Chapter 12: Chapter 12

“We will keep her here for the time being,” Sheena stood over me as I sat on the couch in her office. Lord Radon and Kayla stood nearby. “The servants wouldn’t know Micah Lavoric by sight, and as we have observed over the past few weeks, there has been no gossip to speak of.”

“Which is remarkable,” Lord Radon muttered. “Servants talk, commoners talk, even nobility talks. Tell me, how is it that the son of Lord Lavoric can walk about Klocby Palace in a a dress, holding a feather duster, and no one breathes a word of it?”

“I would bear mind to such statements, Lord Radon,” Sheena said. “Micah Lavoric no longer exists.”

“We cannot deny the question,” Lord Radon said. “And what of this…Sage you spoke of?”

“Miss Rowan will have her turn, assuredly,” Kayla said, walking over to the desk and leaning against it. “What of Stephan Lavoric?”

“Words cannot describe his reaction to the news,” Radon smirked. “A royal assassination would have gone over better with him, I’m afraid.”

“And the wording of the contract?” Sheena looked at him, obviously worried.

“He was provided with a modified copy, devoid of Lyra’s name,” Radon assured us. “Now I must return to the hall, there are many questions for Lord Lavoric, pertaining mostly to this technology he has kept hidden. They wish to march upon Hybra within the next year.”

“Which is none of Lyra’s concern,” Sheena said. “Kayla, I will be returning to the hall. Jen will be here momentarily and then you may rejoin us.” 

“Sheena,” I spoke up, causing the three of them to jerk their head in surprise. 

“So she still has a voice,” Radon joked. “For a time I believed her mute.”

“What is it, Lyra?” Sheena shot Radon a disdainful look at his comment.

“The…the High Lady, she said there were two survivors, from the Stormveil incident-”

“No,” Sheena cut me off by placing her index finger over my lips. “You are Lyra. I want you to be Lyra right now. The day will come when you may need to provide answers or assistance, but as of right now, you are Lyra Rossi. Be Lyra.”

“I would tend to agree,” Lord Radon said. “While Micah was certainly an interesting individual, I would not have known him as a friend. Lyra, on the other hand, has promise.”

I turned my head to regard Lord Radon, my poise weaker than normal. Why was he speaking to me in this manner? As a commoner I shouldn’t have held any importance to him, but he spoke to me as an equal. I saw him speak to Sheena and laugh as if they shared common ground. What did it mean? Was my perception of the world that skewed? Sheena and Lord Radon left, and Kayla set beside me on the couch, letting out an exhausted sigh.

“Construction is to begin on the servant’s quarters in the next month,” She told me, speaking naturally as if the events of the last few hours had not even transpired. “They say two to a room, can you imagine?”

“I guess not,” I admitted. “I haven’t had privacy since…”

“Since you arrived,” She finished for me. “I suppose you’re used to lavish chambers and sprawling beds. You probably had your own sitting room. I can scarcely imagine.”

“I…did, yes,” I laughed a little, starting to feel more at ease. “and a balcony.”

“Your own balcony,” She smiled. “You seek to make me jealous.”

“You oughtn’t be,” I assured her. “I doubt I’ll have any of those things again.”

“And does that bother you?”

“I don’t think so,” I admitted. “I…I don’t know, I like this. I feel like a weight has been lifted, I think.”

“And you’re much more verbose,” She noted. “Most people do not grow up with the pleasures and accomodations that you were afforded and the truth is, most get by just as well, though life can become more challenging.”

“What was it like for you then?” I asked her. “Growing up, I mean?”

“Well, isn’t that a question?” She smiled, rising from the couch and pacing before the desk. Finally, she turned to me, as if reaching a determination. “I grew up in an outlying town, Strading, it’s called. A small industrial township, did ye know we were known for cogs? Not the big cogs, the small ones, take it to mind or not, they take more stress than the biggins, they have to be made just so, because a cracked cog breaks up the whole works. Now take that to mind Lyra, all focus on the big ones, but sometimes the smallest cog in any machine makes all the difference. My father and I, we lived in a one room house, though by your standards, a shack I suppose. We ‘ad a wood floor wi’ three broken planks, fell down those holes many a’ times,” She laughed out loud, her eyes becoming distant as she remembered. “Still got a scar on my leg.”

“Why didn’t you just fix the floor?”

“When you’ve to decide between food and a floor, which one is to help you live longer?” Kayla laughed. “But who minds it really, little things that make a place unique. We didn’t have a front door neither; just a curtain hung up on an old rod. Rained a lot, I remember. Leaky ceiling but at night I could lay there and listen to the raindrops all night. The patter of drops against the tin roof, the sound of thunder crackling off in the distance, might seem scary to some, but it was a comfort to me.”

“I never did like the rain,” I admitted. “But…your house had no door?”

“That was your takeaway then?” Kayla laughed again, regarding me with a warm look. “The quality of the house ‘taint so important Lyra. No matter the rain, the wind, or even the snow, my father, he did come home each night covered so in grease and grime as he was, and his smile never faded. Always he’d come home with a few pieces of candy for me. It’s not for me t’know how he afforded such luxuries, but things like that, the small things, those are the things I’ll never forget. That’s what makes a home, Lyra. Not the condition o’ the floor planks or whether or not you’ve a door to shield you from the cold. What matters, Lyra, is love, and if y’got that, then you’ve got your floor, your roof, your door, and even a fire t’keep you warm at night.”

