Emaleneangel: This is mine, so don't steal. And, as always, please review. I'm looking for any kind of comment

Prologue

Lorraine sighed as she drew the soapy sponge across the bowl, squinting to make sure that she had removed the last remnants of food from the wooden dish. One of her candles had died a few minutes ago, but she was too lazy to dry her hands so she adjusted her eyes to the dim light of the solitary candle by the sink. She listened to the sounds of the dinner party, hoping that it would last a bit longer than it normally did. She needed a break in between courses to rest her hands. They were already so shriveled from excess amounts of water that she was afraid that they would crack if she didn’t give them time to recover.

Setting the last dish on the drying cloth she went over the shelves on the east wall to grab another stick of wax. She had memorized the contents of all of the drawers within her first two weeks at the monastery not because she had already been assigned the duty of un-official cook, no that had come after they had learned of her knowledge of plants, but because each and every wooden container was so individual, some circular, others square, some engraved with epic scenes, and others smoothly polished, that she had half expected them to contain a treasure. She still wasn’t sure if she should be disappointed by what she had found.

Fresh piece of wax in hand she walked back over to the window and lit the lavender scented wick, turning back to the doorway to once again assess how the party was progressing.

“Pst.” The sound brushed against her ears but wasn’t enough to tear her attention away from the newly born flame.

“Pst,” the voice repeated. Lorraine’s head snapped up towards the partially open door that led outside. Tip-toeing across the worn wooden planks she slipped outside, carefully closing the door behind her.

For a second she was blinded by darkness, unable to see anything but the large sliver moon that glittered over the snow capped mountain tips. “Lora.” She turned to her left at the sound of her nickname only to find Brother Bodil squatting in between the wall and the bushes, Eirline right behind him. Brother Bodil was looking up at her, his thin cracked lips twisting into a mischievous smile, and although Sister Eirline wasn’t demonstrating as obvious signs of outward mirth as her companion Lorraine knew her well enough to see the humorous sparkle in her dark eyes.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed. “You’re supposed to be inside. And Sister Eirline, don’t you want to spend some time with your family? They’re leaving tonight.” Even now the tone that she emitted still surprised her. It didn’t matter that the people before her were a good three or four years older, the matriarchal words still slipped from her mouth. Eirline shook her head, not to disagree but to stop her from continuing.

“You want to go to Lancove, right?” she asked looking up at Lorraine. The golden light from the kitchen descended through a window and across her eyes. The rest of her was bathed in deep blue, causing her brown skin to look almost black.

“Of course, but what has that to do with anything?” Bodil just grabbed her hand, however, and hissed for her to follow. Rolling her eyes, Lorraine consented with her feet. They led her through the court yard littered with flowers, pathways, wells, and shrines until they arrived at the very edge of the monastery’s meager land holdings.

“Well?” asked Lorraine, looking at her two companions.

“Ta-daa,” replied Brother Bodil as he attempted to bow and point her in the direction of their surprise all at once. Instead he wound up toppling over, causing Eirline to laugh and Lorraine to stifle a giggle. He glared at them for a moment, although his eyes lingered a little bit longer on Eirline, before standing up and brushing off his crimson robes with mock haughtility. Brother Bodil had been given to the monastery as a child, the bastard son of a local baron. Growing up amongst a bunch of quiet studious people he had shown louder, or more accurately spoken louder, than any of those around him. He would have been much more fit as a controversial writer, yet he always did what his superiors asked with a smile.

“So anyway,” interrupted Sister Eirline, “This is our surprise, equipped with food, water, all of your belongings, and a blanket to hide beneath.”

“It smells like cow,” Bodil added quickly, gaining a smiling glare from Eirline.

“Surely you don’t mean for me to..?” “Steal away in it? Of course we do.” At that Eiline’s eyes softened a bit. “Look-.”

“What about Father Brionbyr?”

“As much as he loves your cooking I highly doubt that he’d scour the country to find you.” Then, shrugging, “and even if he does you won’t be in it. Now get in the wagon.” “Oh and just why do you think it is necessary for me to steal away like some criminal?” As she watched the two of them exchange glances she began to realize that she hadn’t been quite as careful as she had thought.

“Look, we know that whatever happened, it wasn’t your fault,” began Bodil. “But it’s not often that an extremely well educated young woman comes to a practically desolate monastery asking to perform menial labor in exchange for food.” Lorraine opened her mouth to protest but quickly decided against it. It felt good to let someone know, even if it just was a sliver of the truth.

“Now will you get in?” Finished Bodil. She followed their orders but not before quickly squeezing each of their hands in silent thanks. She felt her way through the contents of the wagon until she reached the wall that bordered where the driver sat. As she turned around and grabbed a blanket to cover her she spent the last two seconds that she had memorizing their eyes.

To Lorraine’s surprise she slept through the border check, awaking only as the wagon stumbled slightly on a rather nasty hole no more than a couple of minutes afterwards. She could still see the guards in their feather and wool uniforms as she peeked out from under the abrasive brown blanket. Something about that sight made her release a breath that she had been holding since she had arrived at the monetary five months-, no since she had fled home a year ago. But even then it was no longer truly home, just an imposing fortress that had, by some trick of fate, been called a castle, filled with overtly gleaming metal. It had been that way ever since her aunt and parents had died, ever since her uncle betrayed them.

