The Tower: Part 6: Ostara
Post #57: In which problem solving ...
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ASH
Ash hissed, a sound he rarely made, as the audience clapped. Beatrice trembled with emotion.
“Isn’t he despicable!” she said, her voice shrill and furious.
They had listened with growing anger, noting whispers, raised eyebrows and sardonic smiles among the audience. Clarissa grew whiter and whiter, her eyes like tarnished holes in her face. Rose Red wept, but the others sat rigid and expressionless.
As the applause swelled, Clarissa stood up, looking around like a trapped animal. She trembled visibly. Persephone, beside her, surged to her feet and took her arm protectively. Eurydice, Rose Red, Maria, Ginger, and two men also rose.
Steering Clarissa, who moved as though blinded, Persephone marched toward the exit, the others in her wake. Heks met them at the door.
Ash flitted deeper into the building, using the kitchen shadows as cover and keeping to the rafters along the wall behind the audience. As Seren took a bow, Ash shot out the open door.
It was a mild spring night. Ash flew above the group. Heks took charge.
“We’ll go up to Rowan Gate,” she said. “Come along.”
Ash thought Heks was wise. Clarissa, a child of the sea, would naturally need its comfort after such a distressing scene.
Heks led them briskly up the hill and onto the path winding through the rowan trees outside the portal. The group stopped at Rowan Gate’s entrance while Persephone, Heks and Clarissa entered. Ash flew in and hung from a branch forming part of the rough roof over the spring.
“Promise me you’ll come back,” Persephone said to Clarissa, who hadn’t uttered a word. “You are not to disappear, do you understand? I’ll trust you if you promise.”
“I’ll come back,” said Clarissa woodenly. “Promise.”
“I’ll stay right here and wait for you,” said Persephone. She released Clarissa’s arm and stroked a lock of the young woman’s hair out of her face. “It will be all right,” she said. “It won’t always feel like this.”
Clarissa took a stumbling step, turning, and landed with a splash in the spring.
Nothing happened.
Ash heard Beatrice’s indrawn breath of surprise.
Clarissa stood motionless with bowed head, the spring bubbling around her feet. For a long moment, they were suspended. Nobody moved. Nobody spoke.
“The portal is closed,” said Heks.
“Are you sure?” Eurydice asked from the spring entrance.
“I’m sure.” Heks sounded grim. “We’ll go down to the river.”
Persephone took Clarissa’s arm again and they retraced their steps, passing by the hall where Seren still performed.
At the hill’s base, the river had scooped out a crescent of level beach. In the early days of building Rowan Tree, Gwelda had helped move flat, table-sized stones around a rock-lined fire pit. It was a favorite picnic spot and place to tell stories or gather around a summer bonfire. In this season the river rushed by, noisy and full and too cold for the humans to bathe in.
Kunik, who had sat in the front row of the audience with Eurydice, said, “Chattan and I will go get some blankets. Is there anything else you need?”
“No,” said Eurydice. “Thank you. It’s best to let us handle this, I think.”
He kissed her, gave her a smile and disappeared into the shadows with Chattan.
Persephone took Clarissa to the river’s edge. “Will this do?”
Clarissa nodded wordlessly.
“You won’t go anywhere until we’ve talked?”
Again, the nod.
“Say it.”
“I promise I won’t go anywhere until we’ve talked.”
Persephone turned away and Ash flew down and clung to the front of her cloak.
“We’ll keep an eye on her,” he said.
“Thank you, Ash. I trust her word, but she’s terribly shocked.”
Clarissa lay down in the torrent of water, letting it comb out her hair and run over her body. The skin of her upper body shone pale in the starlight and her powerful tail gleamed as she moved it lazily in the current. She tipped her head back and looked at the sky.
Ash swooped and darted above the river, snatching a few insects. It was still early in the year, but he could always find food above moving water.
He could see the others grouped on the rocks, talking. Chattan and Kunik had brought blankets and disappeared again. Someone had started a fire.
Ash flew higher and looked up the slope toward the community hall. Light still shone from the windows. The door stood ajar and he could see people seated inside. Good. He thought it unlikely they would be interrupted for some time. He knew Seren liked to draw out his performances.
Clarissa lay quietly for some minutes in the river. If she cried, it was without drama. She didn’t allow the current to sweep her away. Ash wondered what her thoughts were.
Eventually she stood, the water sluicing from her body, and waded to the shore. Persephone brought a blanket, which she wrapped around Clarissa, pulling her hair free so it didn’t drip down inside the covering.
Ash flew to Heks, who gave him the hem of the blanket thrown over her shoulders to cling to so he could hang comfortably upside down.
Clarissa sat beside Persephone within the circle.
“I’m all right,” she said. “I feel better. The water helped.”
Her fingers plucked at the blanket around her.
“I’m sorry to make a scene. I couldn’t stay there after … You didn’t need to leave with me.”
“You didn’t make a scene,” Maria said evenly, “and of course we wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“How could he say that about my father? He never even met him.”
