Responsibility Ch. 09

Borys Chaika, the red headed page, he was the one to knock on the door the following morning, right after breakfast. Rahela told a chambermaid to let him in. He had a box of items. Three aprons and three pairs of wooden pattens for protecting shoes.

"His Imperial Majesty has sent the head Fowl Keeper here to guide you," Borys said. "He's waiting in the hallway. Please wear your oldest, most practical gowns. Please wear your least loved, most worn shoes. And please tie your hair up."

The Fowl Keeper?

Rahela hadn't expected to be walking beside such an employee. Apparently, neither did her maids-in-waiting. They had the most strained, most unpleasantly false smiles on their faces.

But all Rahela did was roll one of her plaits around her hand and say, "I'm anxious to learn everything I can."

Some moments later, the maidens were wearing older gowns with aprons. Rahela noticed that the girls' surcoats were somewhat loose. The armholes were comparably shorter than the other examples, and the fabric was a bit threadbare. It almost made the girls look like columns, except when their aprons were tied on their waists.

With their pattens on, the maidens exited the room. Those pattens were terribly loud on the tile floor. Clack, clack, click clack. In the hallways, just as Borys had said, there was the Fowl Keeper. He was a highly ordinary man. He had his own apron and set of pattens.

Again, clack clack. Even as he bowed and humbly introduced himself. Then, more click click clacking as they took the long walk out of the keep and off to the fowl coops. Rahela heard Oksana whisper, "We resemble low status servants." She had to give Oksana a sharp warning about that. Probably remembering the last time she was disrespectful, Oksana pouted and apologized.

Certainly, they were seen. Guards saw them. Higher servants saw them. An occasional noble or common courtier saw them. The Emperor's Betrothed and her maids-in-waiting were dressed not too differently from someone lower than all those people that had seen them.

It wasn't until they were finally at the group of coops that the nervous Fowl Keeper started talking.

It was difficult to listen.

The air was thick and reeking of feces.

"When the ground's dry," explained the Fowl Keeper, "chicken coops don't smell." His smile was twitching. "But yesterday's rain was heavy, and the ground's still soft. The dung's odor is released when it's wet."

Yana and Oksana had pulled their aprons up from their legs to cover their noses and mouths. The few steps they were willing to take in the area were unsettled.

Rahela merely nodded. "It's understandable. You shouldn't be blamed."

Twiddling his fingers, the Fowl Keeper said, "Uhm ... well ... yes. Thank you, Your Highness." He bent his neck, pointing his head at one of the little wooden buildings inside a cage that some hens preferred to lay their eggs in. "We have a few different kinds of birds, but most of them are chickens. We keep the chickens for eggs, so most of the hens don't have a rooster in their cages. The hens with roosters are more likely to be bred for their meat."

And what did Rahela say with a tiny smile and a proud stance?

"Please tell me more."

The Fowl Keeper blinked at her slowly, as if he was dazed.

Approximately an hour later, the Fowl Keeper walked her over to a massive pigsty, a literal space for pigs. The head Swineherd took over the lesson with a bow. He walked the maidens into the enclosure and started talking about pigs.

And once again, what did Rahela say? What did she say whenever there was a pause?

"Please tell me more."

She even asked questions sometimes!

Once that lesson was finished, the maidens were escorted over to an enclosure full of sheep. The head Shepherd introduced himself and started talking about sheep.

And again Rahela said, "Please tell me more."

***

Oksana's long built up sigh echoed throughout the bathing chamber. The air was thick with hot moisture, but it was still refreshing. The maidens eagerly ate their lunch while they sat in the warm water.

Slow and almost sleepy, Yana put her elbow on the wooden plank on the ledge and chewed on a piece of spicy dried beef. She reminded Rahela of a tired cow.

"I know that was a trying experience," Rahela said as she picked up a hunk of cheese, "but it was useful. Farm animals are important sections of economies around the world, and those animals feed all the men that protect this castle. One should know how many there are, what kinds there are, which ones are pregnant, and many other things. It's another form of finances." She bit into the cheese. It was only a bit strong.

"But we smelled like farm girls by the end of it," Oksana whined. "I'm so relieved to have washed."

After swallowing her cheese, Rahela said, "You've no room to gripe. Imagine you had nothing and had to beg for food. You wouldn't insult those dignified farm girls so casually then."

