From Across the Clouded Range

“There you are! Asleep in the middle of your harem again.”

  Dasen’s head shot up. He searched his surroundings trying to remember where he was. A deep breath filled his senses with the scent of leather, dust, and stale parchment. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes then ran his fingers through his overgrown hair to pull it back from his face. It felt stringy and matted, in desperate need of a wash. After a great stretching yawn, he wiped his mouth but found that he had not, thankfully, been drooling on the ancient ledger that had been his pillow. He quickly found the pivoting mirror mounted on his table, but it no longer caught the light. Instead, he traced a dusty beam along fifty paces of bookshelves to a glowing spiral staircase. The mirrors mounted along those stairs and on top of the shelves showed steady sunlight rather than the flickering oil fire that had illuminated his books when he had succumbed to sleep.

  “What time is it?” he asked the lanky young man who had roused him.

  “The second bell just sounded but no classes today,” Rynn replied. “Not that the counselors expect you to be at their lectures anymore.” Rynn’s starched cotton shirt, black satin vest, and fine wool pants hung from his skeletal form like an overdressed scarecrow. He was likely the single thinnest person Dasen had ever seen, fine bones with the sparest flesh to cover them. His face did nothing to further his emaciated appearance. It was long and narrow with deep-set eyes, sunken cheeks, and large round ears. His lips were thin and colorless. Lifeless dishwater blond hair was pulled back and tied at the nape of his neck. Only his ever-present smile, tainted as it was by mischief, and lively blue eyes, marked him as anything more than a wealthy plague victim.

  The out-of-favor third son of a Liandrian lord, Rynn had been exiled to Liandrin University to train for a position as a counselor, a teacher and interpreter of the Holy Order. He could not have been worse suited for the requisite life of study, reflection, and judgment. He was in a constant state of motion, shifting and fidgeting like a nervous cat, unable to concentrate for even the shortest lectures. Logic bored him. He read as little as possible. And his implacable irreverence had put him on the wrong side of nearly every counselor, valati, and student at the university. Still, he had been Dasen’s friend from their first day. Long consigned to his fate and never shy, Rynn had been the only one willing to approach the son of Ipid Ronigan without expecting something in return. He was still the only person Dasen trusted without reservation.

  Rynn plopped himself into the chair across from Dasen’s and examined the mountain of leather-bound tomes before him. Imperial Ledger: Liandrin District was printed on each broad spine along with a range of years dating back to well before either of their grandparents were alive. “I see you spent another night with your lovers. You are incorrigible. How many was it last night? I see at least a dozen here, but with you, I can never be sure.”

  “Very funny.” Dasen rubbed his eyes again and shook his head to dispel the cobwebs. Meanwhile, Rynn positioned the reading mirror so that the reflected sunlight was aimed squarely into his eyes. Dasen squirmed away and batted at the mirror. “That’s not funny. Are you trying to blind me?”

  “My goal exactly. If you were blind, you wouldn’t spend so much time with these musty, leathery, old whores.”

  “I think you’ve carried that metaphor far enough, haven’t you?”

  “I see that you, like me, prefer your lovers on the thick side, though the curves on these seem a bit sharp for my tastes.” Rynn pushed the books to one side and leaned across the table. “Let us dispense with these easy lovers and find some that are a bit softer and gentler on the eyes. As I was searching for you, I passed a lovely gaggle of ladies from the girls’ school. They seemed absorbed with some elderly, leathery suitors, but I am certain that the famed Dasen Ronigan could pry them from such inferior prospects.”

  “Ah, but you know that my lovers are jealous and my time with them may be short.” Dasen attempted to imitate Rynn’s mocking tone. “I need to get into each of them and unlock their secrets before I am called away. The ladies upstairs will wait, but these damsels can be plucked away at any time.” With that, Dasen scanned down the list of numbers he had written in his notes to see where he had left off. A glance at his friend’s expression showed the briefest glimpse of dread hidden quickly behind a mock frown.

  “Dasen,” Rynn cajoled, “these old hags have waited centuries for you. Surely they can spare you a few minutes for Lily Detrasse lal Harbisher. . . .”

  The slow creep of Dasen’s eyes from his books masked the sudden hammering of his heart. “She’s here? Right now?” Rynn slow smile told Dasen that he had failed in his attempt to be casual. He felt the moisture drain from his mouth and somehow appear on his hands.

  “She is,” Rynn cooed. “I recognized her cascade of dark hair immediately. It is pinned with butterfly clips, and she is wearing the blue dress that is cut just a bit too low to hide her stunning . . . .” Dasen slapped him on the arm. “Intellect. I was going to say intellect.”

  “She is really smart, you know.”

  “Yes, you’ve told me. It is her tremendous intellect that you like.” Rynn made gestures before his chest to indicate something very different from her intellect.

