Torgan Wine Ch 24

Many thanks to Todger65 for editing!

*****

Isonei was alone and freezing when she woke. Her mouth was dry again, but she could see the teapot still sitting on the table. Gingerly, she rose from the bed, feeling a little dizzy, and made her way to the table sinking into a chair. The teapot was cold and very heavy but she managed to pour some into one of the cups without spilling too much of it and sipped it with a grimace. No one had bothered to remove the leaves and it was stomach churningly strong.

There should be a pull to summon a servant... she looked around helplessly. If there was one it wasn't obvious. It was too cold to stay at the table, and she was too thirsty to stay in bed. Isonei managed to pull one of the blankets from the bed and wrap herself in it before venturing into the frigid hall.

Unlike last time, no one was waiting outside her door. She pulled the blanket as tight around her as she could; it felt so cold as she stumbled down the hall looking for someone. Finding some stairs she tried to go down them slowly, leaning heavily on the banister.

Close to the foot of the stair, she heard what sounded like a heated argument in Torgan. Draeseth's furious voice was unmistakable. In her dizziness, trying to hurry made her stumble and she fell down the last few stairs with a thump and a cry of startlement more than pain.

Lying on the ground, she blinked trying to clear her blurred vision. It was frigid and she wanted so desperately to go home. To her father in Ara or to Liadith didn't matter, choking back a sob she wailed out, "Atha!"

Hands were suddenly scooping her from the floor, turning her and checking her for injuries as a stream of words she couldn't understand filled the air around her. The voices sounded furious and her tears did nothing to clear her vision as she called for her father again.

A cloth was draped over her face, and a strange sweet smell settled over her. Someone was stroking her hair as the smell soothed her and the voices faded away.

The smell of smoke was heavy in the air when she woke. Isonei's eyes felt gritty and she was desperately thirsty but the small room was warm. She tried to sit up, immediately she was chided in Torgan and pressed back down by a man with a quiet voice and an impressively wrinkled face.

Barely audible, she managed to get the word, "Thirsty," out of her dry mouth.

Krouth's voice immediately translated and the man nodded making a gesture and saying something else.

Krouth helped her sit up just enough to drink, and she shuddered. The lukewarm beverage was wretchedly bitter. "The tea will help purify you. Drink as much as you can."

As thirsty as she was she managed to get it all down despite the taste. As she lay back down the wrinkly man began speaking quietly, sounding much the same way Krouth had when he read from the book. He stood and pressed his hands to her face covering it for a moment, before moving them back as if he were smoothing her skin toward her ears.

°°°°°°°°°°

Isonei walked through the large dining room in her father's house. The windows were open and the smell of the farther fields being burned wafted in. Peering into her father's study, neither he nor her brothers were there. She went upstairs looking for them, maybe they were getting ready to go out and tend the bees.

Her brothers weren't in their rooms, but she heard a sound coming from above, where her room and father's room were. His door was closed so she knocked and on hearing a muffled answer she pushed it open. It was her father's room and it wasn't. She walked in looking around at the carved furniture. It belonged in Daga Liadith's room.

But it was Daga Liadith's room. It felt strange but not frightening. "Atha? My Daga?" Isonei knew she'd heard a voice... she looked for the narrow doorway. It stood open and out of the darkness in the stair came the statue of the eldest, walking as if he were alive with his eyes glowing brightly, filling his hood with a green light. Seeing him was a relief.

"I can't find my father, or my Daga. Can you help me?"

"Come home daughter of Liadith, they are here."

"I want to. I want to more than anything."

She stepped toward him reaching for his hand as he offered it. Her own was covered in blue-green blood; she stopped and stared in disbelief. There were small cuts in the palms of both her hands.

Looking back to the eldest, he still stood with his hand extended.

"Come."

Hurrying closer she grasped his hand with both of hers, feeling apprehension blooming in her chest.

"I want to come home. Please-"

Strange sounds behind her; like growling voices chanting, made her try to hide her face in the carved stone of his chest. He kept a firm grip on her bloody hand. Suddenly she was being pulled away. No matter how hard she tried to hold on, her hand seemed to be slipping out of his. The eldest lunged forward with his great stone sword striking at someone and she was wrenched out of his grasp.

