Army of the Goddess: A Bona Dea Novel (Stormflies Book 2) (11 page)

13
^th
Duomont (Hundsday)

Despite Nancy Morton's demise, Lynn decided to stay on as part of the staff. She accepted that she made a mistake trusting the previous Head-of-Council and her agenda. Staying was not easy. Several of her workmates took pride in ribbing her constantly. Some spoke more brutally than others. How could she even think about staying after being an accomplice to Morton's treason? How was she allowed to stay?

Lynn tried to explain that she believed, at the time, that Morton acted in the best interests of the people, at least on the surface. Lynn wasn't certain when she realized that Morton was in conference with the Prophets and that they planned an abduction. It wasn't early enough to stop it. The young woman attempted to convince herself that she was naïve, unaware, and therefore unaccountable for the near tragedy. She hoped to redeem herself by continuing to offer her services at the Palace in an exemplary fashion.

The ears of her accusers were closed, just like their minds. Eventually, she gave up defending herself and simply walked away, friendless.

Over the first few months, she questioned her decision several times and even packed twice intending to resign and leave town for greener fields. Instead, she stayed, keeping quiet, keeping humble. The taunting eased up, the teasers got bored. Councilor Gilbert's attention convinced her that she was doing the right thing by staying on, steering her own destiny. At least someone of importance noticed her perseverance and desire to make everything right again.

Lynn found herself working mostly in the laundry, a position far from and out of sight of the Protectress, a fair assignment considering the circumstances. Delivering clean linens, she occasionally ran into Miri, but the Protectress' personal aide wouldn't speak a word to her beyond the necessary “excuse me,” or “over there.” Lynn went out of her way to remain unseen.

In order to ensure that the councilors' robes were clean and pressed for their return and restored to virtually immaculate condition, each robe was washed separately in a tub of cold water, by hand, treated with lawflower extract for softness, then air dried in the warm room with branches of silkwood over the heated vents.

With the day-to-day laundry taking up most of the day-time hours, the robes were reserved for evening work, for which Lynn volunteered. She worked on the robes alone, an environment she preferred considering the overall attitude toward her. Demonstrating great care and precision in the work might bring her favorable attention as well, raising her status again. She hoped one day to regain everyone's trust.

While the first robe washed this evening hung drying, Lynn began to run water for the second. Cleaning these robes was not the most efficient process, but it was traditional, ensuring that the colors remained pure and that the handiwork of each individually stitched design remained undamaged. The main colors of the robe, the front and back panels, signified the region of representation. The sleeves indicated the township of residence. The stoles usually told some sort of personal story. Part of the initiation process for new councilors was creating their personal stole to wear with the robe. For instance, Councilor Sunsun's stole included her family name and the rugged shape of the mountainous Spires in a rainbow of colors. Councilor Offut had added a swirl of pearlescent seashells to her stole, which required particular treatment to prevent chipping.

Lynn checked the next robe for any particular stains that might need pre-treated before washing, holding the robe beneath a bright light and scrutinizing every inch. Commonly, Homer tended to eat with his robe on, contributing spots of jelly and butter on the front panels. The halls were quiet this evening, disturbed only by a faint clatter from the kitchen across the rotunda. Soon, no one else would be working on this level. When Lynn finished washing this robe, she would take the two robes laundered yesterday night and press them. This cycle would continue until all seventeen robes were clean and hung neatly on the pegs in the Council Room.

A flash of light to her left prompted Lynn to turn her head in that direction. Did someone just walk by? She waited to hear footsteps. The flash passed so quickly, she wasn't even positive it was real.

“Hello?” she called out timidly, not really wanting to call attention to herself. If someone went by, they were probably on their way to the recycling bins outside; but it was late for anyone to be collecting rubbish. She didn't hear a sound, and the intense silence caused her chest to tighten nervously.

Getting no response, she returned to the tub, watching the water level rise slowly toward the imprinted “FULL” mark. The forced water crackled as bubbles formed, rose to the surface, and burst in rapid succession.

