Ascension (11 page)

As far as the
meal and the bed go, I figured that after your evaluation,
you
’
ll not have
a chance to enjoy the city. I wanted to show you that the surface
isn
’
t
completely bad.
”

Stunned, I
couldn
’
t figure
out how to respond. I mumbled a quiet
“
Thank You
”
, and rolled back over
onto the bed. With those kind words, he just may have helped raise
my opinion of Ahrenians. On the other hand, he also lowered my
hopes of changing anything with the King. If the King taught his
people to hate us so thoroughly, was there really any chance that
he would help my people get free? To add to the noise in my head
was the threat of the evaluation hanging in the near future.
Forlorn, I closed my eyes and struggled to calm my mind. Somehow,
sleep won the battle with my thoughts and I was able to sink into a
sweet oblivion.

Ξ

I awoke to the
sunrise. Despite everything that I
’
ve been through, the sunrise
still managed to lift my spirits and prepare me for the new day.
When I sat up, I noticed that I had somehow acquired a blanket
during the night. Threading it between my fingers absentmindedly, I
looked through the window at the sun rising over the city. I rolled
out of bed, stretching deeply, enjoying the lack of pain and
soreness that had been haunting my muscles throughout the journey.
As I arched my back, sighing in pleasure, I heard a moan and
quickly turned back around. I held back a snigger as I watched
Croxley ease himself into a seated position, looking more like an
old man than one in his youth. He cracked his joints and slowly
stood up.

“
Sleep
well?
”
I piped, not able to pass up a
perfect opportunity to tease him.

Croxley just
growled at me, his messy blond hair drooping in front of his
face.
“
Next time you get the
floor.
”

I laughed and thanked him while I
gathered the few things that we had brought with us. In no time, we
were ready to leave.

“
Your evaluation
with the King is in an hour, so we won
’
t be able to eat breakfast. Make
sure to ask the innkeeper for some fresh rolls when you check us
out so we can eat on the way.
”
He picked
up our bags and walked to the door, but I remained standing where I
was. I can
’
t
say that I had forgotten about the impending evaluation, but when
he mentioned it so plainly, a pang of nerves coursed through my
body, making my stomach swirl. He must have noticed, because he set
his bags down and walked back to me, placing his hand comfortingly
on my shoulder.
“
Listen, you
don
’
t worry
about the evaluation. I
’
ll do what I can to
help.
”

“
What could you
do?
”

“
I just might be
able to have some influence in the decision.
”
Before I could ask him what he meant, he went back to grab
the bags and said,
“I
’
ll meet you outside! Don
’
t forget the bread,
”
as he ran down the stairs.

I took extra care
preparing for the day. I braided a small section of hair near my
face, tying it with the strand of blue fabric I had taken from my
father
’
s cloak,
and left the rest down to show off its length. With a wet cloth, I
scrubbed my face to give it a healthy glow, pinching my cheeks to
make them slightly pink. But as for clothing, I
didn
’
t have any
other option. I scrutinized my frock, covered in mud and grass
stains. My shoes didn
’
t fare much better, the toes of my travel-worn boots
peeping out from underneath my frock. I had my knife tucked into my
boot, hoping that I wouldn
’
t have to use it but not fully
knowing what to expect. I guess this will have to do, I thought,
shrugging.

There was a maid sweeping the
kitchen, preparing for breakfast, and I asked her for a bag of
rolls. Then I turned to the counter and rang the bell to summon the
innkeeper. He popped out of a nearby room, his stomach making its
way around the corner before he did. His round face was slightly
ruddy but otherwise appeared kindly. He gave me a gracious smile
after he noticed me at the counter, and I held up my hand to offer
him the key.

“
Leaving already?
How was your stay,
”
he
asked.

“
Wonderful. The
bed was very comfortable and the food was
delicious.
”

“
Now I know
you
’
re lying to
me! This inn is nice, but the food is utterly bland,
”
he looked over his back, then leaned in towards
me. In a low voice, he whispered,
“
but
don’
t tell my wife that,
she
’
s the
cook!
”
He gave me a playful smile and
then asked, standing back up,
“
By the
way, where are you from?
”

“
Oh, I, uh…”
Desperately, I searched my mind for any names of cities
other than Stonewall that Croxley may have mentioned, but I
wasn
’
t able to
come up with any. Meanwhile, the innkeeper scrutinized me, going
over my muddied gown, my fingernails with their ever-present amount
of dirt staining them, and suddenly his eyes widened. I watched as
his expression turned from gracious to repulsed as he
accused,
“Don
’
t
tell me you
’
re
one of those damn Nethers!
”

The maid in the
kitchen dropped her broom, but the innkeeper didn
’
t notice. He was too busy
chasing me out onto the streets.
“
How
dare you sleep in my inn! You must really have some nerve,
polluting that room with all your Nether diseases and bugs that you
carry around with you. Now I
’
m going to need to replace that
bed.
”
I frantically grabbed my bags and
ran out the door, breathless. As I stumbled down the steps, the man
called out after me,
“
I
don’
t want to see you stepping foot
anywhere near my inn!
”
He slammed the
door shut and with the resounding clang, my knees went weak and I
collapsed on the stairs.

I remained
sitting on the steps, waiting for Croxley, angrily trying to
prevent the tears threatening to form in my eyes from spilling
over. Don
’
t let
them see you cry, I told myself, you need to get used to this.
It
’
s only going
to get worse. I hugged my knees to my chest, pressing my eyes
against them, when suddenly my stomach rumbled. I realized that I
had forgotten the bread.

