Still Falling: Book 1: Solstice 31 Saga (11 page)

“I want you to have another bowl and another. We have a lot of work to do around here. I need your help. If we are to survive this winter, we need to be strong.”

“Is there no one else here?” Olias was not sure his words were correct.

“There are only the three of us. I found this place a month ago in ruin. I have been working hard and fast to prepare for the winter.”

“Just you? Alone?” Po was incredulous.

“Yes. Well... Yes,” Barcus said. Olias and Po looked at each other. It wasn't hard for him to know what they were thinking. “His name is Ash. He won't hurt you, I promise.”

A Keeper’s promise carried more weight than Barcus knew. Or it was supposed to. It never really did, until that day.

“I really need your help. I don't know how to do this. Whitehall is a good place. It has orchards and vineyards and beehives. It has good water and shelter. And it's safe.”

They said nothing.

“Why do they come? The soldiers. Keeper Malcom, he knew,” Barcus queried them.

“I don't know. At first I thought it was my fault. I don't think so now,” Po replied.

“Your fault?” Barcus asked.

“There is no one else,” she said.

Po began cleaning up. Any attempt to help her was expertly rebuffed as she worked. Olias and Barcus went together to check the horses.

Olias spoke in common tongue. Subtitles showed in Barcus’s HUD as Em translated, “My Lord, Keeper, let her do as she will, please. She needs it.”

“Call me Barcus.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Falling Asleep

“The Emergency Module began providing incomplete and even intentionally misleading information. The BUGs observed the destruction of several villages and never reported them to Barcus.”

--Solstice 31 Incident Investigation Testimony Transcript: Emergency Module Digital Forensics Report. Independent Tech Analysis Team.

<<<>>>

Olias and Barcus took a lantern each and carried the saddles to the tack room. It was next to the first two stalls. A fire was burning in that hearth. It kept the stalls warm on this end of the stables. Barcus showed Olias, the blacksmith shop at the other end. It was colder there. It had four different anvils but only one hammer. Ash had power washed the shop. Olias found its condition puzzling – clean and empty.

While he was with Olias, Barcus was watching Po in the gatehouse. She took off two extra layers of clothes, down to the gray dress she had worn for days. She took water from the kettle and cleaned the dishes. Then she refilled the kettle from jugs and put it to heat.

“You can look around more in the morning. You're welcome to stay as long as you want.”

They exited the far end of the stables. The sky had cleared and the moon was on the rise just over the far wall. They stood looking up, but what Barcus saw was Po. She drew the curtain aside and looked into the back room. Then she turned and retrieved the kettle. She hung it on the fireplace hook and when she turned, she startled and gasped and actually fell backward onto her bottom. Above the wash basin was a large mirror. It was tilted forward a bit and she could actually see herself sitting on the carpet in front of the fireplace.

Slowly she got up and looked at herself. She touched her own face on the mirror. She could see that it was dirty from the road. She went to her pack and dug out a cleaner dress of the same cut and a washcloth and towel. Looking at the curtain briefly, she reached behind her neck and undid a single button. Her dress, in one quick motion, fell in a pile around her ankles. He closed his eyes reflexively and instead of closing the window, it shut out the world so that was all he could see.

She poured some water into the wash basin. Hurrying now, she washed herself. She was so thin, it broke his heart. She was bruised from long days riding and sleeping rough. He glimpsed scars. But then, as fast as the dress had fallen, another went over her head. She wore nothing underneath the dress, and her feet were bare. Her boots were drying by the fire in the other room.

He opened his eyes. Olias was staring at him. He didn't know for how long. In his best common tongue, Barcus offered, “Let me show you where you can clean up.”

They crossed back to the courtyard that had the fountain. There was a tall, unkempt, willow tree growing up out of the center of the fountain, creating a large planter and canopy above that would shade the entire area in the heat of the summer.

Barcus led Olias into the outdoor kitchen area and to the midden door. The floor was warm, and the six stalls were clean and fresh. A large stone basin was on the other side. There were pitchers of water and towels with washcloths. The water had not frozen because the room was “magically” warm.

