Andras Volya
After Diana and Rafe leave together, I step out and find Andras Volya in the University stables.
Andras is crouched down on one knee as he tends to the front leg of a black mare, gently massaging herbal paste into the animal’s leg. If he sees me, he gives no indication, as he continues to focus entirely on the horse. The horse, on the other hand, turns to eye me with calm curiosity.
I walk slowly over to where he kneels. “Andras?” My voice is tentative, and he doesn’t look up. “I...I need to speak with you,” I persist.
“I won’t say anything about the Selkie,” he says, “if that’s what you’ve come to ask.” He stops massaging the horse’s leg, stands and murmurs softly to her as she nuzzles him, the crimson rune-marks all over his red tunic glimmering in the light. “His treatment of her bothered me greatly,” he says. His brow tenses as if he’s remembering something disturbing. He turns to look at me. “You were right to rescue her. I should have done so myself.”
“How long was she there?” I ask him.
He considers this, staring off into the wilds, in the direction of the groundskeeper’s cottage. “A month’s time, I’d say.” Andras cocks his head to one side and studies me as if I’m a puzzle to him. “The granddaughter of Carnissa Gardner. Rescuing Selkies.” He sets the paste jar down and wipes his hands with a rag. “Doesn’t your aunt want the Selkies shot?”
Stunned, I stare at him blankly.
He lifts his chin and considers me closely. “She introduced the motion. On your Mage Council. Earlier this year. To have them shot as soon as they come to shore.”
There are better ways to deal with Selkies that are far more humane than keeping them in cages, forcing them to...act human.
She meant...killing them!
He must read the shock in my expression. “You didn’t know?”
I shake my head and let out a long sigh of disgust. Just when I think Aunt Vyvian can’t get any worse. I sit down on the hay bale behind me, momentarily reaching up to massage my aching temples. The world is so much worse than I ever imagined. And Aunt Vyvian is so devastatingly cruel.
The mare’s tail makes a swishing sound as she flicks it from side to side, a chilly breeze flowing into the stable from the outside. My eyes are drawn to the rolling, violet-tinged hills, their base carpeted with a line of bright yellow larch trees.
“It’s beautiful here,” I observe.
Andras looks out over the landscape and nods.
“It’s like another world,” I muse. “It reminds me of my home.” I hold up my hand, covering up the University city, which is rendered small by our distance from it. “It’s like you can almost pretend the University doesn’t exist.”
“I try to do that sometimes,” he admits.
I turn to look at him. “You don’t like it here?”
He shakes his head. “My mother and I used to live on the outskirts of Western Keltania. I much prefer it.”
“Oh,” I say softly, momentarily at a loss for what else to say. Then my eyes alight on the intricate designs on his tunic. “Your runes,” I observe hesitantly. “They glow.”
He glances down at the marks and nods. “Amaz runes. They’re crafted from a melding of several runic systems. They enhance our power—”
Andras breaks off suddenly, eyes darting to look at something behind me, and his whole body stiffens.
I turn to see Andras’s mother, Professor Volya, standing in the stable’s back entranceway. Fear swamps over me. How long has she been standing there? Did she hear us?
I can see it in her shrewd gaze—she did hear us. My heart hammers out my dire concern.
“Mother,” Andras says, his deep voice guarded.
“My son,” she replies tersely.
We all stare at each other for a long moment, the silence thick and uncomfortable.
“Mage Gardner,” Professor Volya finally says, her black eyes sharp on me. “I just had the most intriguing visit from the area’s Vu Trin commander and the Verpax groundskeeper. It seems as if the groundskeeper’s Selkie has gone missing.”
I stare back at her like a deer caught in the torchlight.
Her eyes tight on mine, she takes a seat on a hay bale. She sits like a man. Legs spread apart, arms crossed.
“Relax, Mage Gardner,” she tells me. “I, too, will keep your secret.”
I let out a heavy breath, relief washing over me.
“So,” Professor Volya says, peering at me, “Carnissa Gardner’s granddaughter has rescued a Selkie.”
“Her body,” I tell them, my voice low. “It’s covered in lash marks. He must have whipped her over and over again.”
Andras makes a sound of disgust and looks away.
Professor Volya doesn’t look the least bit surprised. “It is the nature of men.”
Andras’s head jerks toward his mother, his brow tight with offense.
“To beat women senseless?” I question, incredulous.
“To be cruel,” she replies. “To attempt to dominate women in any way possible.”
