To help with the large cast of characters,
I have put together a spoiler-free Dramatis Personae
Like many old estates in Sona Gen, Von Ol Ŏklo’s estate was the original primary seat of its House. The high stone wall that surrounded it and most of the stone structures within were older even than unified Láokoth. Older than the crown. So Ga considered this with awe as Rin Holok conveyed them, via a circuitous route, through the grounds.
Like most grand estates, Von Ol Ŏklo’s was a labyrinth of connected structures and walkways. Unlike others, even the Palace, most of these structures were made of stone. Most were no taller than two levels, but the three towers and the primary edifice climbed much higher. The aged stone had been bright red when it was new but had, with time, darkened near the ground and faded at the heights. Tiled roofs of black and gray gleamed in the shrouded daylight.
Rin Holok did not take them inside any of the low stone buildings. Instead he kept his route to the walkways that connected them. These were made of wood and were covered with ornate, rounded roofs which had been painted brightly. So Ga perceived that there was a pattern to the colored roofs that seemed to provide a skilled resident with a kind of map. He suspected that this map would be much clearer from above.
As they moved through these walkways, the sky rumbled with distant thunder. A chill wind slipped past Von Ol’s walls and clutched So Ga’s chest tightly. He coughed into his sleeve and Min La turned to glance at him. It wasn’t until that moment that So Ga realized how tired he was, which surprised him greatly. He would not have expected a simple cart journey to be so wearying.
A thought occurred to him. “The cart and horse,” he said to Min La.
But Nŏl patted So Ga’s arm and said, “Don’t worry. I told Master Élo to have someone take it back to the inn tomorrow.”
Despite his light tone, So Ga could see that Nŏl was uneasy inside his uncle’s walls. His brow was creased and his eyes dark. The smile he wore when he spoke to So Ga was distracted and weighted by worry, or anger. Or both.
Hino Son said to Rin Holok, “It is so quiet. Where is everyone?”
His cousin glanced at the sky. “Probably preparing the evening meal. There are very few servants left in the estate.”
“And the swords?” Nŏl asked.
“Most are on the other side of the mountain road,” he looked back at him, “keeping a close watch on Koda. Von Ol’s convinced he can catch them doing something they shouldn’t and then use it to gain the silver mines for himself. As I understand it, he has several of the smaller Houses on the mountain doing the same. Though he does keep some swords near Ona Lín’s residence at Sivo Hin’s1 request.”
“Who?” Hino Son asked.
But Nŏl answered, “Sivo Hin is Ona Lín’s father.”
Hino Son nodded, detecting, as they all had, Nŏl’s dark tone. It was clear that he did not like Sivo Hin, but seemed unwilling to elaborate, at least at that time.
Rin Holok said, “If she will see you before the evening meal, that would be best. She closes her residence at that time and will only allow visitors in cases of emergencies. You will have to wait for tomorrow, and I think tomorrow will be difficult as she and her maids are finishing our wedding garments.”
“Yours, too?” Hino Son asked.
He smiled, his cheeks red again. “It is a northern tradition for the bride to make her husband’s wedding golt.”
At last they emerged from a long, curving walkway — one with a red roof — just as the sky was beginning to darken with billowing storm clouds.
Before them stood a stone structure which had been made taller by several wooden levels. The main stone level was unbroken by windows, but the upper wooden levels had several small windows of blown glass which shone in the fading afternoon light. Some were colored and patterned and seemed to twinkle with the lantern light within.
A broad stone portico surrounded the residence with lanterns hanging from the inner beams of the roof. They encountered two swords dressed simply in brown and blue wearing hats of the northern style, though without the tassels. They did not have armor, but their golts were short and their swords were long. Each wore two.
They recognized Rin Holok immediately and gave him confused looks. No doubt it was irregular for the groom to approach the bride’s residence prior to the wedding.
But Rin Holok bowed and motioned to them saying, “This is Nŏl Ŏklo from the west—” the swords immediately bowed “—and this is my cousin. Our friend here is very ill and has had a difficult journey. My lord Nŏl believes his cousin might be able to help him, if she will see him.”
The swords glanced at So Ga, who had pulled his blanket hood as low as he could to block the wind, and then at Min La.
They nodded and one said, “I will speak to Lo Nan.2” And with a bow he hurried off.
Rin Holok turned to them and said softly, “Lo Nan is the head of Lady Ona Lín’s maids.”