Olias gave a big smile and went into a stall. Barcus left him to it and returned to the gatehouse where Po was adding more wood to the fire. She had done the same in the bedchamber behind the curtain before she collected her things and went out.

“Let me show you where you will sleep.” He picked up her pack and Olias's as well. He swept aside the curtain and revealed the back room as if she had not already seen it.

“For now, you will sleep here. You are welcome to stay in this room as long as you like. But Whitehall is huge - you can claim almost any room you want.” He set her pack on the bed. “Olias and I will be just up in the loft above for now.”

“Where do we sleep, my Lord?” Po caught herself staring at him and averted her eyes.

He was reluctant to tell her that she was displacing him for fear that she would protest. He had to be honest though.

“And where will Olias be?” She took the pack from him and went up the spiral staircase to the loft. Barcus followed.

Two narrow cot-sized beds were there. She put down the pack and looked over the railing to the room below.

“Do you really live here?” She actually looked at him for the first time.

“Yes. It has all that I need. Why?” Barcus spoke gently like she was a frightened animal that might run at any second.

She looked over the railing again at the carpet and the overstuffed chairs, the tables, and lamps. He had four small books on the shelf with odd shaped rocks as bookends. “It's so...beautiful.”

Olias came in the door just then. The moment was gone.

“I will sleep here until we sort out better arrangements,” Barcus clarified.

Yet Po looked confused.

“It's fine, really. I don't mind. Besides I don't sleep much,” he equivocated.

“My Lord. You don't think I would deny...” Po was shaking her head like she was trying to sort a paradox. “I can't allow you to sleep up here and alone my Lord. It would be unseemly.” She was averting her eyes again. But now it was his turn to be confused.

“Please call me Barcus.”

Em walked into the room just then speaking in his mind. “
Barcus, understand that there is a caste system at work here. She has been raised to believe that Keepers are a higher form of man. They treat them differently. Apparently, none are allowed to sleep alone. Usually, two women are required to sleep with Keepers. They have been raised to think that it is the height of neglect and shame to allow a Keeper to sleep alone. Ask her if you don't believe me. Ask Olias. He is only fifteen, and I bet it's already second nature to him.”

He ignored Em. His head was almost touching the stone arches above, and he felt like he was towering over Po. He sat down on the cot behind him and looked up to her, hoping he would be less intimidating. “Po, where I come from, we have different customs. You need not sleep with me. If you stay here, you will never be forced to sleep with anyone ever again.” She was trembling again.

To the side, he caught Olias's eye. He had frozen at the top of the stairs and was backing down again. Barcus would have to thank him later.

“That demon told you what happened?” Po said.

He answered quietly, “His name is Ash. Yes, he told me everything.”

The words didn't bring comfort as he had hoped the trembling increased.

“So now you think I will kill you in your sleep?” she asked softly.

“What?” It was his turn to be incredulous. He laughed a little but regretted it. “No. I don't think that.”

“Why are you doing this?” Her voice was a whisper now. He didn't know if she was trying to keep Olias from hearing or simply could not talk louder. “Death is tearing through the north. Why? I don't understand.” She fell to her knees. He caught her left hand and her right came up to clutch at his hand as well. “Good people and bad, demons and monsters. Everywhere I go, people die.” She was shaking. He gathered her up into his lap.

She was so tiny. She buried her face into his chest. He carried her down the stairs and Olias held back the curtain as he passed into the front room.

Barcus sat in his overstuffed chair and held her. She curled up and didn't say another word. Barcus could see the worry on his face as Olias watched. Olias took the lap blanket from the other chair and gently covered her, and set about making more tea quietly, not knowing what else to do.

Po began to relax slowly. He sensed it as a melting into him. She began as a hard fetal ball of fear. She was so thin, all bones and so small. Now as he stroked her back, her breathing eased. Olias brought two cups of tea, and Barcus drank his hoping he would not regret a full bladder later. Eventually, she shifted a bit and Barcus stretched out his legs reclining into the deep chair.

Barcus didn't know when he fell asleep. But when he woke, the candles had all been blown out, and a single oil lamp was banked low. The fire had burned down to a deep red bed of coals. His feet were crossed. Po had stretched out a bit, too. She was so small. But she was awake. Olias was in the loft snoring.

