Hal - The Duellist #1

Chapter Thirty-One: Asha

Hal's mouth opened and closed a few times in suspended shock before she finally managed to splutter: "Marc is a client?"

"My client to be precise." Lavinia shook her head, amused at the duellist's outrage. "Oh come now, Hal. The man's flesh and blood like anyone else."

"I know. It's just..."

"What?"

"It just seems so underhand. I mean does he love you? Why don't you live with him in Colvé?"

Lavinia's bell-like laugh now carried a shrill edge. "Do you seriously think a man of Senator Marc Remigius's standing would be seen around the city with a paid whore?"

"But it's just so hypocritical. I had no idea he was a liar."

"He's a politician, Hal."

She was silent for a moment, mulling this over. Perhaps it explained Marc's exasperation with her own lack of diplomacy.

"You really are naïve, Hal. I expect you for dinner."

Lavinia left the room, shaking her head and smiling. Reluctantly, Hal pulled the stretch of blue material over her head and caught sight of herself in a mirror, recalling as she did so Finn's summary of her options beyond the duelling circle: You'd be either mad, dead or wearing a dress, and I don't think any of those things are your style.

"He was right," she told herself, observing the strange-looking figure in the glass before her. "By the spirits, he was right."

***

She headed along the tapestry-draped corridor and then down a flight of stairs to her left, following the sound of lively chatter and laughter which she realised must emanate from the dining room. Heavy purple drapes hung in place of a door and she pushed them aside to observe a group of about a dozen women sat around a long, food-laden table. Most of them were dressed in shifts and dressing-gowns with their hair tumbling loose about their shoulders. One or two were, however, robed in dresses which would not have disgraced the richest of courtiers, expensive jewellery encircling their throats and wrists and threaded through intricately woven plaits and locks of hair.

The hum of conversation quietened as heads turned in her direction, some of the girls evidently suppressing the desire to giggle. She recognised Anka amongst them with her dark brown hair and innocent, warm eyes. Lavinia sat at one end of the table and indicated an empty seat to her right.

"Our guest, ladies. A duellist from Colvé: Hal Thæc."

As she took the seat offered, one girl snorted indignantly. "Never thought I'd see you here, Thæc."

Riled, Hal glanced across the table to observe a woman who seemed, for some reason, familiar. She wore her long, blonde hair in a labyrinthine mass of plaits and ribbons, her complexion was pale, her eyes of the iciest blue. She returned Hal's look defiantly.

"Of course!" her tone was haughty. Aristocratic, even. "I imagine it's something of an inconvenience to be reminded of one's past, is it not?"

Hal peered more closely into the girl's eyes, searching for a clue as to her identity. The defiance transformed itself into something which might have been disappointment. That change in countenance triggered something in the duellist's mind.

"Asha?" she asked in amazement. "Asha Inæc?"

The blonde girl sat back in her chair, assuming a posture which hovered between nonchalance and arrogance. "Well done, Thæc. Perhaps there's some hope for you after all."

"Asha," Lavinia warned. "Hal's a guest. Treat her so."

"How did you end up here, in this place?" Hal asked, horrified. The other girls fell silent their faces turned in expectation towards Asha Inæc.

"You're not the only ward to have escaped the court, Thæc, however much you might like to give yourself credit for it."

"But why here, why this life in this place?"

"What's wrong with it?" Asha's tone betrayed her anger. "Don't come the hypocrite here, Hal, when it's widely-known that your own mother is the greatest whore in Colvé!"

"Asha!" Lavinia's face clouded and she rose from her chair. "I think we've heard enough. You will apologise and return to your quarters."

Asha's face was cold, unreadable. She moved to leave but Hal caught her arm across the table.

"No! Don't go. She's right, Lavinia. My mother is probably the most infamous whore at court."

"Finally, Thæc. You admit it." Asha seemed satisfied with her small victory. "We could never understand why you did nothing about it. She made your life hell and you just took it."

"Because she is my mother. I thought she would realise that eventually." Hal picked up her glass and drained the contents. Asha's expression softened and she shook her head.

"You fool," she said at last. "She'll never change."

"Now I realise that. After..." her voice trailed away. Steel ripping through flesh and bone. I hate you, she had said.

"After what?"

"Nothing. You didn't answer my question." She changed the subject, unwilling to delve any further into her own past in front of a group of strangers. "You were heir to the Inæc estates ─ you could have had everything. You had only to wait until you came of age and they would have been passed down to you from your uncle."

"From my uncle!" Asha shook her head in fury, her pale cheeks glowing feverishly red. "I assume, Thæc, that you are referring to the same uncle who sired my child when I was sixteen years old and then had me turned out of the court for depravity? What was I supposed to do? They all took me for a whore after that. So in the end I chose to prove them right."

"By all the spirits!" Hal had avoided Asha Inæc as a ward. They had lived in different worlds, it had seemed. Asha had sneered along with the rest when Cara had caught Hal red-handed, sneaking into the guards' room with her miniature sword. And yet here she was, her haughtiness apparently undiminished yet now fused with a bitterness, the depths of which Hal could not begin to fathom.

The bell rang and the girls all resumed gossiping amongst themselves. Lavinia frowned. "Clients at this time? A little early." She rose and pushed back the curtains, peering out through the windows which overlooked the market place. "Strange looking types," she murmured half to herself. She turned to Hal. "Do you know these two?"

Hal got up and peered over her shoulder, her heart picking up pace. The first ─ blonde, bulky in a broad-brimmed hat. The second ─ she shuddered ─ with curly red hair and a lean, wiry frame. "They've crossed my path once or twice." Léac doesn't know when to leave well alone. "Listen, Lavinia ─ could you do me a favour? Keep them talking."