Thunder broke apart the sky together with a distant flickering of lightning. Rain immediately began to spot the gravel that had been spread along either side of the blue walkway.
They did not have to wait long, thankfully. The double door guarded by the swords opened once again and the guard returned, accompanied by a tall, aged woman dressed in crisp violet silk with a long brown satin apron pinned to the front of her golt. Her gray and white hair was braided into a large bun that shone like silver in the portico’s lantern light. She bowed with her hands clasped at her waist.
“The Lady Ona Lín would be happy to see you,” she said. Then she turned and glanced at Rin Holok with a small smile. “But not you, of course.”
Rin Holok bowed and turned to them. “This is where I leave you, I’m afraid. I will have them prepare rooms and baths for you.”
They thanked him and he bowed again before leaving, jogging across the gravel to one of the other stone structures.
The maid, Lo Nan, gestured for them to follow her and the guards opened the double doors.
Inside the walls of Ona Lín’s residence the small, landscaped grounds had been shaped into a miniature forest of slender maple trees which were dressed now in a thin covering of blood red leaves. The branches bent and swayed in a mesmerizing dance while the leaves made a crisp, porcelain music in the building wind. A narrow path of white stone wove through the trees — with other paths diverging from it, leading to small clearings where there were birdbaths or small gazebos — until they reached the porch of the stone building, where a small door was already opened.
A small, young maid waited in a bow, which deepened when she saw Nŏl. Once inside, they were directed — rather firmly — to deposit their shoes. The maid took So Ga’s blankets and their coats, but Min La kept his, eliciting a dignified narrowing of Lo Na’s small gray eyes. In the end, she allowed it and they were led further in.
The residence was brightly lit and warm. A stove roared in one of the central rooms they passed, with flues leading to all the other rooms. So Ga saw that the stone walls in that room were covered in exquisite frescoes. He nearly asked permission to stop and study them. Hin Lan had once told him about the frescoed walls of the old style, but he had never seen it himself.
The maid led them to a wide wooden staircase which they climbed. She then led them across a walkway that overlooked the open central room below, and to another set of stairs. So Ga was beginning to feel the strain of the climb and had to rely on Min La to help him up the last staircase.
Once they reached the top, a large door was opened and they were greeted by an array of bright glass lanterns in an assortment of colors. These hung from frames all around the narrow room. And though the room was narrow, So Ga observed with wonder, it was tall. All around the circumference had been erected a wide balcony overlooking the room. On this second level the wooden walls were entirely covered in small wooden drawers, each carefully labeled. More lanterns hung from the underside of the railing, and more from the tall ceiling. The room was warm with light and as bright as midday.
At the center of the room a small section of the wooden floor had been raised and then covered in brightly colored tiles that gleamed like melting ice in the lantern light. A frame of narrow wood made a simple roof over the platform which was shrouded in gauzy silk embroidered all over with maple leaves. A table stood beneath, and at the table sat a woman, the lady Ona Lín.
She wore a golt of rich blue silk with a collar of brown fur. Her sleeves were wide at the elbows and gathered slightly at her wrists. One hand turned the pages of a small volume on the table, while the other rested in her lap, tucked beneath a small fur blanket that matched her collar. So Ga felt a small draft in the room, despite the warmth from the stove below.
As Lo Nan brought them into her lady’s presence, she bowed and announced them, giving the names of only Nŏl and Hino Son. Min La and So Ga she called “their guests”.
Though she didn’t look up from her book, her lips moved in a smile when she heard the name of her cousin. She dismissed Lo Nan and motioned to another maid who stood near a frame of lanterns in a corner. The maid bowed and went to a door on the far wall where she whispered an order.
At last Ona Lín looked up from her book, a smile still upon her lips. With the practiced grace of a lady from the high family of one of the Fourteen Ancient Houses, she stood, leaving the fur blanket on her chair. Tucking her hands into her sleeves, she descended the steps of her platform.
She was not as tall as her maid Lo Nan, but she stood with such dignity that So Ga found himself startled by his own pounding heart. The lady Ona Lín was perhaps nineteen or twenty, with fair skin and long hair that was dark, like her cousin, but with flashes of red, like the maple leaves in the silk canopy above her. She wore it pinned away from her face, but long down her back, as was the fashion in the west. A jeweled comb in the shape of maple branch glittered behind her left ear. When she smiled, her dark brown eyes sparkled.
