Other Lives Read online

  OTHER LIVES

  Copyright 2013 Silvia Moreno-Garcia

  silviamoreno-garcia.com

  ***

  INTRODUCTION

  I do not usually write secondary world fantasies. Most of my stories are rooted in Latin American folklore and locations. Other Lives compiles three exceptions to this rule, three stories that take place in imaginary lands.

  “Mirror Life,” the longest piece, was my first published story and it appeared in a now defunct e-zine called Deep Magic in 2006. It is difficult to find and has never been reprinted, until now. The story was originally trimmed for publication. It is reproduced at its original length, with some slight changes.

  “King of Sand and Stormy Seas” was my second published story and originally appeared in Shimmer magazine.

  “Salt” is the most recent tale. It was published in the e-magazine Expanded Horizons.

  Other Lives is intended to show another side of me and some of the secondary worlds I have written about. I hope you’ll enjoy it.

  MIRROR LIFE

  1

  She seemed suddenly aware of his presence and glanced around, staring back at him. Her eyes were of the oddest shade, the color of molten gold. She was very beautiful, might have easily been the princess in a fairy tale.

  Nikolaos stepped back, startled by her gaze, by the intensity of it.

  He retreated from the balcony and placed his attention back on her sour uncle, who was speaking again.

  “As you can see she is young and lovely,” muttered the man. “Sit down.”

  Nikolaos and Stefan complied.

  “She would be a good wife,” the uncle said, handing them a glass of wine.

  “That is precisely why I am here,” Nikolaos said.

  “Yet you do not bring me a solid marriage proposal. I can’t let my niece wander off with a stranger.”

  “I vouch for Nikolaos,” Stefan replied. “He is an honorable man.”

  “Your cousin may be honorable, but what about this marquis? Will he be honorable too? How do I know I will not be rewarded with a ruined niece knocking at my door?”

  Nikolaos shook his head. “Darius would not do that. He seeks a suitable wife.”

  “Yes, yes. But why can’t we arrange it properly? Not just this parading of my niece in front of him.”

  “If he likes Miranda wedding plans will be made. He will not marry before meeting the girl.”

  The older man grumbled and downed his drink.

  “Darius would provide well for her. He is handsome and well-spoken,” Nikolaos continued.

  “But she does not have time to prepare. No suitable clothes, nothing. My Miranda cannot leave looking like a pauper.”

  Nikolaos smiled, understanding the bend the conversation was taking. “I would provide anything she may need. If she wishes to purchases some dresses before parting, I can arrange for a generous amount to be at her disposal.”

  “That could be, that could be,” nodded the uncle. “You must understand my hesitation. She is my late sister’s only daughter.”

  “Of course,” Nikolaos agreed.

  ***

  Miranda watched with rising panic as the maid packed her trunk. Suddenly it was clear this was really happening. Not that she had not known another match would be arranged. Her uncle was keen to remind her she was an unwanted expense.

  But the quick succession of events had left her breathless. Less than a week had passed since she’d seen the man. A stranger from the east with fine clothes and even finer words. And a fat purse.

  “You must impress him,” her aunt said, flicking away a stray lock of hair from Miranda’s face. “All gentle courtesies and soft words, remember that.”

  “Could you come?” Miranda asked.

  “Sir Nikolaos will watch over you. You’ll also have Ella.”

  Miranda, who did not feel very comforted by the idea of a perfect stranger and her maid as the only sources of assistance in another land, shook her head.

  “Don’t make me go.”

  “Nonsense,” her aunt said. “This is your chance. You are not going to be young all your life.”

  “But …”

  “Look at yourself,” her aunt’s strict face showed little emotion. “You are too pale. Try to smile. It’s not an execution. You’ll be back home soon if he is not pleased with you. A few weeks away won’t kill you. I hope you’ll please him. Chin up.”

  Miranda wished to cry. Unwilling to give her family the pleasure of pointless tears she held back and tilted her chin up, as she’d been ordered.

  ***

  Miranda had kept to her quarters for the past four days. Which was good. He’d rather not see much of her.

  Still, if things were to go smoothly Nikolaos needed to talk to her. Aside from a dozen words and their names exchanged at the docks, he had yet to hold a real conversation with the woman. She needed to make a good impression with Darius.

  On the morning of the fifth day at sea Nikolaos paid her a visit.

  Up close he was surprised to discover Miranda was even more beautiful than he’d first thought, a hard feat, that. But her gaze was sad, and it was this, not the strange amber shade of her eyes that caused him to fumble with his words and pause.

  “I hope the cabin is to your liking,” he said, looking around the cramped quarters

  Miranda sat in a crimson chair, her maid fiddling with her hair as the girl sat very still and proper. She said nothing and a painful silence filled the room.

  “I know this must all seem strange to you. But a marriage to Darius is a match desired by many women. It would be a lucky alliance,” he said.

  “What will you obtain from such a lucky alliance?”

  “The gratitude of Darius and the money that comes with it.”

  “You strike me as an unusual matchmaker.”

  “I am a fellow who looks for opportunities. There’s an opportunity, now, to find an old friend of mine a bride.”

