The Tower: Part 6: Ostara
Post #54: In which the purpose of story ...
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ROSE RED
It was finally over. The whole audience rose to their feet, shouting, clapping and stamping their approval. Rose Red stood with the rest, clapped, and felt her face contort into a smiling rictus. Her left hand ached and tingled from the strength of Eurydice’s grip. Eurydice had taken it during Seren’s first story and held it fast ever since, her rage palpable to Rose Red, but held in check. Rose Red felt sick and shaky with tension. She dreaded scenes. She’d never known Eurydice to be so angry. In fact, tension seemed to emanate from everywhere, a strange contrast to Seren’s smooth, confident and polished performance. He was undoubtedly a masterful storyteller and musician. Why, then, did she feel so wretched? She longed for the cool, quiet night. She must get out of the building. She turned, feeling panicked, seeking the door, and saw only a sea of people.
“I’ll walk you home,” a voice said in her ear, and she felt someone grasp her upper arm. It was Mingan, and she recoiled and then immediately felt ashamed of her rudeness.
“No, thank you,” she said, fighting to control herself. “I’ll go with Eurydice and Kunik. Thank you, though.”
The crowd moved, some making for the door and others surging toward Seren, who sat majestically on his stool. Eurydice and Kunik appeared, Eurydice’s eyes bright with tears of rage, her cheeks burning.
“I need to get out of here,” said Rose Red to Kunik, making no effort to hide her desperation. “Please!”
“Come along.” He tucked her arm in his and the three of them pushed their way to the door and out.
The cool air smelled like rain and ragged clouds covered all but a few pools of stars. Rose Red overflowed with relieved tears. Eurydice led them up the hill like a charging bull, temper in every stride. Rose Red could hear her muttering to herself. Kunik retained her arm in his comforting grasp, and she could feel his chest vibrating with amusement.
Suddenly, she felt light and free, almost giddy. She recognized the signs of too much emotional strain.
“I think I need to eat, or drink a cup of tea or something,” she said.
“We all do,” said Kunik.
“Is Eurydice all right?”
“She will be.”
“Can we go to my house?” Rose Red didn’t want to go out again, not with the night watchers.
“We’re going to Rosie’s for a cup of tea,” Kunik called to Eurydice’s back.
“How about a cup of poison instead?” she growled.
“We’ll see Maria about that in the morning,” he returned cheerfully, and Eurydice laughed unwillingly. Rose Red felt better.
When they reached Rose Red’s oak tree, she laid a hand on the trunk in both greeting and inquiry. The tree still lived, though its budding leaves were sparse. She dreaded the day she felt no response to her touch. Kunik lit a lantern and the candles in the White Stag’s antlers. He began heating water.
From outside, Rose Red heard the thunk of an ax on wood.
“She’s splitting wood in the dark?” she asked Kunik, amazed.
“She’ll be all right. It’s a good way to work off her temper. Maybe your watcher will stick his neck out and she’ll take his head off for him.”
“Ugh,” said Rose Red, and shuddered.
“Cold?”
“No. Overwhelmed. Confused. Why did he talk about Orpheus that way, right to Eurydice’s face?”
“Because he’s a conceited, puffed-up little toad,” said Eurydice, entering with an armful of wood. “He doesn’t know who I am.”
“But he’s met you! Weren’t you both at Yggdrasil?”
“Yes, but the Grand Pooh-Bah has no interest in anybody but himself. I don’t think he even knows my name, and if he does he probably doesn’t connect me with Orpheus. You noticed he never actually called Orpheus by name?”
“I did notice.”
“He told Clarissa the story of Yggdrasil, except in his story he did everything himself. Heks was an ‘old woman.’ Rumpelstiltskin was ‘the Dwarve.’ Clarissa didn’t know I was there until I told her. That’s why Rapunzel wanted the pair of them to come here, so Clarissa could see for herself what a liar he is. He didn’t know Heks and I lived here. Rapunzel felt certain he’d reveal his lies, and he has.”
“He was cruel about Orpheus, Eurydice. I’m sorry.”
“Rosie, I don’t care who the greatest musician is! I’m angry because he lied about everything. He’s not using Orpheus’s lyre at all. The whole thing is a fabrication!”
“Well, after all, he is a storyteller,” put in Kunik mischievously.
Eurydice rounded on him with fury.
