A Warrior's Dance

XVIII – Healing of the Mind

Meditation. Concentration. Focus.

The White Tower’s Maidens always paid their respect to the gigantic sculptor of a tree, the house symbol of King Darius. They were all seated crossed-leg, posture straight but relaxed, hands on their knees and eyes closed. All were still and breathing calmly. Well, all aside from Sanne.

She squirmed in her seat, her back aching from keeping her posture. Praying to the stone tree looked ridiculous in her eyes since she was a devoted believer of Sun God. She sure could stay still when she was hunting but she had a hard time doing just the same at that moment. It seemed as though her mind was rejecting the deed, wanting to just work in the kitchen to keep her hands busy.

Sanne peeked, opening one eye, curious at how the other maidens were doing so far. Were they always like this? Reserved and trying to look pure, fooling themselves with the false notion that they were at least a match to court ladies?

She sure wasn’t and she realized she didn’t want to be.

“Sanne,” Madam Lariza called out, her tone stern. “Get up.”

She took a deep breath, half-happy that she would escape the meditation but also half-scared of what would be the punishment this time. As she stood up, she felt thousand of needles punctured her legs, almost making her stumble. Her feet were numb. Seeing the retreating form of Madam Lariza, she sure needed to start trailing after her or she would be in more trouble.

Forcing herself to keep a straight composure, she blocked the pain and numbness, walking down the hall even though she couldn’t feel the ground.

Madam Lariza, with her striking green eyes, waited for her to catch up. “Does meditation bore you?”

Sanne swallowed. “My apologies, madam. I’m just having a hard time focusing.”

“Do you know how the Silver Neraides used their gifts?” she asked, looking down at her, her hands at her back. “Do you know how the nymphs grow the trees and flowers and how the casters use their whispers to do their spells?”

“By not praying to the statue of the tree, I presume?” she muttered in a low tone.

“By focusing. By having a clear state of mind to reckon their gifts within.” The madam let out a small smile on her lips. “Miss Lisbeth told me you are screaming in your sleep. A nightmare?”

Sanne had to look away from her striking green eyes. She couldn’t comprehend what was her nightmare got to do with the meditation.

“Your mind is restless, young lady,” Madam Lariza spoke with her deep tone. “Meditation will help you stable your mind. It is not just praying to the gods you do not serve and believe in. It is paying attention to yourself that has been not well.”

Sanne kept her silence. Her father once said that she should not talk back when an elder was lecturing her bad deeds, that it was not proper.

“We are not playing games here,” the madam continued. “We are servers of the kingdom, a few chosen ladies tasked to nurture the king’s house. You have to mind your behavior, be courteous if need be and be polite. May I remind you that we are under the king’s nose and he has eyes on everyone. If you cannot act your role then you will end up somewhere you cannot escape.”

“Please forgive me, Madam Lariza,” Sanne uttered, realizing her mistake. She knew the woman had taken her under her wing to protect her. “My stubbornness is a poor way to repay you.” She sought the woman’s pensive eyes. “I will do well in meditation, I promise.”

Madam Lariza’s eyes narrowed. “Easy for you to say, harder to be done. But you have to know why you are having a hard time. It is because you are not even trying,” she said, a brow raising in frustration. “You are not calm. You don’t even believe in what you are doing.”

“It is just that… I have a different faith.” She fidgeted, feeling the hard stare of the madam. “But now I know the true meaning of it. I promise to be better.”

The woman let out a heavy sigh. “Sanne, you have to listen,” she muttered, softly grabbing her arm and walking her toward the quiet end of the hallway. “If you want to survive, you need to adapt. Putting a mask is not to always pretend someone who you are not but also protecting who you really are. Do you understand that?”

Her words knocked some sense to her. Sanne had never thought of that and just kept her silly little stubbornness. The madam had a point.

“I understand,” she answered, tone low.

“This is a scary time, child,” Madam Lariza continued. “I cannot protect you if you will do things your way. I know it is hard and this place is vastly different from where you came from but you need to pretend like you are one of the people.”

Sanne nodded, keeping her eyes on the ground.

