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Ash (Mythklok Prequel) (Part 1)
Title: Ash (Mythklok Prequel) (Part 1 of ?)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sariel plays Cupid in Nineteenth Century Iberia.
Warnings: This story features almost all original characters as it's set in the past, before the Dethklok guys were born.
Notes: After jump
No one but Tam will remember this, but back in Chapter 21, The L Word, I had Sariel, like the good accountant he is, assemble a spreadsheet consisting of a list of beings to whom he had uttered the phrase, “I love you” over the centuries he has been exiled on Earth. There were a 27 men and two women on the list. The one woman I have already written about (it was the bitch he married just before Raziel sent his ass to law school, and he came to manage Dethklok). The other, of late, seems to want her story told. So that’s what this is.
I'm not certain how many chapters this will end up being: hopefully I won't end up doing a GRR Martin and it'll be less than 10. I have the beginning and then ending of the story, but, like happens to me a lot, I'm still working on the middle. And I never write a damned outline.
The setting is Spain, in the early Nineteenth Century. I picked it for several reasons, one of which being it's sort of a neat period for fashion, the transition from Regency to Victorian. Oh, and “Tio” just means “uncle” in Spanish.
The sound of female laughter echoed, light and musical, across the sun-slanted courtyard.
Two girls there were, padding lightly, gracefully across, stealing glances back, fleeing, their brightly colored dresses catching what was left of the evening light.
They floated happy and graceful as two young butterflies, until they had passed about halfway. At which point, they found themselves impeded by a slower object.
“Ash!”
“Out of the way, bitch!”
“Clumsy cunt!”
Ash, the object of their derision, a dark eyed girl of approximate the same age, silently pulled the stack of books she carried closer to her person, bowing slightly over the stack, not meeting their eyes.
And then they were off, once again making sure their giggles echoed loudly enough to be perceived by their pursuer.
Ash stood stock still a moment, finally letting just her eyes slide up to cast a disapproving glance back at the girls. Though her dark hair was tied back in a tight plait, one strand had escaped. A pair of thick spectacles slid down her nose. Unlike the other girls, who wore light beribboned gowns, she wore a dress of rougher material, buttoned up to the neck, and down to the cuffs.
When at last she determined the girls had departed the courtyard, she nudged her glasses back up her nose and straightened up.
And was swiftly knocked from her feet, this time, books sprawled everywhere. “I am so terribly sorry. I am clumsy,” she said swiftly, on hands and knees now, eyes cast down on the stone tile floor, grappling desperately around to retrieve the scattered literature.
“My fault!” came an unfamiliar voice. “Sorry, dear. I’m an oaf!” Whoever he was, Ash could see the male hands now also scrabbling for the books.
“Don’t. I’ll get them,” Ash assured him. She surmised he must be the person Kareena and Karisma were fleeing from. Meaning it would ill serve her to delay him any further.
“No, I’m an idiot!” he laughed. “It’s a sort of profession.”
“I shall be fine. Really.”
There was a silence, a pause. “Ash?”
Ash was so startled at the sound of her name that she actually looked up. A young man, a strangely familiar one, looking on with inquiring light brown eyes.
“I am Aishwarya,” she admitted, casting her eyes swiftly down again.
The man laughed and plopped down on the ground next to her. “Ben!” he said, poking his own broad chest.
“Benedict?” she asked, searching her memory. She risked looking up again. That easy smile: yes, that could have been a grown up version of the boy, Ben. She forgot herself again, and stared.
“You’ve grown up!” he said. “Like your sisters.”
“They’re not my sisters,” she muttered darkly, hugging a book to her chest.
“No? Hrm. And what’s with all the books.”
“I’m at the university now.”
“Our Ash, a scholar! Who would have thought!” He hefted a book, making a show of reading the binding. “You know, I’m at university too! Up north!”
“What? You!”
“Oh, don’t be a bitch! I need to know …. stuff about stuff.”
“I'm not really enrolled,” she admitted. “They let me sit in back. Look, you need to get going,” she added, now irritably gathering books again.
“Why is that? Maybe I’d like to pass time sitting on my ass in the courtyard!”
Ash cringed. She had heard the sly beat of the girls’ footsteps, returning.
“Hey! Kar Squared!” called Ben. Ash didn’t see, but could hear the girls bristle. Ben had grown up to be handsome, but good-looking or not, they wouldn’t have liked him referring to them together. “I think I’ll-“
He had looked over then, Ash frantically shaking her head at him. “I think…. I believe I’ll give you a head start this time!” declared Ben. “You’re making this too easy. Now, run off!” Ash heard silence. “Shoo! Shoo!” grinned Ben, waving his hands as you would to ward off some annoying pigeons.