After everything
that happened, this seemed to be the breaking point. I curled my
head and quietly cried into my knees, oblivious to the occasional
passerby
’
s odd
stares. When I could finally control myself, I glanced up to see
the maid from the kitchen holding out a bag of fresh buns. Wiping
the tears from my eyes, I reached up to grab the bag.
“Thank
you,”
I sniffed.

“
Don
’
t mention it. Seriously,
don
’
t. If my
boss knew what I was doing
…”
she let her
words trail off as she checked to make sure nobody was watching.
She started back up the steps, but I grabbed her
hand.

“
Wait! Why did you help
me," I asked, confused by her kindness.

"Dirt sticks together, right?"
Before I could ask what that meant, she ran up the steps and
slipped back into the inn without a sound. As she went in through
the door, Croxley came around the bend. I quickly tidied myself up,
hoping that my eyes weren't red, and distracted myself with Sam. I
double-checked all of his gear, the last week of traveling
providing me with enough experience to tell me what to look for,
what to tighten, to make sure to triple check the saddle belt. A
few days back, I had slipped upside-down, hanging on for dear life
to my saddle under Sam's stomach after I had failed to tighten the
belt all the way. Jumping up onto Sam's back this morning, I was
surprised at how much more limber I was than when I had first
ridden him. Although my bottom was still aching, it was more of a
dull, steady pain than a sharp, fiery burn. But what hurt more than
the pain was the thought that this was the last time I may ever
ride again. As this sunk in, I watched Croxley jumped onto Sir
Thunder and take off. With a click of my heels, Sam and I trailed
behind.

Making our way around town, I found
that the crowd grew larger as the sun rose higher in the sky. I
tried to keep myself preoccupied by reading the names of inns that
we passed, but in a manner of minutes, I found that I was once
again worrying about meeting the King. After what Croxley had told
me, that the King was responsible for this dirty image of Nethers,
paired with the reaction of the innkeeper, I couldn't help but
expect the worst. I was all I could do but hope that I was found
beautiful enough to be used as a slave. What an odd
desire.

Traveling through the city, I
realized how strange it was not being singled out amongst the crowd
for my appearance. But come my evaluation, I would be singled out
because of my home. It seems I was never meant to fit in. Looking
at Croxley, who was proudly showing me around the place he called
home, I couldn't help but think, with a tinge of envy, that this is
where he belonged. He appeared to be completely at ease, even
greeting the occasional stranger who strolled by. Not for the first
time, I wondered just where in this city he came from. He never
really told me much about his upbringing, and all I knew of his
position was that he was the King's messenger. I didn't know how to
ask him about his family, so I just sat in silence as Sam pattered
down the paved road.

!

If I thought that the first part of
the city, which Croxley called the "lower part", was spectacular,
then the castle itself was absolutely breathtaking. The castle was
constructed out of dark, shining stone, one that I had never seen
before in the mines. As I approached, the sun glinted off the stone
and created a halo around it, as if what I was looking at was just
a trick of the light. When I got nearer, I couldn't help but marvel
at the seamless stone, interrupted only by a large wooden door, the
wood stained a deep red. It had been polished to perfection, no
errors to be found. It was perfect, in a menacing sort of way. I
thought it fit the tales of the King perfectly.

We were met by another set of guards
at the door, and I noticed that these guards were not only dressed
much more sharply in a more impressive uniform, but they also
possessed a serious, confident manner that the guards in Cethin
lacked. Croxley presented them with his papers, and when they
turned to me, he simply said "evaluation". They gave a quick,
synchronized nod, relieved us of our horses, and then split apart,
unblocking the doorway. The clack of our heels broke the silence as
we walked down the empty corridor. The floor was made of black
marble, while the walls carried portraits, weapons, and other
decorations.

When we were out of earshot, Croxley
muttered "Pompous prudes." I looked up at him in surprise, and he
just rubbed the back of his head. his eyes looking up, "We have a
history. They, um ... let's just say they don't like me very
much."

"That's hard to believe," I said
sarcastically. We passed down another hallway, this one adorned
with a rather large display of weapons surrounding a tapestry
depicting their bloody purpose located in the center of the room.
Motioning with my arm, I indicated the decorations on the
walls.

"I like the decor. Very ...
cheery,"

"You get used to it. But I agree, I
think they would look much more regal with bright green walls and
feathered lamps around every corner." He looked at me seriously
before we both broke face and chuckled. As we walked the rest of
the way in companionable silence, I thought back to what Croxley
had said, about the guards not liking him, and getting used to the
castle. I started to wonder just how much time he has spent
here.

"Croxley," I asked, looking at him
from a side glance, "how do you know all this stuff about the
castle?"

"I pretty much grew up here. My
father was the King's messenger, and his father before him. We are
like an extension of the royal family. When my father was out on
errands, I would wander the castle, and I got to know a lot about
its nooks and crannies, hidden corridors, and most importantly, the
guests' secrets. You see, lots of important people are invited to
stay in the castle for different balls, negotiations, those sorts
of things. I know more about the going-ons of this kingdom and
those around it than some of the King's advisors." Before he could
continue, we arrived at a door, looking to me like all the others
we had passed. Little did I know that this seemingly plain door
held the key to my fate.