The Fenimeldiyaan: Vacation - Chapter 2

“Sorry I be a bit late” Rita said, inclining her head in that strange way which River had come to recognise as a Carpathian gesture of respect.  “Uncle Zul wanted me to stay and practise High Virian pronunciation”.  She sighed and rolled her eyes.  “As if I’ll ever have to speak to Virian priests!  Me family don’t even do business on Viria.  I swear that man does it just to annoy me!”

River nodded, remembering how much she dreaded language classes.  “He makes me do the pronunciations telepathically” she wrote.  “And he never smiles, not even when I get something right”.

“Ah, ye shouldn’t worry about that”.  Rita smiled and laughed.  “Tis the Malvanian way.  They don’t often show their feelings.  Andreas told me a joke a while back.  Let’s see if I can remember it right … How can ye tell if a Malvanian be annoyed with ye?  Test for a pulse.  How can ye tell if a Malvanian be pleased with ye?  Test for a pulse”.  She howled with laughter.

River did not understand the joke but the laughter was infectious and she joined in, her silent giggles helping to lift her melancholy mood.  Thinking of the eccentric little Spy Master, her writing stick moved across the page.  “Andreas was the one who suggested I should study here.  His lessons are the only ones where I seem to be making progress.  Yesterday I managed to translocate out of the classroom and into the corridor”.

“Translocation gives me a terrible headache” Rita remarked.  “I can just about manage to get to Rishlaan city centre, but after that, I be too exhausted for shopping.  Not that there be anything worth buying.  Malvanians have no sense of style at all and their food be awful.  Hargil stew!  Ugh!  If it weren’t for Andreas bringing me pizza and burritos, I’d be starving!”

“I don’t mind the stew” River wrote.  “It’s not that different to the food back home”.

“Home”.  Rita gave a sigh.  “So where do ye come from?  Ye ain’t from Vara or Malvania, obviously.  Ye have a sort of Virian look about ye, but I don’t get the impression ye be from there either.  Yttrian, mayhap?”

River was already busy with her writing stick. “I come from a world outside the Fenian Galaxy.  Corttann is the name of my home country.  I met Andreas when I found myself on an alien planet.  He rescued me and protected me and I healed him from a deadly poison.  He said that I had great powers and that I ought to train as a sorceress”.  She deliberately left out the detail about being groomed for the position of Queen of Corttann, since she felt unworthy of the title and did not even want to acknowledge it to herself.

“Outside the Fenian Galaxy, eh?”  Rita sounded impressed and possibly a little jealous.  “I guess this place must seem pretty dull to ye after all yer adventures.  The most adventure I’ve ever had were getting into a fight at a nightclub in Inrith when I were celebrating me thirteenth birthday with some friends.  Some piece of Varah trash reckoned I’d been eyeing up her boyfriend, which weren’t true.  She didn’t believe me and started hitting me.  I fought back but she were stronger.  She’d have laid me out cold if it hadn’t been for Andreas.  No idea what he were doing in a nightclub, since he hates places like that.  Some spy mission, knowing him.  Anyways, he took me back home.  Me parents were impressed with him and said that I ought to learn the arts of sorcery.  So I ended up here”.

River smiled.  It sounded exactly like the sort of thing Andreas would do.

“Let’s go and have some fun, eh?” Rita suggested, changing the subject.  “Get outa this place for a while.  I have the pattern for Rishlaan city centre.  If we merge our powers, we should be able to manage the translocation without making me too tired.  What d’ye say?”

-------------------------

Elsa stared at Ezun for a few moments, too astonished to say anything at first. It was only when the burly man motioned to her again and repeated “Mother?” did she find the words to respond. “But … but how? I mean — yes. But how did you know?”

Ezun grinned. “Need to sleep,” he said, motioning to Andreas’s vehicle.

Elsa glanced at it uncomfortably. “It’s … not very comfortable,” she said, though sleep sounded extremely tempting.

Ezun thought for a moment before turning back to the diner and calling out in his language. Seconds later, one of the workers came out with two bundles of fabric. One Ezun bundled into a pillow and the other he handed to Elsa. “Sleep,” he said.