With delicate courtesy, she offered her cousin a small bow — mirrored, So Ga saw, by the maids in the room — and then to Hino Son an equal bow. But when she turned to Min La and So Ga, she bowed deeply, her long hair slipping over her shoulder. They bowed in reply, but So Ga found himself coughing when he bent and was not able to stand upright without Min La’s aid.
When So Ga looked again at Ona Lín, her smile had faded. Turning to Nŏl, she said, “If you’ll forgive me, cousin, I think I am needed here, first.”
He gestured, “Please,” he said, “that is why I have brought them.”
While Ona Lín listened, Nŏl introduced Min La and So Ga and explained briefly how he and Hino Son had come to travel with them. Regarding their identity, he said merely that they were travelers from Hin Dan. He did not offer a Housename and she did not ask.
Instead she motioned for So Ga to ascend the platform and sit at one of the chairs at her table. Min La followed, which she seemed to have expected. The door in the far wall opened again and a maid brought a large wooden tray laden with white porcelain cups and a large silver carafe. In addition to the carafe, which smelled strongly of coffee, there was also a small porcelain pot which emitted an herbal fragrance.
Ona Lín invited Nŏl and Hino Son to sit at the table while her maid poured them coffee. Meanwhile, the lady returned to her seat. Min La sat behind So Ga’s chair. He found himself feeling nervous to be examined and was glad for Min La’s presence. In the Palace every physician had brought bad news. Without the examination, he was more or less able to forget the serious nature of his physical state. But the stern or sorrowful expressions of the aged physicians, and then the sorrowful faces of his household would be a harsh and constant reminder.
“How long have you had this illness?” she asked him.
“Most of my life,” he replied.
“Since you were a child?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“It is in your lungs, primarily?”
“Yes, my lady.”
The maid from the corner had disappeared through another little doorway hidden in the seams on the wooden walls. She emerged then and brought a device to her mistress that looked like a long brass bell connected by a piping of leather to another, smaller brass bell.
“This is something my tutor invented,” she explained. “It allows one to listen to the workings of the lungs and heart.”
Taking it, she stood. The rest of them moved to stand as well, but she gestured for them to remain sitting. “Please,” she said to Nŏl and Hino Son, “drink your coffee. I’m sure you’ve had a long, hard journey. Otherwise, I expect, you would not be so late.”
Nŏl tried not to smile, while he offered a crooked bow of his head. “My apologies,” he said.
Ona Lín handed the larger bell to Min La and pointed to So Ga. “Please place this against your brother’s back.”
Min La blinked several times.
“Unless that is too difficult a task for you?” she asked, her eyes sparkling.
He apologized and did as he was told. The metal was cold even through So Ga’s layers of clothes. Ona Lín put the other bell to her ear and commanded him to breath deeply. He obeyed, but then coughed as he tried to exhale. She waited patiently for the coughing fit to finish, and then directed Min La to move the bell and instructed So Ga to breathe again. This continued for some time with Min La moving the bell wherever she directed.
At last she finished and returned the device to her maid. Then she poured So Ga a small cup of tea and smiled at him warmly. The sparkle she had had in her eyes when she had spoken to Nŏl was replaced by a shining that So Ga could not help but find sorrowful. And, as always, he felt his heart sink.
With a voice as gentle as silk, she asked him, “Do you feel any pain?”
So Ga glanced at Min La who had been given a chair next to him and a cup of strong coffee. The tightening in his chest made his ribs ache enough that he knew it would keep him from sleeping tonight. But he was concerned about worrying Min La and so he shook his head. “No, my lady.”
She smiled knowingly, looking deep into his eyes.
“You understand your condition, then?”
He nodded once.
“And that there is no cure?”
He nodded again. Min La put down his coffee, but said nothing.
“Very well, then.” She turned to her maid and asked for paper, a pen, and some ink. And then turned back. “And now, you,” she said to Nŏl, smiling again, “you have broken the traditions for a reason, I’m sure.”
He bowed. “I’m sorry, yes. But we spoke to Rin Holok and now—”
“And now you want to speak to me. Regarding this estate and this House.”
“Yes, cousin. That is why I’m here.”
She smiled again and poured herself a little tea. “Strange,” she said. “I had assumed you came for my wedding.”
He started, but when she smiled at him, his shoulders relaxed.
The maid returned with a little tray which she placed before her mistress. On it were several sheets of paper, a glass pen, and a small dish of black ink.
