Chapter 6: Alana

"No! Don't touch those scrolls, imbecile!"

The old servant stopped in mid-movement at the sharp command. How often did she have to remind this annoying person to keep her hands off that desk?

"Dekra, haven't I told you time and again to leave my desk be? Those are brittle parchments, hundreds of years old. If I ever catch you again messing with my desk, it'll be the laundry room for you!"

The stupid person was not even contrite!

"I served your grandfather, may he rest in peace, and he was always content with me!" she said in that whining tone that annoyed Alana so much.

"Then go and clean his tomb!" Alana exploded. "I want you out of here, you hear! I've had it. Out, and never dare to enter this room again!"

The look of real fear on Dekra's stupid face was only half satisfying. The stupid cow! Of course, King Lorsa had been content with her. Thirty years ago, Dekra must have been a pretty thing, and if she had been as stupid as she was now, Lorsa had certainly fucked her with pleasure.

Pretty! How she hated that word! It was the opposite of what Alana was. Alana was ugly. Alana was disfigured. Alana was the Scarface. Alana had to cover her ugly face lest she scared away visitors.

It was early morning, but her day had gone to the underworld already. She looked accusingly into the highly polished pewter plate that served as mirror. Even the imperfect image showed the scars on her left cheek where the hot coals had forever destroyed her beauty. And beautiful she had been! At fourteen, the young nobles had already vied for her favour.

Everything had changed on that fateful evening. And she had nobody to blame but herself. She was so full of herself, so arrogant! When the maid had not ironed the dress she wanted to wear to her liking, she had grabbed the iron to hurl it at the young girl. The iron had opened, and the hot coals had dropped on her, igniting the wax paper collar which had been a fashionable accessory at the time.

The burning collar left her cheek covered with scar tissue. The scars were not bright red anymore, but they were all Alana could see when she gazed into the mirror plate. She turned away and covered her head with a veil. Time for breaking the fast. Her father had been invited to the Palace the night before, and Alana was eager to hear the news and gossip.

When she entered the study room where she usually had breakfast with her father, she saw him bent over a manuscript. Looking up, she saw his excitement already.

"There you are, my little one," he smiled. "I have exciting news. Sit, and I'll tell you."

Obediently, Alana sat. She loved her father. He was the only one who still treated her like before, who still showed his affection. And she shared his passion, his driving ambition to unravel the Old Language.

"Oh, before I forget, King Odar has broken Javila's collar and she has taken Queen Ada's place. Her sons, Macro and Lamas are princes now. Uncle Botho is enraged, of course. He'll never give up. Personally, I think Macro will make a good successor. The way he runs Tanitsar as Vice-regent already shows his qualities.

"But you would not believe what happened. After the meal and all the announcements and toasts, a young slave girl from Javila's household stepped up and read from the ancient Tales of Tanitsar, translated into Hani!"

The cup dropped from Alana's hands, breaking in two and splattering the table with tea.

"The ancient tales, in the Old Language?"

"The very! She's from Hanilei, of all places. A visiting Elderman from Hanilei – he was as baffled as the rest of us – asked her where she learned the Old Language. Imagine, she's the daughter of the lone surviving priestess of the Hanilei Temple. The priestess married in the aftermath of the sack of her temple to hide from the mobs, but she taught her daughters to read the Old Language. The Elderman demands the girl is returned to Hanilei of course, but what for? Tanitsar is where we kept the old books and scrolls. In Hanilei, they burnt them! What is she to do there?"

"But father, aren't you disappointed?"

"Disappointed? No, of course not! With her help, we can now read all those old writings. I don't want to decipher a language. I want to read the books and scrolls. You can meet her tomorrow at the Vice-regent's residence. Bring your own work too for comparison."

"Father, I can't! There are people, and..."

"Alana, it's the only way. Who knows how the King will decide? Elderman Brukar carries weight. Perhaps the girl will have to leave. You have to learn from her as quickly as possible."

"The Noble Alana, to see the Vice-regent," the major domus announced.

"Don't let her wait outside, show her in!"

Macro did not want to offend Elbar's daughter. The woman who was shown into the atrium was tall and well built, yet she moved hesitantly, and she unconsciously controlled the seat of her veil every few moments. Her voice was cultivated and pleasant though.

"I thank you for receiving me on such short notice, my Prince," she said nicely.

"Receiving the visit of Alana, Elbar's daughter, is an honour for me and my household. Would you care for refreshments? We have fresh grape juice, unfermented, if you like it."

He had informed himself, and he knew it was her favourite. She tilted her head slightly and nodded.

"That would be nice, thank you."

Macro looked at the major domus, and the man nodded and disappeared. A few moments later, Thesia appeared in the atrium carrying scripture rolls under her arm.

"Noble Alana, this is Thesia, daughter of the Priestess Eloa of Hanilei. Thesia, this is Alana, daughter of the Noble Elbar."

Thesia curtseyed and was surprised that the veiled noblewoman also bent her knee.

"My father told me that you speak and read the Old Language, revered Priestess."

"Oh, but I am no priestess! My father is but a goldsmith, and my mother keeps his house. They say she was a priestess of the Temple, but I am only her daughter."

"Be that as it may, it seems right to me to address you with the respect due to your descent," Alana answered. "Would you be willing to help me understand the Old Language? Like my father, I devoted years to the effort of understanding the old tales, but with nobody alive to teach us, it was all in vain."