Yana swallowed a bit of her beef and started giggling at Oksana's exasperated face.

When the bath and lunch were all finished, the maidens got dressed and let their hair dry out as they did some reading. Rahela focused more on the texts left for her, all part of her education. She had to be very knowledgeable before she became the empress. Perhaps halfway through the period, the maids-in-waiting put their own texts away and worked on embroidery. They gossiped as they stitched.

Rahela eventually needed to go for a walk. All the sitting and reading strained her back and eyes. So, they all had their now mostly dry hair styled and they asked a servant if there was anybody with enough free time to escort them on a leisurely little walk around the keep's interior. A boy that had been dusting and sweeping was soon told to walk with them to make sure they wouldn't get lost without any help.

"Yuh-Your Highness?" Yana paused at a long tapestry. Everyone else paused with her.

"What is it?" Rahela thought the tapestry might've been the reason for the stop, and she was proven correct.

Her smile fanciful, Yana happily looked up at the tapestry and said, "Do you thi-think a pruh-pretty tapestry will be made for you?"

"I'm not a clairvoyant," Rahela said as she admired the highly detailed tapestry. The weaved image was that of a tall maiden with black braid of hair draped over a shoulder. She wore an old fashioned, loose surcoat that was almost purple, but certainly a shade of red. The white headdress on top of her head had some triangular shapes, bordered with yellow and red beads. More beads were hanging over the forehead in another triangle, upside down, with festoons and occasional beads shaped like water drops.

Oksana asked, "Is this an image of the Empress Dowager as a maiden?"

The boy servant bowed and gave uncertain, hesitant words. "I don't know, Miss. Maybe? It's just as pretty as the Empress Dowager."

Tapping her own jaw with a fingernail, Oksana said, "She's such an amazingly tall woman. Now that I've seen her as a maiden, she reminds me of the traveling Tall Maiden."

Piercing cold. Hateful panic. These things blended in Rahela's stomach. Her fingers painfully bent each other. "Oksana," she lightly, coolly said, "when I was told of Yahsin folktales, such a character wasn't mentioned to me."

"Would it have mattered?" Oksana said, folding her arms. "You must've heard of that maiden, Your Highness. She's been spoken of all over the continent."

Rahela's fingers loosened. "Ah. I'm so distant from the greatest cultures of the world. Pity your lost Mistress."

Yana said a part of a word, barely a syllable, but she was interrupted. Borys Chaika's voice rang out from somewhere. He quickly appeared. His face was pink. He almost went to his knees once he was before the group, but he kept himself well enough.

Still panting, the page said, "Hahhh ... Your High ... Your Highness!" He wiped at his eye and then his mouth with a handkerchief. "Terrible news!" He put a fist over his heart and took a deep breath. "His Majesty's beloved dog was too mischievous! He crept over to a rubbish pit and gobbled up fish bones! His throat and stomach were punctured, and he had a tortuous death!"

With a gasp, Oksana whispered, "How ghastly."

Yana leaned against a wall and gazed down at the floor, her lips almost pouty. Under her breath, she murmured, "Su-such a puh-pitiable thing."

Rahela lightly held one of her plaits with one hand, her fingernails moving just a tittle's worth under one of the plain white ribbons wrapped through and around the hair. "His Majesty must be low and sorrowful. I should go and offer my condolences."

Her word was the law in that group. Borys escorted the maidens all the way to whatever room the Emperor was in at the time, and it was a long walk. The servant from before was let go so he could finish his work.

The Emperor turned out to not be in a room. He was sitting on a veranda outlined with hedges. Some spaces under the roof, between pairs of columns, there were lattices and vines.

The Emperor's spine was curved over. He was raking a blade through a plain bar of soap. That soap had apparently been sliced a bit beforehand, because crumbling little cubes would form and then fall away, mostly landing in a bucket on the floor. One of the squires was kneeling and sweeping up the excess. The other squire was sitting at a table, his lips angrily pursed, darning what was likely the Emperor's hose. Rahela wondered if he'd wanted to do something else.

Bowing a few feet from the seated Emperor, facing one side of him, her hair's clasps tapping the stone floor, Rahela asked, "Your Majesty, is there anything I can do bring light onto this dark day?" It was actually fairly bright out.

