Heart of the Tanglewood - Chapter Four
Title: Heart of the Tanglewood
Author: ninedaysaqueen
Betas: openedlocket & earthstarmoon - Always a pleasure.
Rating: PG/K+
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of The Thief, The Queen of Attolia, The King of Attolia, A Conspiracy of Kings, nor of any characters, locations, and elephants contained within. All rights of the Queen's Thief series belong exclusively to Megan Whalen Turner and her respective publishers.
Summary: Forests are full of danger and deep at its roots, the Tanglewood hides many secrets. What happens to young boys who never learn to stay out of the woods?
Enjoy!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A wounded deer leaps the highest.
- Emily Dickinson
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Heart of the Tanglewood
Chapter Four
“Umm...” Eugenides muttered from across the table, nervously toying with the edge of his plate. His father glanced up, mild interest in his eyes.
Eugenides rarely ate with his father anymore. Possessing an endless arsenal of doting aunts and other relatives who welcomed him at their dinner table, he found the avoidance tactic the best strategy at meal times. Since his mother's death, the only time Eugenides and his father ever seemed to speak was to shout at one another.
“Do you have a question, Eugene?” his father asked mildly.
Eugenides cringed at the name. The old man had a talent of making a delicate situation even more tense by saying as few words as possible.
“Eugenides,” he answered, stressing his archaic name, “does have a question. About the history of the hamlet.”
His father's expression didn't change, and the headman waited to speak till he was done chewing. “First...” started the old man, “Eugene is what your mother and I named you. It's your true name, no matter what you may think of it.”
Eugenides set his jaw at the mention of his mother but didn't respond.
“Second, I assume this question would explain your presence here tonight?”
Eugenides nodded sheepishly. If he was going to endure his father's cynical glare, he might as well gain something from it.
“Did anything...” Eugenides searched for an appropriate word, “unusual happen in the hamlet around ten or twelve years ago?”
The headman stopped eating. His fork poised just an inch above his plate, frozen in place. Eugenides swallowed as his eyes met his father's. The old man starred at his son angrily, as if he'd just insulted his mother, her mother, her mother before her, and every family god on the mantle with a single word.
“Who have you been talking to?” he asked tersely.
Eugenides opened his mouth but was given no chance to speak.
“Is it one of your uncles? Has one of them been at the tankard again, shooting their mouths off?”
Eugenides shook his head slowly.
Noticing his son's blank stare, the headman's angry brow melted into a thoughtful frown. He sighed and leaned backwards in his chair.
The only sound was the gentle crackle of the fire.
Rubbing his temples, the headman spoke more calmly. “It wasn't my intention to raise my voice. I'm sorry.”
Eugenides set his fork down and looked away. It was odd for the old man to apologize. Even odder for him to recoil like a calf poked with a hot iron.
“There was an incident...” his father began, his voice low. Eugenides raised his eyes with interest. “Twelve years ago, like you said, during the greatest plague of red fever this village has ever known, there was a doctor from the lowlands passing through just before the bridges closed up with snow.”
The old man's voice was distant and hazy, as if he were remembering a home consumed by fire or bountiful harvest lost to the winter storms.
“This happened when you were barely walking,” the headman noted, looking at Eugenides who was leaned forward on the table listening carefully.
“My brother and I sent you, your mother, and all the healthy women and children higher up the mountain to the caves the shepherds use in the spring.”
Eugenides hadn't realized he was griping the edge of the tables so hard his knuckles hurt. He relaxed his fingers and waited for his father to continue.
“This doctor, Relius was his name, had a female assistant traveling with him. I don't recall her name, but she was helping him attend to the sick that remained in the village.”
Eugenides's eyebrows shot up. Female?
“There was...” his father trailed off but continued with his story, “There was a disagreement between the doctor and the village headman at that time, Helen's father as you know. A very ugly disagreement... And all of us, all the prominent men in the village, we swore upon all the honor of all the clan gods to never tell our wives or our children exactly how ugly it was.”
Eugenides narrowed his eyes at the statement but said nothing. Falling into silence, his father's gaze became unfocused before drifting back to the food in front of him. Picking up his fork, the old man began to eat again.
When it didn't appear as if his father was going to continue, Eugenides decided to ask the question perched on his tongue.
“What happened to the girl?”
The old man looked up to meet his son's gaze, and for a single moment, that lasted as long a lightening strike flashes through the sky, Eugenides understood his father perfectly.
