Pride, prejudice and Cairhien summer rain

[zemiorco]

It was a cloudy day and considering it being summer it was cold. A gusty wind tugged at her dove grey riding gown, hat and hair. She had crossed the Erinin by Aringil three days ago and was riding north now, via Cairhien towards Tar Valon with the vague hope one of the Aes Sedai might know where her father, the true heir of Altara, currently was. If anyone knew, then surely the Aes Sedai of the white tower.

 

For more then a month she was now alone on her way. At first she had avoided towns and villages. She had even slept rough in order to shake off the guards meant to keep her save and her maid who was still with them. Once they had come dangerously close to capture her. Had either of her horses whickered her attempt to run off would have proven futile. But the light had been with her. Now she was as certain as she could be that she had managed to escape. She was a free woman, her own mistress, unbound and able to do as she wished.

 

Back straight and head held high, as if the tugging wind did not exist, she rode on. To her left a wide river, the Alguenya, wound itself through the countryside. To her right scrubs, trees and high grass that now grew wildly dotted the landscape. Every now and then she passed old ruins and the rotting remnant of blackened timber houses. The Aiel wars were many years past now, but in this part of Cairhien the wounds the fighting had left seemed barely healed.

 

Sha’halea had just reached the top of a wide, rolling hill when she saw in the distance lightning flash. The skies above her were grey. But ahead of her they seemed to be black. With the sun being hidden it was hard to judge the time of day. She was used to just look at a clock and had never needed to rely on the natural signs to tell the time. But she had the feeling it was late afternoon. She was also able to make a village. She was also not very good at judging distances, but she assumed it would take her at least another hour to get there. She had the glum feeling the thunderstorm would reach that village before her. She had a cloak with her that would keep her reasonably dry. But she was afraid of lightning and thunder. But there was something else that made her hurry her horse on. The village lay near a dense forest. From this hilltop it appeared like a huge, dark wall. If there was something that scared her, then the wild, and what was wilder then a wood? Worse, woods always had wolves and their cries gave her the creeps.

 

Silently Sha’halea urged the horse she was riding on. It was a black mare, a fine animal that could have probably ridden faster, but she knew she could not hurry her other horse, tied with a rope to her saddle any faster. Two huge chests were tied to the back of that second mount, each easily weighing as much as she did. She had struggled hard to take only the bare minimum with her. She really could not forsake any of what these chests contained. She just hoped that horse would not collapse somewhere in the wild where she was unable to purchase a replacement.

 

An elderly farmer passed her, pulling a cart loaded with hey. He said something to her, but she ignored him. She was skilled in drowning out things she did not want to see or hear. The world was filled with dirty peasants. What gave them the right to look at her? Who did they think they were to talk to her? Taking no note from the man she shifted the blade dangling from a belt resting at her hip. It was a short sword she had bought of a peddler a week after leaving the company of her maid and guards. The woman that had sold it to her had claimed it was a woman’s weapon and indeed the hilt was just wide enough to suit her slender fingers. But she still thought it was much too heavy. Not that she intended to ever use it. She had the inkling she would rather hurt herself then injure a possible aggressor. But she felt saver carrying it. There had been men that had eyes her in a worrying manner. She hoped seeing that blade at her side would make them think twice about approaching her. So far it had worked.

 

Or course, not all men considering her were contemplating how much gold she carried. She knew she was pretty. She knew many women would turn to the shadow if they were promised to look like her once they had sold their soul. But she suspected the greatest reason for her drawing their attention was her dress. The colour was not very imaginative, but it was tailored as tightly as possible and around her waist and hips the bodice did not merely cling. It was as if the fine material tried to chinch her middle even smaller. At the same time the row of buttons running along her back marched up all the way to her neck and even up the back of her throat to the base of her head. It took her up to an hour to close the thirty-two buttons on her own, depending on how nimble her fingers were that day, and half as long to open them in the evening. During those times she missed her lady’s maid.