Sparing an annoyed glance towards, Ash, the girls fled again, light-footed, ribbons catching the breeze.
“How long should I give them? I’m thinking an hour at least!” grinned Ben.
“Ben….”
“Benedict!” called a voice.
“Yes, Tio!” sighed Ben, dramatically rolling his eyes at Ash.
“Oh, uh, there you are. Your father is calling for you.” A bespectacled grey-haired man was now hovering officiously over them.
“When is Father not calling for me? You’d be better off reporting that!” said Ben, now blatantly winking at Ash.
“I need to get back,” she said softly, her smile faint, picking herself up off the ground.
“Tio! This young lady needs these volumes transported to…. Where are you headed, dear?” asked Ben, who now gracefully popped up to stand as well.
“Just my room.”
“Yes, Tio, gather up these books, and get her safely back to her room! This is your important task for the evening,” ordered Ben.
“Very well, Ben,” sighed the man Ben called Tio. “If it means you will attend to your Father,” he added.
Ben heaved a sigh. “Where is Father, anyway?”
“With His Excellency,” said Tio, who was already obediently gathering up Ash’s textbooks. “In his chambers.”
“I will see you later, then,” said Ben, who strode off.
“You don’t have to do this,” Ash told Tio. “I can get them,” she added, feinting for the stack of books in Tio’s hands.
The bespectacled man looked shrewdly at her, but did not give over the texts. His hair had greyed to pure silver, but his eyes were still a bright green. He looked to be a foreigner, perhaps from the north, judging from the odd paleness of his skin. “Which way?” he asked. She inclined her head, and then reluctantly led the way off the courtyard, into the cool shade of the main building.
“Aishwarya, correct?” he asked.
“Yes, I am Aishwarya,” she said.
“…daughter of Imran.”
“Daughter of Imran. Imran, brother of Amir. Imran, so sadly and mysteriously dead, all these years ago,” she finished, a bit harshly.
“I am truly sorry for your loss,” he said.
She had started to mount a staircase. “I wanted to make sure you could tick off your check marks regarding my information.”
“You’ve grown up since last we met,” he said, following her up the stairs.
“It has been noted,” she told him. “By your new master,” she added, raising an eyebrow.
“And studying history? Physic? Mathematics?” he mused, the eyes dancing over the book spines now.
“Yes?”
“Not typical for a young lady of the court.”
“Perhaps I am not a typical young lady of the court.”
“Just making conversation.”
“All right. Let us make conversation. You are Tio. Although, whose uncle exactly, I was never able to determine. Retainer to the current Conde. As you were, apparently, to his father, the previous Conde, before him. I find this intriguing.”
“Do you? Perhaps the Garcias value my service?”
“They have no doubt made note of your long record of service,” said Ash.
“Perhaps I was a prodigy?”
“Perhaps.” She stood at the doorway of her room, gesturing for the stack of books.
“All right, Aishwarya, daughter of Imran,” said Tio, a trace of a smile forming on his lips. He handed over the heavy stack of books. “Since you no doubt know why we’re here, tell me, who would you pick for Benedict, Karisma or Kareena?”
She sighed deeply, hefting the heavy books. “Can’t you take both of them?”
And then she turned, heading into her room, shutting the door behind her.
“I’ll look into it,” Tio said softly.
“We ought to get both of them. What he’s charging for dowry!” snorted the Count, a well-upholstered man now sitting in a well-upholstered chair.
“I could take two,” smiled Ben, who was looking out the window. Two pretty young girls moved across the now darkened courtyard below. “You know, in some far regions of the East, it’s customary for a man to take three brides.”
“Three brides makes twelve times the chaos, believe me,” sighed Tio, who was standing straight-backed at the Count's side.
“Sounds delightful,” smiled Ben.
“They while away their days plotting against each other,” warned Tio, green eyes narrowed.
“As I said,” Ben told him. “Keep them on their toes. Wouldn’t want her to get lazy and fat, now that she’s landed a prize like me.”
“You’re definitely a prize, young one,” sniffed Tio.
“We’re taking one and only one bride back to Saragoss,” said the Count. “We just need to make a decision. Do you have a preference, my son?”
“I would prefer to remain happily single,” smiled Ben.
“It’s time you took some responsibility on!” said Tio. “A man needs a wife. And an heir.”
“And we need this alliance. There’s those in Andalusia that support the claims of the Infante.”
“These are dangerous times,” agreed Tio.
“Yes, and I am too young to die,” sighed Ben.
“We could make it a long engagement,” said the Count, smiling indulgently at Ben. “Now, your late mother and I, we knew right off! The moment I glanced her, I knew she was the one for me.”
“Yes, Father,” said Ben, with the air of someone who had heard a story one or two or three times too many.
“I knew-“ said the Count, attempting to rise from the chair. He fell back. Ben and Tio were at his side instantly.
