Page 8 of Runes To Rain
When I arrive, the boys look up quickly as I enter. Feeling their eyes on me, I drop onto the nearest chair and begin to serve myself food that I don’t recognize.
“You found it,” exclaims Lent. He seems cheerful this morning.
I nod, my mouth full of mystery food which is actually quite tasty. As I eat, I look around the room.
Lent is shoveling food into his mouth, standing near the window, talking to Reem. They seem to be arguing good-naturedly about some of the words in the song I heard last night.
Fem is sitting across from me, completely silent, eating his food and drinking massive amounts of the coffee in front of him, which must not have been made by Reem. With that assurance, I pour myself a large cup and slowly sip at the hot liquid, still unsure whether I like it or not.
Fem finally leaves the room with a mention of getting a bath, and Lent joins me, sitting in Fem’s vacated place at the table. “We have a concert later and I wondered if you would like to come?” he asks.
I hesitate for a moment and then nod at him with a smile.
“Alright then, I will arrange it,” he says cheerfully. “We will leave at about thirty past noon. I will ensure a house employee leaves appropriate clothes in your room. Until then, we have to get ready, so hopefully you don’t mind entertaining yourself for a short while?”
I shake my head, and he rises and leaves. Then I stuff the last bite of food in my mouth and finish the coffee.
For the rest of the morning, I busy myself in my room, looking through the clothing in the cupboard and pots of various cleaning supplies in the bathroom. Sometime later, I hear strands of music floating up through the floor, but there is mostly silence. By eleven, I am beginning to be twitchy with thewait, and I pace for a while before slouching onto my bed. Without meaning to, I fall into a restless sleep.
I am woken later by someone who must be one of the house employees. The time must be just a bit before “thirty past noon” because she seems harried and stressed.
Once she sees my eyes open, she turns in a quick movement and throws open the doors of the cupboard that I have not yet explored. I watch as she pulls forth some combination of cream, gray, black, and red clothing, which she arranges in the shape of a person on the untouched end of the bed.
As she does this, I slouch up and rub at the grit filling my eyes. The house employee finally looks at me, clothing now arranged to her satisfaction, and points me to the floor.
I climb off the bed, and pull on the clothing, slowly making sense of the tangle. I must pass the test, though, because upon leaving the room, she looks me up and down and gives a firm nod. Then, with me caught in her wake, she turns and makes her way through the winding hallways. We walk down the grand staircase and into an entry hall that is full of strangely shaped boxes. This place seems to be caught in some combination of panic, confusion, and a military procession.
The boys and several house employees are carrying the strange-shaped boxes out the large, open front doors and packing them with much precision, and some cursing, into a waiting carriage.
Suddenly, the horses catch my attention, and I am out the door, caught in the river of servants and boxes like a piece of well-dressed jetsam with at least one of the boys calling at me from behind.
The horses are a neatly matched pair of black mares with high, arched necks and long curly manes. They stand not moving upon the rock of the street, but from the first hair above their hoof, they look as though they want to take flight and are completely capable of that action.
They twitch as I run to them, but as the nearest cranes her head to me in order to see past the blinkers, I see her relax. She blows at the other to do the same. I move to the front of them where they can see me more comfortably, mostly oblivious to the shouts from their driver. Then I reach up my hand to them so they can catch my scent, feeling very small in front of their large, black forms.
Suddenly, two carriages race past only inches from their side, and the energy within the horses explodes. They grow taller even and toss their heads as though cursing those who can run. Their manes seem to turn to flame at their necks, and their nostrils flare, but their well-trained feet remain upon the stone without movement. I whisper to them and they focus back upon me, slowly becoming horses again.
Suddenly, there is a hand gripping my arm, and I am pulled to the side of the carriage roughly and without warning. I look up, feeling angry for the first time, and meet the eyes of Fem. He looks so worried that my anger leaves me in a rush, and I follow him meekly away from the horses.
We wait quietly together near the entrance to the mansion while the other boys seem to attempt to direct the flow and ebb of the rapids of boxes and packages. I allow Fem to keep watch over me like a troublesome shadow until the carriage is fully packed. Reem then directs us to the carriage and packs us in, not so differently than the strangely shaped boxes.
The carriage starts off and, without a window seat, I have nothing to do but sit quietly. The boys are all quiet and tight-lipped to various degrees. They seem to be lost in thoughts of the concert and not fully in the present, so I feel as though I am alone. It is easy in the relative quiet to lose myself in thought, and as the carriage sways quickly along its route, I daydream of strange things that I don’t have names for but seem to remember clearly.
Finally, the carriage stops and we all step out onto the street.I follow meekly behind the others to a door at the side of a building. The room inside is large and dark. There are people everywhere, and I am lost in the sheer number of them and their sounds.
Then I feel a hand on my arm, and I look up into Reem’s face. He leans close to me, his body along mine, and speaks into my ear. Reem tells me that the boys have gone through a different door and are preparing to perform. “You are welcome to follow me backstage,” he says, “or you can find a place here to watch the excitement.”
I nod to him, still looking at the front of the room where, through a gap in the crowd, I can see the stage. There is an excitement in the air that I cannot understand, and yet it is infectious. I look back at him and, meeting his eyes, I call out over the crowd, “I will find a place here.”
He pauses a moment, his expression doubtful, as though he would like to try to change my mind, but then nods and turns to make his way through the ever more excited crowd in the direction of the rest of the band.
I push my way slowly through the room. I’m shorter than everyone, so it's difficult to see where I’m going. I use my elbows to my advantage. At the other wall is a gap, and I make it mine, settling against the support of the wall and closing my mind to the quiet roar all around me. As I do so, I look around, as though looking for someone that I recognize in this world where I have only spent a handful of days.
As we wait and watch, suddenly the stage lights up and the band, The Boys, walk out onto the stage.
It is both as I expect and not.
The crowd roars so loud that I am in the present again, pulled along with them to a place that they recognize, and I am lost.