While Nŏl told her what they had encountered on their journey here, she poured So Ga more tea and offered him a soothing smile. When Nŏl finished his account, she picked up the glass pen and dipped it in the dish of ink.
“The bandits of whom you speak, I believe that they are not merely permitted to roam our lands due to the incompetence or laziness of our uncle’s management.”
They waited while she wrote upon the creamy sheet of white paper. Her maid stood over her, watching each word. When the list was finished, she took the paper from her mistress, bowed and hurried soundlessly out of the room. In time she appeared on the level above where she moved with great focus and concentration, searching the drawers for the items on the list and collecting them on a small bench that had been placed near the railing for that purpose.
“She will collect what you need. Though I must urge you to reconsider travel,” she said, looking not at So Ga but at Min La. “This cold and the grueling nature of carriage travel will take a tremendous toll on your brother. I’m surprised he survived the journey into Sona Gen.”
Min La bowed but said nothing.
While the maid continued flitting about from drawer to drawer, Ona Lín went on in a softer voice, looking at her cousin. “Our uncle, as you know, finds himself always wanting. He wants for silver and gold and land and power. Even if his coffers were filled to overflowing he would still want. It is in his nature. We both know this.”
“You better than I, perhaps,” Nŏl replied.
“I have…” she paused and sipped her tea. “I have learned that Von Ol Ŏklo does not merely allow bandits to roam these lands.”
The maid disappeared from the space above and then returned to the room carrying a small wooden box with several cloth parcels bound with string. This she handed to her mistress, who looked through it all. Then she nodded and handed it back.
The maid approached Min La and bowed, holding out the box with both hands. Min La accepted it, also bowing.
He said, turning to Ona Lín, “I would like to pay—”
But she lifted a hand, silencing him. “You are a friend of my favorite cousin,” she said with a warm smile. “That makes you family to me. And family silver is of no value in these walls.”
He and So Ga both bowed then and uttered their thanks.
Ona Lín quietly sent her maid to the corner of the room. The girl bowed and remained there while her mistress motioned them closer.
“I cannot speak of this openly in this place,” she said in a whisper so faint So Ga could barely hear her. “But I will say two things and they are of the utmost importance so you must remember them and you must believe me when I tell you that they are the absolute truth.”
Nŏl looked into his cousin’s eyes, his face untouched by the brilliant lantern light in the warm space. “Of course I will believe you.”
“Listen, then: first, this House and this estate does not allow bandits, it employs them. And second, the one who commands these bandits — listen to me closely, cousin — the one who commands them and who is with them when they rob and steal and, as you have now told me, kill, this man is known to wear red gloves. Do you understand?”
Nŏl shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
Her face became, for an instant, contorted by grief. She looked afraid, and then she looked grieved, and then she took a deep breath and her warm smile returned.
She said, “That is all I will say on the matter. Now—”
The small door to the left opened suddenly and the maid Lo Nan came in, her golt swishing like paper.
“My lady,” she said, bowing, “My lord Sivo Hin wishes to see you.”
“My father?” she asked, surprise sparking across her fair face. Then she looked at Nŏl and Hino Son, and then at Min La and So Ga. Turning back to the maid, she said, “take them up.” She gestured to the walkway above that surrounded the tall room.
“You must remain hidden,” she said to them. “And silent.”
They didn’t have time to reply or to react. Lo Nan gathered them like they were small children and began to push them through the little hidden door to the left. There they were met with a narrow wooden staircase, which she prompted them to climb. Nŏl was in the lead and Min La was last, with the maid behind him pushing on his back with the palm of her hand.
Before they could wonder why they had been sent to hide, they were already sitting on the floor of the upper balcony, their backs against the rows of tiny drawers, the fragrance of herbs and spices filling their noses.
Ona Lín had had her other maid take away their cups and the carafe of coffee. While they caught their breath on the balcony above, she delicately sipped tea at her table and turned the pages of her book.
This was the quiet scene when the main door of the room opened and her father came in.
He brought with him a wave of cold and trail of rain water. An attendant shadowed behind him, a severe, furtive looking man of middle age with a short red beard.
Sivo Hin was undoing his cloak as he entered, revealing a soldier’s golt of dark gray with a pattern along the collar of vines that looked a little like the royal hemlock motif that was common among royal Houseswords, a detail So Ga found strange. The man was taller than his attendant, and was trim and well-built. His hair was lighter than his daughter’s and his short beard was almost entirely gray. But he had the same brown eyes. And they sparkled in the same way when he saw her.
