It was some hours later when Elise and Rhysa were dismissed. They had stood quietly by while the particulars of Rhysa’s disposition were ironed out. To her surprise, Rhysa found the final results were satisfactory to everyone—including her. Though she had been asked a few questions, she more or less stayed in the background. It was Prince Hallyk, himself, who was her advocate. Advocate indeed, for at times he seemed like a barrister arguing a case for his client. By the time everything was concluded, Rhysa decided she agreed with Lord Amonteus’ initial evaluation. The Prince could be harsh, sometimes, but he was always fair—at least in the sense of maintaining balance. He balanced law against justice, punishment against crime, and politics against economics.
On the stairs to the slaves’ rooms, Elise said in awe, “That man is amazing.” Rhysa could only nod her agreement. Elise looked slyly at Rhysa. “And you. I thought Lady Kasteryn and the rest were going to swallow their tongues when he told you to call him Hallyk. I know I nearly did.”
“Not you.” Rhysa shook her head. “Your mouth was open too far for you to swallow your spit, much less your tongue.”
Elise looked taken aback, then reddened in embarrassment, and finally burst out laughing. “I’m sure I did.”
“Fortunately,” Rhysa continued smugly, “I think no one else noticed.” She paused. “Well…maybe the prince did. I don’t think anything escapes his notice.”
Elise shook her head, still laughing quietly. “It’s certainly been interesting since you arrived. I’m not sure how you do it. You’re not terribly outgoing, nor presumptuous, nor a practical joker. Things just seem to happen around you.”
“Yeah, well. That’s not always a good thing. One of those ‘things’ was getting run down by slavers. And I’m pretty sure something even worse happened shortly before I lost my memories.”
Elise grew serious for a moment. “I know. Everything balances, though, so this may be partial payment on being enslaved.” She smiled, almost shyly. “Anyway. Completely selfishly, I’m glad you were caught.”
Rhysa smiled at her friend. “Yes. It’s turned out far better than I expected. And infinitely more preferable to what I’d feared.”
Elise paused at the bottom of the stairs and gave Rhysa a wistful look. “I know this evening was longer than expected, but could you—I mean…the massage?”
Rhysa laughed. “Sybarite. All right, but we’ll do it in your room.”
“Great. I’ll get some almande oil.” Elise disappeared up the stairs.
Rhysa shook her head. So much had happened. So much had been learned. It was nearly too much. She sincerely hoped every day would not be as packed as today.
She made her way to Elise’s door and, hesitating only slightly, entered. In furniture and layout, Elise’s room was exactly like hers. The differences lay in the details. Elise was not nearly as Spartan or ascetic as Rhysa, but she was tidy. Rhysa looked around the room, trying to understand this friend she’d only known for a few days.
Judging from the small vials of scented oil on the vanity table, Rhysa’s joking “sybarite” was no more than the truth. An extra pair of sandals lay at the foot of the bed. Elise also had a couple of extra pillows, two small tapestries, a small rug, and several candles in holders. Rhysa looked at the tapestries; the one over the bed depicted lovers at their play. The other was odd in this sybaritic nest: it depicted a battle scene. A crowned figure stood alone, but for a single guard. All around were the bodies of the slain, friend and foe alike. It was obviously a last stand—but from history or fantasy, Rhysa couldn’t say.
As she made her way to the back of the room, Rhysa saw something propped in the back corner, hidden by the wardrobe. She lit several candles and placed them around the room, then took one and went to see what was behind the wardrobe. Before she got close, though, the door opened and Elise entered carrying a large bottle in one hand and several towels in the other. She smiled when she saw where Rhysa was looking.
“That’s how I’m earning the money to buy my manumission. I hire myself out as a bodyguard when someone needs a bodyguard who is unobtrusive or unsuspected.”
Rhysa looked at her friend, eyebrows raised.
Elise grinned. “It’s quite true. That’s one reason why I’m often assigned to important guests as body servant. Now that your place has been settled, I’m sure you’ll be getting similar lessons.”
“From who?”
“Lady Kasteryn.”
Rhysa sat on the bed. Collapsed would probably be a better word.
“Oh, she’s quite proficient. That’s her.” Elise pointed to the lone guard in the second tapestry. “That’s where she earned her noble rank. There was a coup that nearly succeeded. Between her magic and her skill with the blade, she saved the king’s life.”
Dazed, Rhysa said, “I think I’m the one who needs a massage.”
Elise chuckled and took a vial from the vanity table and tossed it to Rhysa. “Here. Put some of that on your chest and a little on the back of your neck.”
Rhysa astonished herself first by catching the vial, then by not dropping it in surprise. “What is it?”
“Mainly lavender oil, plus hints of a few others. I put a few drops of that in a hot bath when I’ve had a bad day. The lavender relaxes you, and the rest reminds your body it still has stores of energy it can use. A little trick Lady Hermestus showed me once while I recovered from a training injury.”
Rhysa opened the vial and sniffed cautiously. The scent relaxed her immediately. It reminded her of…something. She could almost see the wall Lord Hermestus had spoken of after he’d examined her. She followed Elise’s prescription as Elise went through drawers of the vanity and rummaged through the wardrobe. By the time Rhysa finished applying the oil, Elise had some small bowls and towels in hand.
Agents of Ellendahl 