She smiled at Ezun. “Thank you,” she told him. “You’re very kind.”

Ezun smiled back as she got into the truck and laid down, pulling the blanket over herself. Lulled by the quiet in the vehicle, she fell asleep almost immediately.

------------------------------------------------------

Gerald found that he could eat no more dessert after one pudding. How Morgan and Andreas were both on their fourth helpings of dessert was beyond him. “I think if ye eat anymore, there’ll be no more pudding in the entire galaxy,” he pointed out.

Andreas grinned. “They be used to me appetite. This be me favourite.”

Morgan nodded enthusiastically. “They keep this up, and I might try to work here!” he said with a laugh to show he was kidding. He too seemed partial to the toffee pudding.

Gerald glanced up as Ezun came in. “Did ye see me wife?” he asked.

Ezun nodded. “Sleeping,” he reported before heading back into the kitchen.

Gerald pursed his laps. “Maybe I’ll just check on her …”

“You wake her up again and the only thing you’ll get is a knife to the stomach,” Morgan reminded him. “You’d probably best give her some space. Maybe she’ll be in a better mood when she wakes up. You have been robbing her of her sleep for the past seven nights.”

Gerald shot the mage a glare for bringing that up, but Andreas’s curiosity had been aroused. “Ye been making it a habit of waking her up?” he asked, evidently amused.

Gerald shifted uneasily. “Well, aye, not intentionally, of course. I’ve just been having bizarre dreams since ye invited us to yer home. Nothing important, ye know. Just … stuff. Worst-case scenarios, things like that. Probably a result of what happened in Albion.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but although Andreas looked at him piercingly for a brief moment, the conversation quickly moved past Gerald’s bad habit of waking up his wife.

“What shall we do next?” Morgan asked before reaching for another pudding. “Your world is far more interesting than Vordelle.”

------------------------------------------------------------

River clutched her book to her chest, smiling at Rita. It was true that she hadn’t left the school since arriving three months ago. With no one to really go around with, what was the point? But now, with Rita …

It never occurred to River that they would be breaking the rules. She assumed that Rita had the proper permission to leave. In response to Rita’s question, she nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve never been shopping before,” she wrote. “And I much prefer here to where I came from before.” She scrunched up her face in displeasure. “Everyone seemed to want to kill me in Corttann, and I can’t even remember why.” She tucked her book under her arm and held out her hands to Rita, managing one word to mentally transmit to Rita. “Ready?”

------------------------

Andreas finished his bowl of pudding, then produced a herbal cigarette from behind his ear, lit it and inhaled deeply.  “Since Elsa be using the truck as a makeshift bed, we’d best leave the driving lessons til later.  Me street spies will guard her and Ezun will check on her at intervals.  I thought ye might be interested to see me birthplace and the area where I grew up”.

“A tour of a Carpathian mansion?” Morgan enquired, somewhat nervously.  “I thought you didn’t get on with your birth family.  They won’t try to kill us, will they?”

“I were born in a hostel for the homeless in a Par-Varah district of Vaskrath City” Andreas corrected, chuckling at Morgan’s discomfort.  “Tis true to say that I spent much of me childhood and adolescence in a mansion, but the happiest times of me youth were spent on the streets.  We can drive by the Castiglioni mansion if ye like, but I won’t be taking ye for a tour inside”.

Morgan’s face creased up in confusion.  “How will we drive anywhere if we’re leaving the truck here?”

This prompted another chuckle from Andreas.  “I’ll borrow another vehicle from the Nentofores.  They be me adopted family.  The three of us will translocate over to Grehelin Street and I’ll show ye around”.

“Sounds good to me” Gerald remarked.  “I’ve had me fill of food and I’d rather be out exploring”.

Andreas went over to the serving counter and said his goodbyes to the Varagans.  There was much hugging and stroking of arms.  Morgan joined in but Gerald hung back, merely giving them a polite nod.

“To Grehelin Street then!”  Andreas grinned at his friends and held hands with them.

