Solace of the sun, p.6
Solace of the Sun, page 6
“Do you have coins?” the girl repeated.
Valevie pursed her lips, studying the beggar before glancing around the marketplace. “Where are your parents?”
The girl shrugged. “Gone.”
“Gone? What do you mean?”
“They’re dead.”
A pang grew inside Robin’s body. She knew the pains of losing a parent at a young age and found empathy for the girl. Robin knew that if she somehow lost her father, it would devastate her. To live without either parent at the beggar’s age was a horror that did not sit well with her.
“When was this?” Valevie asked.
“A long time ago. I don’t remember them.”
“Nobody takes care of you?”
“No, just my brother.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s over there somewhere.” She pointed behind the two. “He said to ask people for money so we can eat. We had bread yesterday, but it was gross-looking, and he said we couldn’t eat it.”
Robin looked at Valevie with a plea in her eyes, silently asking the knight to take pity on the poor girl.
Valevie, however, was already opening her pouch. She withdrew a few coins before handing them to the beggar girl, whose jaw dropped.
“Oh, thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Valevie smiled. “Of course.”
“Sun’s Blessings, nice lady! You too, yellow lady!” the girl said, running off to disappear into the crowd.
Valevie expelled a deep sigh, rubbing her face.
“What was that?” Robin asked, perplexed at the entire situation. She had never seen anything like that in all of her days at the Capital.
“I suspect that was a war orphan,” Valevie said. “Children who lost their parents during the Rebellion.”
“But why does she look like that? Isn’t there an orphanage here to take care of them?”
“No. There was one in Taneia, but someone burned it down during the fighting.”
Robin gaped at the woman, not believing what she had heard. “Why did they burn down the orphanage? Who would do such a thing?”
“From what I understand,” Valevie explained with an air of disapproval, “some knights thought the rebels were using it as a base and threw torches inside.”
“Why? They took the children out before, right?”
“I don’t know,” Valevie muttered. Both women seemed reluctant to find the answer that question and put it behind them as they resumed their ride.
“Ho there!” An unfamiliar voice came from behind them.
A knight of the Brotherhood strode atop his horse, giving them a small wave. He was a bulging man of immense girth, well beyond his prime. The Sun reflected off his bald dome, and the only hair present was the thick tufts poking out of his neck and the elaborate storm-colored beard that covered his jaw.
“Sun’s Blessings!” the strange knight called as he came closer, slowing his horse.
“Sun’s Blessings,” both women replied in tandem, fixing him with expectant looks.
He attempted a bow in his saddle. “Sir Gerald Boudelair, Knight-Captain.”
“Dame Valevie Forren,” the woman said before waving her hand at the girl. “This is Robin Rivera, a novice from the Clergy.”
“A fair day to you both. I take it you are new to Varice?”
“She is. This is my first time back in five years.”
“Welcome back, then, Dame, and to you, Novice, I welcome.” Gerald offered a smile, which was missing a myriad of teeth—orange rot covering the rest. Robin forced herself to return the smile, trying to ward away the churning of rotten milk in her stomach at the sight of him.
“My thanks, sir,” Valevie said. “Did you require something of us?”
“Ah, well.” Gerald smacked his lips. “I couldn’t help but notice you talking to that beggar. She wasn’t bothering you, was she?”
“Not at all. I merely asked her some questions and then gave her some coins so she and her brother could feed themselves. She looked as though she hadn’t eaten in days.”
Gerald slowly nodded. “Of course, of course. I can see why you would do that, being new to Varice and all.”
Valevie raised a brow. “What do you mean?”
“Well, there’s an infestation of them. They’re rats, you see? Feed one, and suddenly they all come from nowhere, hoping there’s more to go around. It’s a rather vexing problem.”
Robin stared at Sir Gerald, finding herself unhappy with the way he talked about the beggars of Varice. It seemed he treated them more like vermin than actual people, and her lip curled at the sight of him. Gerald evidently handled himself well in the department of food, and Robin found it egregious for a man such as him to look down on those left wanting—especially when they were only children.
Valevie seemed to echo Robin’s sentiments. “Are you comparing the orphans to rats, Sir?”
“Not comparing, Dame; they are rats. Ever since the Rebellion ended, they’ve been a scourge on us—stealing and whatnot. We usually cut their hands off if we catch any of them in the act, but they’re persistent little scamps. Makes you wonder why they still try.”
“They’re starving,” Valevie said through gritted teeth. “They wouldn’t have to steal food if someone was feeding them.”
Gerald shrugged. “Who will feed them, though?”
“Are you a man of the faith or not?” Valevie pointed at him. “Did you not swear to the Tenet of Charity upon your knighting, Sir?”
“You don’t understand how severe the problem is. We don’t have enough food to feed them even if we wanted to!”
“Really?” Valevie said, glancing at the knight’s bulging mass. “I thought the Capital sent you regular supplies to help feed the people.”
The captain shook his head. “Most of that’s used for defenses, in case Addington or the rebels attack.”
“Nobody’s seen them in over four years! Most of the rebels are dead! Surely you can spare some food to feed your starving children.”