The flash appeared to her right this time, as though she caught a flash of lightning through the window. She watched and waited for another flash or a clap of thunder, but nothing came.

Shaking her head, she dismissed it as an optical illusion, a reflection of the courtyard lamps on the age-warped glass. She found it difficult to still the rapid skip of her heart.

Abruptly, her left eye stung and teared up. A blinding point of light appeared, causing her eye to feel as though it boiled. Just as abruptly, the sensation stopped. Attempting to dry the wash of tears from her eye rim and cheek, she couldn't shake the sensation that something was lodged against her eyeball. Maybe soap splashed up into her eye, or an eyelash refused to wash out. She blinked furiously to clean the eye's surface, then splashed cold water onto the eye. After another few minutes, the eye began to feel normal again.

Shutting off the water, Lynn straightened up and dabbed her face dry with a towel. Stimulated by the pain, her left nostril dripped clear fluid. Sniffling, she wiped her nose as well and squinched her face in hopes that everything would get back to normal quickly.

Back at work, she slipped the robe into the cold water and pressed out the air bubbles. Gently, unhurriedly, the fabric absorbed the moisture and drifted below the surface of the water like a mythical nymph, defying the pull of normal gravity. Obtaining a vial from the cleanser shelf, Lynn dropped three beads of lawflower extract into the tub, followed by a capful of sodium bicarbonate detergent. With both hands, she kneaded the material underwater, creating a regulated agitation by which to remove any soil. She completed the routine after ten minutes, feeling the ache in her forearms, and extracted the robe by way of the waterpress, two rubberized barrels that squeezed most of the excess water from the fabric. She ran the robe through twice. She hung the second robe neatly in the warm room, the damp fabric feeling cold against her face in the heated air. She heard a set of footsteps behind her and turned toward the doorway. Was that Councilor Gilbert in the hallway? Lynn glimpsed the old woman's face for a second, then everything went dark.

How strange to find herself on the floor! One moment, she reached up to hang the robe on the rack. The next, she lifted herself from the rough stone floor of the dryer room, feeling toasty from the extra heat. Her head ached just behind her eyes, the sensation worsening if she opened the lids more than a slit.

Shaking off grogginess, Lynn lurched back into the main laundry room. Someone had turned off all the lights.

Feeling unwell, Lynn decided she should probably make her way upstairs to bed. Pressing the robes would have to wait.

+++

Duomont 18
^th
(Moonsday)

Satisfied with his daily attire of a tan cotton shirt and nutshell brown pants, Morgan Mainsteer finished buckling his bustleskin belt when he heard the front door to his small house open and close, allowing Daylin access to the office they shared on the east side of the one-story building. Confident that she arrived on time, Mainsteer reflected on the bureaucratic muck he waded through to justify her continued occupation as his assistant.

With the recent near-cataclysm of the Passing of Soporus and its gravitational and magnetic effects, the Service Ministry wanted to reassign the young woman to a coastal clean-up crew, adding a positive statistic to Northland's contribution in the global effort. The local Coordinator assured him the reassignment would be temporary, a few months at most, and then Daylin would report back.

Unsatisfied with the competition among the regions to provide the most assistance—and being of the mindset that he did not live on the coast, therefore he should not be inconvenienced cleaning it up—Mainsteer refused to give up the one person capable of assisting him in his research. After a lengthy face-to-face argument, the Coordinator finally gave up and tossed the assignment in the recycling bin. Immediately that afternoon, Daylin received the note that her services were not required in the clean-up effort. The young woman expressed neither relief nor regret and simply continued going about the duties Mainsteer expected of her, quietly and unobtrusively.

Last night after dinner, Morgan sat down on his porch with a lamp and a copy of each weekly newssheet to which he subscribed across the four regions, a sampling of geographic areas he believed covered various religious, social, and political values. Twenty in all, each arrived by post throughout the week. Scanning the pages for notable news, he used a dark pen to mark an X though extraneous drivel and a circle to indicate useful information. Daylin was then responsible for thoroughly checking the facts of each article and delivering a summary for his use. He rarely read past the headline and first sentence, all he needed to see of a properly written article.