A moment later, they were standing in the middle of a city street.  It was evidently not a very prosperous district of the city, for many of the buildings were in a bad state of repair, even the ones which were occupied.  Most of the citizens in the street wore shabby clothing and many of them went barefoot.  Beggars were everywhere, sitting in doorways or shambling along holding out their bowls, caps or even just their hands. 

One elderly man caught sight of the new arrivals.  His grimy, wrinkled face broke into a delighted grin and he sank to his knees, muttering something which Gerald and Morgan could not understand.

Everyone else in the street copied the old man, going down on their knees.  Some spoke, but the majority of them remained silent.

“What be going on?” Gerald asked, staring in astonishment at the kneeling denizens of the street.

Andreas looked slightly embarrassed.  “They be welcoming their Guardian home.  Like yerself, Gerald, titles don’t sit well with me.  Ye be in denial of yer heritage and I be no different in that respect.  I be the Guardian of Grehelin Street.  Tis me responsibility to look after all the people here, as well as being in charge of the Valencia Street Consortium”.

He walked over and greeted some of the people, exchanging a few words with them, translating into Vordellan for Gerald and Morgan.

----------------------------

“If people were wanting to kill ye, then ye must have been a fairly important personage” Rita remarked.

River chose not to answer, as the Carpathian girl was uncomfortably close to the truth.  Instead, she took Rita’s hand.

As soon as River held hands with Rita, she could feel the older girl taking power from her.  Rita was gentle and only took what was necessary to effect the translocation.

They materialised in a marketplace.  It seemed familiar to River, except for the appearance of the people and their quiet, restrained manner.  Usually market traders yelled out, entreating people to come and look at their wares, but these ones merely held up items and nodded encouragingly to passers-by.

The two girls were completely oblivious to the fact that they were being followed.

“Welcome to Rishlaan” Rita announced grandly, letting go of River’s hand and gesturing around.  “First stop, let’s get ye out of those drab robes and sort out yer hair.  It ain’t anywhere as good as what Inrith has to offer, but I be sure we can improve yer style a little at least”.

----------------------------

Gerald flushed at the mention of his heritage. The naturally-curious Morgan turned to him, his eyes bright and teasing. “You, with a title?” the mage said teasingly. “What, the prince of louts?”

The mercenary hid his face in one hand, trying to conceal the scarlet blush that rose to his cheeks. “Something like that,” he mumbled.

But Morgan wasn’t one to be put off by Gerald’s short tone. “What lunatic would bequeath a title to you?” he pressed.

Gerald decided to make it short and sweet. Hopefully, that would help Morgan move on. “I be a prince,” he said curtly.

“A prince? Of where?”

“Dundar.”

Morgan’s eyes widened. “I had no idea!” he said. “You don’t strike me as very … princely.”

“Oh, blimey, thanks, I needed ye to point that out for me,” Gerald retorted bitterly.

Morgan couldn’t help it. “What happened?”

Gerald sighed. “Don’t ye get a hint when ye’re given one?” he asked. The mage shrugged. “Alright, mate. Fine. I were the only child of the king and queen of Dundar, which made me the heir to the throne. Only thing was, I were always a bit of a rebel. I insisted on learning every style of weaponry available, though me father simply wanted me to learn swordsmanship. I never had no patience fer things like diplomacy and that nonsense, and me father were constantly cruel to me, telling me I were a failure and even beating me occasionally. On the day before I were to be knighted, I ran away. I didn’t believe in getting something fer nothing, and that was what me father wanted me to accept. So I left and travelled to Vordelle, where I thought I could get me a knighthood through deeds.”

“Except you found that Herbert was just as bad as your own father,” Morgan said, his own features darkening at the reminder of his mother’s killer.

“Worse. He tried to have me killed for me audacity,” Gerald answered. “’Stead, I got away and met a woman named Reyhna. She took me under her wing and taught me everything about being a mercenary.”

“What happened to her?”

But that was apparently as far as Gerald was willing to go. “Let’s go and see what Andreas is up to,” he said, walking past the bowing people to his friend’s side. “Blimey, Andreas. I didn’t know ye were so famous.”