Ona Lín stood when he came in, and, tucking her hands again into her sleeves, she bowed. “Father,” she said warmly. “What a wonderful surprise.”
Sivo Hin Ŏklo approached her, a wide smile on his thin face. He had not taken off his shoes, and so she watched as his boots trailed mud and rain water across her wooden floor.
“Father,” she said, pointing. “My maids will scold you.”
“Never mind,” he said waving his hands. “It will give them something to do.”
She made a disapproving sound.
Her father paid it no mind and instead brought forth a small parcel from the inner pocket of his golt which he presented to her. It was wrapped neatly in yellow silk and shone like gold in the candlelight.
So Ga glanced at Nŏl whose brow seemed to have been broken by furrows ever since they arrived at the estate. He wondered how well Nŏl knew his uncle and why he seemed to have a low opinion of the man. Ona Lín was clearly fond of her father and, despite her urging that the four of them hide at his approach, she seemed genuinely pleased to see him.
“You oughtn’t have come before the appointed day,” she scolded him gently.
“As your father and only living parent, I believe I am afforded certain allowances.”
“And anyway,” she went on, her hands still tucked inside her sleeves, “I did not think you would be able to come until tomorrow.”
“My dear child,” he said frowning jovially. “It’s beginning to seem like you’re not happy to see me.”
“Of course I’m happy to see you, father. Your arrival merely surprised me. I did not think you could so easily get away from the mountain.”
“I have a great deal of authority over there, you understand. I can come and go as I please. And it pleased me to leave early for my only daughter’s wedding. Will you not take it?” He held the parcel higher.
“This is for me?” she asked, surprised.
“A wedding gift from your dear father.”
“But the wedding—”
“Is the father of the bride not allowed to break one or two rules?” He smiled and, taking one of her hands out of her sleeve, he placed the parcel in her pale palm. “This is for you alone and not for your household or your husband.”
Her eyes sparkled with a smile. So Ga realized suddenly that Ona Lín Ŏklo was exceptionally beautiful, a beauty that was made deeper and richer by the warmth of her character.
She took the gift from her father and unknotted the yellow silk. The cloth slipped from her fingers and made a shining pool of gold on the floor by her feet. Her maid came forward soundlessly and gathered it up before returning soundlessly to her place.
She held now a small black box of lacquered wood. This she opened and when she saw what was within, she let out a small gasp.
“Father,” she breathed. “It’s beautiful.”
“Shall I put it on you?” he asked, pleased with the success of his gift.
“If you would.”
She handed it to him and he took out its contents, giving the empty box to his attendant. His daughter turned around and let him loop the necklace around her neck, fastening it behind. Turning back around, she squeezed his hands and thanked him again.
When at last she stood back, the four of them were able to see the gift from their hiding place on the walkway above.
Hanging around Ona Lín’s neck was a beautiful necklace made of several strands of blue faceted stones and tiny shining golden discs. Dangling heavily from the strands of blue stones was a large pendant of gíth inlaid with gold. A pelican.
It was Ăna San Sengí’s necklace, the one her husband Vono had given to her when they were married.
So Ga turned to Min La whose face had become as pale as Ona Lín’s white porcelain cups. So Ga felt a surge of shock broil through him in a wave so powerful he was not sure how he contained it. He felt pained enough to cry out, but Min La touched his elbow in an effort to remind them that they had been commanded to hide. But now, at least, they were beginning to understand why.
Nŏl and Hino Son did not, he remembered, understand the significance of the gíth pelican. They had not been there when Ăna San had showed it proudly to Íso Lin. It was likely that the little thief’s report about that necklace had been what had prompted the bandits to choose their carriage over all the others. Looking at Min La, So Ga suspected that he very much wanted to go back to the stone house where they had left Íso Lin and kill him. So Ga felt the same way. It seemed like a thousand times less than what he deserved.
“Well,” they heard Sivo Hin say. “If I don’t leave you now, the wrath of the Ădol is likely to strike me dead for breaking the traditions.”
“Father,” Ona Lín answered sternly, “you shouldn’t joke.”
He put his hands on his daughter’s shoulders and kissed her high forehead. “I will see you in seven days,” he said.
Turning from her he took his gloves from his pocket and began to put them on. As he did so, Ona Lín looked up at them where they hid.
Sivo Hin Ŏklo’s gloves were red.
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Pieces are beginning to fall into place. Will their weather ever warm up? I get cold just reading these chapters!