  “And you couldn’t find any suitable girl at Asenat?”

  “My cousin told me about you. He said you were an unusual beauty. Darius is a demanding man.”

  Miranda motioned to the maid and the maid stepped back, drifting to a corner, looking bored.

  “That sounds refreshing,” she said.

  “Your family could profit from this union.”

  “You think so?”

  “After your failed nuptials this is a golden opportunity.”

  Through the corner of his eye Nikolaos thought the maid’s face had gone pale. Miranda leveled her gaze with him, her lips tightly curled in a mocking smile.

  “Did your cousin also tell you about that?”

  “Bits and pieces.”

  “Bits and pieces,” she repeated. “If you want the plain truth the groom was a drunken sod that died three days before the wedding. Fell of his horse and broke his neck. He was so full of wine I doubt he felt anything at all.”

  “Tragic. You must have been crushed.”

  “My uncle was crushed. He spent money on needless preparations,” the girl’s tone was openly bold now, almost angry. But as she looked at him, it softened a bit. “Golden opportunities seldom are as golden as they appear Sir Lessar.”

  “Nikolaos,” he ventured.

  “Women just don’t go from living in an impoverished household to becoming the wives of sweet, kind men who lavish jewels upon them. That fairy tale you spun for my uncle is just that: a fairy tale.”

  “I never said Darius was sweet nor kind. He is rich and willing to purchase the wife that pleases him the most. And nothing pleases Darius more than beautiful objects, beautiful jewels, beautiful women.

  “By helping me you’ll help yourself. I know you are not happy with the present situation, but it wou
ld be best for both of us if you actually spoke to Darius once you arrive. You’ve made no attempts of conversation or even the slightest hint of a sympathetic smile with me. While I do not care, he will.”

  Nikolaos paused. She did not seem convinced, ever so slightly twisting the cuffs of her gown.

  “The point is you can become a marchioness,” he continued. “Or you can go back home and find yourself some other drunkard. Hopefully one who does not like to go riding.”

  Miranda looked away now, sighing.

  “Then?” he pressed on.

  She gave him a determined, hard look. “My uncle must have mentioned I do not have a dowry. It’s a sad situation for any woman. If Darius does not wed me I’d like a dowry upon my return home. And the coins you gave my uncle as a bribe do not count.”

  “Well,” Nikolaos said, chuckling. “If you help me you can have your dowry. You’ll be charming, you’ll be sweet, you’ll be talkative. Do you agree?”

  “I’ll do my best,” she said.

  ***

  In the dream, for it must be a dream, the world was burning. As the walls around Miranda were consumed, she stood perfectly still admiring the raging inferno.

  The flames licked at her dress but she felt no fear. In fact, she felt no heat. The chamber was strangely cold and she rubbed her arms, shivering.

  How odd, she thought as a tapestry went up in flames and dark smoke clouded her gaze.

  She noticed that her left hand had grown black and her fingers when she moved them collapsed into ashes. It was only then that she felt the searing heat and rushed towards the window. She jumped in a vain attempt of escape from the conflagration.

  It was a long fall and through it she kept burning, her hair now a crown of fire.

  Miranda woke up and stared at the ceiling. For a moment she did not remember where she was, and then it returned like the tide. The ship. The trip. Everything.

  The folly, she thought.

  It was still three days until they reached port and Miranda pulled the covers over her head.

  2

  The ornate mirror reflected the full length figure of the woman, her fingers running over the pearl necklace.

  “I don’t like it.”

  “It belonged to my grandmother. These are black pearls,” Nikolaos said.

  “No, it’s lovely,” Miranda removed the necklace. “I meant meeting him. We just arrived yesterday.”

  “And he invited me to attend the salon today. You don’t refuse Darius.”

  “I’m not used to it. In Nortre, our household is small. It’ll be so different. Besides, I’ll stand out in that dress.”

  Nikolaos had to agree. Miranda’s dresses were pitiful and worn gowns. They would not do. He made a mental note to commission some appropriate garments.

  “I’m surprised Lord Stesh lets you be seen like this,” he said, glancing at the yellow outfit the maid was now holding up for Miranda to inspect.

  “What do you know about him?” she asked, her voice turning unkind.

  “I know he is very proud and very concerned about the way his family is perceived.”

  “I’ve never met my grandfather. My mother’s family … he said it wasn’t a suitable match. He doesn’t speak to us.”

  Miranda shook her head and the maid sighed, turning to put away the ugly yellow rags in favor of something else.

  “Don’t mention that to Darius,” he said. “Those messy little details…I’d leave them until the wedding date is set.”

  “You really think I’m going to marry that man?”

  “When my cousin told me about you I knew you were the perfect bride for Darius.”

  “Poor, desperate and pretty?” she inquired.

  Miranda looked at Nikolaos without turning around, instead gazing at his reflection.

  The maid had now picked a serious black velvet. It was too simple a dress for Darius who preferred much more elaborate gowns, but Nikolaos figured it an efficient solution.

  “That,” he decided quickly. “And the pearls.”

  Miranda, busy putting a couple of delicate silver hair combs in place, frowned.