Kunik put up his hands in mock surrender, laughing. Even Rose Red laughed. Feeling steadier, she rose from her chair and produced bread and cheese. The water boiled and Eurydice made tea. Rose Red took a bottle of mead off a high shelf and added a slug to each cup.
“How do you know it’s not the same lyre?” Rose Red inquired after a few minutes.
“When Hermes made the lyre for Orpheus, he gilded the rim and set the tortoise shell with jewels. I’d know it anywhere. I used to polish it after every performance.”
“I was teasing, but that’s what some people will say,” said Kunik. “He’s a storyteller. It’s his business to make up stories and tell them. He’s certainly a gifted performer. I’ve never heard music like that.”
“But stories should be real,” said Rose Red.
Kunik looked at her.
“I mean true,” said Rose Red.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, you know what I mean! Stories are about people, how they feel and what they do. They help us understand one another, feel connected.”
“I suspect Seren would disagree. His stories are about him. He’s not interested enough in others to tell the kind of stories we tell. Clarissa is ten times the teller he is. I could spend days listening to her tell about Sedna and re-tell sea lore and stories from the Rusalka. She’s wonderful.” Kunik shook his head in wonder. “She tells as though she’s invisible, nothing but a conduit. Seren concentrates on being not only visible but the only one in sight.”
“I’ll bet Seren does everything he can to keep her quiet,” said Eurydice in a hard voice. “He’s not one to tolerate competition. I understand why Rapunzel feels concerned about her. He’ll destroy her.”
“She loves him,” said Rose Red. “That’s obvious.”
Later, after Eurydice and Kunik left, Rose Red crawled under her skins and blankets and curled around the tree. She felt exhausted and overstimulated at the same time. She fell into sudden sleep and then woke abruptly, heart pounding.
All was quiet. She imagined unfriendly eyes in the dark. Wolf or lynx, which was the greater threat? Why were they both watching? Or perhaps no one watched and the night forest was benign.
She felt for her copper knife, tucked under the mattress within easy reach, snugged safely within its leather sheath. Maria had worn gloves while smearing the blade with a paste made out of aconite root.
“You must never get this on your skin,” she cautioned Rose Red. “A scratch with the blade will kill you. When it dries, I’ll sheath the knife. Don’t unsheathe it again unless you’re in deadly danger.”
“Why do you have aconite at all?” asked Rose Red.
“It can be useful, in extremely small doses, for skin and circulation problems. This paste is made from the root, the most toxic part of the plant, and it’s undiluted. That’s what makes it so dangerous. I don’t like using it, and I don’t like giving it to you, but I’m frightened for you, and I can’t forget Juliana. If she’d taken steps to protect herself, she might not have died. If I’d taken the whole thing more seriously, I might have convinced her to carry some kind of a weapon.”
“It might not have made any difference,” said Artemis, who was also there.
“Maybe not. But I reproach myself for not trying. I won’t make that mistake again.”
“I’ll be careful with it,” Rose Red promised. “Don’t worry. It does make me feel better, knowing I can defend myself.”
“Don’t pull this knife unless you mean to use it,” Maria repeated soberly. “Can you deliberately poison a wolf or a lynx?”
“If I must,” said Rose Red. “If it’s them or me.”
“If you pull the knife, make sure it’s them, not you,” said Artemis.
Rose Red had never killed in self-defense before, but she’d hunted many times. She never enjoyed taking a creature’s life but understood eating and being eaten were sacred to Webbd’s natural balance, and felt reasonably sure she could kill a dangerous animal. A human being might be a different thing. She found it hard to reconcile her sense of threat with an animal, no matter how fierce or predatory, but the footprints were certainly not human.
Tomorrow, she must apologize to Mingan, explain she’d felt tired after the long performance, make some excuse for her rudeness. She didn’t like him, but he’d intended to be kind. He was not an attractive man and his approach was clumsy. He probably was lonely. She would make it right.
The amber-eyed marble Heks had given her was with the knife, nestled in its own little hide bag with a drawstring. Holding the bag protectively in her hand, she wondered if the eye was open or closed, but didn’t look to see. She turned and dozed again.
Outside in the spring night, a light rain fell on the unfurling leaves.
