Chapter Three
Rillie
Rillie Caulmont sang to herself under her breath as she pushed the broom back and forth over the dusty stone hearth.
“Rillie! That better be working I hear, not more of your song!”
Rillie bit her lip, but she didn’t stop singing. She lowered her beautiful voice to a mere whisper, rolling the words over her tongue and lips like polished stones. She closed her eyes, twirling and dancing to the beat of an imaginary drum, the strumming of an invisible harp.
“Rillie!”
Rillie’s pale grey eyes flew open and she stumbled backward in surprise. Her father, Gwiven, stood there with an exasperated look on his lined face.
“Sorry, father,” Rillie said. She tossed her long blonde hair over one shoulder. “Really. I am.”
Gwiven sighed in exasperation and then shook his head. He began to chuckle. “It is all right,” he said. “Why not finish your chores, then we’ll have some supper?”
“Yes, father,” Rillie said. She eased past her father, then began aggressively sweeping the stone floor of their small cottage.
Rillie and her father, Gwiven, had lived alone in the cottage for years, ever since Rillie could remember. She’d never met her mother. According to Gwiven, her mother Cirilyse had been a beautiful siren. But Rillie could only remember the face of her father, growing older with each year.
“Father, did you hear?” Rillie paused, wrapping the fingers of her right hand around the broomstick and swaying in the air as if she were dancing. “There’s a new ship down at the docks!”
Gwiven shook his head. “That’s none of your concern,” he said. “You know I don’t like you down there.” He shuddered. “Ever since…”
Rillie bit her lip and fell silent. “I know,” she said. “But that was months ago, father, and look – we survived!”
Gwiven rolled his eyes. “Yes, thank the gods,” he said irritably. “We survived famine and plague and war.”
“What?” Rillie frowned. “That’s a good thing, remember?”
Gwiven shook his head. “Aye,” he said. “Forgive me, child. I’m just a bitter old man – you know that all too well.”
Rillie hid her smile in the tangles of her long hair. It was a dance she knew well – Gwiven would complain, she would soothe, then her father would sigh and give up. It seemed that in the past few years, Gwiven had grown more cantankerous and grouchy…but Rillie imagined that such was to be expected. After all, her father was growing older by the day.
Rillie began to sing under her breath, softly, as she continued sweeping the hearth. Gwiven raised an eyebrow but said nothing to silence her, and Rillie’s imagination began taking her far away from the small stone cottage. She pictured a vast expanse of sapphire-blue sea, shimmering and rippling under the bright yellow sun.
As much as she didn’t like the thought of admitting it, Rillie knew her father was completely right. Their country, Nasenia, had never been rich or prosperous. The previous winter, a devastating plague had wiped out most of the available crops. Rillie shivered at the memory of waiting in line for handouts, clad in a thin cloak and shivering.
Then, before the famine had ended, a strange illness had taken hold of the population. Many had become ill and died – Rillie herself had nursed three of the neighbor’s daughters back to full health. Gwiven himself had taken ill, but fortunately, he had pulled through and recovered.
During the height of the plague, neighboring troops had invaded Nasenia. A mysterious battle had taken place at sea – no one had managed to learn all the details – and Rillie was still unsure as to what had actually happened. It intrigued her.
More specifically, life outside of Nasenia intrigued her.
“Father,” Rillie began, biting her lip and leaning on her broom. “Tell me about my mother.”
Gwiven gave her a strange look. “I should worry about your memory, child,” he replied. “I’ve told you the story time and time again.”
“I know,” Rillie said. She frowned. “I just…I want to feel like I know her.” She cleared her throat and flushed. “Sometimes I feel as if I’ve had no mother at all.”
Gwiven nodded. He looked pained, and for a moment, Rillie felt a pang of guilt as she stared into her father’s dark eyes. She knew that it had been hard on him when she was growing up. As a child, Rillie and Gwiven had been very close. But when she’d begun getting older, changing into a woman, Rillie had seen that it was very difficult for her father. Gwiven was a strong, circumspect man…and a rambunctious teenage daughter didn’t exactly fold into the fabric of his life.
“Your mother was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” Gwiven said. He eased his body into a rickety wooden chair and closed his eyes, resting his palm on the table. “She was vivacious and charming – whenever she spoke, men would close their eyes, just to imagine being close to her.”