“Will you let me take your boots off?” she asked.

“I can do it,” Barcus said quietly.

“I know you can do it. You are a grown man. Will you let me take your boots off?”

He nodded, not knowing what else to do.

She slid off his lap and began to unlace his boots. They were boots that he had salvaged. She set them on the hearth and climbed back into his lap, never looking away from his eyes until she curled up again.

“Will you let me sleep with you in your bed? Please?”

He carried her into the bedchamber and lay down with her on top of the quilts. She clung to his arm as a pillow to make sure he didn't try to get away.

Fully clothed, he held her to his chest, in the arch of his body, her back to him, spoon fashion.

He felt her fall asleep in just a few minutes and then he pulled the quilt up to cover her. Soon he was fast asleep as well.

When Barcus woke, it was well past dawn. Po was still asleep. Her head was on his chest with her right arm over him. Her right leg was over his thigh, and he could feel her left foot on the skin of his calf. It was their only skin to skin contact.

Her braid had come out in the night. Long waves of blond hair framed her face. Barcus brushed a lock of her hair out of her face, and her eyes fluttered open. She looked uncertain for a moment, but only a moment.

“Good morning, my Lord Keeper. Did you sleep well?”

“Call me Barcus.” And he paused before continuing. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

She sat up, Indian style, and began combing out her hair with her fingers. “Today we find out what kind of Keeper you are,” Po said, and just like that she was gone.

“I don't even know what kind of Keeper I am,” he said out loud to himself.

“
I know what kind you are.”
It was Em. She was walking down the spiral stairs in the corner.

“Oh, what kind is that?” Barcus whispered.

“
Rested. Since this started, I don't think you have slept more than an hour at a time really, until last night. You were so worried about them.”

He knew she was right.

“
And I don't think she has slept a whole night in a decade. She feels safe here. Even with demons about.”

“Where are Ash and Par?” Barcus asked.

“
Par is en route to Greenwarren again, for salvage and cleanup. This time she took Ash with her. She left another load off last night just outside the gate and turned right back around. Start making lists of the things we need. Put them to work. I have been updating all current status items. They are ready whenever you go into the status room.
”

“
Is it all right if I talk to the boy, sir?
” Ash asked in his mind. “
It might make things a bit easier at times. He does not seem to be afraid.”

“Sure that's fine. But let me talk to him first. Both of them.”

“
The boy has been up for hours already. Exploring
,” Em added.

Barcus got up and went to the other room to pull on his boots. The gatehouse was empty. The packs were hung on pegs. The fires were fueled, and everything was organized.

He walked out the door into bright sun. It was warm. The snow was melting and the gutters were running. He could hear conversation coming from the outdoor kitchen area. He walked through the doorway to see Olias feeding the beginnings of a fire below a third large cauldron in the space. Barcus had not seen any of them lit.

He didn't see Po until she said, “Good morning, my Lord. Would you like some porridge?” She was back to averting her eyes. Her hair was braided again.

She didn't wait for him to answer. She walked to the huge cauldron with a ladle and dipped three large portions of oatmeal into a bowl. The cauldron had to be 100 liters – there could not be that much porridge in there. He walked up and looked down. There were seven tall ceramic jars in the cauldron, standing in water that was gently boiling. One of the jars was full of porridge, one smelled like beef stock, one was full of white liquid. Two were empty.

“Would you like some honey in your porridge?” She was looking at him now.

“Yes. Please.”

She ladled in a good amount and added a spoon and handed him the bowl.

“Is it all right? I can make you something else.” Barcus stopped her.

“No. It's not that. When did this all happen?”

“Olias has been awake for hours. He knows enough to know a cold kitchen is unacceptable. He found oatmeal in the... provisions.”

“Have you eaten? You need to eat. I want you to eat,” Barcus said.

She looked at him again, her head tilting slightly, like a bird. She turned and picked up a bowl. They were the same ones they had used for the stew last night. She ladled herself some and added a bit of honey. When she had her bowl, he tasted his, making it clear he would not eat unless she did.