The Tattooed Woman Pt. 35

THE TATTOOED WOMAN - Chapter 35

I'm glad folks appear to be enjoying my yarn. Please leave comments, as criticism both positive and constructive is inherently useful. Plus, I really like reading comments, so that's cool.

Again, a shout out to Avicia for their suggestions and much-needed help with editing this (especially in the last chapter where they encouraged me to add an extra few paragraphs)

The Tattooed Woman Volume 3 - Chapter 35: A Portion of Murder

"Why?"

Smiling, the creature lifted an arched brow, "Why?"

"Why draw me to this hallowed barrow to meet? And why in this form? Why are you imprisoned? So, yes, my question is why, why all of it?"

The thing moved, gliding like smoke, laughing as it slid around Adair, softly tracing cold fingers, tipped by nails sharper than any razor, gently down across her cheek and along her throat, and her voice was a sibilant whisper.

"Because I am Nemain."

Adair gritted her teeth at such an oblique reply and the temper of her blood began to heat perilously. For her part the dark entity merely tilted her head slightly as it regarded her, and her smile broadened, clearly more amused than offended.

Suddenly, before she could so much as twitch, the thing was right there, standing directly before her, both hands cradling her face, and her gleaming crimson eyes closed as she drew in a deep breath, as though savouring the woman's very scent. When they opened, the scarlet orbs sparkled like gemstones, "Oh, how I missed you daughter."

Adair licked her lips, and it was all she could do not to lower her head to the creature's neck and lose herself in its embrace, "B-but, is The Morrigan not my mother?"

"Your mother she is. But I am as much The Morrigan as Crone and Crow, for we are One, sometimes separate, but never parted. We are your mother, but it was I who bore you child, and you are MY daughter."

"I-I don't understand."

"How could you, girl? You are almost mortal after all. Fret not, you need but give it an eternity or two and your perspective will change enough to encompass it, I'm sure. Certainly, there's no great trick or wisdom to it," she grinned, "if there were I doubt we'd manage such, for there are those who say we're not the sharpest tools in the box after all," her lip parted in a wicked smile, "though I suspect that perhaps there may be at least a little well-earned venom in such an assessment."

"Sharpest what? Who could say such?"

She pirouetted with a smile, "Oh, The Dagda for one, but he was always so tedious. Methinks he was still upset because of the Drow."

"The Drow?"

She grinned.

"You made the fucking Drow?!"

"Did I? If I did, I was probably bored. I do not do well with boredom. Truly, Macha and Badb both chastised me often enough for it, saying that it brings out the... worst in me."

"Oh, merciful Gods!"

"Hardly."

Stroking a taloned hand through Adair's long tresses the creature smiled wistfully, "You are changed I see, yet beneath all you still favour me child. I am glad."

Spinning suddenly away Nemain gestured about her, "Why here you ask? I am paying respect to an old enemy; no more. He vexed me thoroughly in his time, and in payment I destroyed him and all his kin, bar one, yet he fought hard and until the very end. Such courage is worthy of remembrance at least."

"Is that why they bound you here, to honour one of your victims?"

"Bound? Sweet Adair, you have it awrong. I am no prisoner," she laughed, "Gods, could you imagine the poor put-upon fool who would have me in his gaol? Like as not I'd drive the unfortunate bastard to madness and suicide within a week. No, I am the very opposite of a prisoner."

"Opposite? You are a jailor then?"

"No child, nothing quite so tawdry, but perhaps worse in a way I suppose. I am a fugitive."

"A fugitive? From whom?"

"A spell, a curse, perhaps a commandment if you will. For when the decision was cast that we would remove ourselves from this mortal coil and retreat into exile I was predictably disinclined to comply with such arbitrary sentence, and instead concealed myself, hiding in mist and barrow, ruin and grave. Those with wit enough to find me also had wit enough to avoid such an encounter, knowing full well my likely response to such intrusion. Macha assumed a mantle of contrition and appeared to go willingly, but she was ever the devious one and doubtless had already planned her escape. And as for Badb? Who in Hell knows? She keeps her own council."

Pausing, with her back to Adair, she tilted her head slightly to speak over her shoulder, "But, are these truly the questions you really want to ask me child? Is there not a more pressing matter that weighs on your mind?"

"Aye, there is that, and one burning question towers above all. Why!? Why did you abandon me?"

