Alister was missing when she awoke. She stretched her left arm above her head and stared at the ceiling. The wood was jointed so tightly that it appeared to be one solid piece. Part of her admired it, while another part of her longed for the kinks that admitted sunlight as well as rain. “A guard will not allow entry to neither friend nor foe,” she said to herself. It was a silly proverb. She could never figure out why the guard wouldn't know who was a friend, or at least ask the person they were guarding.
Suddenly restless, Tatiana sat up and dangled her legs over the side of the bed. Nudging the fiddle with her toe, she could feel a lightheadedness steal over her. She shifted away from it and stood. There was still a lingering sense of foreboding tickling the edges of her consciousness, and her right arm still burned with a simmering ache. Propelled by the urgency in her bladder, Tatiana stepped outside and ducked around the rear of the cabin. As she rounded the corner, she nearly bumped into Carl, who was urinating into a pit. “Sorry,” Tatiana turned back towards the front of the cabin.
“Don’t go too far, Tati,” Carl called after her.
“I kind of have to go too,” she shuffled her feet.
A few moments later, Carl joined her, “I have the blessings for you to give to Amber.” He dug in his pocket and placed them in her palm.
“Thanks,” she hurried back behind the cabin. There were other things she should say to Carl, but right now she was intent on relieving herself. As she squatted over the pit, she tried to compose her thoughts. “Last night wasn’t what it looked like.” No, too cliche and not what she was trying to communicate. “I’m so glad we’re becoming friends.” Oh, that was cruel. By the time she reached the front of the cabin, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say. It was none of his business anyway, and if he didn’t ask, well that was on him.
Carl was waiting for her in front of the door, “I’ll walk you to Amber’s stall.”
“Where’s Alister?”
“He’s already at the market, trying to sign people up for his revolution or whatever,” Carl slowed his pace, “Slow down, I need to talk to you.” He looked at her, his face serious, his eyes a steady red, “I-I like you Tatiana.”
Tatiana cringed involuntarily. Her mind scrambled for a way to let him down easy. There it was, “I’m a priest, I can’t get involved with anyone.”
“You can’t have sex, no one said you can’t love,” Carl took her hand in his.
“No,” Tatiana jerked her hand away from his, “I like someone else.”
Carl seemed to wilt on his feet, his head and shoulders sagging, “I had a feeling you would say that. But he will never love you the way I can.” He looked at her, defiance flashing in his eyes, “You will never be happy.”
“Happy,” Tatiana tasted the word, “Happy is overrated.” The anger built slowly inside of her, percolating up from the depths of her ego. How dare Carl say those things to her? He had known her for only a few weeks at the most. A few very intense weeks; weeks of pain, terror, and intimacy. It really did seem much longer. She walked faster, ignoring the smarting of her blisters and the ache that slowly spread from her arm through her whole body. Carl kept pace with her, occasionally glancing in her direction. She kept her eyes fixed on the ground in front of her. It was such a short distance, but her discomfort made it seem twice as long. Finally she stood in front of Amber’s stall, a sense of relief spreading through her.
Amber, in the middle of serving a customer, waved at her. Tatiana sidled up to the table, fishing the blessings out of her robe. She counted them to be sure she had them all, then slid them across the table towards Amber.
“Thanks, Bianca,” Amber placed the blessings in her pouch, “I made some more ointment for you and some horsetail tea for your arm.”
“It’s been hurting lately,” Tatiana conceded, “so thanks.”
Amber’s eyes wandered over her face and down to her arm. She placed the back of her hand on Tatiana’s forehead, “You’re running a fever. Do those idiot Marshalls know your arm is infected?”
“Infected? You think so?” Tatiana looked at her right hand. The skin was redder than normal, and the whole arm felt stiff.
“You know, the Devils could probably get their hooves on some penicillin.”
“I don’t really want to talk to them right now,” Tatiana frowned.
“You and me both,” Amber pulled a paper sign out from behind the table. “The Witch Will Be Right Back,” it said in bubbly cursive. “Want to go pay respects with me?” Amber stood up.
“I don’t have anywhere else to be, so sure,” Tatiana also had no idea what she was talking about.
Amber picked up a bouquet of yarrow mixed with white dogwood blossoms in front of her booth. “Back the way you came,” she ordered. Bianca headed back towards the cottages that bordered the market. They stopped in front of a cabin. Amber ducked inside, returning with a set a grass shears. They continued walking until the path ended at a fenced area. A sign hung above the gate carved with the words “Comedunt non dormiunt.”
“What does that mean?” Tatiana hovered by the gate while Amber stepped inside.
“Something about not being able to rest in peace or something,” Amber held the gate for her, “You coming?”
Tatiana peeked inside. The grass was patchy and weeds had invaded the ground. Stones chiseled with varying degrees of skill marked the spots where the dead lay. Tatiana entered the graveyard, walking over to the spot where Amber knelt. Amber replaced the flowers, then started trimming the grass next to the grave. Tatiana’s eyes traced the letters on the stone, “Tate Harper, CND.”
“Would you bless his grave?” Amber looked up at her from her crouch, her eyes beseeching.
Tatiana shook her head. She could still feel the jolt that had sang through her the last time she had blessed Tate.
“I guess you hate him,” Amber pulled a weed, placing it on top of the discarded bouquet.
“No, I-” Tatiana looked at Amber. Hearing her pause, Amber stopped digging and looked up at her. Tatiana took a deep breath, “I’m afraid. I know that sounds silly, but . . . uh, Tate is uh, my, um . . .”
Amber’s face seemed to go through contortions as Tatiana stammered. “Patron,” she announced, sitting back on her tailbone, “I guess I already knew that, or thought it might be.” Amber touched the ground gently, “He shouldn’t be here then. He should be burned and scattered over the creek.”
Tatiana’s knees went weak and she sat next to Amber on the grave, “I tried to bless him and it almost killed me. I’m sorry Amber.”
“It’s not fair,” Amber grabbed a clump of grass in her fist, “Why not me? Why do you get to be the one?”
“Uh,” Tatiana fumbled for words, “It was an accident.”
“Hah,” Amber ripped the grass from the ground, the earth clinging to its roots, “You must think I’m stupid. I was a servant of the Order, you know, before I was cursed.” Amber sniffed, “I know how it works, okay? If I hadn't loved Tate with my whole being, it could have been me.” Amber stood up, kicking the flowers across the grave, “I’m not okay with that! I refuse to believe in a god that's so cruel.”
Tatiana put her hand on the stone. A feeling of desolation welled up inside her and she suddenly recalled Tate saying he didn't know who Amber was. “In the beginning there was,” Tatiana mumbled, then everything went black.
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