Absentmindedly, Ciardis noted that the creak on the door could be fixed with a little oil to loosen the stiff hinges at the base. She'd tell Mary later.
The white-haired woman stood near the window, staring at a piece of parchment—a letter. She can read, Ciardis noted enviously. She had always wanted to be able to, but couldn't afford to pay for the schoolmarm's private lessons, and as an orphan, the local villagers who paid the schoolmarm’s yearly wages for the biweekly classes wouldn't let her attend.
The woman raised an elegant hand and gestured for Ciardis to come in. "I'm so glad you came," said the woman. "This mix will do wonders for my costumes."
"Costumes?" asked Ciardis.
"Yes," said the woman with a laugh. "You didn't think they were battle garb or something, did you?" Blushing, Ciardis kept silent. That was exactly what she had thought. Military uniforms were often red to hide bloodstains.
The woman stepped forward, her dress swishing on the polished wooden floors. Pressing her finger to her lips she looked at Ciardis with studied nonchalance as she eyed her up and down. It made Ciardis feel like a bug under a farsight lens and she struggled not to squirm under the attention. Ciardis held up the red mix, hoping to bring the woman's attention back to the reason she'd come.
Taking it deftly, the woman said, "Have you always been a laundress?"
"Yes," said Ciardis. "As long as I can remember."
"Nothing else?" asked the woman.
"No," replied Ciardis, a bit resentfully. Heavens, she'd been lucky to get this job. No one wanted to hire a girl with no family ties.
Coyly the woman tilted her head, showing off her smooth neck and beautifully draped curls in a practiced look, "And is that all you've ever wanted to be?"
"Of course not," Ciardis snapped. "But there aren't many jobs open to an orphaned girl, now are there?"
The woman's eyes flashed as she laughed and said, "Ah, so you do have some fire in you!"
This time, Ciardis met her eyes dead on and said, "If you'll pay me what was promised then our agreement will be done, milady. I should be getting back to my quarters.”
"How would you like to do what I do?" the woman asked.
"Seeing as I have no idea what it is you do, milady, that would be hard to know."
"My dear," the woman responded grandly, "I am a companion."
Ciardis blanched and almost fell down as she scrambled to lower herself into a curtsy. She cursed inwardly at herself for her awkwardness. "M-my apologies, milady. I-I didn't know. I expected...I mean, I didn't know what a companion looked like."
As Ciardis raised her eyes, she noted that the woman was looking at her curiously. "Yes, well, we don't always go around advertising ourselves," she finally responded. "You may call me Lady Serena."
Ciardis closed her eyes briefly and nodded. Her thoughts were whirling excitedly inside her head. A companion...a real companion?
Companions were legendary fixtures of the Emperor’s court. Stories were told of their beauty, their grace and above all their power. All of the best noble houses had one on staff...at least, that’s what she’d heard.
Straining to remember the girls conversation about the visitor from the South, Ciardis recalled Marianne’s whisper from earlier that day: “You know what they say: anything goes in Sandrin. I mean, those type of people are abominations. Companions – they’re nothing but women with loose morals.”
But it couldn’t be. It was impossible—companions never left the courts, and she had no markings. I’ll sell her the product and go, Ciardis thought.
Aloud, she said, “My apologies, Lady Serena. I—we—don’t get many companions so far from court.”
Laughing, the woman told her, "You'll have to learn to control your vocal inflections better, dear. You've told me so much while speaking so very little! You don't believe me, do you?" Before Ciardis could protest, Lady Serena pulled her lapel down to show her the mark of a true member of the Companions’ Guild.
Just below her collar bone was the emblem of Imperial courts – a red lion rampant, encircled by the twisted vines of the Companions’ Guild’s symbol.
Ciardis's eyes widened. There could be no mistaking that mark. The woman was as she claimed. Looking into her eyes, Ciardis whispered, "Did you mean it? When you asked if I wanted to be a companion?"
The woman nodded with a sly smile. "You have the build, and, shall we say, an exotic look. I can't imagine you wouldn't be able to find a suitable patron."
When she heard that, Ciardis felt faint.