Isonei woke screaming and trying to reach out for him but her arms were being held down. The chanting voices were in the room with her and the air was heavy with smoke and an odd sweet smell, it made her feel dizzy even though she was lying down. She struggled weakly against the chanting men holding her down as the one looming over her began to bring a bundle of thin sticks down on her hands and arms sharply. They stung and it felt as though they cut into her skin.

He stepped back and waved them through a plume of smoke before flicking them at her face making her flinch. Droplets rained down on her, it took a moment to realize they were droplets of her blood.

Shuddering back into sleep, Isonei opened her eyes in her father's study. Sun was streaming in the window but the smell of smoke had gotten stronger. Isonei bolted up the stairs to her father's room, finding the door closed and locked she beat on it, leaving bloody handprints and calling out for her Daga and her father.

Her name was being called from her room and she turned to see Daga Lothlaerith standing, looking at her with concern, inside the doorway. Running to him as he opened his arms, she sobbed apologies into his chest. He stroked her hair soothingly.

"Dear Isonei, daughter of Liadith. You will be brought home. Lothlaerith will see to it."

"Please, I want to go home!"

"Is she badly hurt?"

Lifting her eyes she saw Onsh-Lothlaerith in his father's mantle and reached out her hand to him.

"You... you heard my name. You know my name daughter of Liadith."

He clasped her hand firmly and stepped closer.

"I will bring you back to your Daga."

"I'm sorry, I should have-"

The growling chant filled her ears and she wailed clinging to both of them.

A sound like the crack of thunder and the floor under her feet gave way. She was dragged down, away from them, her bloody hand slipping out of Zenaethe Lothlaerith's. The fury and anguish on his face as he faded from view made her breath catch.

Tears were streaming down her face as Isonei came back to herself in the smoke filled room. The chanting men had not stopped and the man with the sticks was raising them again. Closing her eyes she waited for the blows to start. She flinched as they brushed her face.

Opening her eyes tentatively, she realized he was using the sticks to drag smoke over her. Her arms were released once he had finished and thrown the sticks into a brazier, covering it with a metal lid. Pulling her sore arms to her chest she could see they were covered in welts and little cuts, and her bloodied palms had what looked like small deliberate slices among the marks from the sticks.

Something was being poured into a basin of water as the chanting changed. White cloths were soaked in it and the chanting men began to very gently wash her as if she weren't awake or capable of washing herself. The liquid made her skin tingle unpleasantly. When they had finished, even wiping her hair with the cloths, the chanting stopped. Isonei was wrapped in a white robe and given more of the bitter tea as the windows in the room were opened.

The man who had been wielding the sticks spoke to her in Torgan, resting a hand on her head before leaving the room. Krouth entered moments later as she was sipping the tea.

"Halloc Aurim said that the cleansing went well. You were plagued by demons and the fevers should have passed now."

"Demons?"

He looked at her oddly, "What did you see during the ritual?"

"I was in my father's house, trying to find him but his room was my Daga's room. The eldest of the Dagas Liadith came up from the crypts and... my hands were bloody, he couldn't hold onto me. He struck out at someone with his sword but-" He pushed the cup at her to take another drink.

"Was that all you saw?"

"No, Daga Lothlaerith called to me from my bedroom. He and his son couldn't hold onto me either, I was pulled through the floor." Isonei shivered remembering the look on the younger Lothlaerith's face.

"I suspected the Dagas were demons. Those crypts you were forced to spend time in were unholy, Lady Isonei."

She opened her mouth to argue but closed it immediately seeing the zealous look in his eyes. Krouth pushed the tea at her again and she finished the cup.

"Liadith has given up his claim to you and the messenger has left. You are dead to him; the demons will not plague you anymore, my Lady. You are free to accompany your husband to the Torga Kroscur."

Isonei stared at him blankly. Given up? Dead to him? That couldn't be true. "That isn't-that isn't possible. He wouldn't-"

"Would you believe it if the messenger told you himself?" Draeseth's low voice came from the open door. She looked at him feeling her insides twisting. His face and neck looked as though it had been thrashed with the sticks the same way her hands and arms had.

"I-I..." she felt lost and unsure.