CHAPTER 19
HEKS
Heks, less interested in watching Seren than the audience, took a seat in the back and off to the side. From there, she enjoyed picking out Seren’s and David’s henchman, scattered through the audience, who led the applause and other signs of appreciation. She noted Eurydice’s rigid back and smiled to herself.
She freely admitted Seren’s talent was astounding, but it wasn’t enough to excuse his obnoxious preening and posturing. She found his performance painfully insincere. She wondered if Orpheus had been equally conceited in his day. She didn’t think Seren knew Orpheus’s wife sat in the front row and would know if the first story he told about his lyre was true or not.
She saw the smile Clarissa and Seren exchanged when Clarissa brought him water. After ignoring her since her arrival, it looked as though he was ready to bestow his warmth on her once again. Clarissa had not complained, but Heks knew she’d hardly slept and felt miserable since he’d rejected her open-hearted and joyful greeting when she arrived at Rowan Tree.
He had Clarissa right where he wanted her.
When the program finally ended, she slipped out into the cool, rain-smelling night and waited for Ginger, Maria and Clarissa. She saw Kunik, Rose Red and Eurydice emerge, but made no sign. She grinned as she watched Eurydice stomp up the hill. Kunik held Rose Red’s arm, as though lending her his stalwart support. She was too sensitive for her own good. This business of unseen, unknown danger was wearing her down. She noted with interest Chattan was not with them. Heks possessed her own suspicions about wolves and lynxes. She suspected the danger to Rose Red was not great and Chattan and Artemis both knew more than they were telling. Rose Red was stronger than she knew, and fiercer. She would be all right. Heks felt free to concentrate on Clarissa and Seren.
She had never had anything to do with a young woman before, and she could hardly remember her own maidenhood. Bruno had been his father’s creature since he could walk. She’d loved him, but her love proved ineffectual against Joe’s brutality and influence, and the child soon learned to scorn her and emulated his father’s contempt for Heks and all women.
Clarissa’s strength, confidence and passion were a revelation to Heks. The girl had been shy at first. Heks knew Clarissa had never known an older human grandmother-type figure. In the context of the lighthouse, Rapunzel, Persephone, Ginger and, most of all, storytelling, Clarissa had lost her initial wariness as Heks, as she so often did, faded into the background.
Clarissa was an extraordinary storyteller, and Heks often wondered what her father had been like, as he appeared to be the more influential parent. Clarissa’s unaffected and vivid style made Seren’s posturing even more ridiculous. Completely unaware of her own talent, Clarissa only told stories as a tribute to her father in the beginning. From there she grew to love them for their own sake and began collecting material more purposefully. Her new-found poise and confidence amazed Heks, though Clarissa minimized her ability and refused any comparison to her lover’s greatness.
Except Heks didn’t think he was her lover. Not yet. And not because Clarissa held back, either. He played with her, exercising his power, and that, more than anything, was why Heks was so determined to teach him a lesson. Clarissa, she felt certain, would survive, but not all young women were so fortunate. Seren must not think he could play games with women’s hearts and lives with impunity.
Maria and Ginger emerged with Persephone and began walking toward the little house they shared. Heks stepped away from the tree she stood under and joined them.
“What did you think?” Maria asked.
“I think he’s an insufferable brat,” Heks replied.
“Clarissa is ten times the storyteller he is,” said Ginger. “When I listen to her, I feel amazed and inspired, as though I understand myself and others better. Tonight I feel—”
“Disgusted?” suggested Maria.
“Irritated?” said Heks.
“Both,” Maria said.
“It’s all showmanship with him,” Persephone remarked. “He has no dignity or humility. I’ve heard hundreds of people tell their stories, raw and unedited, and their expression was far more powerful. Seren’s music is beautiful, but the only way I can hear it is with my eyes closed.”
“Is he better than Orpheus?” Heks asked. “You heard him play, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I heard him play. No, he’s not better than Orpheus. Orpheus put his whole self into his music. He played with his heart.”
“I’m not sure Seren has a heart,” said Ginger. “Look how cruel he is to Clarissa. He doesn’t care about anybody but himself.”
“Where is Clarissa?” Heks asked.
“She offered to stay and help put the tables and benches back in place,” said Maria.
“Huh,” said Heks.
“He’s being nice to her now,” said Ginger.
They walked silently for a few minutes. Heks could hear the river talking to itself in a low voice as it flowed.