The Witch of Lurago

Scent of Orange

Scent of Orange~

Mouse

La Gracia

A musical voice called Mouse from the mists, cajoling her to come out from under the bed.

“No harm will come to you here.” The soothing rumble reminded her of the white wolf’s soft growl. “You are shy, as befits a chaste young woman.”

Harps. Mouse had heard the voice’s music before. It sang like the harps the silvery ones played.

“I shall sit here and watch the sunrise. You may join me if you wish.”

Chair legs scraped against the floor. Mouse squirmed under the bed until she could see the harper’s shoes. He sat at a table held up by babies with golden wings. His elegant hand patted a chair beside him.

“Come, Raven. Sit with me and learn my face. I shall not look back at you.”

“Don’t trust him. Give us time to learn what he’s about,” said the white wolf, narrowing his bright blue eyes. Yonah was ever the cautious one.

The harper picked a fruit from a crystal bowl. It was the size of an apple, but rounder, and the color was wrong. Mouse flinched as he pierced the skin with a pearl-handled knife. The sharp blade, barely as long as his finger, sliced through the skin with ease.

“What is that smell?” Fia sniffed. Her slithery little dragon-self shimmied closer.

Patiently, the harper worked the knife, peeling the fruit’s skin away in a long spiral. The scent. The fruit spilled the most enticing scent.

“Orange,” Yonah named it.

Of course. The silvery ones sometimes had oranges, but Mouse had only ever tasted a dried peel. The magical scent drew her out from underneath the bed. She curled her legs and sat on the floor, looking the man over. His black hair was sleek, straight, and tied behind his neck. He was wider at the shoulders than a silvery one. But lean. Not thick like the guards at Twelvestones.

True to his word, he did not look back at her.

Instead, he pried off a wedge of the fruit, trimmed away the membrane, and plucked out seeds. He placed the orange slice in his palm and held it beyond his knee. The juicy crescent glistened in the sun. Mouse inched toward the mesmerizing morsel and plucked it from his hand with her fingertips.

Oh, the taste. The taste was even more magical than the scent. Mouse savored the sweet tang and ran her tongue over her lips, relishing every trace of the delectable juice.

The man sighed at the rising sun, his gaze still fixed on the window. A warm breeze stirred the filmy curtains.

“Go ahead,” Yonah nudged her. “Sit and learn what danger waits.”

Mouse tiptoed closer as the man tempted her with another juicy crescent. She slid to the chair beside his and took the morsel from his palm again. She pressed the orange to the roof of her mouth, tantalized again by the flavor. After swallowing the last sweet drop, she chewed the pulp, opened her eyes, and dared another glance at him.

The man’s face was serene. Ageless. His honeyed skin was darker than the silvery ones, darker even than a Twelvestones guardsman. No tinge of yellow spoiled his dark brown eyes. His coat was long and fitted, and shimmering threads of emerald and gold embroidery adorned every inch of its deep purple satin. Under the beautiful coat, in an even deeper purple, loose-fitted breeches narrowed and bunched at his strong ankles. He wore gold satin slippers, not boots, with pointed toes bejeweled with tiny pearls.

“The spider would claw his eyes out for those slippers,” said Fia.

In the careful silence that followed, Mouse and the man finished the orange wedges together. Then he wiped his hands on a perfect white napkin and rose. He strolled to the window with his hands clasped behind him.

Mouse’s eyes flitted to the pearl-handled knife he left on the table.

“Go on. Take it,” Fia hissed.

“Leave it be,” Yonah growled. “He would notice it gone.”

The man’s sigh stilled Mouse’s hand. It was a lonely sigh, and it carried the heaviness born of service. Whatever troubled him, she hoped not to be its penance.

“You are my guest,” he said. “Yet, you send away the attendants I offer.”

Mouse knew she should say something, but nothing came to mind, and she didn’t want to make a mistake, so she watched the white curtains dance in the breeze.

“I will send you another. Please…” He paused, as if the word tasted strange on his lips. “Please, allow her to attend to you. She is harmless.”

With that, he left her alone.

# # #

Before the shadows signaled midday, Mouse had explored the room as thoroughly as she dared. It was a grand room, nearly as grand as the spider’s. Perched atop a tall, square tower, the round room had many sunny windows and a balcony circling all the way around. She had opened every window simply because she could, and in every direction, a city stretched as far as she could see.

Mouse had tested the solid wooden door and found it locked. She shrugged, resigned to the confinement she had expected. It was a pleasant enough cage. She tried the latch on a glass-paned door to the balcony. It wobbled, but stuck, as if it hadn’t been used in a great while. She braced and tugged with all her weight, and the door relented with a loud c***k, sending her tumbling on her backside.