Andras’s jaw tenses, and his face takes on a hard look. He throws down his cloth and stalks out.
His mother ignores him. “It has been this way since the beginning of time,” she continues, her eyes steady on me.
I shift uncomfortably on the prickly hay bale beneath me. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
“It is not surprising,” she observes, “that you are ignorant of your own history. Sad, but not surprising.” Professor Volya regards me coolly for a moment. “This world,” she says, leaning forward, “and everything in it, was made by the Great Mother. And the first people she made were the Three Sisters. This is your history.” She waits a moment for this to sink in as I stare back at her. “After they were created, Ama, the Great Mother, saw that the Sisters were lonely, so she took a bone from each of their fists and made the First Men.” She holds her fist straight up as she tells me this, then lowers it again. “The First Men were not grateful for all the Goddess had done for them. Instead, they tried to convince the Three Sisters to join them and slay the Great Mother, so that they could rule over all of Erthia.” Again she pauses.
I’m amazed at how different this creation story is from the one I’ve grown up knowing.
“One of the Sisters refused to betray the Goddess. She went to her and warned her of the terrible plan. The Great Mother renamed this First Sister Amaz, and set down a curse on the others.”
“How did she curse them?”
“The two Sisters who betrayed the Goddess were sent to live with the First Men, who were strengthened by the extra bone in their fists and emboldened. They sought to enslave these two Sisters and abused them in every way. But the loyal Daughter was greatly blessed by the Goddess and remained strong and free. So you see,” Professor Volya says, sitting back again on the hay bale, “from the beginnings of time, men have been untrustworthy and only interested in cruelty and domination.”
“But your own son,” I say, “he seems a decent sort...”
Her eyes take on a faraway look. “He is kind and good because we perform every ritual the Goddess requires. In return, She has taken pity on him and blessed him greatly.” She’s quiet for a moment, considering me as a nearby mare snuffles and pulls at some hay. “You should be going,” she says, getting up. “It would not be good for the Vu Trin to find you here.”
I get up and brush the hay off my tunic.
“Good luck with your Selkie, Elloren Gardner,” she says to me. “You have done a brave thing. May the Goddess help and protect you.”
* * *
Andras is standing next to a large Keltic workhorse, stroking its neck, speaking to it softly. He keeps his eyes on the horse as I approach.
“So,” he says, “did my mother tell you the story of my cursed fist?” The disdain in his voice is surprisingly sharp.
“She did.”
Andras makes a disgusted sound as he continues to stroke the horse’s neck. “It’s a powerful story,” he admits, a hard edge to his tone.
“I’d never heard it before.”
Andras shakes his head in bitter disapproval. “She never stops recruiting for her tribe, my mother. Shunned for more than eighteen years, and still she’s loyal to them. The ironic thing is, my mother’s a brilliant scientist.” He holds his hand up for my inspection. “She knows that I have exactly the same number of bones in my fist as she does in hers, and yet, she believes.”
Andras peers off into the distance, where his mother is astride a white Elfin mare, riding away from us, her tunic’s rune-marks streaking red trails in their wake. “If she’d had a daughter, instead of me, she’d be with them still.” He turns to me, his brow tight. “I ruined my mother’s life.” He reaches up and strokes the horse’s neck. “And so,” he continues, his face full of resignation, “I go with her every full moon to perform the rituals the Goddess requires. Every morning we leave offerings and pray to Her. We follow every last Amaz tradition to the letter of the law. All except one.”
“What would that be?” I ask hesitantly.
He turns to me, his hand still on the horse. “My mother refused to abandon me at birth because I’m male, as Amaz tradition dictates. And she’s spent every single day of her life trying to atone for it.” He shakes his head and lets out a deep sigh. “Do you know what else is ironic about all this?”
I hold his gaze, waiting.
“I’ve never once had the slightest urge to raise my fist against a woman, contrary to what the Amaz creation myth says about men. The only person I’ve ever wanted to seriously hurt is the University groundskeeper, but I’m sure I’m in complete agreement with my mother in that regard. She may wind up killing him before I get a chance to.”
“Actually,” I say, “I think Diana Ulrich is first in line.”
He looks surprised. “The Lupine girl?”
I nod. “We had to talk her out of ripping his head off earlier.”
Andras stares at me for a moment, then laughs. He has a nice smile, wide and open. “I think I would like this Diana Ulrich.”