“You are strong,” the woman said, lifting her chin up, seeking her innocent eyes. “You need to survive.”

Madam Lariza then guided her back to the tower’s ground.

All the maidens were still meditating, all looked calm and at ease, while the wind sway in between them. It was a picture of peace, from Sanne’s eyes.

“Declutter your mind,” the madam whispered to her. “Your task is to write all your mind’s baggage in a paper and send it away.”

Sanne nodded, getting determined to master the subject. “Right away, Madam Lariza.”

****

Raiden’s feet wandered on its own, leading him to the Book of Halls. He scarcely visited the quarter, losing interest to the books ever since his hand learned how to hold swords. Books were his cousin Mat’s thing. To be honest, he did not know what it was with the foreign girl, but he suddenly wanted her company. If it was because she was the closest thing to the old tribe of valkans and through her was the connection he was trying to find, that he couldn’t tell.

Ever since his mother told him about his bloodline and the puzzle his cousin left him, Raiden was distracted, unable to wrap his mind around it. It was a strange feeling for him and he hated the anxiety and frustration bubbling in his gut. All he knew and certain of, was he needed to move.

“I thought I’d see you here,” he muttered, carefully pulling the wooden chair beside Sanne.

She was sitting at the very back, the light coming from the lamp barely reach her spot. She had a half-filled parchment, the quill paused to a dip into the ink. Sanne was wearing her usual black hooded cloak, concealing the white robe underneath.

“Who are you writing to?” he asked.

She shrugged, putting down the quill carefully. “Naiz.”

Raiden raised an eyebrow. “A friend.” He translated in the common tongue. “What are you telling Azaiah?”

Sanne looked at him, his stare intense. “I am not writing to Azaiah.”

He looked over the writings again, unable to fully comprehend the words. “A secret message,” he whispered.

Blood drained from Sanne’s head, her heart rate drumming, a sudden rush of fear course through her. Madam Lariza was right. She should master the art of putting the mask in order to survive. She started shaking her head. “No, it is not. It’s… an old tongue of our tribe. Only a few knows of it. Daisery knows it.”

“Daisery?”

Sanne regained her senses. “She is my friend.”

The young lad considered her answer. “And how will you send the letter, may I know? A mere young lady with no position in the court could not ask a mailman to send her letters.”

He was right. Sanne hadn’t thought of that.

Raiden knew there was something in her. “Let’s make a barter,” he muttered, holding her gaze.

“I wasn’t aware the palace people still do barters.”

“We don’t,” he replied, relaxing in his seat. “But I don’t think you have gold or even bronze.”

Sanne dropped her gaze to the parchment. The White Tower’s Maidens were paid, yes, but not in gold. A food and a chamber were enough payment in exchange for the services they do for the kingdom. “Can I trust you, Raiden?” she whispered.

Can she? Raiden swallowed. Nobody had ever asked him that. He was treated as a part of royalty because of who his mother was and trust came naturally with the people surrounding him. The lone girl was oblivious to his position in the kingdom.

“How about we earn each other’s trust?” he asked, instead.

Sanne wasn’t sure if it was because he could see Azaiah in his that she felt safe in his company. “What do you propose, then?”

“I will have your letter sent to your island.” Raiden stared at her, ignoring the doubt he had in mind if he was doing the right thing.

Her eyes narrowed. “In exchange of what?”

There was a whisper in the lad’s ears to dismiss the mission bubbling in his mind. His eyes shifted again to the foreign words on her parchment, a letter consisted of who knows what. It could be a secret message that could lead to the kingdom’s demise or an innocent hello from a little girl. He wanted to know what the letter meant but forced himself to leave it be. After all, he didn’t like her to pry on his business.

Raiden leaned closer to her, his eyes quickly scanning the hall. “Tell me all you know about the valkans.”

The mere mention of the tribe paled her. “Why?”

“The why is not important for you to learn, Sanne,” he answered.

“Okay,” she replied, swallowing the doubt pulsating in her stomach. After all, she really needed to send the letter to Daisery and declutter her mind, as what the madam tasked her.