“Oh leave off!” protested the Count. “Treating me like a cripple. Just a little dizzy. Getting frustrated with this marriage business. You there!” he shouted, beckoning a servant. The attendant was at his side immediately, helping the heavy man to his feet. “Help me into my bedchamber. And get me a damned drink!”
Tio and Ben stood silently in the outer chamber, watching as the Count was assisted to his bed.
“Your father is not a well man,” Tio said quietly as the door was shut.
“He’ll outlive us all!” scoffed Ben, though he lacked his usual bluster. “How many times have I heard that story?” he sighed, changing the subject.
“Which story?”
“He and my sainted mother!” sighed Ben, flopping dramatically into the Count’s chair. “And it made no difference mother’s father was the richest man in Northern Iberia,” he mocked.
“They married for love,” scolded Tio. “It was highly unconventional.”
“And you had nothing to do with the match, Tio?” teased Ben.
“I may have assisted along the way. Here and there,” allowed Tio. “He cares for you, and doesn’t demand much. Can you not do this for him at least?”
“Marry his idiot ally’s empty-headed daughter?” said Ben.
“You haven’t had any problem so far consorting with empty-headed females,” said Tio, coming, as if unconsciously, to stand behind Ben’s chair, as he had just been doing with the Count.
“They’re an amusement. For a time. I simply get bored,” said Ben.
“Benedict. For your father, figure out which daughter is the least boring of the two.”
Ben didn’t reply, but simple puffed air to blow up his bangs. He was light eyed and light-haired, like his mother, but his skin had been darkened by many hours of riding. “I’d much rather get a new horse,” he mused.
“Perhaps we can persuade our host to arrange a hunt.”
Ben started to speak.
“AFTER you decide.” And with that, Tio turned and left Ben to his thoughts.
Ash proceeded silently down the corridor, clutching a book to her chest, but first sparing a glance around to make certain Tio was no longer lurking in the vicinity. She nodded a quiet thanks to the servant girl, and then entered the small room alone.
Lying the book down on a small table, she went first to light a lamp. “They shouldn’t leave you in the dark, should they?” she asked. Receiving no reply, she walked to the corner and knelt down on the floor.
There was a boy sitting in the corner, knees hugged to his chest, slowly rocking back and forth.
“Did they yell at you?” asked Ash. The boy did not reply. “The girls yelled at you, didn’t they?” she asked, seeming unconcerned that her words apparently fell on deaf ears. “Well, that wasn’t very nice, was it?” Ash sighed, watching the boy rock. “It was me they were angry at, I think. They wanted Ben all to themselves.”
She watched the boy, but did not try to touch him. “I think you’d like Ben, actually. Yes, you guys might get along. He doesn’t yell,” she concluded, with a slight laugh.
Ash got up. “So, I brought a story. It’s a good story. It has knights in it. I think you’d like it, Irfan. So we’ll read that for a while. What do you say?”
Receiving no reply, she went to set at the small table where, drawing the book into the light of the lantern, she began to read aloud.
She had read for some time when finally she looked up. The boy was now sitting at her feet, looking at the floor.
“Should we get you ready for bed now?” she asked, closing the book.
Tio hesitated a moment before he opened the door to his room. With one hand on the hilt of his sword, he silently grasped the knob, and then he threw back the door.
“We’re PARTYING HARD in ANCIENT EGYPT!” sang the girl, who was currently up on Tio’s bed dancing like a crazy hieroglyphic.
“Raziel!” whispered Tio, quickly shutting the door and running to draw the curtains. “What the fuck are you doing here?” The language was not Spanish, nor any of Europe. It had a strange, musical quality.
“What the fuck are you doing here is a better question!” she snapped. She wore fine white linens, and a rather elaborate headdress topped by the golden figure of an asp.
He scowled at her. “I asked you first. And can you fucking speak Spanish? I don’t want anyone to hear us. They already think I’m a weird foreigner.”
“Ole!” she grinned, plopping down to sit on the bed. “You are a weird foreigner, Little Brother. They just have no fucking clue how weird.” She popped off the headdress and set it down beside her. Her hair was dark and wild and long. It was hard to determine her age: a good guess might have been 30 years.
“What the hell are you here for?” he asked, still breathing hard.
“Oh, I was visiting North Africa, and decided to hop over and pay my respects to my favorite Little Brother.”
“I’m fine. Just great. You can go now.”
“You’re fine? You’re not even in proper Court Form!” she scolded. “What happened to your hair?”
He self-consciously put a hand in his hair. “It’s fine. I just…. I need to look older, so I left it grey.”
“You don’t look old, you just look like you with sparkly hair. And I take it your buddy the Count is now decrepit while you’re still in the pink.” She made herself at home on his bed, spreading out on her stomach and stretching like a contented cat.