"I will have him brought back." The large Torgan turned and stalked away.

Krouth helped her to her feet solicitously and led her from the small room to a new guest room. She was attended by two chastised looking maids. Her hands and arms were salved and wrapped in linen. Afterward she was helped into the many layers of one of the new Torgan gowns Draeseth had given her, light grey with black appliquè flowers, along with black silk stockings and the stiff, heeled boots.

Watching in the mirror as her hair was brushed and braided into a crowning braid and the cloth was pinned into place, she almost didn't recognize herself. She looked pale and drawn. Her blue skin had always been light but it looked almost entirely washed out as if her blood had been drained away, and her eyes were tinged with green and sunken.

The maids escorted her down to a much less impressive dining room than the one she had been to the first evening in the Keep. The men from the small room were gathered there, seating themselves.

Their disapproval over the open throat of her gown was clear and the one who had wielded the sticks gave a sharp command to the maids who bolted from the room. Isonei looked at him with concern and confusion.

He frowned and gave what she was fairly certain was a command, gesturing to the bench next to the table.

She tilted her head and he sighed pinching the bridge of his nose. The man with the wrinkled face began speaking in a quietly amused tone and gently guided her to the seat. Once seated facing away from the table, she looked up at him for reassurance as the other man spoke sharply. He sighed and smiled, intoning something about Ganas in a warm voice, covering her face again, making the same movement as before, sliding his hands out toward her ears and smoothing her skin before stepping away. Isonei offered him a wan smile.

The maids returned with needle and thread, with Krouth trailing behind. He bowed as he made an inquiry and was gestured into the room. The displeased man in front of her took the needle and thread and snapped something at Krouth.

"Halloc Aurim wishes you to be less afraid. He is going to sew up the throat of your gown, you should hold very still, Lady Isonei."

Isonei barely dared to breathe as the man deftly stitched the throat up. Closing it made it slightly more snug than the usual Torgan gowns. Halloc Aurim asked something when he finished, looking to Krouth. The slim Torgan began to answer and was snapped at as the man gestured down at her.

Krouth inclined his head, "Lady Isonei, he wishes to know if you asked for the dress to be made so revealingly."

"No, I didn't ask for the dresses at all, they were a gift. But I didn't mind that the neck was open, the Torgan gowns strangle. Aran and Lerian gowns are more open."

He translated coolly, and received another question. "What else were you given?"

"Aside from the dresses? Two pair of strange stiff boots to make me taller, and some jewelry."

Before he translated he frowned, "The Kroscur carcanet is 'some jewelry'?"

"I thought it wasn't a gift? Was I wrong or wasn't I? If it was a gift and he took it back then -"

"It was not, you are correct Lady Isonei." Krouth bowed low in apology and began to translate. The translation seemed to require a great deal of explanation. "I have told him you seem to rarely wear jewelry and prefer soft boots, is that correct?" He looked at her expectantly.

"It is. Jewelry is for special occasions, and I much prefer soft boots." She gave him a small smile. "And light colors. Draeseth favors black and I wear it to please him."

Inclining his head, he translated and listened intently to what the Halloc said. "You show more modesty than he expected. And light colors are for light souls, you should be encouraged to wear them." Krouth paused as bowls of stew began to be brought.

The Halloc Aurim made a gesture toward the table and asked a question. She looked to Krouth.

"If you wish you may eat with them. It is simple fare, vegetables stewed in lamb bone broth, and there will be bread. Or you may eat with the Princes who will be having richer fare."

"The stew sounds good. The only food I've enjoyed since I've been here was a goat stew in a bread bowl. The rest hasn't tasted good to me."

Her words were translated and the Halloc gave a faint smile, gesturing for her to turn and face the table. Krouth was dismissed and the men were silent as they ate. The stew was surprisingly good, and while the dark bread had an odd sour taste to it, it wasn't awful. Dipped in the stew as the men did, it was almost nice.

Isonei ate more slowly than they, and after eating half of her bowl and two small slices of bread, she was stuffed full. The Halloc broke the silence with a frown as she stopped eating. And one of the younger men hesitantly tried to translate. "Not ahh not so good?"