“They’re not my children,” Gerald said. “Why should we have to feed them? It’s not our responsibility!”
“It is your responsibility! We have a duty to this country and its people! We swore to care for the innocent in times of need! How can we do that if we leave them out to starve?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care. It’s not our fault their parents took up arms against us. Why should we have to pay for their mistakes?”
Valevie’s scowl grew. “I doubt every single one of their parents were rebels, sir.”
“What does it matter?” Gerald asked. “None of this would be the case if the Rebellion hadn’t happened. If you want somebody to blame, blame Addington and his band of degenerates.”
“As I recall, families were starving before the Rebellion,” Valevie said. “I believe that’s what helped fuel their decision to rebel in the first place.”
Gerald scoffed. “That’s hardly justification for a violent uprising. The Divine Sun provides, and if you cannot make ends meet, ’tis simply your own fault. Even you should know that, Dame, or are you not a true faithful? Perhaps they were too easy on you with your trials after all!”
“Perhaps, Sir Gerald,” Valevie said with an edged tone, “we should be careful that we don’t raise a generation of children that hate us for killing their parents and leaving them to starve while we needlessly engorge ourselves.”
He shrugged. “What’ll they do, take up arms again? We’ll kill them like we killed their heretic parents. Let that be a lesson! Don’t bite the hand that feeds.”
Valevie snorted. “Except in this case, the hand is not feeding.”
Robin could not believe what she was hearing. This knight was speaking down to an entire group of unfortunate children and treating them like they were unworthy of grace and charity, and he seemed all too eager to wet his sword with their blood. How could he be so harsh, so vile, and so heartless?
Robin threw all caution to the wind, letting her tongue off the leash. “What is wrong with you?” she asked Gerald.
He turned to her, blinking rapidly at the accusation. “Be quiet, girl.”
“I will not! How dare you speak about our people like that?”
Gerald’s eyes bulged at the girl. “How dare I? How dare you speak to me as if you have any right! Learn your place, foreign filth, lest I drag you kicking and screaming to a priest for an exorcism!”
Robin would not back down, indignation taking over every function in her brain. “You’re nothing but an overgrown bully who doesn’t care for anyone but himself!”
Valevie interjected, “That’s enough, please. Let’s—”
“Calm down, you hysterical girl, or I warn you I’ll—”
“I’m hysterical? If there’s anyone hysterical here, it’s you, you pathetic—”
“Enough!” Valevie roared.
Robin fell silent, staring at Gerald with as much hatred as she could muster. Her quiet demeanor was gone, replaced with the blood pumping in her veins and the overwhelming desire to beat this man’s rotten teeth in. It was only out of respect for Valevie that she obeyed the command, resisting the itch festering in her knuckles.
Gerald, however, continued talking. “Insubordinate, wretched girl! I’ll have your tongue cut out and your skin stripped away before they Cleanse your tainted soul!”
“I said that’s enough,” Valevie said to Gerald.
“You presume to give me orders?”
“I presume you to act per the decorum expected of your station,” she shot back in a tone as cold as ice.
Gerald laughed. It was a sickening sound that nearly compelled Robin to leap out of her saddle at the man, but she restrained herself. “I always said women were too emotional to deal in politics,” he said. “Look at the proof in front of me! Just a simple disagreement, and she wants to hurt me! I can see it in her eyes!”
Valevie pinched her nose before expelling an irritated sigh. “We’re finished here. Come, Robin.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Gerald said.
Valevie blinked twice at the man. “I beg your pardon?”
“I’m placing the both of you under my custody, pending formal charges.”
“On what grounds?”
“Blatant insubordination, heresy of the highest degree, blasphemy against Retra’s sacred institutes, threats of violence against a ranking member of the Brotherhood, and—”
Valevie dug into her saddlebag before shoving a scroll into the man’s hands.
Gerald’s expression fell. “What’s this?” he asked, the gusto in his voice dropping considerably.
Alistair’s writ of passage.
“Open it,” Valevie said calmly.
Gerald fixated her with an ugly look before undoing the black ribbon. Robin sat on the edge of her saddle, waiting for his reaction.
Gerald threw it back at Valevie with a huff. “Get out.”
“Pardon?”
“Get out of my town.” He pointed a finger north for emphasis. “Now.”
“Gladly,” Valevie said, immediately turning her horse around.
Robin followed, her heart poking out of her throat.
“I’ll be writing to Alistair about this!” Gerald called out.
“Good!” Valevie called back. “I’m sure he’d love to read your report on how a woman hurt your feelings!”
“You’re a poor example of the Brotherhood!” Gerald shouted. “Damnable heretics! Don’t come back!”
Valevie snorted, clearly unimpressed. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
Robin noticed people in the street had been staring at the exchange with wide eyes and expressions of disapproval. They were all looking at her. Seconds passed by as her vision frayed, struggling to fill her lungs with air and ease the heavy pressure building on her chest. It was not enough to call for help, but it certainly left her out of sorts as she and Valevie rode out of Varice’s north gate.