“He’s fine. I mean, he’s not fine. I think it might be something with his blood pressure,” said Tio, sitting down next to her, picking up the golden headdress.
“How long have you been here again?” Tio shrugged. “They’re gonna notice you’re not aging, if they haven’t by now. Humans are stupid, but not that stupid. And I’ve heard they burn people here!” she added.
“Oh,” he scoffed, waving a hand. “The Inquisition really isn’t a threat any more. Well, much of a threat.”
“You have overstayed, Sariel,” said Raziel, propping her head on her hands. She looked serious.
Tio turned to face her. “You’re right, the Count isn’t well. I need to arrange a marriage for his son.” He turned Raziel's headdress over and over. “This is real gold, isn’t it?”
Raziel didn’t reply, but just grinned.
“Anyway. His son, Ben isn’t a stupid kid, but he just lacks ambition. He’s a bit selfish. And a lot spoiled.”
“You’re getting attached to your humans again, aren’t you?”
“You don’t understand,” Tio told her, frowning. “You can come and go. I’m stuck here!”
Raziel blinked up at him. “Be careful,” she finally said.
“I’m fine. Like I said, I just need to get Ben matched. Then I’ll take off.”
“Ooo, will you come with me to Egypt!” she asked, excitedly wiggling up to sit on her knees. "They’re going to elect me pharoah!”
“They don’t elect the pharaoh, Raziel,” said Tio, setting the headdress back on the bed.
“You won’t vote for me?” she asked, pretending to be hurt. She picked up the golden headdress.
“Raziel. Pharoah is a dictator. Which humans seem to like. Besides, I thought they had a Wali?”
“Yeah, some Albanian. I hear he’s currently looking for wife number sixteen!”
“Raziel!”
“Don't worry, I hate to be ranked anywhere after five. Anyway, Little Brother. Get your act together. I’ll be back to check on you,” said Raziel, suddenly smacking the headdress down atop Tio’s head.
“Raziel!” he said,
“You want me, leave a candle in the window,” said Raziel.
Tio yanked off the headdress. He stared, and whirled around.
But she was gone.
She hadn't gone back to her room. Not right away.
Ash sat out in the broad, chilly courtyard, in the flickering light of an oil lamp, book spread out on her lap, but not caring to read it.
“You'll ruin your eyes!”
She looked up at the young man standing over her in the dim light. “They are already ruined,” she said, pushing her glasses back up on nose.
“Father and Tio are forcing me to make a decision. I despise making decisions!” said Ben.
“Well,” said Ash, closing up the book and setting it aside, “when I make a decision, it helps to list the positives and negatives.”
“OK! They're both pretty,” said Ben. “Karisma has a slightly prettier face, but Kareena has more striking eyes!”
“That is really all you've gleaned?” asked Ash.
“Well. Yes. Is there anything more?” He smiled and searched her face in the dim light.
She looked carefully around and then leaned forward slightly, beckoning to him. Ben squatted down, his face near hers. “Kareena desires material things. Jewelry. Fine perfumes. Silk.”
“And Karisma?”
“Has no such wants, as far as I can tell. She can take them or leave them.”
“Oh, so I should marry Karisma?”
“No.”
Ben blinked and tilted his head, searching for a jest. He scratched his beard. It was still a slightly wispy, boy's beard. “Why not?” he asked finally.
“Kareena wants something. Therefore, you will be able to manipulate her. You'll have no such leverage with Karisma.” Ash sat back.
Ben rocked back onto his heels. “You are a sly one.” Ash did not reply. “So who do they have picked out for you?”
The girl shrugged. “I'm marking my time until they find an appropriate lesser noble. I figure they'll give me to a widower, someone who already has grown children.”
“Why is that?” asked Ben.
“No reason,” said Ash, sadly. She frowned. “And as I'll probably outlive him, I'm learning to read to keep myself occupied,” she said, holding up a book.
“You're certain you are feeling well?”
“Quit treating me as an invalid, Tio,” grumbled the Count.
Tio gestured for silence, and then waited for the Count to make his way out to the balcony, where Tio pointed towards the courtyard below. The Count squinted down. “You can see better at night than I do,” said the Count, looking at the two figures, head close together, deep in conversation. “That's Aishwarya, Imran's girl?”
“Yes,” said Tio.
“Ah. Look at them. Thick as thieves!” smiled the Count. “They played together, when they were tiny. Back when Imran was alive. Good man, Imran,” he added.
“Excellency,” smiled Tio. “I think I may have found you a bargain.”
The Count frowned, thick eyebrows knitted for just a moment. And then the rangy grin opened up: the same easy smile his son flashed. “Good man,” he told Tio. “Good man,” he repeated, looking back towards the two young people conferring so late at night.