More soap cubes quietly showered down. Rahela heard the Emperor speak very dryly. There was even some grit in there. "Was the Little Princess the first woman you went to, Boy?"

Rahela straightened up and looked at Borys, who was still pink in the face. "My Lord, she was the closest."

The Emperor made a sound in his throat. "Ah." He didn't look up from his soap. His hair was tied back, but some fell away to hang over his eyes. "Little Princess, your actions were correct, but needless. You may leave."

"Is that so?" Rahela didn't think it would be wise to immediately leave. "When I heard of your loss, I assumed you must need a companion with no distractions."

The knife was moved up the bar. "I'm a capable adult," the Emperor said. The knife was taken down, slicing through the diapered soap, making more little cubes.

While the thing was at it, knife's point sliced through something else.

Part of the oblique arch. Under the thumb.

A line of blood.

Rahela blinked a few times but the Emperor didn't react at all. Regardless, she stepped close and said, "Your Majesty, you've injured yourself. I'd be at ease if you'd have a moment to tend to yourself."

As if he hadn't noticed the little wound, he simply continued with his carving. "Your warmhearted words have been noted. Now go."

Well ... as long as it was known that she tried ...

Rahela nodded. "Yes, My Lord. I won't disobey." She turned around and gave her maids-in-waiting light nods. "Come. We should practice dancing." She looked to Borys and asked, "Would you please escort us back to my bedchamber?"

Just as a few steps were taken, the Emperor suddenly called out, "Someone will draw a map and send it to Her Highness."

He didn't say, "Ask someone to do it." He didn't say, "Tell someone to do it." He'd said, "Someone will do it." Either he'd already had someone on the job or he knew that saying something will be done will make it done soon.

Back in her room, Rahela arranged for a musician and dancer to come. The dancer worked with Rahela and her maids-in-waiting, teaching and practicing. It was a fine way to spend the time.

***

Dinner this time had a quartet playing music. It was relaxing music, not too different from the sounds of a little brook innocently moving along.

The pretty, golden eyes of Princess Tuya were bright as she started a conversation with Rahela. It was about weaving. Apparently, that was one of her hobbies. She had several kinds of looms. Sometimes, she'd even use a warp-weighted loom, a rather ancient type of loom. Rahela understood the very basic concept of weaving, but she didn't understand the specific details. She found herself giving sparse comments and letting Princess Ruya have control of the conversation.

After a time, the Empress Dowager inserted herself into the conversation, changing the subject to silkworms and silk production. One again, Rahela understood the basic concept, but she couldn't think of anything meaningful to say.

The Emperor never started any conversation. He certainly didn't participate in any. His face was blank. His motions were wooden and stiff. At least he ate well.

After dinner, Rahela and her maids walked away, escorted by a servant. They were planning on playing a board game and perhaps a card game before bed time. They were stopped, however, by one of the Emperor's squires. He jogged on over to them, bowed, and said, "His Majesty has asked to have Princess Rahela meet him in the library."

There was a library?

Rahela nodded to the squire. "I won't deny His Majesty anything. Please lead the way."

Another long walk. Rahela imagined that simply moving from room to room in this enormous keep was perfect exercise.

The walk ended at a tall pair of doors. They were slowly opened. The hinges were quiet. Inside, there was a fairly dark room, but Rahela was certain that it was large.

Not many candles had been lit, and they took up little oil lamps, but she could still see evidence of tall windows and rows of shelves. Most of the texts were in scrolls, but there were some books too. There were even a few old tablets of stone with ancient looking words carved in.

Curiosity boiled over in her mind, but she was afraid to bother with it. Because it was so dark, if she wanted to read a text then she'd have to use her lamp for light, and the light was fire. Fire had a habit of destroying paper. It would be best to explore such a delicate, precious collection of texts during the day, when fire wouldn't be needed. She could take such a risk when she had only one scroll or book at her side, but when she was in a room full of them? Oh no. The whole room was a firetrap.

This fact alone had Rahela feeling more and more suspicious as she was lead through the room. Why would the Emperor have her meet him in the library, specifically, at night time?

