The Year Of The Bear - Ep.19
(Start at the beginning)
The long wide hall at the top of the stair lead to a round open room that Carmel realised was the estates turret. The room, like the rest of the house, was filled with uniquely crafted furniture and decorate with all manner of attention grabbing works. Desks, bookshelves, chairs, paintings, a tapestry, a few indoor plants potted both small and large, and a huge window pained with glass that filled the room with the broad stroke of daylight. The room also had a staircase that wound its way around one side of the room toward the summit of the turret, while beneath it another stair descended beneath the floor.
Julia’s pace quickened at the sight of two individuals standing near the center of the room. The nearer of the two had the simple look of a servant, older than Julia, with mousy brown hair tied up in a loose bun. She was in the middle of undoing the incredibly long plat of the second woman, who stood beside a table straight backed and patient.
Julia bound forward to greet her with a fond embrace, “M’Lady.” She said with a smile. The older woman returned the gesture, surprise evident in the arch of her brow. “Oh! Julia, I was not expecting you.” Her voice came happy but level, the faintest crackle saying something of her age. Now turned, Carmel could get a better look at her. Her skin was fair weathered and marked with the lines of age. Her impossibly long hair was a golden brown, bleached in parts with a natural ease from time spent in the sun, but also host to a number of gray strands that drew back from her hairline. She wore a sturdy looking yet simply cut dress in a light shade of blue, complete with buttons down the front. Carmel thought it seemed as suited to a day indoors as it might function working outside in the impeccably manicured gardens. She turned her blue-gray eyes from Julia to the rest of the group, and as they met with Carmel’s, he took the moment to wonder at just what this Lady Fareamay was.
“Margaret,” Fareamay said in a low, personal tone, “Julia can take over here. You can check downstairs.” Margaret handed the half-unwound braid to Julia and walked briskly from the room. Gathering up the necessary things, Julia began the task that Margret left off.
“I received your letter, it seems you found your own way home. Why am I not surprised?” Fareamay said as she moved to sit on a wooden chair that creaked beneath her. “And you brought guests?” She motioned with her hands, waving so that Carmel and his companions would walk around the table to where she could better see them. With the plat undone the long length of hair flowed almost to the floor. Julia began separating it into sections to run a brush through it in manageable amounts. “Let me get a look at you,” She said as she began scrutinizing the group with a discerning stare.
“We have business,” Carmel began from the far end of the table.
“Is that so? And what business have you?”
Carmel produced Julia’s journal which he tossed down on the table. “We caught your girl spying up in Ipswitch,”
Fareamay leaned forward a little to arch around and stare back at Julia, “Was she?” She asked in a meaningful tone.
“Yes, and in exchange for our pardon she said you might afford help with a problem.”
“Will I?” Fareamay’s brow raised.
Carmel grumbled, “Yeah well, that remains to be seen.”
“For the record, I’m a Chronicler, not a spy.” Julia emphasized for the umpteenth time, “And I simply said she might be able to help. You’re the ones who wanted to speak with her.”
“I see, and who is it we have here? Introduce us if you’d please, Julia.”
Julia obliged by pointing to them in turn, starting with the youngest. “The young girl is Kass of Ipswitch, she’s..” and Julia fumbled for a comfortable explanation as to who Kass was. She dismissed the thought and moved on, “This is Kodiak of the North, and Dolev, they’re Bears.” Fareamay nodded suggesting she’d surmised as much. Julia’s hand moved on, “The last is Carmel, of The High Northern Wilds,” Her eyes rolled to the ceiling as she contemplated a means to describe him, “He’s.. bear adjacent.”
“A Wilderman, if I’m not mistaken?” Fareamay offered.
“The term seems to be the fashion,” Carmel gave a nod, “We just call each other Men where I’m from, and You all Southerners. It’s all about where you draw your lines, I reckon.”
“Wise words,” Fareamay agreed. Her eyes drifted back to Dolev as a keen interest lit her eyes and the piqued of curiosity reigned. “You’re Shamen?”
Carmel looked at Dolev too, a stern deliberate stare, “Ye, I knew it!”
“No,” Dolev shook her head with dissent.
“The colouring, those symbols, that headdress, are these not Shamen?” Fareamay gestured with her hand, emphasising the truth before her eyes.
Dolev shook her head again, “Half-trained- I never took my rites.” She explained.
Carmel knew very little about Shamen, least of all what they might look like, so the explanation only invoked curiosity. He had always found Dolev strange, and noticed a way about her that inspired oddities. Shamen was as good a guess as he could have managed to explain the feelings she’d induced.
Fareamay thought it over. “You know- the first Shamen never took rites.”
There was a tension in the air, Carmel could feel it, like when two opponents squared off to fight. Each made decisions before the first strike was ever laid that would ultimately see who would win and who would fail. Carmel wasn't certain but he sensed apprehension on the part of Dolev.
“I won’t claim to be something that I’m not.” She parried.
“Yet you’re recognised as one,” Fareamay gestured from herself to Carmel, another thrust.
“Then let it be recognised.” Dolev’s shrugged and her gaze drifted away to the far side of the room, a disengagement, an unwillingness to fight. Or maybe there was just nothing to fight about.
Fareamay took a moment to consider and drew in a deep breath of resolution. “Indeed, let it. You are a wise one. You, I like.” She moved on, turning her eyes to Kodiak...
(Continue to Ep.20)
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