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sariel plays Cupid in Nineteenth Century Iberia.
Warnings: This story features almost all original characters as it's set in the past, before the Dethklok guys were born.
Notes: After jump
No one but Tam will remember this, but back in Chapter 21, The L Word, I had Sariel, like the good accountant he is, assemble a spreadsheet consisting of a list of beings to whom he had uttered the phrase, “I love you” over the centuries he has been exiled on Earth. There were a 27 men and two women on the list. The one woman I have already written about (it was the bitch he married just before Raziel sent his ass to law school, and he came to manage Dethklok). The other, of late, seems to want her story told. So that’s what this is.
I'm not certain how many chapters this will end up being: hopefully I won't end up doing a GRR Martin and it'll be less than 10. I have the beginning and then ending of the story, but, like happens to me a lot, I'm still working on the middle. And I never write a damned outline.
The setting is Spain, in the early Nineteenth Century. I picked it for several reasons, one of which being it's sort of a neat period for fashion, the transition from Regency to Victorian. Oh, and “Tio” just means “uncle” in Spanish.
The sound of female laughter echoed, light and musical, across the sun-slanted courtyard.
Two girls there were, padding lightly, gracefully across, stealing glances back, fleeing, their brightly colored dresses catching what was left of the evening light.
They floated happy and graceful as two young butterflies, until they had passed about halfway. At which point, they found themselves impeded by a slower object.
“Ash!”
“Out of the way, bitch!”
“Clumsy cunt!”
Ash, the object of their derision, a dark eyed girl of approximate the same age, silently pulled the stack of books she carried closer to her person, bowing slightly over the stack, not meeting their eyes.
And then they were off, once again making sure their giggles echoed loudly enough to be perceived by their pursuer.
Ash stood stock still a moment, finally letting just her eyes slide up to cast a disapproving glance back at the girls. Though her dark hair was tied back in a tight plait, one strand had escaped. A pair of thick spectacles slid down her nose. Unlike the other girls, who wore light beribboned gowns, she wore a dress of rougher material, buttoned up to the neck, and down to the cuffs.
When at last she determined the girls had departed the courtyard, she nudged her glasses back up her nose and straightened up.
And was swiftly knocked from her feet, this time, books sprawled everywhere. “I am so terribly sorry. I am clumsy,” she said swiftly, on hands and knees now, eyes cast down on the stone tile floor, grappling desperately around to retrieve the scattered literature.
“My fault!” came an unfamiliar voice. “Sorry, dear. I’m an oaf!” Whoever he was, Ash could see the male hands now also scrabbling for the books.
“Don’t. I’ll get them,” Ash assured him. She surmised he must be the person Kareena and Karisma were fleeing from. Meaning it would ill serve her to delay him any further.
“No, I’m an idiot!” he laughed. “It’s a sort of profession.”
“I shall be fine. Really.”
There was a silence, a pause. “Ash?”
Ash was so startled at the sound of her name that she actually looked up. A young man, a strangely familiar one, looking on with inquiring light brown eyes.
“I am Aishwarya,” she admitted, casting her eyes swiftly down again.
The man laughed and plopped down on the ground next to her. “Ben!” he said, poking his own broad chest.
“Benedict?” she asked, searching her memory. She risked looking up again. That easy smile: yes, that could have been a grown up version of the boy, Ben. She forgot herself again, and stared.
“You’ve grown up!” he said. “Like your sisters.”
“They’re not my sisters,” she muttered darkly, hugging a book to her chest.
“No? Hrm. And what’s with all the books.”
“I’m at the university now.”
“Our Ash, a scholar! Who would have thought!” He hefted a book, making a show of reading the binding. “You know, I’m at university too! Up north!”
“What? You!”
“Oh, don’t be a bitch! I need to know …. stuff about stuff.”
“I'm not really enrolled,” she admitted. “They let me sit in back. Look, you need to get going,” she added, now irritably gathering books again.
“Why is that? Maybe I’d like to pass time sitting on my ass in the courtyard!”
Ash cringed. She had heard the sly beat of the girls’ footsteps, returning.
“Hey! Kar Squared!” called Ben. Ash didn’t see, but could hear the girls bristle. Ben had grown up to be handsome, but good-looking or not, they wouldn’t have liked him referring to them together. “I think I’ll-“
He had looked over then, Ash frantically shaking her head at him. “I think…. I believe I’ll give you a head start this time!” declared Ben. “You’re making this too easy. Now, run off!” Ash heard silence. “Shoo! Shoo!” grinned Ben, waving his hands as you would to ward off some annoying pigeons.
Sparing an annoyed glance towards, Ash, the girls fled again, light-footed, ribbons catching the breeze.