Before she could react, Lady Serena said, "Think about it carefully, Miss...?" She looked at Ciardis expectantly.
"Ciardis," the orphan girl blurted out.
"Ah, even your name is lovely. You won't have to change that." Lady Serena looked around to make sure no one was within earshot, then leaned toward Ciardis and said, "My birth name was Gertrude."
Ciardis stifled a giggle as the lady straightened and smiled. "Ah, a sense of humor—good. You'll need it. I'll sponsor you, young Ciardis, but it's a hard life. Yet, it is worth every deprivation if you find the right patron." Regally she tossed her hair as she continued, "We leave with the caravan in the morning, Ciardis. Say your goodbyes before then."
Nodding mutely, Ciardis turned in a daze to leave the room. "My dear?" came Lady Serena's melodic voice. Ciardis turned back. Lady Serena held a small coin bag out to her. "Your thirty-five shillings."
It wasn’t until Ciardis was out of the inn that she realized that Lady Serena had never considered that Ciardis might refuse her offer.
When she closed the door and leaned back against it, she realized her palms were wet from nervous perspiration. She wiped her sweaty hands on the fabric at her waist, and pocketed the money, thinking with envy, I doubt very much that anyone ever says no to her.
*****
That evening, Ciardis sat quietly in her room. She looked around in the flickering lamplight, taking in the bare walls, the threadbare clothes hanging on pegs, the rag-filled mattress.
She had nothing tying her to Vaneis. Her parents were long dead. Fervis Miller was a fool, and Sarah had no intention of ever promoting her, no matter how often she demonstrated her worth. The best friends she had were Mags, who was flighty, and Robe, who would scarcely notice she was gone. No family, no lasting friendships and no lands were holding her here in this provincial backwater town.
“How hard a life could it be, living as a pampered companion?” Ciardis said to herself as she went around the room and picked up the few items that littered the floor, eyeing their weight and worth.
A scarf thrown carelessly on the bed had been a gift from a kindly old woman. A book about a lady knight with purple eyes and a passion for justice—one of her few treasured possessions—lay near the window. So far she’d paid Amanda at the Green Inn twice to read it to her. It was that precious.
With her mind made up to leave Vaneis, she packed the three dresses she owned, the scarf, the book, some herbs for soap mix, and thirty shillings for the road in her satchel.
The next morning, she made sure to pay the innkeeper five shillings for her month's rent. She filled a small rucksack full of food for her journey and left the inn with a smile on her face.
Once outside, Ciardis squinted, looking up and down the caravan line. There were six wagons attached to huraks – large, ponderous beasts that looked like oxen with claws. The huraks were all clearly anxious to go as they snorted and pawed the fresh snow with the three dagger-shaped claws on each foot.
You and me both, friend. She clutched her two cloth bags and stared around for Lady Serena, trying not to seem too obvious.
"All riders up!" rang the call down the line. Ciardis gave up her nonchalant look in favor of panic and began to search frantically. She didn't see Lady Serena anywhere. What if it had all been a cruel joke? After one last look, shoulders slumped, she turned to leave.
And then she heard a familiar voice call out, "My dear! My dear Ciardis! Here I am—over here!"
Ciardis turned and raised her hand to shield her eyes as she squinted into the morning sun. Lady Serena sat in the third carriage from the front in the long line, waving a handkerchief out the window.
"Hey, you!" said a loud baritone voice. It was the caravan driver on the front wagon. He was looking at Ciardis as he stood on the driver's bench. "In or out?" he bellowed.
Ciardis hurried to obey his command, jumping up into the lady's carriage. It abruptly lurched forward, and she fell onto her hands and knees. Lady Serena's laughter echoed in the close interior. "My dear," she said lightly as she reached down to pull Ciardis up by her hand, "We have so much to work on."
Ciardis settled in on the bench across from her and watched as the snowy, forested vale went by. The carriage glided across the packed snow on huge steel blades. Occasionally she glanced over at Lady Serena who, true to her name, was serene and composed as she sat reading a small book.