  ***

  She stepped into the room hanging on to Nikolaos like a woman afraid of drowning. Miranda felt silly with her hair pinned up and her expensive pearls, walking through a crowd of loud strangers.

  In Nortre she stayed at home as much as possible. Salons, even if she had been invited – which was never the case – were strictly forbidden. Her aunt advocated piousness and needlework instead.

  She wondered what her aunt would say now, her hand linked to the arm of a man she barely knew. Why, she had been furious about Giustian and he’d known her almost all her life. Poor Giustian. She couldn’t really afford to think about him now since Nikolaos was talking again.

  “He likes happy people,” Nikolaos muttered. “Smiles and entertainment and wittiness.”

  She wondered if she could be any of those things.

  “Stop fretting. He’s right there,” Nikolaos warned. “Do not bore him.”

  As they moved closer she saw him. He was younger and better looking than she’d expected. Miranda shuddered remembering her fiancé. Hadrian’s repulsive breath still lingered dangerously close in her memory. She had placed her hands against the cool surface of the mirror and…

  She shook her head. No need to think of him.

  Hadrian was mercifully dead while Darius seemed very much alive.

  A pretty woman, standing by Darius’ side, caught sight of them first and smiled.

  “Nikolaos. You have returned,” she said loudly. “You bring a friend too.”

  “I do. Lady Miranda, this is my liege, the marquis Darius Lerae. And of course, the Lady Retha.”

  “I told Darius you were up to something,” said the woman, playfully tapping his shoulder with a fan. “Here you are appearing out of nowhere with a girl. What have you been up to Nikolaos?”

  “Nothing exciting. Meeting with relatives.”

  “Are you family?”

  “No,” Miranda said quickly. “No, I’m just visiting with Nikolaos for the winter.”

  “Nikolaos, is she joking? She’ll be bored to death. The winter is dreadful at Asenat.”

  “My uncle thinks it would to do me well to meet with some more people my age and Nikolaos is a friend of the family. I live in Nortre and since my cousin married, it’s a little lonely in our household,” she said, as they’d rehearsed. Saying her uncle basically sold her off to a stranger did not sound adequate, but the lines she had spouted were spoken with an utter lack of conviction, the words strained and listless.

  “Well, Nortre, no wonder. I stopped there once on my way to Lenevo. The whole place has more sheep than people,” Retha quipped. “If it weren’t for the port I assure you it would have been deserted decades ago and left for the sheep.”

  The woman chuckled and Darius was grinning. Miranda glanced at Nikolaos feeling lost.

  “I’m glad to see you are safely back,” Darius said to Nikolaos, but his face lacked any mirth. “You should have dinner with me and tell me about your trip.”

  “Of course.”

  Darius nodded and turned away. He had barely glanced at her. Miranda wasn’t sure if he’d known she was even there.

  3

  It was all very different from home. Asenat was a relatively new fortress built over the remains of a previous much smaller castle. But what it lacked in age it made up in grace. Decorated wooden panels, painted ceilings, colored glass windows enhanced the edifice.

  Most notorious was the garden. In the summer Miranda had been told carved fountains filled with the murmur of water and flowers bloomed all around. For now the ground was cold and dead.

  Sitting next to a stone lion, Miranda shoved some twigs aside with her foot while contemplating the bare soil. In their house at Nortre there had been an interior courtyard with two flower beds. She’d always envied the richer families who could have real gardens with exotic plants instead of a
few sad daisies.

  Miranda tried to imagine the garden as it would look in the spring. She didn’t think she’d remain around long enough to see it.

  “You’ll freeze,” said Darius. “It’ll snow soon.”

  She hadn’t noticed him approaching and was startled when he appeared by her side. She managed to compose herself, nodding at him.

  “How do you know?” Miranda asked, looking at the sky.

  “It’s in the air. Like a smell. I’ll walk you inside.”

  Miranda followed him. He didn’t speak to her, just kept walking with his eyes squarely focused ahead of them.

  “I know you are at the Widow’s Tower. Do you like your room?” he asked, as though he remembered conversation would be a polite gesture.

  “Yes, I like it.”

  “I didn’t know if it would suit you. I like it there and my guests stay at the Widow’s, but some find it a little chilly. It’s one of the older parts of the castle and the weather seems to get the best of it. It’s a little worn, too.”

  “I really like it. I like everything here. It’s all so beautiful.”

  “I take it you are enjoying your stay, then?”

  “It’s very nice. I always wanted to get away from my home…and they say you’ve got peacocks,” she blurted.

  “Too many sheep, not enough peacocks?”

  His voice was deadpan serious and she had trouble knowing how to react. “Among other things.”

  “The peacocks make the most horrible shrill screams.”

  “I’d still like to see one.”

  “In the spring we let them roam around the gardens.”

  And now he was smiling, a sliver of a grin creeping upon his face.

  “This conversation is difficult” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You are pretty and your eyes are quite remarkable. It would be rude if I stared, so I try not to and talk about nonsense instead. It’s not working.”

  She blushed. Miranda was unused to compliments. More often than not what had been hurled at her were insults.