“How long should I give them? I’m thinking an hour at least!” grinned Ben.
“Ben….”
“Benedict!” called a voice.
“Yes, Tio!” sighed Ben, dramatically rolling his eyes at Ash.
“Oh, uh, there you are. Your father is calling for you.” A bespectacled grey-haired man was now hovering officiously over them.
“When is Father not calling for me? You’d be better off reporting that!” said Ben, now blatantly winking at Ash.
“I need to get back,” she said softly, her smile faint, picking herself up off the ground.
“Tio! This young lady needs these volumes transported to…. Where are you headed, dear?” asked Ben, who now gracefully popped up to stand as well.
“Just my room.”
“Yes, Tio, gather up these books, and get her safely back to her room! This is your important task for the evening,” ordered Ben.
“Very well, Ben,” sighed the man Ben called Tio. “If it means you will attend to your Father,” he added.
Ben heaved a sigh. “Where is Father, anyway?”
“With His Excellency,” said Tio, who was already obediently gathering up Ash’s textbooks. “In his chambers.”
“I will see you later, then,” said Ben, who strode off.
“You don’t have to do this,” Ash told Tio. “I can get them,” she added, feinting for the stack of books in Tio’s hands.
The bespectacled man looked shrewdly at her, but did not give over the texts. His hair had greyed to pure silver, but his eyes were still a bright green. He looked to be a foreigner, perhaps from the north, judging from the odd paleness of his skin. “Which way?” he asked. She inclined her head, and then reluctantly led the way off the courtyard, into the cool shade of the main building.
“Aishwarya, correct?” he asked.
“Yes, I am Aishwarya,” she said.
“…daughter of Imran.”
“Daughter of Imran. Imran, brother of Amir. Imran, so sadly and mysteriously dead, all these years ago,” she finished, a bit harshly.
“I am truly sorry for your loss,” he said.
She had started to mount a staircase. “I wanted to make sure you could tick off your check marks regarding my information.”
“You’ve grown up since last we met,” he said, following her up the stairs.
“It has been noted,” she told him. “By your new master,” she added, raising an eyebrow.
“And studying history? Physic? Mathematics?” he mused, the eyes dancing over the book spines now.
“Yes?”
“Not typical for a young lady of the court.”
“Perhaps I am not a typical young lady of the court.”
“Just making conversation.”
“All right. Let us make conversation. You are Tio. Although, whose uncle exactly, I was never able to determine. Retainer to the current Conde. As you were, apparently, to his father, the previous Conde, before him. I find this intriguing.”
“Do you? Perhaps the Garcias value my service?”
“They have no doubt made note of your long record of service,” said Ash.
“Perhaps I was a prodigy?”
“Perhaps.” She stood at the doorway of her room, gesturing for the stack of books.
“All right, Aishwarya, daughter of Imran,” said Tio, a trace of a smile forming on his lips. He handed over the heavy stack of books. “Since you no doubt know why we’re here, tell me, who would you pick for Benedict, Karisma or Kareena?”
She sighed deeply, hefting the heavy books. “Can’t you take both of them?”
And then she turned, heading into her room, shutting the door behind her.
“I’ll look into it,” Tio said softly.
“We ought to get both of them. What he’s charging for dowry!” snorted the Count, a well-upholstered man now sitting in a well-upholstered chair.
“I could take two,” smiled Ben, who was looking out the window. Two pretty young girls moved across the now darkened courtyard below. “You know, in some far regions of the East, it’s customary for a man to take three brides.”
“Three brides makes twelve times the chaos, believe me,” sighed Tio, who was standing straight-backed at the Count's side.
“Sounds delightful,” smiled Ben.
“They while away their days plotting against each other,” warned Tio, green eyes narrowed.
“As I said,” Ben told him. “Keep them on their toes. Wouldn’t want her to get lazy and fat, now that she’s landed a prize like me.”
“You’re definitely a prize, young one,” sniffed Tio.
“We’re taking one and only one bride back to Saragoss,” said the Count. “We just need to make a decision. Do you have a preference, my son?”
“I would prefer to remain happily single,” smiled Ben.
“It’s time you took some responsibility on!” said Tio. “A man needs a wife. And an heir.”
“And we need this alliance. There’s those in Andalusia that support the claims of the Infante.”
“These are dangerous times,” agreed Tio.
“Yes, and I am too young to die,” sighed Ben.
“We could make it a long engagement,” said the Count, smiling indulgently at Ben. “Now, your late mother and I, we knew right off! The moment I glanced her, I knew she was the one for me.”
“Yes, Father,” said Ben, with the air of someone who had heard a story one or two or three times too many.
“I knew-“ said the Count, attempting to rise from the chair. He fell back. Ben and Tio were at his side instantly.
