The morning was brisk, reminding me of home. Letting the cool breeze flow through the window of my room, I closed my eyes, imagining I was standing outside my family home preparing for a day in the mines. Of course, the air smelled like flowers and the sea, not stone and dust, but it was pleasant. Perhaps I could get used to this, the perfumed air, the soft luxury of the palace, the warmth upon my skin. I wore a light dressing gown I had found upon the bed the night before, something never seen in Tarsa but for in the great stone keeps where fires burned night and day. But the morning dew would be gone soon, and I would returned to the task at hand. I refocused, thinking of the previous night, of all the women I had met. Several had left no impression, a few were memorable as ladies I could perhaps befriend, and several more as women to avoid. I had a challenge ahead, to be sure, but I was confident.
After dressing in a simple tunic and trousers, the only set in the closet, I left my room to search for breakfast. But an older woman caught sight of me, bustling over with an upset look on her face. “What are you wearing, get back to your room and put on a dress.” She pointed to my room, somehow knowing which it was. I merely nodded, walking back under her watchful eye. After donning more ‘appropriate’ clothed, I tried to leave again, but the woman was waiting outside. She looked me over, seeming pleased enough with my choice, then directed me to the dining hall. “Meet in the garden once you are done,” she said, checking something on a list she drew from her pocket.
I ate quickly, not bothering with the few others in the hall at that time. I had risen early, as I always did, so many were still sleeping. I’d also gotten there before they had time to prepare anything terribly fancy, which was good. I preferred the simple meal, finishing it quickly and returning the dishes before finding my way to the gardens.
The sight was beautiful, but alien. Tarsa had almost no flowers, mostly just snowdrops and other short plants. Here though, there were all sorts, standing tall and proud. I was drawn to a magnificent red bloom, reminding me of a sunset over the mountains of home. But it made me wonder what the day would bring, I had no idea what we would do in such a place. I found a small bench, waiting for a short time until the older woman led the rest of the women in.
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When she revealed our task, making a flower arrangement, I was stunned. We didn’t have flower arrangements in Tarsa, we had stone and gem centerpieces. This would be difficult, but I had one idea at least. Taking one of the red followers, a special kind of daisy as one of the more excited girls told me, I moved to the table they had set up for us to work. Several of the others were well on their way, weaving stems together to make their flowers stay without any sort of container. I knew that was beyond me, but I spotted a container I liked. A small metal bowl, thin and simply engraved with a mountain scene, called to me. With a laugh, I looked it over, recognizing it as fine Tarsan silver. I had visited that mine, an excellent operation. I trimmed the daisy, placing it within, but that was not enough.
Wandering the garden again, I spotted a flower that looked like falling snow. I took a few sprigs, they were light and delicate so I felt I needed a bit. Another plant that drew my eye had no flowers, but it was still beautiful. A plant with elegant leaves spread across the ground, smaller leaves growing in perfect order along a single stem. I plucked a few, and returned to the table. These filled the space well, but it was still not enough. I noticed a few white flowers, more daisies if I had to guess, smaller than the red one but the same shape. I put several in, thinking it looked like they had been snowed upon.
Looking over my work, I was fairly happy, but it still felt incomplete. The lone red flower seemed out of place, but it had been the center of my work. An idea crossed my mind, and I returned to where I had gotten the ruby daisy. I took a second, smaller, daisy, placing it beside the first. With a smile, I felt I was finished. At that same time, the older woman, Madam Issera came over to me. “Done, Marishka of Tarsa?” She looked over my work, seeming a bit disappointed. “Quite simple isn’t it?” But I shook my head, “We have no flowers like this in Tarsa. I have never seen a flower arrangement before coming here.” That seemed to make my work acceptable to her critical eye.
“So,” she looked to me now, “What was your plan behind this?” I thought for a moment, recalling my reasoning. “It’s a Tarsan sunset. The bowl is the mountains, this tall one the snow, and these the icy peaks.” I lightly touched the larger red one, “And this is the setting sun.” Issera nodded, but was puzzled, “Then why are there two suns?” I was silent for a moment, and she seemed to wonder if I would ever answer. “Because the first seemed so alone,” was my response said in a quieter voice. Something odd had sounded out inside me, but I pushed it aside to look back to the older lady. She seemed to smile at me, then dismissed me. “Make sure you wear something appropriate, delicate please.” I nodded, walking back to my room.
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Madam Issera smiled lightly. “And a flower should never be alone. Well, it is not in the modern style of arrangements; much too simple for that. But it reminds me of the arrangements my mother used to make. It is an older style. Some may think it is understated, but I have always felt there is power in not saying too much. It is a striking piece.”