  “She even takes some classes at the men’s college,” Dasen explained to his nodding friend. “And . . . and she gave an excellent defense of the Xi Valati Cornissina’s rulings on the natural dichotomy of the sexes. I never thought much of Cornissina until I heard her. It really made me rethink. . . .”

  “That dress she was wearing at the time. It was magnificent. I was at that lecture, and I’d be amazed if you could remember one word she said.”

  “I didn’t. I mean, of course I remember what she said. Besides, that’s not the important thing right now.” Dasen could feel the blood rising to his face.

  “What, dear friend, is more important? Is there anything in the world more important than the right woman? To quote the holy text, ‘The Order has ordained for each of us a partner, and only when combined with that missing piece will we find completeness.’ It’s right there in The Book of Valatarian. By denying the companionship of those lovely creatures upstairs, you are in opposition to the Holy Order. It is blasphemy, and I, as a future counselor, will not stand for it.” Rynn brought his fist to the table hard enough to make Dasen’s ink jar jump.

  Dasen chose to ignore the irony in his friend’s words – counselors were required to be celibate. “Well said,” Dasen conceded. “And I agree. But not right now, not until my studies are complete. You know my father.”

  “Dasen,” Rynn made his voice tight and stern to imitate Dasen’s father, “I think it is time that you put these frivolous studies aside. I support study as much as any man, but there is only so much that you can learn from books. It is time that you found your place in the real world.”

  “Sounds like you’ve heard that a time or two.”

  “Or two,” Rynn confirmed. “I don’t know what you’re complaining about. Your father just wants you to get joined to some beautiful noble’s daughter so he can pour money over your head until you drown in it.” He paused for the briefest moment. “Now I see your plight, a fear of drowning. Perhaps we could buy you a very tall stool, though it is an awful lot of money. Maybe a ladder would be better?”

  “Very funny,” Dasen sighed and ran his fingers back through his hair. “But you still don’t understand. Drowning is right. Do you realize how much he works? You think I study a lot? It is nothing in comparison to the hours he keeps. He has no other interests, no hobbies, no friends other than the ones he pays. Ever since my. . .,” Dasen stopped himself as a rush of emotions threatened to overtake him. It amazed him that, over twelve years later, the memory of his mother’s death could still illicit such a response. But he had really lost both of his parents on that fall day twelve years ago, an orphan in all but name. His mother had died in the fire, and his father had drowned himself
in work, snuffed out anything that might resemble a life.

  “The truth is, I am at home here,” he continued when he was sure his voice would not quaver. “There are so many things to know. So much of the Order is still not understood. We are in a time of great discovery, and I want to be a part of that. It is my calling more than any girl or . . . .”

  Dasen cut off as he saw a shimmer of blue reflected in his mirror from the staircase. A second later, a young lady stepped onto the landing and peered down the bookshelf-defined corridors that radiated like spokes from the stairs. The sound of Rynn clearing his throat brought her attention to her quarry and ended Dasen’s silent hope that he become invisible.

  Lily Detrasse lal Harbisher’s mouth quirked into a tight smile, and the lace fan in her hand popped open. Even from fifty paces, Dasen could smell her perfume over the must of the library. His heart hammered. His legs felt like they could barely support him as he rose to meet the young noblewoman. As Rynn had suggested, curls of thick raven hair hung down her back to her waist restrained by a myriad of life-sized butterfly clips. Her face was a perfect heart with soft cheeks, full lips, and the merest pinch of a nose. Her eyes were huge and deep brown. The pale-blue dress she wore was cut in the most provocative possible style, showing a long expanse of white neck and the top of her generous breasts before flaring to the ground. She was a full head shorter than Dasen but somehow did not look up to meet his eyes. Several paces behind her, a much older woman trailed in a plain brown dress with a white apron that marked her as the lady’s maid.

  “My dear Lady Harbisher.” Rynn bowed as if greeting the queen rather than a noble of only slightly higher rank than himself.

  Stunned, Dasen managed to force just enough movement from his body to create an acceptable bow. By the time he returned to his full height, Lily Harbisher was standing uncomfortably close. Her scent washed over him – lavender and vanilla – his heartbeat rang in his ears, and he fought to keep his eyes from the outline framed by the top of her dress.

  “. . . brings you down here?” Dasen heard Rynn speaking somewhere; his words seemed far away. “I believe it is forbidden for women to venture into the depths of the Library, too many possibilities for unsavory encounters . . . . Surely you have lost your way. Could Lord Ronigan and I escort you to a more appropriate section of our grand institution?”

  “That is a very kind offer, Rynn Hurchstal, but I am sure that I am in no danger here. Besides, this seems the only place that one can find the fine Lord Ronigan these days.” Lily’s full attention turned to Dasen. “I have looked everywhere for you. You do not come to lectures anymore, are never seen around the commons, and never respond to my notes. It is quite rude, you know.”