 

Luck was not on her side this day. There was no sign of the village yet when the first sporadic raindrops started to fall. Gloved hands pulled up her coat and settled it around her slender shoulders before closing the buttons on the front. Held in the same colour as her divided skirts it fell over half the horse down to the hem of her dress. She was kind of sad that no one would be able to admire her delicate torso, but she did not care to get wet. Not that the hat perched on her head or the translucent veil just covering her eyes, would be able to keep her hair dry. 

 

Darkness had fallen by the time she finally reached the outskirts of the village. It was a tiny place and there was only one tavern. Dismounting on the rear she called out to a boy that appeared to be a stable hand. “I am high Lady Sha’halea Ituralde. The best paddock for my horse, the second best for the pack horse. Give them oats and carrots. Rub them down well and have someone bring these chests to my rooms.” The boy, he was probably thirteen or fourteen and from the look on his face was for the first time seeing a noble gave her a strange stare. Gloved palms clapped twice sharply. “Hurry. I have no time to wait.” That finally made him move. And it was prove to her again why she was born a noble and this boy just a commoner.

 

Eventually making it inside the tavern she was little surprised to find the serving room crowded. Pushing the cowl of her cape back before finally also undoing the buttons of her cloak, she did not have to wait for long for the innkeeper to arrive. At least this man could tell her station and bowed clumsily but at least low enough for her taste.

“Mistress, how can I serve you?”

“I want a table and your best room for the night.”

The man nodded. “Sure, milady. There is a seat free on that table and…”

She shook her head determined. “I will not sit and dine with peasants. Have a table cleared and cleaned. I don’t want my gloves getting dirty.”

He gave her a strange look hearing that and it certainly was not the type of glare she appreciated. But then he flinched and walked over to one of the tables where just two men sat. They were local villagers by the looks of them. “Janek, Rati, you heard the young lady. She wants to dine alone.” The men mumbled something, but then did get up and soon after a serving girl wiped the table clean. Only then did she sit. She took the time to carefully arrange her skirts, take her hat off and set it aside carefully before she acknowledged the presence of the innkeeper who was waiting for her throughout. She did not care that he had a crowd waiting for food and ale. The riffraff could wait. He could wait.

“What can you offer?”

“Tonight we only have stew with carrots, turnips, onions and mutton, or bread with cheese….”

“I would like some venison.”

Even though she was looking straight ahead she did not miss his eyes climb.

“Mistress…”

“You may call me High Lady Sha’halea.”

The man was close to let his temper flare. How did he dare?

“High Lady Sha’halea. We unfortunately do not have any venison. Had your servants advised us of your arrival we could have prepared accordingly. But unfortunately we do not see that many nobles here in our remote village.”

“Prepare some chicken then. I like it glazed with honey and stuffed with plums.”

Silence. The man was fighting for composure now.

“I already said, all I can offer is the stew, high lady Sha’halea. Or bread and cheese.”

Slowly her head finally came up. “I’ll have the stew then. But you personally will pick out the turnips. I don’t like turnips. And bring me some watered wine. And I hope my belongings are in your best rooms already. If my gowns inside get wet I will have your hide.”

Her stare did intimidate him a little she thought, but that did not stop him to continue to insult her.

“My best rooms are already taken by a merchant. But I am willing to give her other quarters if you are able to pay two gold coins.”

She rose, and before the man knew what was happening a gloved hand had slapped him across the face. She had hit him as hard as she could, but she doubted her blow had been more then a surprise for the man. “You will call me High Lady Sha’halea. And you will show the proper respect due to a lady.” She was furious. Unfortunately this was not the first tavern where she was treated ill. Before the man had moved her hand dived into her pocket and produced the coins he had requested. “And here is the gold. Now kneel and apologize.”

 

For a moment his eyes darted back and forth between the blade on her hip and the gold in her fingers. Then he took the gold and vanished without saying a word. She had not liked the expression in her eyes, but she knew she would not find love everywhere she walked. Sitting back down she realised the serving room had gone silent. Only slowly the conversation started up again. But she drowned the men out as good as she could. She was nobility. They were nothing but dirt under her riding boots.