smelling of shit. A joke with no way to hide.

Raviathan listened at the door. Low voices. He took the sword Soris had carried and stowed it near the door. Time to see if he could pass as a servant. There weren’t many in the dining hall. Three guards drunk at midday.

“You there, elf. Dry as a witch’s snatch here. Get us something.”

“Yes, milord.” Raviathan kept his head down and hurried across the room to the small door that Terran said led to the alcohol storage. So, he passed as a servant to drunken guards at least.

“Did you see that bride? The pretty one? When Vaughan’s done with her, maybe we can keep her in the barracks for a few weeks.”

“Heh. Not much ‘ll be left of ‘er wid all of us takin’ turns.”

“Still. Put a collar around her neck. Pet her when she learns a new trick. Couple weeks of training and she’ll present willing as a bitch in heat.”

“I’d like to do that with the red head. Muzzle her first though.”

Raviathan could feel his heart pumping hard in his chest. He put a trembling hand over his heart, felt it hammer through his clothes. These men would never leave them alone. Even if he could sneak his wife, kin, and friends out, there was nothing to stop Vaughan and his guards from coming back again. And again. There wouldn’t be any end.

His eyes caught the rat poison piled in small dishes around the edges of the room. Raviathan grabbed a half empty whiskey bottle. The shems knew they could do whatever they wanted. Shems never had any fear. They took and stole. Greedy, grasping, and cruel. Raviathan carefully funneled one plate of rat poison after another into the bottle. They take from each other. They take from us. And why not? We can’t stop them. He shook the bottle, watching as the powder dissolved. We have nothing but our anger and shame.

“Blasted knife ear. What took you so long?”

“Sorry, milord.” Raviathan kept his head down, eyes lowered.

“Lazy knife ears.”

Raviathan poured the liquid into each mug, bowed, and retreated back to the kitchen.

“Andraste’s tits! This is some hard stuff.”

With the door shut behind him, Raviathan felt calm. No more indecision. Raviathan’s eyes slid to the bubbling stew over the fire.

Soris dropped the last bag that would cover the dead shem from a casual glance. “Rav?”

“I have a plan.” The words made everything final. Energized, Raviathan hurried to his cousin. His mind sped up and went blank at the same time. Action without thought. Tying a scrap of cloth around Soris’ head, Raviathan said, “You’re going to serve lunch. You’re going to make sure every guard who comes in gets a big bowl full of that stew.” Raviathan dusted Soris’ shirt with flour and smeared a bit of gravy across his cheek. “Go. Tell them lunch is ready.”