  “Yes, my lady,” Dasen stammered, “but I do not recall receiving any notes from you. If I had I would have responded immediately.” Dasen kicked himself for sounding over eager and felt the blood rise in his face.

  “I will keep that in mind from now on.” Lily smiled and placed a hand on Dasen’s arm. The warmth of her touch felt like it would burn though his thin shirtsleeve. “When I saw Rynn slinking down the stairs, I knew he must be looking for you, and I just had to follow.” Her hands moved down and clasped Dasen’s so that she held them both before her. “My father is holding his summer hunt in a few weeks. Our estate is only a day’s travel outside the city. It is truly beautiful there, the hunting is bountiful, and my father has confided that he will be releasing several Kizarian rainbow birds as trophies for the luckiest hunters. Don’t you think a bouquet of their feathers would be lovely in my hair?” She flipped her dark hair over her shoulder to illustrate her point.

  “Surely, my lady, they would only be lost in comparison to your own beauty,” Rynn spoke to spare Dasen’s impossibly tied tongue.

  Lily shot Rynn a look that clearly conveyed her preference that he drop dead. “After the hunting, there will be a grand ball. My father has hired the finest musicians from the city. I’m sure all the most eligible ladies will be there, but it would be my hope that you grace me with the first dance. After, we could find a quiet corner, and you could tell me what it is that has you locked up in this library day and night. I still can’t get your dissertation on the order of labor out of my mind, you know.” She squeezed Dasen’s hand and rubbed her delicate thumbs along his. “So can I tell my father to prepare a room for you at the estate?”

  Dasen spared a glance at Rynn with a clear plea for help, but Rynn only smiled. Lily’s soft hand on his cheek brought his eyes back to hers. “I wasn’t inviting Rynn. It is you that I want.”

  Dasen’s legs nearly gave away, but he somehow managed to stammer, “I . . . I . . . ah, I do not really hunt. Or rather I have never. I mean, I do not think I can . . . .”

  “Oh sweet boy,” Lily’s hand rose to rub his arm, “my father and brothers will surely take you under their wings. I am my father’s favorite. If I have invited you, he will treat you as an honored guest.”

  “That is . . . that is very kind, I’m sure. But I . . . .”

  “There you are,” a new voice boomed through the stacks. “I’ve been looking everywhere, and that lying rascal next to you was no help at all.”

  Dasen’s eyes shifted to the massive shape striding down the stacks toward him. He thought they must be tricking him. What was Elton, his father’s man-servant and bodyguard, doing here? A Morg, the middle-aged man stood nearly as tall as the bookshelves surrounding him. His shoulders filled the entire space. His shaggy brown beard hung down over the ridiculous black suit that Ipid insisted he wear. The fine fabric looked like it would burst off of him if his taught muscles so much as twitched.

  “What’s this about then?” Elton crossed his arms before him and glowered at Lily.

  Taken back, she retreated to put Dasen between her and the Morg. “And who might you be sir to speak so to Lord Ronigan? Do you realize his father’s standing?”

  “Yeah, usually he’s standin’ somewhere right in front of me.”

  “I am sorry,” Dasen managed, “Lily Detrasse lal Harbisher, this is Elton gar Stermspek. He is my father’s manservant.”

  “In that case, I am pleased to meet you,” Lily popped her fan and used it to wave a greeting. “I was just inviting Dasen to my father, Lord Harbisher’s, summer hunt. It will be . . . .”

  “He can’t make it,” Elton interrupted. “Your father’s expecting you. Why weren’t you waiting for me in your rooms as he requested in his letter?”

  “Letter?” Dasen asked.

  “Yes, he sent it via courier over a week ago. You should have received it days ago.”

  Dasen glanced at Rynn, who looked away and pretended to study the books next to him on the shelves. “It would appear that not all of my mail has been reaching me. What does my father want? It is the middle of a term, you know, I can’t just pick-up and leave for Wildern.”

  “You’re not goin’ to Wildern. He’s here, and I’m sure he’ll tell you what he wants when you see him. Now let’s go. We’re already late. He’s gonna be as mad as a wolf in a cage.” With that, Elton’s massive hand snapped out and flicked Rynn just hard enough to elicit a yowl.

  Lily gasped. Rynn wasn’t well regarded by anyone but Dasen, but he was still Liandrian nobility. Not even Ipid Ronigan’s manservant could assault him without consequences. For a moment, all the air seemed to leave the room. Only Elton seemed not to notice.

  “I believe I deserved that,” Rynn finally acknowledged. He rubbed both sides of his head, the first where Elton had hit him and the other where it had hit the shelf next to him.

  “Your father would thank me,” Elton confirmed.