The easily-distracted Morgan nodded enthusiastically. “It seems like everyone who meets you wants to impress you!” he said. “What is it about you?”

Andreas looked vaguely embarrassed. Gerald chuckled at his friend’s discomfort. “C’mon, mate,” he said, clapping Andreas on the shoulder. “Their adoration can’t be that bad, eh?”

----------------------------------------------------

Sometime after she’d fallen asleep, Elsa woke sleepily, rubbing her eyes. It felt like she’d gotten the first true sleep in ages, even in the minor discomfort of Andreas’s truck. The nausea had faded — probably only temporary — and she let the blanket fall from around her before exiting the vehicle.

Ezun came out to meet her, smiling at her and rubbing her arm. “Better?” he asked.

She nodded, feeling a little shy at what the man had done for her. “Yes, thank you,” she said. Very few people had ever been so kind to her, given her profession growing up. “Where have the others gone?”

“Be back soon,” Ezun said. “They’ve gone with Andreas.”

Elsa frowned. “They left me here?” she asked, annoyed. She blew her hair from her eyes. “Honestly. You sleep for an hour or so, and your husband runs out on you!”

----------------------------------------------------------

River had never seen so many beautiful clothes in her life. Tentatively, she reached out and stroked a silk dress that looked like something a lady in Corttann would wear. Further down were more Fenian-style clothes. Running her fingers through her untamed brown curls, she realized something abruptly and scribbled in her book. She had to tug on Rita’s sleeve to get her attention. “I haven’t got any money, Rita.”

Rita laughed. “I don’t need ye to pay!” she said, producing a rectangle of plastic from her pocket. “I were the one who invited ye here. I’d be a sorry friend indeed if I made ye pay for it.”

River blushed a deep crimson. No one had ever called her their friend before; it had a peculiar yet pleasant feeling to it, and she couldn’t help smiling. She went to write “thank you” in her book, but Rita had already moved on. She kept picking up clothes and holding them against River before shaking her head and moving on.

While Rita was perusing some clothes in front of River, the younger girl was struck by a strange feeling. She shivered, glancing behind her, but saw no one immediately recognisable. She tugged on Rita’s sleeve again. “Someone’s following us,” she wrote. “There’s something … a little familiar about them?”

-----------------------------

Andreas finished speaking to a group of ragged children before responding to Gerald.  “I love all these people”.  He spread his arms wide to indicate the street and its environs.  “But I’ve never felt I earned me position as their Guardian.  Tis similar to what ye were saying to Morgan about wanting to earn yer place rather than having it fall into yer lap.  The former Guardian, Kyrtaz Syrkassian, were like a father to me.  In fact, I called him me second father”.  He paused to brush away a tear.  “The manner of his passing were tragic and pointless.  It still haunts me to this day.  It happened when I were in Mynarth Pen, doing time for a hit which went wrong.  Kyrtaz wanted to break me outa there, but Alberto, a sorcerer friend of ours, refused to help.  They argued and ended up killing each other.  Me Ma should have been the next Guardian, but she perished from a wasting disease when I were only three year old, so the position fell to me.  I put off taking up me Guardianship duties for as long as I could, and even now I feel like a fraud when I see people bowing to me and treating me like a celebrity”.

“It sounds like we’ve all had troubled lives” Morgan remarked.  “If Apollo were here, he’d probably say that we were meant to be friends to support each other and heal the wounds from our pasts”.

“He might have a point there” Andreas agreed.  “Anyways, since we be wallowing in the past, tis best to concentrate on the more pleasant aspects of it.  The hostel where I were born be up ahead”.  He indicated a dilapidated building nearby.  “Shall we?”

The interior of the building was serviceable but shabby.  It reeked of smoke, stale sweat and overcooked vegetables.  Priests in black robes and volunteers in brown robes weaved in and out of the masses of street people in the main hall, treating wounds, helping them to wash and handing out bowls of stew.  It seemed odd to Gerald and Morgan that Andreas would have pleasant memories of this place, but his outlook on life often baffled them.