The thing stood silently for a long moment, head bowed, before answering, "I was marching to war, child, against a hungry foe, and I knew full well that once again I would be called upon to do unspeakable things. Things that would this time likely incur direst cost and consequence, and it was not my wish that you suffer for my deeds, and even less that you partake of them. For I know, through harsh and bitter experience, that such participation would likely mar and darken your soul."

She turned and while those unblinking crimson-flecked eyes defied all reading Adair could see that the thing was troubled, "It was Macha, of course, who schemed a way where you might remain unnoticed by the ban, and, at her bidding, Babd it was that robbed you of immortality, though what she did with it I dread to think."

"How could she just take what was mine!"

"Because you were young, and we were stronger, and... it was necessary."

"Necessary?"

"All of our kin were removed from this world, but we knew he would return one day. So, we chose to act; I hid, Macha schemed, and Babd did whatever the fuck she does, for I have no idea what that wily crow gets up to. By diminishing you thus we made it so you escaped notice. You were left in the care of someone we trusted to protect you. I... I did not know you would grow to love him, though Macha might have schemed it. Mayhap I should have but I was not made for such, and love is entirely beyond me," she blinked and looked away, "save for a single exception."

With the dampening of her mood the gloom seemed to gather about the edges of the cold tomb and Adair watched as one shadow, obviously braver than the others stretched out, like a moth drawn to a flame, to touch the strange dark entity before her. Instantly it was absorbed by the black aura she wore like a mantle and despite its strange flickering struggles it was swiftly drawn in to become part of her bleak shroud.

"Why now?"

Nemain toyed with the darkness, sifting it like so much silken webbing through her taloned fingers before shaking her head with a sigh, "Because now he knows. The defiance of your little pet Dragon has all but told him that one of the Danu remains to thwart him and for all the creature is a prideful fool he's not entirely without wit. He will have more than just an idle suspicion as to who exactly it is he contests with. He will be putting the puzzle together in his mind's eye, like some baroque jigsaw and he will begin to look about him, wondering where all the pieces are that he might be missing. Pieces such as you for example. And soon enough he will act."

"Why do you not just kill him?"

"I did. He got better."

"How is it that you do not speak his name then? Do you fear him?"

Nemain paused, slowly lifting her eyes to her daughter, and Adair swallowed, wondering if she had perhaps said too much.

"When last I met him my daughter, I clawed out one of his eyes with my bare hands leaving nothing but a ragged bloody hole to remember me by," she shrugged, "I wanted to keep the orb as a trophy, but Badb filched it from me of course. She probably played with it as a toy. I swear, she's such a child sometimes!

"But despite my mutilation he is not blind, nor is he deaf, and names have power. If one such as you or I were to speak his, then like as not he would hear, and he would bend his will and his remaining sight to search for the one who named him. Best to perhaps show at little caution my dear, at least until we have rigged the board in our favour."

"You have still not said why you return to me now."

"Because I sense he searches for you. He may not know exactly what it is he is looking for but sooner or later he will. And when he finally discerns your nature he will come a-calling, or worse, a-courting."

Adair stared, "Courting?!"

"Indeed, he would hardly lower himself to breed with a Dragon after all, but you? Oh, you would make a fine wife. With you in his bed, willingly or no, he could plant his seed and forge his own dynasty."

The ground literally shook, and Nemain smiled as Adair clenched her fists, teeth drawn back in an angry snarl, "Fuck that!"

"Exactly. Actually, now you mention it, I believe congratulations are in order."

"What?"

"Do you not wish to offer your congratulations to me, my daughter?"

Adair sighed heavily as realisation dawned, "Cassie?"

"Indeed! I did not know I had suddenly become a mother again. Why only this morning Macha herself openly acknowledged the girl as kin."

"You are Macha!"

"Only sometimes, and do not take that tone with me young lady! Besides, 'tis unseemly to quibble so, and pick at the words of your mother."

"What the fu..." suddenly seeing the mischievous gleam of mirth in the creature's eyes Adair paused, "Are you jesting with me?"

"Perhaps just a little. But still, I would so like to meet her. Macha can intrude into her dreams, but I would not, for I can only inspire nightmares. If I were to visit; would I still be... welcome in your camp daughter?"

"You are asking me?"