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Inside my closet, there were many beautiful dresses, all commissioned by my mother once I had received my invitation. I passed many of them up for various reasons; Too long, too short, too much decoration, too normal, none seemed quite right. But then one caught my eye. It was a light yellow with a pale transparent outer layer. Bright yellow ribbons the color of Tarsa’s crest lined the neck and waist, and though it was more feminine than I usually wore, I thought it was perfect. I took the Tarsan crest from my leather sash, pinning it on the bow on the front. For the one at my waist, I looked through the jewelry box my mother had sent with me. Inside were many gems and trinkets, but I found several more crests. I grinned, wondering how she had known I could need more of these. I pinned a second crest to my waist, then put my hair up in its normal style. Around my neck I wore a simple pendant, a topaz my father had gotten set in gold for my eighteenth birthday. Looking myself over I could barely recognize myself, but I looked ready for this ‘delicate’ party.
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Arriving in the garden a short time later, I was stunned by the change. Light fabrics blew in the breeze, surrounding the area where their work table had been set up. I looked over the tables, filled with Bascalin nobility and each topped with an arrangement. Mine was plain in comparison to many, but I was still proud of it. It was my first try in any case. A footman came to my side, escorting me to my table. All eyes were on me as I arrived, and I gave a quick curtsy to the table before sitting in the only open chair. The other women had powder on their faces and red on their lips, but I had none. For a moment I wondered if I should have tried to put some on, but the lord next to me just laughed.
“Fine to see a young woman not afraid of their own face,” he laughed, even as the woman next to him gave him an icy glare. “Tell us your name, and where you’re from, if you’d be so kind,” another woman said, a slight edge to her voice likely directed at the laughing lord. “Lady Marishka Blackstone, of Tarsa.” I nodded, wondering if she could not see the crest upon my dress.
“So you are the Daughter of Tarsa I’ve heard so much about,” a second lord grinned at her, “Prize of the Mountains, the Lady of the Mines?” He laughed a bit at that last one, “Though what sort of lady need be in such a place?” I looked at him with a stony gaze, unaffected by his taunting. “I am, yes. And you are looking at one such lady.” Sitting as straight as I could, I looked to his hands, smooth as a baby’s. This man clearly never worked for anything, and looking around the table, neither did the others. Only the lord next to me, the one who had laughed about the ladies’ makeup, had working hands. He was an older man, but seemed to have a young man’s grin.
“You worked hard for your spot, didn’t you?” He asked, as if reading my mind, “Nobility’s a hard thing to get your place in.” I gave him a slight smile, glad to have understanding company. “I worked to raise up my men, give them a fine life. A safe life. Sitting at home all day wasn’t going to do that.” Again the older man laughed, though the others seemed to sulk. “You’re an interesting one, Marishka.” I shook my head, “Please, call me Marie.”
We chatted for quite some time as the others gossiped among themselves, and I discovered he was actually a transplant from Mindor, moved here with his wife once their son was ready to take his place. Soon we were talking of all manner gem and rock, and the other nobles began to listen in as I described the different stones we pulled from the mines. “Where is this from?” One of the women chimed in, offering her hand. I looked over the ring, telling her the gold was a high quality blend, while the gem on top was from the Feylt ruby vein, though I couldn’t say which mine along it. At this point, my expertise turned to a parlor trick, but one the nobles thought quite highly of. Eventually they ran out of jewels to show me, and began to ask me about Tarsa instead. Now with the whole table’s attention, I spoke of the snowy peaks and carved stone fortresses, painting a beautiful picture of the land. But even through all of this, I didn’t speak of anything personal. I didn’t want to share too much with these people, only the old Mindorian had earned my respect.
“What do you think of the city?” Asked one of the women. I took a sip of tea, considering my words to avoid turning them against me once more. “It’s beautiful, the water and flowering gardens are unlike anything I’ve seen in Tarsa. And the weather is far more comfortable.” I got a chuckle for that one, even though I wasn’t joking. “The keeps at home are large, but nothing like this, and the stone here is much more inviting.” That was true enough, it was more inviting for foreigners than the cold grey stone of Tarsa. “And the people are too,” I raised my glass, earning smiles from most of the table. The Mindorian lord frowned a bit, but raised his glass too.
“Why did you insult your home like that?” He asked after the others had returned to their own discussions, seeming quite pleased with me now. I shook my head, “It’s true I’m afraid,” then I smiled at him, “Tarsan only invite their friends to the tavern after work.” He let out a resounding laugh, drawing odd looks from not only our table but a few next to us as well. “Well, perhaps I may come to one of these taverns someday.” I nodded, finishing my cup and filling another, ready to continue the party. |