Andreas paused a few times to speak with the staff as he worked his way through the crowds.  He guided his two companions out of the main hall and into a passageway which led to the kitchens, store-rooms and the staff quarters.  He stopped outside a door and pushed it open, revealing it to be a combination of bedroom and study, presumably belonging to one of the priests.

“I were born in this room” Andreas announced.  “On that bed, with a priest and me three fathers in attendance”.

“Three fathers?”  Morgan’s eyes were wide with astonishment and he could not help feeling confused yet again.

Andreas nodded and grinned.  “Me first father, the biological one, were Lord Adriano Castiglioni.  At that time, the Castiglioni were one of the Ten Leading Families of the Carpathian Way.  Me second father were Kyrtaz Syrkassian, the previous Guardian, who I already told ye about.  Me third father, the only one of the three to have survived, be Lord Luigi Nentofore.  I still miss the other two, along with Alberto”.

He bowed his head and closed his eyes, while the other two watched in uncomfortable silence.

A few minutes later, he snapped out of his reverie and smiled, despite the tears glistening on his face.  “Sorry about that.  Ye be ready to continue the tour?”

-------------------------

“Come inside” Ezun suggested, taking Elsa by the hand and leading her back into the diner.  “I get ye special herbal tea.  Help with yer sickness”.

She allowed him to lead her back into the diner.  A different waitress brought the tea.  This one was evidently not a Varagan, for she was of similar height to Andreas and while of a muscular build, still fairly slender.  Her long dark hair was styled in dreadlocks and she appeared to be in her late thirties or early forties. 

“When ye’ve finished yer tea, I’ll take ye over to Vaskrath” she offered, speaking Vordellan with a distinctive Southern Carpathian accent.

“I don’t see why they couldn’t have waited for me” Elsa remarked, taking a sip of the bitter concoction.  “We’re supposed to be on vacation together, after all”.

The waitress patted her on the arm and gave a sympathetic smile.  “Aye, of course, but ye know what men be like.  They need their playtime.  In some ways they never stop being children”.

“That’s particularly true of Gerald and Morgan” Elsa agreed, managing a slight chuckle.  “Alright, I’m ready.  Time to catch up with them.  I just hope they haven’t gotten into trouble”.

The waitress took her hand and a moment later, they were in the middle of a dirty street.  “Over there”.  The waitress pointed to a small tin shack, painted black and decorated with multi-coloured stars.

Andreas stood in front of the shack with Gerald and Morgan.  Elsa thanked the waitress and strode over to them, ready to give Gerald a good talking to.

The waitress smiled at Elsa before translocating away.

------------------------

“Ah, don’t worry about it” Rita said dismissively.  “Tis most likely another student.  Rishlaan be the closest city to the Don, so tis where we go for entertainment.  Anyways, how about this?”

River looked at the dress which her new friend was holding up.  It was made of a strange fabric which seemed to change from blue to green.  “Beautiful” she managed to project. 

“Go and try it on then”.  Rita indicated the curtained changing booth.

The invisible watcher smiled to himself as he observed the two girls looking at the selection of clothes.  He waited by the door of the shop, keeping his emanations low.  He was not surprised that River had been the first to sense him, since her powers were far stronger than Rita’s.  For the time being, he was content to let the girls have their fun.  River in particular needed that, after all the horrors which she had experienced during her short lifetime.

The dress fitted River perfectly, as if it had been made especially for her.  She emerged from the changing booth, feeling excited but a little self-conscious. 

“Looks amazing on ye!” Rita enthused.  “Try these next”.  She held up a pale blue silk blouse and a knee-length skirt in a darker shade of blue.  “The dress be for going out at night but ye’ll be wanting some daywear too”.

Half an hour later, they exited the shop, carrying their purchases.  The watcher followed at a discreet distance.

“Shoes next” Rita declared, looking down at River’s bare feet.

It was awkward writing in her book while keeping hold of the bags of new clothes.  “I’ve never had shoes before”.