The creature sniffed, "I know what I am Adair, I know what I've done, and my countenance is hardly a comforting one. I would not deliberately go out of my way to frighten the child, well, not without cause at least. So yes, this once, I am asking."

"She might surprise you, for she does not frighten easily. And you will always be welcome at my hearth, mother."

The thing smiled, "I am glad. I should not tarry here Adair, for there are errands I must attend to, but, if it please you we might walk back together, and mayhap share a few words on the way?"

Adair had to look away a moment, and her voice was hoarse, "I-I think I'd like that."

...

The great hall of House Varro was as she remembered it, with its many witchfire lanterns, paneled walls lined with colourful tapestries and tall pillars of polished ebony, each carved into a dramatic likeness of some Dark Elven heroine from the stories and myths of these strange folk.

Hildegard recalled the last time she had dined in this place and her eyes flicked to the clear space before the high table. The blood had long since been mopped from the well-polished floor, but she remembered looking on in horror as Ashunara, the woman whose bed she had so willingly shared, carved one of her foes to bloody ribbons right there, in a ruthless demonstration of martial skill. Hildegard had been the bait used to provoke the confrontation and she still shivered at the memory.

Following behind her Garrow noted the pause and reaction of the human woman and she sniffed, "Fear? Something happened in here."

Carefully she placed a hand on the woman's shoulder, "You alright?"

Hildegard jumped at the touch and with effort dragged her thoughts back to the here and now. Turning to the Half-Orc she smiled, "Quite fine, thank you. Just... remembering."

Garrow eyed her and sniffed, "If you say so."

The tables were as well appointed as always with all the finery of a Great House but though vast enough to comfortably seat a hundred or more, only a few places had been set today.

Selene and Sala, the two Dark Elven maidens charged with mentoring her in the expected customs and etiquette were already seated, and as Hildegard entered, they both turned their gleaming aphotic eyes upon her and smiled the strange enigmatic smiles of the Fae. Like most of their kind they could be fiendishly hard to read, but for now at least they both seemed well pleased with themselves, as if that was not worrying enough.

Towards one end of the lower table, sat Master Guage and Lady Schrade both watching Garrow intently as they conversed in hushed tones. His hair was still tied in a warrior's braid, but he had doffed his plain training garb for a clean jerkin while the Dark Elf wore a delicately embroidered doublet of dark leather. Garrow eyed her carefully, "Wonder how many knives you've got hidden in your knickers this time, you sneaky tart?"

As if reading her thoughts, the Dark Elf's smile widened, and she flicked the woman a sly wink before turning back to her talk.

Servants moved about the chamber quietly, serving wine and other libations to those seated, while guards stood tall and vigilant at the doors.

A moment later a well-dressed attendant, bedecked in the livery of House Varro appeared at Hildegard's side and directed her with effortless courtesy towards a place near the high table. Hildegard looked for Garrow to be seated by her side, but with a quiet murmur the servant indicated that she instead stand in position of attendance behind her chair. The Half-Orc snorted in wry amusement only for the servant to give her an impish grin and hold up a finger to her lips in the time-honoured gesture for quiet.

Hildegard gave her companion a helpless shrug of apology, "I'm sorry Garrow, but it won't always be like this. For myself I have no real likening for such pomp and prefer to eat in the scullery or with the other servants. It's more congenial, and I don't feel like such an oaf when I wipe gravy from my chin."

Garrow grunted as she analysed what the woman had said, "You think yourself a servant also then?"

With a grin Hildegard took her place, "Aren't we all?"

If the Half-Orc had a reply it was interrupted as a door to one side of the hall opened and Aventine Varro, Matriarch of House Varro appeared. There was the sound of chairs moving as those at table rose to stand at her entrance. Aventine was followed by her seneschal Matron Livia, as well as her personal servant Abria and two armoured bodyguards who cast their eyes about the chamber with wolf-like wariness as they moved to flank their Mistress.

With a rustle of silk, Aventine moved to the table and took her place before looking up. As always, her appearance was flawless, dark skin and darker eyes, with silver hair braided and held in place by long bejeweled pins, while around her neck she wore the intricate livery collar and chain regalia that served as insignia of her station. At her side the long needle-sharp stiletto, a twin to the one worn by her sister, was tucked through the sash wrapped around her elegant waist and behind her, like a second shadow, Matron Livia stood still and silent.

