Grape-Colored Eyes

By the time she opened her eyes, it was already morning.

"Nothing happened."

Artila had been braced for her memories to come crashing down in a flood, and the disappointment was bitter: nothing rose at all. She had only slept well. She got up in low spirits and found, on the windowsill, the wash water and towel a maid had left at dawn. She was wiping her face with the cold water and struggling to tame her tangled hair when the maid came in.

"You're awake. Lord Ilesin says the mage is to come to Findrak Castle."

"And where is that?"

"The biggest building, up at the highest point from here. That's Findrak Castle."

"That Findrak Castle... you mean the place where the Grand Lord of Findrak lives, don't you?"

"Yes."

The Grand Lord of Findrak had to be the highest person in these parts. Artila was not at all sure she could simply walk into such a person's home because a maid told her to.

"Here are the clothes Lady Beni said to have ready for you."

Unlike yesterday's, the dress the maid brought out had sleeves, with roses and vines finely embroidered along the cuffs. With the maid's help Artila dressed, then looked into the mirror on the wall. Perhaps because her hair was arranged differently than usual, her face looked different too.

"Hey. Don't I look a bit pale?"

"Not at all. You look fine. Your color is better than yesterday."

The maid was the sort of person who would have said You look fine, it suits you even if Artila had shaved her head bare. Even so, this was plainly not the face she had seen in the mirrors of Pobern Castle. The lines of it had grown sharper, the shape of her eyes more distinct. Artila studied the glass. Even the color of her irises seemed changed. What had looked brown had paled, drawing closer to a soft pink.

"Hmm."

Was it the new way her hair was done? Or wearing clothes so unlike her usual ones? She was still peering into the mirror when the maid, who had stepped out, returned with a boy.

"Mage, this child says he has a message for you."

"Go on, then."

The boy spoke in a tense voice.

"I've come on Lord Ilesin's errand. He bids me escort the guest to Findrak Castle."

What a relief. Ilesin had finally realized that Artila could not make her way to the castle alone.

"I'm ready. Let's go."

The boy led her toward Findrak Castle. The broad road that cut through the heart of the city brought them to the main gate of the castle where the Grand Lord of Findrak lived, and the moment the guards saw the boy they waved them through.

Beyond the great gates, thrown wide, lay a hall of astonishing breadth. The ceiling soared out of reach, and the pillars bearing up the roof were each thicker than a person was tall. A different animal was carved into every one of them: bear, boar, stag, fox. The bear wore a crown of fruit, the boar a crown of thorns, the stag a crown of branches, the fox a crown of brambles. Between those pillars a tall man stood with his hands clasped behind his back, admiring an enormous tapestry. The boy ran up to him.

"I've brought her, Lord Ilesin."

"Well done."

The moment Artila saw Ilesin, a sound escaped her.

"Ahh."

"Awe, or surprise?"

"Ah. Sorry. Awe. Truly."

"Hmm."

Ilesin tipped his head a little and let out a short laugh. He was dressed in blue even more splendid than the outer robe he had worn at last night's banquet, and it suited him — that skin of his, clear and white as marble.

"Your clothes are gorgeous."

"Strange?"

"No. Don't you mean to dress this splendidly more often?"

"Stop. If I went around like this every day, people would curse me for setting out to seduce women."

"The way a flower puts you in a good mood, or a puppy is cute — look at you, and one simply gets seduced."

Ilesin ducked his head and swallowed a laugh. Artila circled him once, then said,

"Still, if you wore clothes like these every day, whoever has charge of them would suffer."

The cloth had an elegant sheen, and ornate cords were tied at the buttons. The sleeves ended in pale brown fur, with delicate wave-pattern embroidery worked over it — a garment that would need a fair amount of mending merely from being put on and taken off.

"Even so, it's really beautiful."

"Not the compliment I was hoping for."

"What am I supposed to say? It is pretty."

"...Still, a compliment is a compliment. I'll take it gladly."

"What compliment were you hoping for?"

"That it suits me?"

"Yes, it suits you. Because you're pretty."

"That isn't really the compliment I was hoping for either."

"And what am I supposed to do about it? You are pretty. It goes so well with the color of your eyes."

"The color of my eyes?"

"Yes. Grape-colored eyes."

Ilesin went still.

"Your eyes are grape-colored, aren't they?"

Bewilderment swept over his face. Seeing him freeze so suddenly, Artila asked with care,

"Is that something you don't like hearing?"

"Ah."

The heat left his eyes. As if more flustered by his own agitation than by anything she had said, he turned his head aside.

"No. It's fine."

"Then why did you send that boy? You could have gone with me from the start."

"I'd asked Beni to bring you, but the brat sent a note by messenger saying she's running away today. So I sent that same messenger back."

"What was her reason?"

"One I understand, and one she'll still have to be scolded for later. At her age, and still no sense of responsibility. None."

