“I offer up my supplications to the ruler of the lofty veil. My prayers unto the king. He reposes atop the spire and from it comes life like the root of a tree. He walks above the clouds and the spire is his cane and through it passes all days. The wise look unto it and follow those who tend it, but the foolish neglect it and disregard their loving decrees. This is the reading for the eighteenth day of the sixth month, may I ever attune myself to your laws.”
The cool morning air sank into the basement bedchamber of Marienna, novice and prospective chaplain acting under the service of the Alacosta household. She had laid her quilt on the stone floor next to the raised mat which acted as her bed. She sanctified the building where the family slept, and sent her voice offerings into the atmosphere. The hope is that the prayers of one in the holy service will rise and turn northward, and leave a lasting peace and force of goodwill with all that they touch on the way. Consequently, she always slept in the lowest possible room, the farthest possible distance from the spire. The idea of quitting her room for work pleased her, as it brought her closer to the spire, source of her devotion. And it was loathsome to end a days business, for she is not permitted to rest nearest to the divine presence.
Finishing the reading, she offered up her own words in supplication. Nothing particularly eloquent or special, but she spoke of things which were important to her or which she knew were important to the Alacosta family. She was well aware that the nephew, Monta, would arrive this day, or had even arrived the previous night, and she wished him well on his travels. A portion of her soul stirred and she recognized it as the desire to meet someone new and prevalent to her life. In the wake of his coming, there was much talk of this man, his decisions and the significance of his occupation.
“I want to convince him that all I know of you is true. But please, as you lead me, let me seek only to know him.”
The sun had not yet risen. The silver light bedewed the grass and offered Marienna little vision. As she spoke more and more, gravity and the softness of her blanket pulled her eyelids slowly downward, and she began as one does in bed in the early morning to experience a short waking dream.
In the dream, the Alacosta family and the servants who always followed the duchy appeared before her, all the people she had gotten to know and love in the past half year of her life. Then a strange pink-faced giant came along with shouts and rumblings as he stamped on the ground. Her dreamy brain labeled the giant Monta, and all the Alacosta family except for Marienna celebrated his coming. He knelt down to see her better, wearing a large frown. Staying very still and silent, she felt as small as a mouse under Monta’s imposing gaze. The giant picked her up and held her in his hands and Marienna wondered if he might crush her.
Suddenly a mouse scurried into her hands, which were clasped in prayer and very firm from the frightful dream. This woke her, and startled her to standing, but she held it tight even as it squirmed and scratched at her palm. She cupped her hands to give it space and waited until it stilled. As she slowly lifted her top hand, she saw that it was quite small, perhaps only a baby, but its ears were much larger than they should have been. One of them had been clipped by something recently, she supposed because the blood around it hadn’t fully scabbed over.
It froze, looking straight forward, so still that if it was not warm to the touch, Marienna would have supposed it dead already. Such cold eyes.
“You’re okay,” she said, raising it to the basement window. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to set you free.”
She stood on tiptoes and flattened the foliage at the base of the house to make a platform for the mouse to crawl away. With her palm face up on the dirt, it stayed still for a moment, as if it were waiting for something.
Marienna had an unexplainable urge to name it. So she thought for a moment and the name materialized like a fog clearing away. She leaned in closer.
“Go on your way, Cheerieh!” As she whispered this, the mouse moved so quickly, it seemed to vanish. The barely perceptible footprints showed that it took left and rounded the house to hopefully find a safe nook to hide out.
The sun now peeked its head over the wide horizon, but seeing as she had only a basement window, Marienna could only suppose that’s what it was doing by the growing ambient brightness. She quickly reoriented herself and rushed through the rest of her prayers. Then she changed into her daytime clothes, a simple gray garment, a cloth belt and a tightly knit wool vest. She folded her bedtime outfit and took one of three large books at the foot of her bed, and left her room to enter the kitchen.
Ribald, the cook with the plump arms and constant flour on his hands, greeted her with some bits of apple and bread on a square wooden slab. He was chopping something and mixing something else at the same time.
“Monta’s in last night, and Firth-arm’s setting up a hunting party to celebrate.” His voice was hearty and gaelic. It felt comforting to have even a purely work relationship with someone from her home country, Kahlutth Aurea. “He mentioned about how many people were coming. All hands in here if they catch something big, but either way we’ll have enough to feed the crowd. T’will be tight though.”
Marienna smiled with puffed cheeks and spoke through mouthfuls. “May you receive in the measure you have given!” And she left with a nod, a fistful of bread and a shared laugh.