Ash shook his head. Women were amazing. The slur on her father bothered her more than the slur on herself.
“He must not have understood what he was saying. How it would sound, I mean. I think he was only telling a good story. I took it the wrong way, overreacted.”
Persephone said, “Do you remember those days you watched us at the tower? You knew your father was dead, but you weren’t ready to face it, so you watched and hoped you’d see him again, that the whole thing was a mistake. It felt too painful to believe, and you were alone.”
“Now you don’t need to face anything alone,” said Ginger.
“No.” Clarissa shook her head. “No.”
“Seren told that story because he knew it would hurt you.” Persephone was relentless. “There was no misunderstanding or mistake, except you believed he returned your love.”
“But why?”
“Because you’re ten times the storyteller he is, and so was your father,” said Eurydice. “You threaten him.”
“That’s not true!” Clarissa said, making a gesture with her hands as though pushing the words away.
“Clarissa,” said Ginger in a voice of such calm compassion that some of the tension left the circle of women. “What did your father teach you about telling stories?”
“He said telling stories is a responsibility,” said Clarissa. “He said you must never steal another’s story, but the old stories are for everyone who loves them and makes them their own. He said stories are medicine and should never be told to hurt, harm or humiliate. I never understood the medicine part. I thought stories were only for pleasure until I met Sedna. Now I know they’re also for healing. Her story wasn’t fun or entertaining, but it healed her to tell it.”
“Do you think Seren told that story for pleasure or healing?” inquired Ginger.
“No.”
“Did he ask your permission to share your private information?”
“No.”
Eurydice said. “During his first performance, Seren told the story of Orpheus’s lyre and how he came to be playing it, except he’s not using Orpheus’s lyre.”
“He’s not?” Clarissa looked amazed.
“No. Orpheus’s lyre was made from a tortoise shell, but it was gilded and set with jewels.”
“He lied,” said Clarissa flatly.
Nobody spoke. Ash thought it was as though a toad had hopped into their midst and they sat looking at it.
“Why is the portal shut again?” Heks demanded.
“Do you think it’s my fault?” Clarissa asked fearfully.
“Did you act in a way that divided or disconnected one thing or person from another?”
“I did walk out of the performance. That was rude. If Seren feels I forced myself on him, that’s bad.”
“Look at me,” Heks commanded.
Clarissa looked up from watching her hands twist in her lap. The firelight played across Heks’s face, making her ageless and sexless. She sat easily, the dark blanket around her shoulders hiding her slight, wiry figure.
“Did you, in fact, force yourself on him? Think carefully, now. Is that truly what happened?”
For a long moment, Clarissa looked into Heks’s eyes.
“No,” she said at last. “I didn’t force myself on him.” She put her face in her hands and then ran her fingers through her damp hair. “He lied about that, too.”
She heaved a sigh and looked from face to face. “Is that why the portal closed again?”
“I don’t know,” said Eurydice. “I think Seren is part of the problem, though.”
“But I thought he was repairing the portals,” said Clarissa. “He fixed the one at Yggdrasil, didn’t he?”
Beatrice stirred and Ash twitched. Heks raised a cautioning hand.
“There were several of us at Yggdrasil,” said Heks. “We worked together. Seren played a part, but that’s all.”
“It may be they fixed the portal in spite of him, rather than because of him,” said Eurydice.
“He lied about that, too, then,” said Clarissa. She straightened her shoulders. “So, what do we do now? I don’t know what to do.”
“You could kill yourself,” suggested Maria, poker-faced.
“I don’t want to do that!” Clarissa said, recognizing the joke.
“You could kill him and eat him,” said Heks expressionlessly.
Eurydice giggled.
Clarissa managed a smile. “I don’t think so.”
“You could go back to him, kiss his feet and tell him you’re sorry,” said Eurydice, getting into the spirit of the thing.
“Why should I be sorry?”
“You’re sorry he’s not a better lover?”
Heks tensed. Beatrice stirred in the fur on Ash’s chest. Clarissa’s expression was still. Ash could read nothing on her face.
“My first lover was wonderful,” said Rose Red unexpectedly. “Wild and exciting.”
“Juan was a rotten lover,” said Maria. “All seduction and no stamina. Didn’t know what to do with his hands. Strictly a blunt instrument.”
Beatrice giggled as the women laughed together.
Clarissa looked from face to face, obviously torn between laughter and tears.
Persephone put an affectionate arm around her and pulled her close. “What do you think your father would say?” she asked.
Clarissa thought about this while the others waited.
“He’d remind me of ‘Feathers.’
“Feathers?”
“Yes. It’s an old story he picked up somewhere.”
“Tell it,” said Persephone.
“Oh, no …”
“She’s afraid to, after what Seren said,” Beatrice whispered to Ash.
“Exactly what we want,” said Heks. “A good story.”
“Please,” put in Rose Red.
“I wish you would,” coaxed Ginger.
“I don’t know if I can remember it.”
“Try,” commanded Maria.
“Well … all right. Let me see …”