  “He would thank you even if I didn’t deserve it,” Rynn laughed even as his smile faded.

  Dasen felt his stomach tie into knots. His father here, in Liandrin, to see him? So this is the end. He has come to take me away, to deliver me into his world of workshops, trad
e negotiations, and contracts. He turned numbly to the books piled before him, to his notes and the new theory of commercial order he had been preparing. He did not know what to think, what to do.

  Then he caught a glimpse of Lily forgotten behind him. Her porcelain skin was, if possible, even whiter. Well, if he couldn’t have his first love, perhaps Rynn was right. He took a deep breath. “Lady Harbisher, it would appear that I have missed an appointment with my father. I will consider your invitation. In the meantime, may I escort you back to your friends before I depart?” It was possibly the most words he had ever spoken to a girl without stammering, and he felt himself gain composure as he went.

  Lily’s smile lit the room. She smirked at Elton as she laced her arm through Dasen’s. “That would be most welcome.” She led Dasen around the other side of the shelves so that they would not have to pass Elton on their way to the stairs. She held his arm in both of hers and nearly whispered, her sudden excitement made her words into gasps, “If your father’s business will keep him in Liandrin for a few weeks, he is, of course, welcome to accompany you to the hunt. My father has long desired a meeting with him. You know, we have some bountiful woodland tracts that are ripe for harvest. I am sure they would be so tied up together that we could sneak away and have some time to ourselves.”

  Dasen wanted to scream at her to stop, but he, somehow, kept the smile glued to his face. Despite the offer inherent in Lily’s words, his heart sank. He had always known that this was about his father, about his money, but couldn’t she have let him imagine otherwise? Tall, gangly, and unkempt, Dasen knew that the girls weren’t after his fine looks. He would never win a coin in the university’s annual games. He could not hunt, could barely stay on a horse, and was a terrible conversationalist. He lacked social grace and aristocratic training. He was really nothing more than a homely scholar with a rich father. Even if a woman like Lily Harbisher lavished him with attention, it was not him that she wanted.

  He looked down at Lily’s doe eyes and felt himself grow sick. Could he love a girl knowing that she was only interested in his fortune? Even one as beautiful and beguiling as Lily Harbisher?

  “Lord Ronigan has never hunted in his life, and I doubt he has any interest in starting now.” Elton ended Dasen’s contemplation. He stood before them at the foot of the stairs. “Lady Harbisher, I assume you and your maid can find your way from here. You need only climb to the top.”

  “But surely, you will not stand in the way of Lord Ronigan’s honor. He has offered to escort me, and I have accepted.”

  Elton merely stepped aside and gestured to the stairs. When Lily tried to lead Dasen past, Elton wrenched him from her grip and motioned her on.

  Lily huffed, “Sir, let me assure you that the senior Lord Ronigan will hear about the poor manners you have displayed, and I hope that he will not spare in his efforts to teach you your proper place among your betters.”

  Elton did not bother to respond, which seemed only to amplify her displeasure. She puffed herself up to argue further, but Dasen spared her. “It is no use, my lady. Elton is a Morg, and they speak their minds at all times without the slightest concern for politics. If Elton does not wish me to escort you, he has a reason and will not be deterred.” He felt the air leave him. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to remain in Lily Harbisher’s company, but it should at least be his, not his father’s, choice. “I will be sure to pass your invitation along to my father. I hope we will be able to see each other again soon.”

  “I hope so.” Lily hesitated, seemed to sense Dasen’s defeat and not know how to respond to it. “Good day,” she finally offered and drifted carefully up the spiral of stairs. Her silent maid followed close behind.

  When she had reached the top, Elton turned to Dasen. “Is that the kind of girl you want, all gussied up and full of fluff?”

  “He likes her intellect,” Rynn corrected.

  Elton gave him another swat. “What a waste. You know she only wants your money. She’s no better than a whore in the end.” Seeing Dasen’s mood darken, Elton lowered his voice. “Aw now, don’t be like that. You can do better, Dasen, a lot better. I’ve known you longer than you’ve known yourself, and believe me when I tell you that the right girl is out there. One that’ll love you for who you are, not what you’ll inherit.”

  “That’s not it, Elton,” Dasen moaned. “I know why you’re here. It’s over isn’t it? He’s come to take me away.”

  “I don’t know, Dasen,” Elton sighed. “Maybe, but you never know with your father. He hasn’t told me anything about what we’re doin’ here. He seems troubled lately. I worry about him. Now come along. Your father is anxious to see you. He may not show it well, but he really does miss you.”

  “Thank you, Elton.” Dasen felt heartened by the big man’s smile. The Morg sometimes seemed more of a father to him than the man who employed him. “Can Rynn come with us?”

  “Your father won’t like it, but I can’t very well stop him from following, can I?”