She moseyed through the basement floor and up the stairs into the dining room, then wandered through two drawing rooms into the foyer looking for direction from the family. In truth, the house was ablaze with so much activity that Marienna couldn’t decide which place needed the most help.
Everyone hustled and skirted about, dusting this or adjusting that, going room by room making everything perfect. There were two maids aggressively tailoring a new dress for Gemia who had gotten up early to play kitchen in the mud. She had thought it through and realized that with so many esteemed guests coming, she might not have a lot of mud time for a while. Marienna noticed a valet adjusting paintings, a vigorous footman wielding a mop, and the rowdy duchess in the middle of it all, directing things like a showman in a circus tent. There were also about four men that Marienna had never seen before whom she supposed to be recruited from the neighboring homes in the fiefdom. They were quite skilled and serious.
Right at the bottom of the stairs stood Firth-arm, the robust duke-to-be, in stately coursing attire, his arms crossed and his foot tapping the floor. His shoulders filled his long white button-up and his short, sharp hair gave his round face a certain comeliness. There was always a strength and softness to him even now in his mild impatience, and to Marienna’s surprise, he brightened upon seeing her.
“Ah Mari, Wonderful to have you here!” He stepped forward to be closer as they spoke, but kept one hand on his jacket on the banister. He looked like he was about to reveal a secret. “I need you to prepare for us, our horses. Go to the stables and tell them we are to begin the hunt within the hour.”
Marienna nodded with a soft exhale, releasing the tension in her shoulders that she had been holding without realizing. She made to step away, but Firth-arm caught her elbow and said. “Be sure to have the large-nosed dapple gray for me, and the chestnut for Monta.”
She nodded once more, and seeing that his hand still held her, asked if there were any other specifications he would like to request. He released her and told her to carry on, post haste.
As she turned, she heard a boisterous new voice desperately asking where his whistle and riding crop had hidden themselves. Though loud and demanding, it was drenched in a manic joy, and she ascribed the voice to the long anticipated Monta. Had she waited a breath longer to see him, it would have done much to dispel the residual fear from the morning’s dream, for his person in general is much less serious or imposing than his cousin. He hopped down the stairs pulling on his pants and snagging his coat from the exasperated valet’s hand without looking at him, and Marienna went on her way satisfied that she had a new task.
The morning was still early. The West Kausuth sun still hugged the orange horizon. On her way to the stables along a well-trodden path she noticed a red fox standing very still within a distant copse of trees. She thought perhaps it rested there in the mornings to watch the orange sky, pinken and dim to blue, but its eyes followed hers as she walked. She stopped, staring back, and it slinked away.
The stable had a similar energy as the mansion with everyone moving smoothly in different directions, but less like gears in here, more like soldiers. The stable master shouted orders and the horse grooms carried them out with a sense of duty and adventure. That made it easy to know who to address, but she wasn’t sure how necessary her message of “you may begin preparing” would be.
“Hello fair sir!” She jogged the last few steps toward him. “Master Firth-arm wishes the party to set out within the hour.”
The man acknowledged her silently and barked louder orders with indecipherable jargon. Somehow everyone quickened their pace, and Marienna stepped forward again before the stable master could move.
“The dapple gray for our duke by courtesy, and the chestnut for our guest!”
She found herself tempted to stay and watch the whole exciting affair. The duchess had given her an itinerary, and her first formal responsibility was well past noon: a simple blessing over the food. Her master had expressed the benefits of greeting the visiting clergy who would be arriving within a few hours if the news proved correct, but it was not explicitly required of her. Her ladyship would probably be just as surrounded by workmen and occupied by the festivities as when she left them. But it was likely that Raitero would need a calming word, or Gemia a play partner who wouldn’t treat her like a god. So reluctantly she removed herself from the hunting party prep team, and took the straightest route back to the mansion.
Plodding the dirt she let her eyes wander along the doleful dells to the west and fair fields on the northern side of the road. As she was walking in the Anisuth direction, she had a brief, dizzying moment where she acutely felt her orientation towards the world, almost to the point of feeling the motion of it like a gentle but heavy sway.
Laughing at herself, she muttered a prayer of gratitude for the momentary change in perspective. Then she noticed the same cluster of trees as before, with the peculiar fox. The Great Spire grew out from that general direction, and as she walked, she paused at the perfect spot where it appeared to emerge from the copse. As if the spire were just one of the trees which had grown taller than the rest.