“Oh leave off!” protested the Count. “Treating me like a cripple. Just a little dizzy. Getting frustrated with this marriage business. You there!” he shouted, beckoning a servant. The attendant was at his side immediately, helping the heavy man to his feet. “Help me into my bedchamber. And get me a damned drink!”
Tio and Ben stood silently in the outer chamber, watching as the Count was assisted to his bed.
“Your father is not a well man,” Tio said quietly as the door was shut.
“He’ll outlive us all!” scoffed Ben, though he lacked his usual bluster. “How many times have I heard that story?” he sighed, changing the subject.
“Which story?”
“He and my sainted mother!” sighed Ben, flopping dramatically into the Count’s chair. “And it made no difference mother’s father was the richest man in Northern Iberia,” he mocked.
“They married for love,” scolded Tio. “It was highly unconventional.”
“And you had nothing to do with the match, Tio?” teased Ben.
“I may have assisted along the way. Here and there,” allowed Tio. “He cares for you, and doesn’t demand much. Can you not do this for him at least?”
“Marry his idiot ally’s empty-headed daughter?” said Ben.
“You haven’t had any problem so far consorting with empty-headed females,” said Tio, coming, as if unconsciously, to stand behind Ben’s chair, as he had just been doing with the Count.
“They’re an amusement. For a time. I simply get bored,” said Ben.
“Benedict. For your father, figure out which daughter is the least boring of the two.”
Ben didn’t reply, but simple puffed air to blow up his bangs. He was light eyed and light-haired, like his mother, but his skin had been darkened by many hours of riding. “I’d much rather get a new horse,” he mused.
“Perhaps we can persuade our host to arrange a hunt.”
Ben started to speak.
“AFTER you decide.” And with that, Tio turned and left Ben to his thoughts.
Ash proceeded silently down the corridor, clutching a book to her chest, but first sparing a glance around to make certain Tio was no longer lurking in the vicinity. She nodded a quiet thanks to the servant girl, and then entered the small room alone.
Lying the book down on a small table, she went first to light a lamp. “They shouldn’t leave you in the dark, should they?” she asked. Receiving no reply, she walked to the corner and knelt down on the floor.
There was a boy sitting in the corner, knees hugged to his chest, slowly rocking back and forth.
“Did they yell at you?” asked Ash. The boy did not reply. “The girls yelled at you, didn’t they?” she asked, seeming unconcerned that her words apparently fell on deaf ears. “Well, that wasn’t very nice, was it?” Ash sighed, watching the boy rock. “It was me they were angry at, I think. They wanted Ben all to themselves.”
She watched the boy, but did not try to touch him. “I think you’d like Ben, actually. Yes, you guys might get along. He doesn’t yell,” she concluded, with a slight laugh.
Ash got up. “So, I brought a story. It’s a good story. It has knights in it. I think you’d like it, Irfan. So we’ll read that for a while. What do you say?”
Receiving no reply, she went to set at the small table where, drawing the book into the light of the lantern, she began to read aloud.
She had read for some time when finally she looked up. The boy was now sitting at her feet, looking at the floor.
“Should we get you ready for bed now?” she asked, closing the book.
Tio hesitated a moment before he opened the door to his room. With one hand on the hilt of his sword, he silently grasped the knob, and then he threw back the door.
“We’re PARTYING HARD in ANCIENT EGYPT!” sang the girl, who was currently up on Tio’s bed dancing like a crazy hieroglyphic.
“Raziel!” whispered Tio, quickly shutting the door and running to draw the curtains. “What the fuck are you doing here?” The language was not Spanish, nor any of Europe. It had a strange, musical quality.
“What the fuck are you doing here is a better question!” she snapped. She wore fine white linens, and a rather elaborate headdress topped by the golden figure of an asp.
He scowled at her. “I asked you first. And can you fucking speak Spanish? I don’t want anyone to hear us. They already think I’m a weird foreigner.”
“Ole!” she grinned, plopping down to sit on the bed. “You are a weird foreigner, Little Brother. They just have no fucking clue how weird.” She popped off the headdress and set it down beside her. Her hair was dark and wild and long. It was hard to determine her age: a good guess might have been 30 years.
“What the hell are you here for?” he asked, still breathing hard.
“Oh, I was visiting North Africa, and decided to hop over and pay my respects to my favorite Little Brother.”
“I’m fine. Just great. You can go now.”
“You’re fine? You’re not even in proper Court Form!” she scolded. “What happened to your hair?”
He self-consciously put a hand in his hair. “It’s fine. I just…. I need to look older, so I left it grey.”
“You don’t look old, you just look like you with sparkly hair. And I take it your buddy the Count is now decrepit while you’re still in the pink.” She made herself at home on his bed, spreading out on her stomach and stretching like a contented cat.