Rap, rap, rap.

Mouse scrambled to her feet at the knock and shouldered the balcony door until it stuck again. She hadn’t asked permission to go outside. Hurriedly, she sat on the bed and folded her hands.

Rap, rap, rap.

“Whoever is knocking is waiting for you to answer,” said Yonah.

“C-come in,” she said.

“Too soft. Try again.”

“Come in, please,” she said louder.

The lock clicked, and a child came in carrying baskets and folded clothes piled high in her arms. The girl’s glossy black hair hung loose down her back, and she had the same dark brown eyes as the harper.

“The child’s hair is going grey in front,” Fia noted.

“She’s no child,” said Yonah. “She’s a tiny woman.”

Mouse realized her mouth was hanging open and closed it quickly, not wanting to offend. The tiny woman carried her load to a bench and dropped it with a huff and a grunt. Then she turned around and grinned.

She had a pleasant face, though different somehow. She chattered out a lively string of words, and her voice went up at the end, as if asking a question.

Mouse hadn’t understood a single word. “I… I’m sorry. I don’t…”

“Ah, mia mente,” the tiny woman said, slapping her palm to her forehead. “Pardon, M’sita Raven. You say the Innish. I try.”

After filling a basket with soaps, oils, linens, and other things Mouse wasn’t quick enough to see, the woman hung the basket from one of her short arms and tapped her chest.

“Sister Fortunata. You come. The bath,” she said, closing her eyes and drawing a contented breath. “Ahhh, warm. You like.”

“She isn’t big enough to hurt you.” Fia was a fine one to talk. She was seldom bigger than the tiny woman, even as a dragon. But Fia was fierce.

“Go with her,” Yonah agreed. “This time.”

Mouse followed the little woman down the stairs, though she lost count of the steps after a few spirals. It was a tall tower. After a while, Sister Fortunata stopped and sat on a step.

“Long walk, M’sita Raven. We rest, yes?” she said, patting the step behind her.

Mouse obeyed at once, sitting still while Sister Fortunata caught her breath.

“I am sorry for your discomfort,” Mouse offered. “Your legs are…” She bit her tongue. Wrong. She hadn’t meant to offend.

“No sorry, M’sita.” Sister Fortunata’s cheerful eyes crinkled. “My legs are short. I am short. You no see Dimini before?”

Mouse shook her head.

“Our village, it is near to the Serpent’s wall. Make home beside the Barrens, make you small.” Sister Fortunata tapped her chest again. “Dimini. Little body. Big life.”

The Dimini woman reached and lifted Mouse’s chin with her finger, studying her curiously. Mouse could think of no response, so she simply studied the Dimini in return.

“Come. The bath.” Sister Fortunata patted Mouse’s knee and started down the stairs again.

The wolf and the dragon were speechless, for once.

Eventually, they reached the bottom of the stairs, and Sister Fortunata opened the door to a sunny room. Tall windows, set high in its buttery yellow walls, lit sparkling pools circling the room like a strand of blue pearls. Blue-and-gold mosaic tiles beckoned, and wisps of steam rose invitingly.

“Siepe,” said Sister Fortunata.

Mouse blinked back at her.

The Dimini trotted over and caught a rope, pulling a tall basket woven of grass across the tiles. A hollow cylinder as tall as Mouse’s shoulder, it must be lightweight for someone so tiny to pull with such ease.

“Siepe,” Sister Fortunata said again. “Means grass fence. Screen?” She dragged the siepe over one of the pools and held out her hand as if its purpose were obvious.

“Privacy,” said Yonah. “For your bath. Lift it and crawl under.”

Mouse lifted and slid under the screen. She untied the belt of the consort’s blue robe and looked around for a moment, wondering what to do with the only clothing she had.

“Toss it over the screen,” Fia suggested.

“Of course,” said Mouse. “How silly of me.”

“M’sita? You need?”

“Oh!” She hadn’t meant to say that aloud. “No. No, it’s nothing.”

Mouse draped the robe over the screen and stepped down into the water. Marveling at the warmth, she slid deeper until the water tickled her chin. She was accustomed to bathing with hand towels dipped in washbasins or once in a great while, when no one noticed, in tepid water left behind in one of the silvery ones’ bathing tubs. She closed her eyes and reveled in the steamy luxury.

“You don’t know this place,” Yonah warned.

Mouse’s eyes sprang open. Yonah was right. It wouldn’t be right to close her eyes.

Chapter 3