It was almost playful the way the same fox hopped forward, and prideful, as if it were sent by the very king of the skies. She supposed it would stop a few feet from the treeline, but it walked on, closer and closer to Marienna. Its eyes never wavered from hers. It tested the ground and sniffed the air, and crept closer still. Then it stopped with one paw raised. A tension locked it in place and Marienna knelt down with a beckoning hand.
A shrill whistle pierced the air causing Marienna to flinch and the fox to scramble, turning back to its home. She looked around and saw two figures racing after one another. It was his lordship and his guest, and they were barreling towards her. Between huffs, the younger one let loose another loud whistle and called out “Halloa! Here, Mishi-Mishi-Mishi!”
Marienna stepped aside to let them pass, and then heard a barking in the distance.
“Monta, don’t egg them on, they’ll beat us!!” Firth-arm laughed. “Ah, Marienna! You must come with us to keep the score, we’ll make quite a sport of it all!”
She couldn’t tell if Monta was aware of her existence, and Marienna couldn’t catch a good enough glimpse to form any opinion other than he was shorter than a giant. But she blushed and giggled, for their invitation was the strangest compliment she had received in some time. Before she walked she had the faint perception of rhythmic footfalls, then four brilliantly coated dogs shot past her, knocking her to the ground, and barking and howling at their prank.
By the time Marienna had arrived again at the stables, the two men had saddled and lined their horses on the green behind the building facing a small forest. She noted that each of them had one borzoi and one spaniel, a crossbow, and a spear. There were a few more men with their own hunting set, though none as complete or well suited as the esteemed Firth and Monta. The stable master faced them holding two bright red flags. He checked with the duke, then pointed at Marienna. They quickly outfitted her with a light dartmoor pony and a spyglass, and informed her of the best place to station herself so that she could see everything.
The pony gently ported her to an overlook, it snorted climbing the slope, but went up easy in spite of Marienna’s weight. She was unsure what they needed her to record, but she could see a lot from her high place. The hunting party looked like glass figurines from this angle, but she could still feel their excitement and anticipation. The dogs eyes trained on their masters, the hunters poised to deliver their horse a kick with their spurs. And she could still hear the hollar of the stable master tearing through the air, flags lifted.
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“Set!…Yah!” And off they went. Such a raucous lot they were it was a wonder that any creature remotely in their heading stayed where in their forest, but from where she watched, it was rather peaceful. They moved faster than she expected, but so silently. When she peered into the spyglass, though, the men sneered and grimaced, and the dogs wagged their tongues and snarled.
They moved toward the small forest about a league across, but when they entered and split she could not keep a decent track of them. The sun shone on the red orange bed of leaves through the mostly empty branches, and in the center a small body of water, Gruise Pond shimmered. The prize, a delicate goose filled with the vigor of youth floated gracefully atop. Aside from him, and a flock of mallards, she saw that within the forest the only game to be had were some fattened squirrels, or an errant deer if they’re lucky. The ranch hands had spread rumors about a gray wolf as well, which would liven up the sport, but she didn’t see anything.
About five men with their horses waited just outside the treeline, preparing for any game that might escape the main players. She saw with her spyglass flashes of Firth, Monta and Mishi his spaniel. The younger held his whistle constantly in his mouth, and pointed varied directions at the very excitable Mishi. Firth-arm clearly had more experience and strength, and he knew the area well, but Monta had a relationship with his dog that was so particular and loving that Marrienna wasn’t sure who would prevail in such a team oriented sport. Monta also had quick and agile reflexes. A thick, low hanging branch blockaded his pathway, and he leapt off his chestnut horse directly onto that branch, holding tightly to it.
They slowed their approach as Gruise Pond came into view. Monta made another blow into his whistle and gave a hand signal which was covered from view by the foliage. Mishi pawed his way ahead, crouching and finding the most silent path through the bushes and reeds. Firth, another man and two more dogs made a similar essay by that lake and the Gruise goose was surrounded. Monta hoisted his crossbow and readied his signal, but this goose had keen senses and a cocky spirit. He allowed the hunters and even Mishi to gather near, and from the water just before the chase, he spread his wings and took off. Dogs barked and arrows flew, but he had already flown too high.
After the wild goose chase folded, the hunt lost its luster for Marienna and she let her thoughts drift away. The way the hunters weaved in and out of the forest, speaking to each other like they saw through the other’s eyes, it reminded her of the workings of a beehive or a colony of ants. The constant hum of activity lulled her to drowsiness, and she found her head would nod without her accord.