The Matriarch's eyes swept the company, and after a moment she tilted her head in courteous recognition of her guests. At the gesture those standing resumed their places and there came the quiet murmurs of conversation.

The meal that followed was pleasant enough, with multiple courses all presented in bewildering and delectable variety. Hildegard sipped her wine and tried to ignore the occasional grumbling noise from Garrow's stomach. Leaning back, she lifted a cloth and dabbed at her lips as she whispered, "Gods, I'm sorry Garrow. I promise, as soon as we can get free of this I'll see to your supper."

The Half-Orc grunted, "How can you eat like this? It looks pretty enough but the portions are so fucking small it wouldn't feed a titmouse, and even so half of it lies wasted on the plate. It's all for show, not for eating. What a shower of knobs! Cook was right."

"I know, it must look a wee bit frivolous, but..."

"You have a comment to pass on my hospitality, Lady Hildegard?"

All conversation ended at the Matriarch's words and Hildegard looked up to see those dark, unblinking eyes regarding her cooly, "Um, we were contrasting between this fine display and the simple fare we are more used to, Matriarch."

Aventine's eyes narrowed and her lips curled slightly, "It must look quite frivolous I imagine?"

"Fuck! She heard me, oh shitshitshit..."

"Ah, mayhap my words were ill-chosen, but..."

The Dark Elf laughed, "Oh, fret not milady," she gestured about the hall, "you have the right of it. 'Tis theatre for the most part and more often than not I sit here half-starved, waiting for the show to end so I can hide myself in my study gnawing on a leg of chicken or somesuch. But even so, it serves its purpose, and it is a purpose you must not just conform to, but appear to relish, for like the dinner, and the company, you too have your part to play."

Hildegard nodded, "And that's about as gentle a rebuke as I'll ever get in this place. Last time someone upset her at dinner it ended with blood on the floor."

She was about to rise, intending to offer a more fulsome apology when behind her Garrow murmured softly, "It's a test."

The woman paused, "Bugger! An apology would be a sign of weakness, while taking umbrage at the reminder, seen as base pettiness, and defiance without leverage would simply be considered ridiculous..."

She smiled, "Well, if the play's the thing, then I think I'll be content to remain an understudy for now as I still have lines and steps to learn."

Eyes glittering the Matriarch raised a finger, "Ah, now as to that, perhaps we needs must compose ourselves to the business at hand."

"Matriarch?"

Aventine pointed towards the floor before the high table and grinned, "You were set tasks. Present yourself and make report if you please."

At her words a servant appeared as if conjured by a charm and gestured for Hildegard to move to stand before the Matriarch. Blushing furiously, the human woman did as she was bid, trying not to stumble over the tresses of her stolas as she moved to the directed spot. Off to one side, Selene and Sala watched with the amused, curious and unblinking stares of a pair of cats.

Aventine smiled, "Much better."

Glancing to the side the Matriarch enquired, "How go the lessons?"

Selene and Sala both rose with the perfect feline grace that Hildegard knew she could only dream of emulating, and it was Selene who replied first, "They proceed apace Matriarch. Lady Hildegard is an apt pupil and applies herself well. Her pronunciation is still woeful, and she reads like a toddler, but even so, she learns quickly. Why I've not had to apply my strap even once as added motivation, I'm quite aggrieved."

"Indeed, and you Sala, what would you add?"

Sala had always been the more genial of the two, and she smiled now with genuine humour, "Lady Hildegard is a fine dancer, but her knife-work still requires much improvement. It is suitably vicious, but contains too much anger, and it disturbs her balance. With regards to etiquette and deportment, there is still much to learn, but I think she would not cause undue embarrassment in a convivial setting. But she is not yet ready for a formal affair. Her manners would still be seen as a deliberate provocation likely resulting in challenge and bloodshed. Still," she looked to Hildegard and grinned, "even though she drinks with Dwarves and obviously can't hold her liquor I am more than satisfied with her progress and have no cause for complaint."

"My, my..." she glanced to her side, "Matron Livia, have you aught to offer?"

The old Dark Elf barely glanced at Hildegard and her demeanor remained as dour and unreadable as always, "She's proved annoyingly pleasant to work with and I have heard many of the staff mention her favourably. She's... bearable."