Odd, as they kept walking, the Emperor wasn't found. Rahela wanted to ask where he was, but the squire continued walking with purpose. He only stopped near the other end of the room. A single door was close to a corner. The squire opened the door. Only a little bit of light came from that room. "He said he wants to speak only with Her Highness," the boy said.

Yana reached out and patted the back of an empty chair, as if she wanted to be certain that it indeed existed. Then she sat down.

Oksana remained standing. Rahela couldn't see most of her face, but she did see a portion of a frown. "Is this another private conversation?", Oksana asked. She might not have believed talking was the only thing happening in such conversations, but Rahela couldn't be sure of that. The maid was still quite young. She shouldn't even be speaking of certain adult activities.

"I can't properly say," the squire admitted.

Rahela thought she could properly say. She chose not to. She only stepped into the room, not a single word used. The door was quietly shut behind her.

It was a tall cubby of a room.

There was a window, but it was small. It might've been just enough to make the space seem less constricting. There was also a bench for two people, and Rahela was certain there were cushions. She was even more certain that the Emperor was sitting there, since his barely lit form blocked most of the view.

There were a few candles on a tiny table in a corner. A tinier table was closer to the bench, and a small oil lamp was there. The Emperor was leaning back against the hard wall, but there was a stiffness in his limbs. He looked like he'd been trying to relax but had no success. The man's features had a harsher tone than they normally did. His glowering mouth and broiling eyes, partially shrouded by the night, didn't dampen the scene.

There wasn't much room to bow, but Rahela made an attempt. She didn't speak. During these kinds of moments with the Emperor, her thoughts were often difficult.

Her eyes were somewhere near the Emperor's knee when he croaked out something blurred. She heard him stop whatever he was saying. Then he cleared his throat.

"Ah! Come. Come here."

Rahela stepped right to the bench and took a seat beside him. Her oil lamp was put next to his. She stared ahead and put her hands on her lap.

His arm snaked around her shoulders. There wasn't a single moment of hesitation in him. He held her close. He leaned into and over her. His free hand crossed over to touch her thigh. It was another version of an embrace.

He was heavy and hot.

Rahela had to turn her head to keep from suffocating.

For a handful of little moments, Rahela had to endure a crooked nose and warm pair of lips rubbing all around her temple, cheek, and even a bit on her throat. No kisses just yet. He was apparently in a nuzzling frame of mind. He was a giant cat with the teeth, claws, and everything else, pressing himself all over a young doe.

The coconut fragrance was faded, barely there. Rahela was still sick of it. It was almost as if she'd learned to hate it. Why couldn't he pick a different perfume?

Right then, the food in her belly put a drowsy weight in her limbs.

Her lips puckered. She wished he'd finish his ... whatever this was ... and finish it soon. She wanted a nap. Maybe she could go to bed early.

Oh? Had the Emperor taken her lips' movements as an invitation? He was kissing her.

Her eyelashes flickered.

This was different.

No mirth, no playfulness, none of that was sensed. Rahela thought he felt even stiffer than he'd appeared.

Her fingers curved as they grazed one of his arms. Her dress was fine but it didn't have the dangling, luxurious sleeves. There wasn't any room for her sleeves to be caught on anything.

Rahela hadn't assumed he'd still have signs of grief whenever he engaged in lecherous behavior. On the other hand, she knew that despite all her experiences she still didn't understand everything in the world.

And the wound was still new, barely a palm's worth of hours.

Her bosom was already constricted, but it was pressed even more as she took a deep breath.

Once more, she was visited by humility. It wouldn't be the last time.

A change.

She was put right on his lap, sideways.

Another change.

The Emperor was yanking on her skirts.

Anything resembling empathy temporarily dwindled in her mind, quickly replaced by alarm. However, Rahela still had her disciplined personality. She didn't resist.

Breathing. That, and the sound of fabric being manipulated. Those were the loudest things. Rahela was surprised that her heart wasn't among them. Her heart was indeed pulsing in her ears, but the other sounds nearly drowned that.

Her knees had no business greeting the air with a man anywhere near her. But that didn't matter. They were exposed. Her skirts were folded and rolled on her thighs. The worst part was how the space between her thighs was now vulnerable. She wasn't having her monthly cycle. There wasn't any padding tied to her groin. It wasn't terribly cold. There was no reason for her to wear a set of braies. Those garments were considered to be mostly masculine, anyway.