A strange peddling noise shook her awake, and she turned to find that it was the geckering of a fox which had slunk directly underneath Marienna’s steed. So curious was this, the third time that self-same fox drew near to her, she resolved to follow it, and have perhaps a miniature hunt of her own. Not with any killing of course, her nerves could never handle such a thing. She worried for a moment whether her masters would chastise her for leaving her post, but looking through her glass their joyful red faces were enough to convince her that this affair would carry on for some time.
She drove the pony to the copse she had seen before, and the fox hugged closely to her sides. When she dismounted, it hopped ahead into the trees, and Marrienna followed quietly. She kept looking toward The Great Spire. Through the dried branches in this small alcove, it seemed larger than it had outside. She felt the crunch of old leaves and the cold air dense in her lungs. At last the fox led her to a fallen tree, which had been hollowed out by decay and time. It was soft to touch, but stable enough to hold if another animal stepped on it.
When she peered within, and drew away with a gasp. She looked at the fox, then back in the tree trunk, then she pulled herself closer and decided she could live right there for the rest of her life. Within the trunk was a litter of five infant foxes. Their eyes barely opening, crawling on top of one another, scratching each other and crying. The mama fox curled into the trunk, padded an area down to rest, and guided her pups to feed. She continued to look at Marienna, with an urgent sense of communication.
She reached over to pet her, but the fox bared her teeth and her nose wrinkled. When she hid her hand, the fox relaxed her face again. She nursed her pups more stately and serene than even the duchess. Her sense of duty gave her a mature beauty and letting Marienna in displayed a tender vulnerability and respect.
When she was done, she left the trunk and turned from Marienna. She hunched her back and made a gagging sound, then lifted her front paws and pounced at something. Holding whatever it was still, she lifted her head to face Marienna again. The fox, she supposed, wanted her to see what she had caught, so she walked to the other side of the fallen tree, and the fox released its prey, a quivering baby mouse with large red ears.
“Cheerieh?” Marienna took a step back.
The mama fox growled and yappered and Cheerieh scurried away. She lunged and snapped her jaws at Marienna who ran out of the copse and hurled herself onto the dartmoor.
Her heart pounded in a fog of confusion. She created a thousand stories in her mind of how and why that particular mouse could have been caught by that particular fox, why she had shown her children to her, why she held Cheerieh in her mouth so long without killing him. She wanted to think she was mistaken, but her brain couldn’t let go of what it saw so clearly. She felt faint and almost lost her balance on the pony. Pulling the reins she sent it up the hill once more and closing her eyes she began to recite a psalm.
“To you whose land I have tended incomplete, to thee the arbiter of the earth I have mistreated, grant solace though I do not deserve it. Peace within me despite my unfair practices. What does this mean? Mystery of mysteries. A sign I find, a lingering smoke from the cascading of your works…”
She went on, the sensations of the world fading from her. The heat of the sun, cold of the wind, the sound of a distant greeting, the movement of her carrier under her hips, all disappearing. No more. Even the moving of her lips and the sound of her own voice faded from her mind. She felt the presence of a giant, and she squirmed in its hands, but they held firm until she stiffened. The giant brought her close and whispered something she couldn’t understand.
“Marienna!” She found herself lying prostrate on the grass with her palm outstretched in the direction of the spire. Firth-arm had called out to her, and another man had shaken her awake by the shoulders.
“What’s going on?” She said as she stood slowly and brushed herself off.
“Careful Mari,” Firth said. The other man held on to her to prevent falling. “You fell off Daisie, it must have been the stress of the day, is your head alright?”
Touching her head, and running a quick inventory on her body she found no pain or bruise, and when she had assured the two men of her safety, they asked what she had seen of the hunt.
“You must say that I have won!” The other man, who was clearly Monta, insisted. “To my count I had two kills and four assists, and Mishi surely gave the best show of all the pups,”
Here Marienna finally saw the esteemed guest in full. She first noticed the wide smile, then the mischief in his eyes tilted up at the corner. She saw his pronounced forehead and dark sideburns, and the activity and excitement had given him an endearing glow.
“Monta,” interjected the duke. “She’s obviously exhausted, and may not have seen any of it. Let’s not put on any extra pressure, she needs to be ready for the blessing of the feast today.”
His countenance changed when Firth-arm had mentioned the blessing. The features of his face sequentially fell away as he looked at Marienna and recontextualized the whole interaction.
“So this is the new edition to the family.” He spoke with ironic utterances. “When I rejected the chaplain position, I see they brought you in? I should have recognized the signs of self-starvation and the clothes. Well, I can’t blame them for replacing me. Since I refused to do either, which one did you pick? Are you a liar or do you hallucinate?”