Rillie nodded. The tale was familiar to her – a constant refrain that had been repeated during her twenty-six short years in Nasenia.
“I was down by the docks – fishing, with some other young men – and that’s when I saw her for the first time. She was sitting on a rock by the edge of the sea, tracing her hand in the water and singing. Her voice was magnetic, beautiful…it was a perfect music.”
“Do I sound like her, father?”
Gwiven nodded. “Aye,” he said. “You do.”
Rillie propped the broom against the stone wall of the cottage and sat down on the freshly-swept floor, crossing her legs under her long skirts.
As Gwiven talked, Rillie’s mind began to wander. She saw a beautiful woman with pale skin, golden hair much like her own, and pale grey eyes. Even though Gwiven had more than once told Rillie he found her beautiful, she’d always dismissed his praise. There’s no way I could be as beautiful as my mother, Rillie thought as she listened to the husky sound of Gwiven’s voice.
When Gwiven had finished the tale, Rillie felt spellbound and strangely tired. She yawned, covering her mouth with both of her small, pale hands.
“Aye, there you have it,” Gwiven said gruffly. “Now how about getting up and starting supper?” He glanced out the window, shielding his eyes with one hand. “It’ll be dark before you know it.”
Rillie nodded. “Aye,” she said. She brushed past her father and into the small kitchen, where she picked up an empty water skin and slung it into a faded and shapeless cotton bag. Putting the strap of the bag over her shoulder, Rillie balanced an empty basket on her head and sashayed out the front door.
This time of day – early evening – was always Rillie’s favorite. She closed her eyes and hummed to herself as she walked carefully down to the shore. The air was warm and save for the sound of buzzing cicadas, rather quiet. As Rillie’s feet moved along the well-worn path, she took a deep breath. When she had been a child, Rillie had always loved being alone – it had given her a chance to imagine a different life for herself.
Why I feel like an old woman, Rillie thought, wrinkling her nose at the idea. And I am not yet twenty-seven!
A group of small boys by the waterfront, splashing, and playing, only made Rillie feel more elderly. She dropped down to her knees, splashed water over her face and hands, then began to fill the skin until it was bulging at the seams.
When the water skin was filled, Rillie left it and her bag at the edge of the water then wandered into the woods. She picked five large apples from a nearby tree, tossing them into the basket and then balancing the basket carefully atop her head once more.
By the time she returned home, the sun was sinking low in the sky. Gwiven was sitting at the table, carving a small wooden figurine.
“You were gone for so long I thought I’d have to come looking for you,” Gwiven said, raising his eyebrows at Rillie. “What happened?”
Rillie shrugged.
“Aye, day-dreaming again, I bet,” Gwiven replied. He shook his head. “What am I going to do with you?”
Rillie shrugged again. “Well,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice. “You can’t marry me off – there are hardly any young men left in Nasenia, and all the old ones are married or widowed. And I don’t think you’d be able to ship me off, I’m not good for much.”
Gwiven laughed. “You are right,” he said, sighing good-naturedly. “I supposed I will just have to keep you here.”
Rillie laughed, too, but inside she felt a deep sadness that she couldn’t begin to explain.
Gwiven turned serious. “Raelina,” he said, reaching for Rillie’s hand. “I do have regrets.”
Rillie wrinkled her nose. “One of them should be that name,” she said, tossing her long hair. “You know how much I dislike it.”
“It’s a beautiful name,” Gwiven said. “For a beautiful girl.”
Rillie flushed and pulled her hand away.
“And yet,” Gwiven continued. “Rillie, my dear, perhaps I should not have…perhaps I should not have raised you as a companion, but as a child.”
Rillie stood there, feeling awkward. “It is all right, father,” she said.
“It’s not,” Gwiven said. He sighed and Rillie felt a melancholy wave pass through her body.
“Well, there is nothing you can do, now,” Rillie said softly. She took the basket from her head and set it down on the table. Grabbing one of the apples and a knife from her father’s hand, she began peeling it with a single deft motion.
Gwiven sighed. “I am not in good spirits tonight,” he said. “I apologize.”
Rillie shrugged again, feeling more awkward than ever. She leaned down and kissed her aging father on the head. “It is fine,” she said. “Tell me, father, do we have any fresh pork left?”