However, last night he found two stories so particularly enticing, he read them for himself.

The first began:

Protectress Announces Marriage

Our Esteemed Matriarch announced her marriage to Quinn Elgar, formerly of North Compass, Northland. The two bonded in a private ceremony this week in the Palace Garden with four witnesses in attendance, including councilor and long-time friend, Sara Sunsun, also of North Compass. The couple met in Elgar's home village during the annual tours last year.

A photograph of the couple occupied a small space on the left of the article. This story matched throughout the twenty sheets and undoubtedly every sheet printed in the last five days. Morgan considered the groom a casually handsome fellow with short blonde hair and a round face sporting a thick, obtuse nose and blooming cheeks. For the ceremony, he wore a grey silk suit with the keyhole collar complimenting the off-the-shoulder pearlized pink gown of his bride. Morgan knew nothing else about the fellow, having ignored any previous mentions of him, dismissing Elgar's involvement with the Protectress as fleeting and irrelevant. Bonding increased his relevancy several points, as the gentleman became an advisor as well, the most personal ear in which the Protectress would confide.

The second story was much less prominent, yet intriguing to a man with Morgan's goals.

Eastland Councilor Foster Tremby announces retirement effective in Hexember. Having served on the People's Council for the last fifteen years, this Undun native is expecting to resume his former occupation as a writer and painter. A special election will be held on Pentember 19th to select new representation for this seat on the People's Council. Interested candidates should apply at the People's Hall, Office 101.

Tremby's vacation of his long held station offered an opportunity to engage Morgan's Undun contacts. Placing a member of his following in a seat on the Council would provide ample opportunities to present and promote the systematic change of government routine for which Morgan consistently rallied.

This morning, exiting his bedroom, passing through the short hallway and entering the office, Morgan found Daylin settling into her place to begin work, armed with a red ink pen and a steaming cup of black tea. Her blue eyes darted over the title article of the top sheet, her expression of intensity indicated by a slight narrowing of the eyes.

“Good morning, Daylin,” Morgan greeted the back of her brunette braided bun.

“Good morning. Interesting news this morning,” she remarked flatly.

“Yes, indeed. Please dig into Mr. Elgar's background for me. Particularly any skeletons.”

“Actually, I started a file on him last month,” Daylin informed, pointing her pen toward an upright rack of colored folders. “I suspected he might be around longer than you originally believed. I am waiting for replies on a few inquiries.”

“How ingenious of you! Secondly, write letters to Healer Hestia Sampson, Lawrence Jackmoore, and Alan Farmer in Undun,” he continued with little pause. “I would like to meet with them in a couple of weeks to discuss the matter of Tremby's retirement. While we're there, organize a rally to boost our membership and support our next candidate.”

“Yes, Mr. Mainsteer,” she responded formally. Her professionalism was exemplary.

“Fortune is smiling on us today!” he boasted, feeling lightened by the prospect of infiltrating the shroud of the council. “Hand me your notes on Mr. Elgar. I would like to start on that today.”

“You'll be pleased to find he has a colorful past,” the assistant hinted, passing a blue folder across the space between them.

“Good reading, then,” Morgan accepted the file with happily wagging eyebrows.

Sitting back in his swivel chair, Morgan began to peruse the Elgar file. A close-up, posed photograph showed the man wearing a pair of silver-rimmed specs and a button-up chambray work shirt. Behind him the landscape of brown striped rocks and tents suggested he worked in remote areas outdoors, and this summation was confirmed by the listed occupations of archeologist and historian. The man's service record indicated frequent traveling. While locations included all four regions, several islands, and a variety of villages, most of the travel took place along a corridor from North Compass through Undun to Lazzonir in the south, all three former places of residence for more than a year each. Marrying the Protectress began Elgar's second extended residency in Undun City. His prior stint occurred in his late teens to early twenties. During these years, the most interesting stories were written.