"It's very good, but I can't eat any more. I'm full." She gave him a smile as he nodded and translated it.

A discussion seemed to bloom at the table until the wrinkle-faced man frowned and the young man translated again, "Halloc Aurim will ahh you eat more. You are small."

"How does he expect me to eat more, I'm full?" Isonei glanced between the translator and the Halloc.

"Ahh," The younger man held up his spoon and spoke a word, "koip."

She laughed before she could stop herself. "Koip? Spoon? I say I'm full and ask how I'm expected to eat more and you say 'spoon'?"

"Ahh, yes." He smiled shyly.

It made her laugh again as she gave him a mock stern look, "Should I be spooning it into my pockets? I am full! There is no more room for food."

He looked down at his bowl trying not to laugh as he translated. The wrinkle-faced man began to laugh loudly before he was finished.

Halloc Aurim tapped the table next to her bowl and said something firmly.

"Halloc Aurim will ahh," he held up his fingers to show two, shook them to show three. "More." Miming with the spoon he looked at her to see if she understood.

"He wants me to eat two or three more bites?"

"Yes!" The younger man looked relieved.

"My father used to do that. Insist I eat more. My mothers chided him when they were home, but when it was just he and I, he would make me sit at the table until I finished a meal. He would frown and tap his finger on the table every time I stopped for too long." Isonei took a bite. The memory felt comfortable and not wretchedly sad.

The younger man looked like he was thinking over her words for a moment and then hesitantly tried to translate. The wrinkle-face man laughed again and nodded saying something that made Halloc Aurim sigh.

"Ahh Brother Brenough say ahh good wishes on your daughter."

Isonei began to laugh until she was wiping tears. Why she wasn't sure, but once she started this time she had difficulty stopping. When she managed to stop they were looking at her oddly and she managed to get out, "They must not get along well if Brother Brenough is wishing me on him, I'm difficult."

The man looked amused and there were smiles as he tried to translate her amusement. The men began talking again and the conversation sounded pleasant. She managed two more bites as she listened, and the younger man gestured for her bowl. It nearly set her laughing again as she watched him finish what was left in it with gusto.

Draeseth's curiously subdued voice came from the doorway behind her bringing the conversation to an end. Halloc Aurim answered him coldly, rising from the table.

"Wife, they wish to see you join a convent. Your sweet nature would be a comfort to the sick. And it would free you from my demands."

"Being a comfort to others doesn't require a convent. And I don't mind your demands."

The younger man spoke and was corrected by Draeseth. Halloc Aurim made a sharp inquiry and Draeseth bowed before translating.

"Halloc Aurim wishes you to be treated with care as you are reclaimed by Ganas. Did you worship the Dagas?"

"What does that mean?" Isonei shook her head with a frown. "I don't worship the Dagas, I love and respect them; they're friends and family to me. I worship the Aran Gods."

Her words were relayed grimly. Brother Brenough offered words that sounded careful and measured and Halloc Aurim nodded slowly. She was helped to her feet and a short conversation was had with Draeseth, Isonei studied his welted face as the men spoke.

Finally, he spoke to her in his subdued voice, "Wife, the messenger is expected to be brought back at any moment. A priest will remain with you until you better understand what it means to be reclaimed."

"Why can't you explain it to me? And why are you so... so unhappy and your face-"

"Please," he held up his hand. "We will discuss it later. I find it difficult to speak of." Draeseth looked defeated as he stepped back.

"Husband..." Isonei moved forward and gingerly took hold of his arm, peering up at him with concern; the welts on his face looked much like those on her arms.

"I treated you ungently, and I asked you to do things I should not have. You were ill and I..."

"I have known that you can be rough since the first night we met. And it's true, you have asked me to do things you shouldn't have, putting me in a barrel and compelling me to pass under Lothlaerith's Gate without his permission springs to mind. But you can't be blamed for what we did the morning I fell ill. If I didn't know I was ill how could you be expected to know? None of those things are a reason to beat you with sticks."

He smiled faintly. "If I try to pass under the Great Gate again Lothlaerith will do far worse than beat me with sticks, my gentle wife. This," he gestured to himself, "was no more punishment than what you endured. This was to cleanse me of my wickedness. I am atoning through fasting and prayer."