Gwiven nodded without meeting her eyes. “In the cold box,” he said.
Rillie finished peeling the apples, then diced them into small bits and lit a fire in the grate. She tossed the diced apples with a bit of onion and a pinch of salt. Soon, a delicious, savory smell filled the cottage. Rillie took the cold box from under the stones of the floor and found a small loin of pork. She sliced it open with the knife, stuffed the apple mixture inside, then placed it inside of a small pot over the fire.
When she was done, she wiped her hands on her apron and sank into one of the wooden chairs at the table. Gwiven was still silent, staring down at the crude wooden figure in his hands.
A strange mix of emotions flooded Rillie’s body. Boredom, anxiety, guilt, -- it was suddenly too much to bear. She swallowed and took a deep breath. How I wish I could leave, she thought, looking around the dingy cottage. But I cannot leave my father on his own – he could not care for himself, he is getting far too old and stiff. And where would I go? I have no skills!
A knock at the door jolted Rillie out of her thoughts. She got to her feet and pushed her hair back behind her shoulders before opening the door.
A uniformed man stood there. When he locked eyes with Rillie, she saw his face turn vacant and blank.
“Yes?” Rillie asked. “What is it?”
“A document, for you, ma’am,” the uniformed man said. He pressed a stiff card into Rillie’s hand, made a bow, then turned and walked crisply away from the door.
Rillie waited until the man was out of sight before breaking the wax seal on the card and unfolding it.
“Father, this just came,” Rillie said, frowning over the words written in elegant Common on the card. “It’s from the council.”
“Oh, give it here,” Gwiven replied.
Rillie passed over the card. “It reads like a bunch of nonsense,” she said, her nostrils flaring. “I’ll check on the pork.”
Her father remained silent as Rillie peered inside the clay pot. The pork was cooking nicely – Rillie turned it once, tossed in a handful of dried herbs, and replaced the pot.
“Hmph,” Gwiven said, narrowing his eyes and tossing the card into the fire.
Rillie frowned. “What is it?”
“Nothing of importance,” Gwiven replied.
“Tell me,” Rillie said crossly. “Even if it is nothing, I’d rather know.”
“The Council of Nasenia is concerned that the world is full of too much change,” Gwiven said. He shrugged. “Whatever that means.”
“Does it have to do with the famine? The plague?”
“More likely the attacks,” Gwiven said. “The card mentioned the importance of self-sufficiency.” He snorted derisively.
Rillie frowned. “I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head. “What’s going to happen?”
Gwiven shrugged. “I don’t know, child,” he said. “But if I were you, I’d expect some changes.”
“Do you think it would be better if we had a king and queen?”
Gwiven burst out laughing.
Rillie looked offended. “What? It’s not that bad of an idea,” she said. “Lots of people say it would be better if we had just one ruler.”
Gwiven shook his head. “Child, you still have a lot to learn,” he replied. “The council knows what is best for us, trust me on that.”
Rillie nodded. She took the pot off the fire and carefully portioned out the pork on two plates. Now that it was cooked, the piece of meat looked smaller than ever – between them, Rillie and Gwiven would barely have a dozen bites of food.
“If the council is so wise, perhaps they could advise me how to obtain more food,” Rillie said, tossing her hair and cutting into her meat with a knife.”
Gwiven sighed. “You’ll understand, one day,” he said softly.
It struck Rillie as an odd comment, but she didn’t reply. Instead, she cut her meat into tiny pieces and ate slowly, savoring the taste of apple and onion.
When they had finished eating, Rillie rinsed the plates with a bit of water from the skin.
“I think I will go to bed,” Gwiven said. He rose and grunted sharply. “I am exhausted.”
Rillie hugged her father and watched as he slunk out of the room to the chamber where he and Rillie had small mattresses on the floor. Once her father was out of sight, Rillie sat down with some tangled knitting in her lap. But she found that her hands were clumsy, and her mind could not concentrate. She put down her work with a sigh, then got to her feet and peered out the window.
Stars were sprinkled brightly all over the sky, shining down with a gentle glow that Rillie found soothing. As always, she felt lured by the large sky and the ocean breeze in the air. She knew her father would be angry to find that she’d left home after dinner, but she also found that she no longer cared.
Wrapping a thin cloak around her shoulders, Rillie pushed open the cottage door and slipped noiselessly into the night.