I shook my head and frowned, looking to her, and then off across the room as I wrung my hands and turned the thought over in my mind. 

“I don’t understand,” I said helplessly. “I’m sorry but I don’t.”

“You will, Lyra,” She squeezed my shoulder and rose from the couch. “But for now, Jen has arrived, and she brings gifts!”

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I looked toward the door realizing that I hadn’t even noticed Jen walking into the room pushing a cart piled with food. 

“I liberated this from the kitchen,” Jen announced. “Surely those stuck up nobles won’t notice a few missing biscuits! No offense, Lyra.”

“I’m…really not hungry,” I shrugged and sank back into the couch.

“But you’ll eat,” Kayla told me; her tone indicating that it was more than a mere suggestion. “I’ll be getting a full report from Jen; if you don’t do so well as you’re told, you can expect Sheena to mush it up and pipe it down your throat, I’m understood?”

“Yes First Preceptor,” I mumbled.

“Good girl.”

As Kayla left the room a feeling of existential dread washed over me. Before now, before this very moment, I’d simply been serving a sentence and the entire arrangement was temporary. I could have simply waited it out, but now it was permanent. I was considered to be Lyra; Micah was dead. It was just her now, trapped at the whims of Sheena and the High Lady, should she choose to become involved. The proverbial cord had been cut and the realization was beginning to set in. 

“There, there, Little Lyra!” Jen said, pushing the cart over to the couch and smiling widely. “Things are not so bad!”

“I’m sorry, Jen,” I apologized almost half heartedly as she pulled a ceramic plate from the cart and began to pile it with food. “I just…”

“You just, you just, you just,” She grinned and shoved a plate into my hands; I looked at a pile of buttered bread, fried gerka legs, creamed potatoes, alsterberry sauce, and even dice hogsmeat spread over hashcakes and smothered in gravy. “You’re all worried about being common, but what’s to worry about? I’m common and Goddess be good I’m still standin’ here, pretty as can be.”

“But I was supposed to be-”

“Eating,” She pointed to the plate. “You’re supposed to be eating, and you’d best get to it or Sheena’ll have both of our hides.”

“Jen, I-”

“Put that mouth to chewin’ rather than arguing!” She waved her hand to silence me. I finally conceded and nibbled on a piece of bread while she began to talk about how things would ‘be’ around the palace now, at least for me. “You’ll be paid now, of course, should you choose to stay in service. I take in about thirty and ten shillings a fortnight and that’s not bad when taking half the jobs in the city to count. Oh do wipe that sad look off your face, Lyra, what’s it to be that you’re upset about being among friends?”

“Friends?” asked her, suddenly confused. “How does that mean?”

“Well you ought take it to mean as it sounds,” Jen shrugged. “You’re here, you’ve been here, some o’ the girls, they see you as a friend. Sophie, Miah, myself, perhaps even Kayla to some extent. They liked you somewhat before, but now? Now they don’t hafta be afraid of you, understand?”

“They were afraid of me?”

“You’ll fit in here, you will,” She nodded, pointing to the plate. “Let’s see more chewin’!”

I finished maybe half the plate, and Jen decided that it was good enough. I spent the next several hours listening to her talk about my new life, rather excitedly and truth be told I missed a good portion of it. As the light faded beyond the windows of the office, Sheena entered the room looking as if she’d just been hit by a motorcar. 

“Nobles,” She sighed. “The worst type of people to serve.”

“Is that not the only type of people you serve?” I asked her curiously. Both she and Jen looked over at me, Sheena raising an eyebrow and then shaking her head.

“You’ve so much to learn, Lyra,” She said, walking over and taking a seat on a plush green armchair caddy corner to the couch. “I’ve got something for you, little present from your father.”

She held out a piece of parchment that bore my father’s seal; I took it gingerly and held it out in front of me, unable to truly read the words. 

“If you’re havin’ trouble deciphering it,” She said helpfully. “He’s disinherited you, seems he’s not fond of his only son jumping ship to his former enemy.”

“He didn’t want to see me?” I asked, feeling more than a little disappointed. Doesn’t he need proof I did this? That no one forced me?

“He sent you here to have you assassinated, Lyra,” Sheena reminded me. “If someone had forced you it wouldn’t have mattered no how to him, sad truth.”

It was a sad truth that was beginning to truly sink in and became more palatable by the passing moments. 

“I understand Lyra, I truly do, there’s no worse feeling in the world than not being wanted, but I tell you by and by you are wanted, just not by him.

“I had a room there, in Axock. Belongings, a life.”

“Aye, yes, that you did, but if you were to be back there now, how would you feel? Which place would you prefer?”

“I…guess…here,” It was difficult to say the words, I had to force them to roll off my tongue, but it was the truth, and nothing but the truth. I held my father’s decree in my hand, and while the words hurt, the blow was cushioned by the presence of Jen, and Sheena, and others unseen. Yes, I could live with this.

“You will sleep in here this night,” Sheena told me. “and in the morning there will be some difficult questions to answer. But, for now, sleep easy Lyra Rossi. Your difficulties are not over, but know that you are you, and you are loved.”

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