“Monta!” Firth growled and the aggressor backed down.
He doesn’t like me. A voice quietly pressed an idea through the back of her head, the way thoughts come before perceiving them and repeat a thousand times a second, demanding to name themselves and refusing to become named. He’s seen me for three seconds and thinks I’m
crazy… I am
trying to steal his family
vindictive
lying… am I
willfully avoiding the truth
listening to voices in my head.
All thoughts happened at once.
After a moment’s silence, Monta made light of his comments, sidestepping an apology. “Firth, did you see the fox by her? It was practically sniffing her hand. Without her as a judge, we need a tiebreaker. What do you say?”
Oh, It pressed a little deeper and a little louder. It latched on to an issue of morals. I’m supposed to save her.
Marienna made quick motions to defer the notion of killing so graceful a creature for mere sport. But Firth-arm, interested in ending the game and painting over the awkward moments, asked more about the animal and her connection to it.
This is why she looked at me and called to me. I am destined for this. I need to save her and ____! A thousand diverse words erupted in her mind and she believed she had chosen one. I need to save her and I’m doing nothing!
“I am interested,” he said. “In just how you managed to call the creature over to you, and whether you had seen it before. For a cunning animal like the fox will rarely venture away from the safety of cover unless it has something precious to gain or protect.”
Tell them to stop. Tell them it's time to go! Marienna spoke, trying to forestall them from hunting, meaning to keep its identity and location secret.
“I am afraid I don’t know why or how she chose me to approach,” She? “Perhaps while I laid still it mistook me for… carrion? Or perhaps it took sympathy on me. If your reactions to my condition were realistic, then I’m certain an affectionate animal would have come to offer me company if not assistance. It is said of old that foxes will attend to–”
“Why do you suppose it to be an affectionate animal?” Monta butted in. “And how are you sure it is a she?”
Quick to recover, she responded. “I suppose I must have a certain affinity for animals,” I don’t. “and an understanding of such things being a woman myself.” Really? “Forgive me if this is impertinent, but I believe we all must be getting on with our responsibilities.” They are going to hate me now. “And I will say that if the fox is indeed female she may also be a mother, and there is no greater cruelty than depriving infants from–”
Monta turned to his cousin. “It must be Yenfri’s mate, from the old man’s circle. This fox which has stolen a whole hen a month since I left for my education must face just punishment.”
“You’re being dramatic, Monta.” Firth replied. “It was more like three hens a year. But in recent weeks he increased his rate of plunder. We had to ensnare him. In summary, your aunt may have a new scarf soon. Old man’s circle, do you mean the wood between the lodge and the stable? That was where we saw Marienna in our race. What were you doing standing there for so long?”
Marienna opened her mouth to defend herself, but no words came out. Between the lodge and the stable, that’s where I saw her. I led them to her! I meant to lead them away from the fox and now they know just where to look!
They’re suspicious of me too, they think I’m involved somehow. If they think I _____ then they’ll ____! Hundreds of outcomes flew past her like a storm, but too afraid to look at what might happen, she chose to let them pass.
“Suppose she stood there to admire the scenery and move on,” Monta said with growing impatience. “I for one am ready for a final chase. Mishi, to me!”
They are going to leave you. They are about to orphan a litter of five fox children and you are going to let them.
“Marienna,” said Firth, looking at the sun approaching north. “You must be returning to the lodge now, the duchess will have need of you as she brings the guests in.”
Please don’t do this.
“Bid me stay a moment longer, for I still have yet to fully recover from my tumble,”
Firth bowed and called over his borzoi. In the time between the calling and arrival of the dogs, Marienna allowed six more storms of thought to plague her. The two men mounted their steeds giving her one last chance to offer a new course of action. Go, say something now, go!
“You’ll be killing a family! You’ll be ending a hereditary line, you’ll starve the children, it’s cruel!”
But they had already passed out of earshot. Unwilling to wait and maintain her lie about recovering from the fall, she leapt back onto her pony and pleaded her briskly onward. By the time she reached the road near the old man’s circle, the men and dogs were in dire pursuit of what looked at that distance to be a patch of red fur. She was crestfallen. Her heart, which had been beating in overdrive for the past several minutes, sank, and she struck her chest twice, mourning her own inaction. She dismounted and sulked the whole way back to the lodge leaving the dartmoor there for the stable master to eventually find and resettle.
The voices redoubled their efforts, and celebrated their close victory over her. As she passed the copse a final time, she waiting, wishing desperately for the fox to poke out her head and prance her way over.