“Tis best to start with something simple then” Rita advised.  “Flat soles.  Ye’ll need practice to walk in heels”.

River ended up choosing a pair in soft grey leather.  It felt strange to have her feet enclosed after being used to going around barefoot. 

After they left the shoe shop, a thought occurred to her.  She held up her book.  “Thank you for everything.  You’re the first person, apart from the teachers, who doesn’t seem to mind about me not being able to talk”.

Rita smiled.  “I used to know a boy who couldn’t talk.  He had to write everything out like ye, although he used a computer tablet instead of a book.  Twas strange at first but I got used to it.  We were good friends.  I miss him”.

“What happened to him?”

“The usual” Rita replied.  “Ye know how ye promise to stay in contact, but somehow it don’t happen.  We lost touch when I came here to study.  Anyways, let’s go to the hair salon.  Tis time ye had a bit of pampering”.

---------------------------

Gerald and Morgan were taken aback by Andreas’s evident sadness at returning to his birthplace. They had always known that their friend had sadness in him, but his grief when discussing his three fathers and his mother was obvious. It was a dark reminder that all three of them had come from difficult lives to become friends.

Gerald rubbed at his limp leg as they looked at the shed. Before Andreas could explain about it and its peculiar, painted-on stars, a cross voice interrupted him, speaking Vordellan. “Fitzgerald Hunt!”

Morgan and Gerald turned guiltily as Elsa marched up to them, a small package of fury. “What in the world?” she demanded. “Why would you leave me behind?”

“Ye were sleeping,” Gerald said weakly.

Elsa rolled her remarkable eyes at him. “Of course I was sleeping!” she snapped. “Because some fool kept waking me up with screams loud enough to wake the dead!” Gerald’s face turned beet red.

Morgan pointed behind them. “Look, is that a car?” he asked.

“I don’t care if it is,” Elsa said. “Gerald, why would you run off and leave me like that?”

“I thought it’d be best if we left ye be, love,” Gerald answered, seeing he would get no help from Morgan. Andreas had wisely struck up a conversation with a young mother holding her child; perhaps he didn’t want to get in the midst of an argument between Elsa and Gerald. “Ye seemed … unhappy.”

Elsa scowled at him. “If I did, it’s your fault,” she said.

Gerald went to answer, but she turned her back on him, looking around the street. “Where are we?” she asked.

“Andreas’s birthplace,” Morgan said. “Grehelin Street, I believe it’s called.”

When she turned back to them, Gerald saw a peculiar expression on her face. She looked a lot like she had when he’d first become embroiled in her adventures — tough, stubborn, but broken inside, frightened. At first, he wasn’t sure why until she took another look around her. “This place,” she whispered, before drifting away from the three men towards a priest who was trying to keep five hungry children — probably orphans — under control. Realisation struck Gerald like a thunderbolt.

“What’s wrong with her?” Morgan questioned, watching the little thief with a frown.

“She grew up on the street, mate,” Gerald reminded him. “Think about it fer a moment. This place must remind her of when twas just her and Elaine, living on the streets, fending fer themselves. Aye, mayhap it twas difficult for her, but she’s also lost a lot of the connection tween herself and Elaine after their marriages. Seeing the streets again, where she spent most of her life with Elaine, must be a difficult thing to bear.”

Morgan stared at him for a minute or two. “You should really go into therapy,” he suggested after a moment.

Gerald slapped his shoulder. “I be serious, mate!” he said. Deciding to ignore Morgan for the time being, he turned and watched Elsa kneel beside the youngest child and gently stroked the girl’s hair. The priest handed Elsa a bowl and she started feeding the toddler while the man looked on approvingly. Oddly, the nausea she had been feeling for the beginning of the day didn’t seem to be bothering her, even with the numerous scents assailing their nostrils. “Look at her. It be so easy to forget the kind of things she went through. She’s always been a tough one.”

Morgan chewed his lip. “Yes. She certainly has been,” he agreed before hastily changing the subject. “What is this shed, Andreas? Andreas?” He waved to catch his friend’s attention.