It hadn’t always been this way. Once upon a time… Lorraine almost laughed as she thought those words, the very words that her mother’s favorite maid, Frinta Elant, had used to describe princesses like her, princesses who were faced with grave danger and heroic knights. Those stories never mentioned rebellious monks and death, however. At least not in the true sense with the rotting smells and pussing faces.

The wagon lurched again and she heard a slight giggle. She had heard that sound countless times in the past two days. Although the desert wind wasn’t strong enough to carry anything but the feint sound of murmuring voices through the canvas that shielded her, she firmly believed that that particular laugh could cross through about any barrier. From the pitch of the sound she could tell that it had to belong to one of two girls that Eirline’s family had brought with them, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember the name of either.

The next time she awoke it wasn’t to a lurch or a giggle, but an ear-splitting scream. Lorraine shot up so quickly from her resting place that for a second she forgot where she was. Blinking once, twice, she adjusted her eyes to the interior of the moonlit wagon and her ears to the broken silence of a desert night.

“Just leave her alone,” said a man that she recognized as Eirline’s brother in-law. His voice was a rich baritone, smooth a pile of gently sifting sand.

“Just give us what we asked for and you’ll get her back.” The voice was high-pitched and teasing, obviously not the product of a large man yet it made her want to grab onto the closest piece metal in defense.

“How many times do we have to tell you, we’re teachers. We don’t have money or jewels.” The woman sounded sure, confident, but her quickly uttered syllables betrayed her. For a second there was silence as whoever held the family captive finally seemed to take her words into consideration.

“Cheops, Jsui, go around back and search the wagon.” Suddenly his voice changed back to menacing. “Don’t worry. I’m sure that if we don’t find anything back there this little one will make a hefty profit once we get back to Lancove. I hear Cacamawri’s looking for a new girl and this one doesn’t look like she’d wear out nearly as quickly as his old one.” There was a whimper and Lorraine felt the contents of her stomach threaten to come back up, only her fear of being found kept her from retching.

In those few moments Lorraine couldn’t believe how loud footsteps on sand could be. The oblivious strokes of the two comrades’ feet seemed to sweep away at the world around her. Reaching down in the satchel at her side she opened the compartment that she knew was there and withdrew a fistful of blue dust, careful not to make any sudden movements.

She counted her blessings when she saw both of the men enter the carriage through hole in the blanket that she was hiding beneath. They were both rather tall, with shaggy beards and draping clothing that got in there way as they attempted to sift through the piles of belongings. She opened her mouth wide and breathed, careful not to let air rub against anything as it entered and exited her body. When they were close enough that she could make out the leftover scraps of food in their beards she pounced.

Swiftly she pulled the blanket that she had encased herself in down from on top of her head and threw the dust at them, careful not to breathe in any of it herself. They were too shocked by her sudden appearance to shout or prevent their downfall. In fact it wasn’t until just before the man to her right collapsed that she even saw confusion fade into recognition.

That was something she hadn’t planned on in the five seconds she had used to form her plan; for them to collapse without so much of a thought to how it would affect her safety. She managed to stifle the fall of one but the other man crashed right into a pile of glass bottles.

“Cheops? What’s going on back there,” hollered a voice from around front of the wagon. A little bit belatedly she realized that the bandit was referring to one of the men at her feet.

“Um..,” she said, trying both to imitate a man and remember what a plebian Lancovian accent sounded like. “He fell on some bottles.” She heard the lead thief mutter a word that she didn’t know but could guess the meaning to nonetheless.

“Jsiu, you clumsy-” once again he reverted back into a chain of words she didn’t know. “If it weren’t for your mother I’d have fed you to the camels long ago. And why do you sound so weird?” Great, now not only did she have to imitate a man but she had to create two distinct male voices that she had never heard before.

“Umm… the stuff that he crashed into reeks.” At least that was true. The wagon was filled with the scent of something that smelled remarkably like lemon and cinnamon vomit.

“I’m coming back there.” Lorraine would have protested, but she knew as soon as she saw his shadow moving that she had to get him away from the girl. “Now you two,” his sword flashed through the canvas as he waved it. “Don’t you try a thing or else.” As she saw him approaching she began to frantically search through the boxes around her for anything that might be used as a weapon and curse herself for not having more supplies ready. As she saw his shadow fluctuate around the corner of the canvas she settled for the first thing that she could get her hands on, a dull metal pot. Taking a deep breath she crouched down near the opening and waited for an ambiguous moment. Then his head twisted around the makeshift window and he didn’t have a chance.

She slammed down the pot as hard as she could on his head and he was out cold, landing most ungraciously in the sand below. The girl in his arms eeped as his grip slacked and jumped away, barely managing not to be smooshed by his weight.

It was to Lorraine’s surprise then, after succeeding in rendering unconscious three, seemingly professional, thieves, that it wasn’t until she stood to go and see if everything was alright that disaster stuck in the form of a puddle. She took one step forward and slipped in a goopy mess that one of the men had created with his fall. She flailed her arms around, trying to grasp onto something that would break her fall to no avail. Her world went black as soon as her head touched the hard wooden floor.