Sparks crackled and leapt in Ilesin's eyes.

"And why did you call for me?"

"To see Mother together. Beni was supposed to come and help persuade her, but the brat ran off."

She remembered Ilesin saying yesterday that he would ask his mother himself.

"Is that why you're dressed like this? To make a good impression on your mother?"

"Mother is someone who requires courtesy and sincerity."

"So that's why you had me dress up too."

"Since you're dressed for it, stay for the banquet afterward. There'll be plenty of good food."

"I'll look forward to it. The castle is incredible — I'd like to look around a little. I was startled by how enormously wide and high it is."

"Look at the floor."

Artila lowered her head.

Cut into the flat black stone set in the floor were foreign letters whose meaning she could not begin to guess.

"What is this?"

"The tomb of the first Grand Lord of Findrak."

Artila flinched and took a step back from the black stone.

"They build tombs inside the house?"

"It looks strange now, but it must have been the fashion once. That tomb of Braglon's you saw on the way — the castle site and the grave are the same place."

"A fashion I hope never comes back."

"I don't enjoy walking over other people's corpses either. Good thing the custom's died out."

"Is there one in your house too?"

"There is. In the floor of the hall where the banquet was held yesterday."

Artila let out a groan.

"So we ate and made merry on top of a corpse."

"Nothing to apologize for. Everyone does. They even sleep there. The ancestors must have known it would be that way when they had themselves buried."

Ilesin took her on into the castle's inner court. The square courtyard was enclosed by a cloister, and at its center stood a great stone basin. Several horses, under the brush, drank from its water.

From a door across the cloister a woman in a short tunic came out. Beneath the tunic she wore dark wool trousers, and the cloak over her shoulders bore the same pattern as Ilesin's. Her body was sturdy and lithe as a young doe, and her face, so like his, had the same striking beauty. Ilesin laid a hand on his chest and bowed from the waist.

"Greetings, Mother."

This was Turvena — Ilesin's mother, and the head of the house.

Turvena looked him over.

"I heard what happened yesterday. So this is the outsider mage."

"Her name is Artila. As you know, she is the mage who joined our castle this time. The circumstances are as the letter described."

"I thought she'd be a woman my own age. She's young."

"Why did you think that?"

"Your manner was thoroughly objective and businesslike. I wondered if the sight of a woman my age had stirred up some filial feeling. Artila of foreign parts — I am Turvena. As you already know, Ilesin's mother. Glad to meet you."

"It is an honor to meet you."

Artila laid a hand on her chest, lifted her skirt, and bent her knee. Turvena's mouth fell open.

"Well now. That's a mighty grand courtesy. Because you're from the south? Listen, mage. The high folk down there are impressive people, with magnificent castles and vast domains, but I have no territory worth boasting of, and no army either. A plain greeting will do."

"I am grateful for your generous kindness."

"Seems that grand courtesy is stuck fast to your body and your tongue. Fine. If you want to do it, do it. I'll enjoy it a little myself. When else am I going to be treated like this?"

Artila flushed and drew back.

Turvena turned to Ilesin.

"You sent Mata, didn't you?"

"Enson sent her."

"And you're the one who told Enson to. After Mata left, the fellow Bram sent showed up. He told a story the exact opposite of Mata's. I waited to see who would come first, and sure enough, here you are ahead of everyone, all dressed up."

"I am the one making the request. This much preparation is only proper."

"Sincere, and sly with it."

"It is courtesy."

"Even if you hadn't gone to such trouble with your schemes, I'd already concluded I ought to respect your position. Even if this mage was once a demon's slave, I respect your judgment first."

"Thank you."

"Besides, if she'd been under a demon's magic, you would have known before anyone. You understand magic better than that old mage of the Grand Lord of Findrak. If you say she's all right, I'll believe she is."

Turvena looked at Artila.

"Mage, you can relax too. If Pobern Castle needs you, then sending you back for Pobern Castle's sake is the proper thing. And you're Ilesin's person, so whatever happens is Ilesin's affair. Even if you turn out to be dangerous, that simply means the responsibility falls on Ilesin — so don't be too pleased."

Before Artila could thank her, Turvena went on.

"If it turns out you're possessed by a demon, or that you're a demon's servant, and you harm someone, then of course you'll be put to death — and so will Ilesin. That's what I mean."

Turvena's expression was so peaceful she might have been remarking that Ilesin would pay a fine. His own face said much the same: Ah, if it's only a fine, what of it.

"Ilesin."

"What."

"She says you could die."

"I know."

"That doesn't bother you at all?"

"Occasions dire enough to die over aren't common."

"If that sort of thing happened all the time, that would be a disaster in itself."

Turvena said,

"Don't worry yourself too much. Ilesin's a noble, so even if they kill him, they'll kill him with honor."