“He’s fine. I mean, he’s not fine. I think it might be something with his blood pressure,” said Tio, sitting down next to her, picking up the golden headdress.
“How long have you been here again?” Tio shrugged. “They’re gonna notice you’re not aging, if they haven’t by now. Humans are stupid, but not that stupid. And I’ve heard they burn people here!” she added.
“Oh,” he scoffed, waving a hand. “The Inquisition really isn’t a threat any more. Well, much of a threat.”
“You have overstayed, Sariel,” said Raziel, propping her head on her hands. She looked serious.
Tio turned to face her. “You’re right, the Count isn’t well. I need to arrange a marriage for his son.” He turned Raziel's headdress over and over. “This is real gold, isn’t it?”
Raziel didn’t reply, but just grinned.
“Anyway. His son, Ben isn’t a stupid kid, but he just lacks ambition. He’s a bit selfish. And a lot spoiled.”
“You’re getting attached to your humans again, aren’t you?”
“You don’t understand,” Tio told her, frowning. “You can come and go. I’m stuck here!”
Raziel blinked up at him. “Be careful,” she finally said.
“I’m fine. Like I said, I just need to get Ben matched. Then I’ll take off.”
“Ooo, will you come with me to Egypt!” she asked, excitedly wiggling up to sit on her knees. "They’re going to elect me pharoah!”
“They don’t elect the pharaoh, Raziel,” said Tio, setting the headdress back on the bed.
“You won’t vote for me?” she asked, pretending to be hurt. She picked up the golden headdress.
“Raziel. Pharoah is a dictator. Which humans seem to like. Besides, I thought they had a Wali?”
“Yeah, some Albanian. I hear he’s currently looking for wife number sixteen!”
“Raziel!”
“Don't worry, I hate to be ranked anywhere after five. Anyway, Little Brother. Get your act together. I’ll be back to check on you,” said Raziel, suddenly smacking the headdress down atop Tio’s head.
“Raziel!” he said,
“You want me, leave a candle in the window,” said Raziel.
Tio yanked off the headdress. He stared, and whirled around.
But she was gone.
She hadn't gone back to her room. Not right away.
Ash sat out in the broad, chilly courtyard, in the flickering light of an oil lamp, book spread out on her lap, but not caring to read it.
“You'll ruin your eyes!”
She looked up at the young man standing over her in the dim light. “They are already ruined,” she said, pushing her glasses back up on nose.
“Father and Tio are forcing me to make a decision. I despise making decisions!” said Ben.
“Well,” said Ash, closing up the book and setting it aside, “when I make a decision, it helps to list the positives and negatives.”
“OK! They're both pretty,” said Ben. “Karisma has a slightly prettier face, but Kareena has more striking eyes!”
“That is really all you've gleaned?” asked Ash.
“Well. Yes. Is there anything more?” He smiled and searched her face in the dim light.
She looked carefully around and then leaned forward slightly, beckoning to him. Ben squatted down, his face near hers. “Kareena desires material things. Jewelry. Fine perfumes. Silk.”
“And Karisma?”
“Has no such wants, as far as I can tell. She can take them or leave them.”
“Oh, so I should marry Karisma?”
“No.”
Ben blinked and tilted his head, searching for a jest. He scratched his beard. It was still a slightly wispy, boy's beard. “Why not?” he asked finally.
“Kareena wants something. Therefore, you will be able to manipulate her. You'll have no such leverage with Karisma.” Ash sat back.
Ben rocked back onto his heels. “You are a sly one.” Ash did not reply. “So who do they have picked out for you?”
The girl shrugged. “I'm marking my time until they find an appropriate lesser noble. I figure they'll give me to a widower, someone who already has grown children.”
“Why is that?” asked Ben.
“No reason,” said Ash, sadly. She frowned. “And as I'll probably outlive him, I'm learning to read to keep myself occupied,” she said, holding up a book.
“You're certain you are feeling well?”
“Quit treating me as an invalid, Tio,” grumbled the Count.
Tio gestured for silence, and then waited for the Count to make his way out to the balcony, where Tio pointed towards the courtyard below. The Count squinted down. “You can see better at night than I do,” said the Count, looking at the two figures, head close together, deep in conversation. “That's Aishwarya, Imran's girl?”
“Yes,” said Tio.
“Ah. Look at them. Thick as thieves!” smiled the Count. “They played together, when they were tiny. Back when Imran was alive. Good man, Imran,” he added.
“Excellency,” smiled Tio. “I think I may have found you a bargain.”
The Count frowned, thick eyebrows knitted for just a moment. And then the rangy grin opened up: the same easy smile his son flashed. “Good man,” he told Tio. “Good man,” he repeated, looking back towards the two young people conferring so late at night.