Ciardis was careful to keep her face turned towards the window while she secretly wiped a tear from her left eye. Firmly reminding herself of her great luck, Ciardis was determined to think of this as adventure...a grand new life even. She was happy to get away from a dead end life in a village that was too small. But maybe, whispered some little corner of her mind, just maybe, I'll miss that village. After all, it's the only home I've ever known. Will they even like me in the city? Will I be the country fool – pitied by the other trainees?
Lady Serena’s voice startled her out of her thoughts. "Now, first things first. What is your full name?"
"Ciardis Rafaela Vane, Lady Serena," Ciardis replied.
"Vane, Vaneis. A very similar variation – most likely truncated." the older woman said thoughtfully. "So you were named for your place of birth?"
"Yes, mistress, I suppose I was."
"And your heritage?" asked Serena.
Ciardis looked closely at the lady to see if she was mocking her. As an afterthought, Lady Serena added, "You can call me Serena in private."
At last, Ciardis replied, simply, "Orphan."
"Yes, yes, I know that," came Serena’s exasperated reply, "but what about your parents’ backgrounds?"
Ciardis shrugged. "I didn't know my father, and my mother died when I was two. She was a dirty wayfarer – at least that’s what the townsfolk said. The baker said she moved from place to place, never staying in one area too long. I went to live with a local family that didn’t have children but once they started birthing their own kids they decided they didn’t need another mouth to feed. The mother and father, the Kiltrens, sent me to the washer station until I was old enough to have a room of my own at the inn."
"Hmm. Well, with a last name like Vane, you're probably baseborn. Rather unique eyes though, perhaps a mother with a wild heritage. The isles are full of humans with exotic eyes like yours," said Lady Serena without a hint of regret. The carriage shook as it struggled over the harsh and bumpy terrain, tossing them about. Once the carriage shook so badly that the tilted angle sent Ciardis and Serena flying into the side of the carriage wall. By the time they had righted themselves, Ciardis had stifled her anger and gotten her face under control.
Nothing Serena had said was untrue or anything she hadn't heard before. Taunts from village children could be cruel. “Little bastard baseborn”, they used to call her. Sometimes they would even change their schoolyard rhymes to mock her when she passed, staggering under the loads of laundry for the day. Once she was alone and away from prying eyes she had cried herself to sleep almost every night. The barbs had hurt then, and the words still hurt now.
Eyeing her, Lady Serena said, "Happens to the best of us." Before Ciardis could digest that, she continued, "Look, Ciardis, being a companion is about more than mastering the art of the instrument, the tone of your voice, and the pleasure of your presence – visually or otherwise. Companions are more than jewels on a patron’s arm...they are useful. All Companions perform services for their Patrons. For instance, I am a projecting Companion. Projecting is my magical talent. Anything my Patron, Lord Cannon, wishes to see, whether practical or whimsical, I can bring forth."
Serena opened her palm. Slowly a bright blue energy began to build – swirling up from the lines in her hand to become a miniature blue tornado of light the size of a kitten. It solidified quickly after forming into the image of a miniature form of Serena in full color and wearing a beautiful dress. The miniature began to waltz in the palm of Lady Serena’s hand while Ciardis watched in delight. Serena said, "I can make this any size I want." She waved her hand at the bench, and suddenly the miniature jumped from its place on her palm and there was a full-sized version sitting primly next to Ciardis in the next second.
The full-sized vision of Serena winked at Ciardis and then dissipated just as quickly as it had appeared. Proudly Serena said, "I am also ranked as a Master Tactician. You can't become a military officer through magic alone, but because of my memorization skills and ability to project training modules, I have excelled at training Lord Cannon's soldiers in military tactics."
"But...but I don't have any magic," Ciardis said shamefully.
"Yes, and that will make your life more difficult," Serena said bluntly. "There are Companions with no magic, but their mundane skills are without peer. Kira, the assassin Companion, is so skilled in the art of the knife that she has killed three princes at the request of her lord. And Miranda, the artist Companion, builds automatons so lifelike that they're used to attract customers in all the shops of her lady's business ventures."
As Ciardis shifted uncomfortably, Lady Serena said, "Now what can you do for us?" As Ciardis opened her mouth to reply, Serena cut her off with a wave of her hand. "And do not mention soaps."
It was going to be long ride to the courts of Sandrin.