Once they were out of sight of the walls and entered the countryside again, Valevie slowed her horse down and took a deep breath. Robin followed suit, desperate to rid herself of the new agony creeping in her chest. A gasp left her before her throat tightened, and a warm wave pressed itself on her skin to illicit a shiver.
“Robin?” Valevie said to the girl, jumping from her saddle and rushing to the novice’s side. “Are you all right?”
I must look terrible.
Robin nodded, planting her hands on her horse’s mane and stretching her fingers out to feel its soft hair beneath her touch. It provided slight relief to her inflamed mind, not sure what exactly was happening as the lights of the background scenery blurred in her vision. Her body trembled.
The horse snorted, whipping its head.
“Come down; you’re scaring him,” Valevie said, gently patting the steed with comforting strokes.
Robin obeyed, trusting the woman’s wisdom. She stumbled as her feet crashed against the ground, but Valevie caught her.
“Deep breaths now,” Valevie said. “In, count to three, out. Can you do that?”
Robin followed the woman’s instructions to the letter, though she knew not the reason for doing so. As the pounding inside her head slowly subsided and the darkness in her vision faded, however, Robin understood. She had panicked.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Shame stuck to her like unwashed grime.
Valevie laughed. It was a strange sound at first, deep and husky. “It’s all right, Robin. Did Gerald scare you?”
Pride told her to say no, while honesty bid her to say yes. The latter won out after a few seconds of mental deliberation. “Yes.”
“I don’t blame you; he certainly tried to intimidate us,” Valevie said, shaking her head with a snort. “Are you feeling better, though?”
Robin gave a small nod, but a stray thought brought back the weight in her chest.
Gerald was going to report them to Alistair.
What if the Clergy dismissed her? What if all he had threatened to do would come true, and she would have her tongue cut off and her skin flayed? What if they tied her to the stake and consumed her in flames?
“Valevie, what he said . . . Am I going to—”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it when we get back to the Capital.”
“But—”
“I said I’ll handle it.”
Robin stopped, glancing at the dirt road with pursed lips.
Silence followed before Valevie sighed through her nostrils. “Apologies; I didn’t mean to snap at you. That man just . . .” She made a sound of disgust, shaking her head.
“It’s all right,” Robin said, managing a small smile. “I didn’t like him either.”
“It would surprise me if anyone did,” Valevie said. “Great Sun Above, the way he questioned my competency. He’s like every other damned knight in the Brotherhood, thinking I can’t handle myself or my station just because I’m a woman. I daresay I could best him in a duel with one hand tied behind my back, but it wouldn’t change a damn thing. All they want to do is point and laugh.”
“Why do they treat you like that?” Robin asked, wondering how men who swore vows of kinship could cast out a sworn sister so readily.
“Many knights were against women joining the Brotherhood, and they made jokes and thought I had it easy or that I was going to get myself killed. Even when I proved myself through the trials, it never ended.” Valevie made a fist. “No matter how hard I work to prove myself, they’ll never give me the benefit of the doubt. Even my damnable father can’t see that—” Valevie stopped, turning her head away with a strained breath.
Robin reached out to Valevie. “Are you all right?”
Valevie rubbed her face. “I’m fine, Robin. Just tired.”
“All right.” Robin hesitated, wondering if she should stop pressing the matter, but curiosity got the better of her as she asked, “What happened with your father?”
“The less I speak of that man, the better,” Valevie said, dismissing Robin’s question as easily as one brushed dirt off their shoulder. “We need to keep riding.”
While the two women continued their journey in silence, Robin thought about what had happened. She had learned Valevie was stoic, cold even, but now there was a new side that was riddled with anxiety and doubt. They both had insecurities about not knowing why they were not enough for other people, about having to deal with those who would always doubt them, and the struggle to be recognized for all their hard work, sacrifices, and devotion. In that recognition, Robin found a slight respect for Valevie that went beyond her station. To succeed where she couldn’t, all the while suffering more than anyone else did, had to take a great deal of personal courage and perseverance. If there was one person in the Brotherhood that Robin could take inspiration from, it would be Valevie Forren.
Chapter Six
Crossing the Loire River northward proved to be an uneventful affair for the pair, leaving Varice behind even as the Sun threatened to disappear in the growing evening. The stone walls of Taneia rose above the sparse tree line, and there were few people on the road. The gates to the town were nearly closed, and the guards made them halt until Alistair’s scroll was presented.
Whereas Varice was growing with its surplus of people and expansion of buildings, Taneia was all but desolate, with most buildings either ruined or abandoned. Knights and guards were everywhere. What sparse civilians that could be seen were stopped and questioned by patrolling guards before being told to head home lest they violate the curfew and suffer the punishment for it. There was not a single child in sight among the populace, only old men and women.
Ghosts of the fallen wandered the streets, all telling their own stories of horrors. Robin wondered if they thought it all worth it in the end, taking up arms, given what the consequence was. War was a terrible business, but men waged it regardless of what followed in its wake.
Only women staffed the inn they stayed at, and no other patrons were spotted as she and Valevie had a quiet dinner. It was easy enough to find a room for cheap, and the two were silent as they went to bed, exhausted from the day’s travels.
