A Journey of Black and Red-Novel

I open my eyes to green sheets and a bedpost made out of a reddish wood I have never seen before. Another day, another room, and I remember that this is no home. I am, at best, an unwilling guest in a gilded cage.

I still savor the moment. I only have a few minutes of lucidity, of peace, before it comes.

The Thirst.

I do not know much about this affliction. I feel that every time I am told more, the ideas flee through my mind like through a sieve.

Jimena told me that all will be made clear tomorrow when I meet Him again and I do hope it will be so. It cannot be healthy to remain in such a fugue state for an extended period.

I go through my new morning ritual while the craving grows in me. It is a strange thing. The Thirst is not limited to the throat and mouth.

It digs in my chest, my belly, and my mind with its needy claws. Every line of thought is derailed, and my feet carry me to the door whenever my attention fails.

No, this cannot last.

I find another grey set, the same as yesterday. It is again quite tight around the hips, and I suspect I am wearing one of Jimena’s spare sets.

As I finish, someone knocks on my door.

As I move to unlock it, I pause. What if it is not my improvised tutor, but the Lancaster shrew and her stooge?

They promised to leave me be. They also did not strike me as people of their words, and they are not the only ones who would do me harm.

It is at this moment that I notice that there is a tiny glass window, no bigger than a thumbnail at the door. I look through it and lo and behold! I can see who is outside with all clarity!

It must be some sort of magnifying glass, or a short telescope, mayhap? I thought running water in every room was a luxury, until now. Why, if their lavatories were encrusted with diamonds I would not be surprised. Speaking of lavatories, why have I not… Hm?

What was I thinking about?

Another knock on the door, more insistent this time, wakes me up from my reverie. I unlock it and greet Jimena.

He is dressed well but soberly. He is tall, with brown eyes and curly brown hair and looks at me not unkindly. I greet him politely, which he returns.

“Buenas tardes, señorita.”

Jimena then bids me let them both in, which is I suppose acceptable since Jimena could be considered a chaperone.

After that comes some more meditation and when we leave, Ricardo stays behind. I feel refreshed and the Thirst releases its hold on me.

I dare not criticize too much since she gave it to me so graciously, however, trousers are indecent, particularly those that are, well, so very tight around the hips.

Jimena notices my discomfort and smiles knowingly while addressing my concerns.

I ponder her words in silence.

I suspect that it has to do with her fall from grace and tactfully refrain from asking. In short order, we reach the edge of the many apartments to another set of doors.

It appears that each level contains a square of individual living quarters surrounded on each side by waiting rooms where visitors may gather.

She opens the door to a large boudoir. Comfortable seats are gathered in small groups and other afflicted in fineries mingle there.

We ignore them and reach yet another door. Jimena knocks and, without waiting for an answer, gets in.

We enter an antechamber of modest size. The furniture and decorations are of the same Baroque style as everything else I have seen since leaving the dungeon.

This place has been designed for people to stay, not to live. An oaken chest in a corner convinces me that the sole occupant of this place shares my status as a guest, although he might be doing it willingly.

A man sits at a work desk facing the entrance. He calmly puts down his pen and rises to welcome us.

He is, without a doubt, on the same level as Lady Moor. His aura pressures my mind and while it lacks sophistication, there is a solidity to it that reflects his physique.

The Cadiz clan lord has cornflower blue eyes, like my own, and black curls that reach his muscular shoulders.

His facial features are virile and elegant and complemented by a roguish beard and mustache.

Why, he must have stepped out of some pirate tale, ready to plunder and ravish! I am pleased to see, however, that his gaze is calculating as opposed to overly hostile. Once he reaches us, I curtsy, partly to hide my surprise.

This man is muscular beyond compare! I believe Ogotai has nothing on him, and that he could bend metal with his bare hands. Are all Cadiz clan members so dedicated to physical prowess?

I do so and stay silent as the man takes my measure.

The man smiles wryly and turns to Jimena.

In his mouth, the rank of Squire becomes praise for past achievements rather than an insult and I can tell that Jimena is grateful.

Lord Ceron just chuckles.

Jimena hisses playfully and crosses her arm under his teasing rebuke.

Lord Ceron’s eyes flicker to Jimena before he continues.

I was not worried, but I certainly am now!

Lord Ceron seems temporarily at a loss so Jimena takes my hand and continues in a reassuring voice.

Both Cadiz chuckle before my outraged face. Ah, but it is good to be with polite company, although I would not call Lord Ceron a friend.

They were not me. As soon as we get acquainted, my Master will have no choice but to see that I am the one wHo should rUn away for him.

No, they must be wrong. This is nonsense! An individual alone would never be able to… I would have heard about… He would NEVER…

What was I thinking about?

I blink. Jimena signals to Lord Ceron and he graces me with an apologetic smile.

Jimena clasps my hand between hers. I forgot how cool and soft they could be.

I am a sword of Damocles hanging over Lady Moor’s head.

Lord Ceron sits back and spreads his hands.

They leave me a few seconds to gather my thoughts.

I want this to never have happened, but I know it is wishful thinking. Jimena told me to believe her, and that this disease has no cure. Then, what I desire most is…

I am too close to crying again, and I refuse to do so in front of the local head of the Cadiz clan. My passionate declamation only stuns my hosts into silence. I hope they do not find me whiny and pathetic, but I comfort myself in the certitude that I have cause to be a little dramatic!

Some unspoken message passes between them until Lord Ceron finally returns his focus on our conversation.

I hold my head between my hands, trying to come to terms with my circumstances. Eventually, I calm down enough to ask the Lord his terms.

After a few pleasantries, Jimena and I leave the Cadiz enclave and she drags me to her proving grounds to teach me the basics of fencing, including posture and how to hold a blade.

I successfully learn a few things before sleep takes me.