Radimar signaled to Sodrin that his father had arrived, and both men paused in their sparring to make their way to where Uhlfrida watched the king’s guard spar with each other. His shrewd gaze took in Sodrin’s perspiring face, the dirt-scuffed clothing and occasional smears of blood from his sparring and wrestling with the swordmaster.
Radimar knew he didn’t look much better. They had trained hard through the day, starting before the feeble dawn had even broken. He didn’t appreciate the interruption. Familial visits like these tended to distract his students enough that it took an hour or more for them to refocus on their lessons. Still, Uhlfrida wasn’t in the habit of interrupting training, and Radimar wondered what had brought him to the lists.
“I’ll need to steal Sodrin from you for a few hours, Radimar,” the nobleman said and turned to Sodrin. “His Majesty has invited us to a private dinner with three other families.”
Sodrin’s shoulders slumped and his eyes rolled. “Let me guess. At least one of them has a daughter or two on the marriage market. I’ll get my things.” He slunk away, a sullen bow to his back as he crossed the lists to retrieve his armor and weaponry.
Uhlfrida’s small smile was both amused and sympathetic. He returned his attention to Radimar. “You understand, Radimar, that these things are just a different kind of list or battlefield and the opponents are often softer and far more dangerous.”
Radimar chuckled. “Understood, my lord. I’ll just work him harder tomorrow to make up for the lost time. Maybe his sister’s company can lighten the ordeal for him.”
Uhlfrida’s smile melted away. “She won’t be there and will thank me for that favor.” His slumped shoulders and his disappointed sigh echoed those of his son. “I never really had much hope Jahna would marry. Sodrin will be the one to carry on our line. This scribe business is a good alternative for her, though I know her mother would be disappointed had she lived.”
Radimar was saved from giving some noncommittal reply by Sodrin’s return and glum “I’m ready.” Radimar bid father and son farewell and good luck, reminding Sodrin that the evening’s upcoming celebrations were no excuse for arriving late to the lists the following morning.
He watched them leave, seeing not them but Jahna, her eyes bright with anticipation and excitement at presenting her work to Dame Stalt. He tried to imagine her as a nobleman’s wife and couldn’t. She was sixteen, and while young, within the age range many considered acceptable for marriage. Radimar himself knew several couples who married while both were the same or close to the same age as Jahna and Sodrin.
A mental cataloguing of those Beladine noblemen looking for a wife assured Radimar that Uhlfrida’s support of his daughter joining the Archives as an apprentice was the best of ideas. He couldn’t think of a single name on that list worthy of Jahna Uhlfrida.
He spent the remainder of the short day and part of the evening with the royal guard after receiving invitations to drink, game and swap stories of the various fights and battles they had gotten into. It was an exercise in good-natured one-upmanship, brought to a pinnacle by one tipsy guard’s assurances he had faced down a dragon with a broomstick and won.
Radimar left them to their revelry after that, eager to clear his ale-fogged senses with several gulps of cold night air. The snow-heavy clouds had rolled in again, promising a steady snowfall by morning. People eddied and flowed around him as he stood at one edge of the bailey, their laughter and conversation filling the air as they strolled or raced to the various dances in play throughout the palace grounds and on two of the upper loggias. The smells of roasting food and baked goods filled the air, and the numerous torches blazing throughout the palace grounds made one forget the sun had already set hours earlier.
He spotted Jahna hovering on the far periphery of the circle which formed the Maiden Flower dance. She wore her favorite cloak, a sage-green garment with a generous hood in which to hide her face and wide cuffs so she could tuck her arms into the sleeves to warm her hands.
Radimar purchased two goblets of wine from a nearby vintner’s temporary stall and navigated a path through the milling crowd toward her. She stiffened as he drew closer but immediately relaxed when she recognized her visitor.
He stood next to her, offering one of the goblets. She took it with a thank you and a quick smile before turning her attention back to the dancers as more rushed to join the ring, creating a colorful pattern of a five-pointed star inside a circle. The gathering crowd settled into a waiting hush as the musicians nearby played quick notes, and those who participated adopted poses in anticipation of the dance’s start.
The first notes sent the dancers into a slow twirl that gained speed and complexity as the song progressed. The dancers spun and arched, weaving in and out of the pattern in perfect synchrony, flowing skirts like flower petals blossoming to the rhythm of string and drum and flute.
Radimar took his eye off the scene to glance at Jahna. A sick feeling settled in his gut at the yearning look on her face as she watched beside him, one foot tapping to the music’s quick beat. This bright spark of a girl hid her light in the depths of her hood and the dusty rooms of the Archives, longing to be part of the colorful ebb and flow of life around her but afraid of the cruelties it could so easily inflict.
When the dance ended, the crowd roared its approval, clapping and laughing and calling for more from the musicians who took up another tune, one everyone could dance to if they desired.
Jahna turned to Radimar, a wide smile curving her mouth. “The Maiden Flower dance is my very favorite of all the Delyalda dances,” she proclaimed. “I think I could watch it year after year and never grow tired of it.”
He clinked goblets with her in a silent toast to the dance. “They do look like flowers in a garden.” He wondered if she wore similar colorful skirts under her cloak and if they fanned out in the same flower petal design in the spin and twirl of a dance.
The dancing now was less ritualized and danced by both men and women in couples or small groups. They swung each other in their arms, the more adventurous men tossing their shrieking partners in the air only to catch them with a dramatic flourish before tipping them back to the ground.
“Have you ever danced the Maiden Flower dance?”
She gave him a brief, pained smile. “No. I’m not very good at it, and if you misstep, you throw off the entire pattern. Only the best dancers dance Maiden Flower.”
The musicians segued from one tune to the next without stopping, this one only a touch more sedate than the last. The surge and fire of the dances coursed through Radimar’s blood.
She gasped when he grabbed her free hand and began pulling her in the direction of a hidden place where the music could still be heard but the crowd seemed far away. “Come with me.”