In saying nothing, he said absolutely everything.
“Don't ever ask me about this again,” his father warned, and Eugenides sat up straighter. “And whatever has you interested this occurrence,” the headman continued, “I strongly suggest you forget it exists.”
Eugenides looked away, picking up his own fork. He'd known his father long enough to understand when he meant what he said.
“And Eugene?” Eugenides raised his head at his father's voice.
“Stay out of the woods.”
-X-X-X-
The next morning, Eugenides walked to the library for his last day of punishment duty. He strode quickly through the gaps between houses and ducked behind lodges and sheep wagons to avoid detection. As he neared the field that skirted the training yard, he broke into a full sprint, keeping his head low. Though he didn't have the courage to look up, Eugenides could feel the menacing glares of his cousins on his back, and his neck prickled in anxiety. He was not looking forward to tomorrow.
Reaching the library entrance, Eugenides spun on his toes and leaned his back against the shut door with a relived sigh; chest rising and falling in a pant.
He noted Sophos was sitting at the long table near the door. His feet propped up and a book on his lap. “Was something chasing you?”
Eugenides leaned his neck back as far as it would go and groaned loudly before falling into a wide-armed chair. “Might as well be,” he answered peevishly. “Found anything?”
Sophos slid his feet off the table, shaking his head. “I thought to ask the magus, but he's only been here for a few years and either way... I don't think he knows anything more about the witch than what he told us the other night.” Sophos paused considerately, “And if I do ask... I'm afraid I'll accidentally tell him what happened.” Sophos placed his book on the table and fiddled with the cover. “He seems to know what I'm thinking all the time.”
Eugenides smirked. “That's because you're a terrible liar.”
Sophos studied his friend with narrowed eyes. “How would you know? I've never-”
“Lied to me?” Eugenides's smirk grew more sly. “That's how I know.”
Ignoring Sophos's surprised face, Eugenides leaned forward from his slouched position and crossed his arms on the table; his head pillowed against his forearms. “I don't suppose any of the books would help?”
Sophos shook his head again, “I already checked. You have some local history books here, but it's all general information-agricultural, population fluxes, major wars, changes in ruling families. That sort of thing... What did your father say?”
Eugenides didn't move from his relaxed state. “More than I thought he would. He said something about a doctor passing through the ham about twelve years ago, during an outbreak of red fever. He said the doctor had a female assistant, but I have no idea if it's the same girl or not.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “Either way, it doesn't explains why she would still be here.”
Eugenides arched his back, stretching like a cat. Sophos twiddled his thumbs. “Are you sure about what she said? The 'blood soaked soil' bit.”
The prone boy froze. “Certain,” he said quietly. “If there's one thing I'll remember for the rest of my life, it's the look of hatred she had on her face.”
Sophos was silent.
“There's another mystery too,” wondered Eugenides distantly. “How did she become a local fairy tale?”
“Oh, that's easy,” answered Sophos, looking up eagerly. “A day without stories is like a day without the sun-nothing bright and nothing new.”
Eugenides snorted. “You read too much poetry.”
“No...” Sophos scolded, “You don't read enough. That means stories are as essential to the human life as sunlight.” Sophos usually spoke like he was quoting from a book. It was the first time Eugenides had heard him sound so original. “All it takes is a little imagination and anything can become a story. Even something as simple as a strange woman in the woods.”
Eugenides smirked. “I suppose you're right about that.”
“Right about what?” mildly inquired the magus from the stairs.
At the sound of the magus's voice, Sophos flinched like he'd been caught stealing mutton from the common stew pot. Eugenides stifled a desire to roll his eyes. “Right about me needing to read more poetry,” he answered smoothly and not taking his eyes off Sophos, who was biting his lip.
“Ah...” commented the magus. “Not bad advice, Sophos.” He shifted his gaze to Eugenides. “Start with Milton, but before you do, sweep all the floors. The dust is so thick, I can still see an imprint of where Sophos fell off the shelf ladder last night.”
Eugenides's groan was drowned by a laugh, and he gently laid his head on the table, shoulders shaking in mirth.
Sophos looked away with a blush.
-X-X-X-
After Eugenides finished his chores, Sophos and he were promptly ordered out into the fresh air, as they were quote, 'getting on the magus's nerves.'
“I told you to stop throwing the dried beans at his back,” Sophos said, barely matching Eugenides's lazy gait.
“He didn't know it was me,” he answered, looking out across the fields to where the afternoon sun was nearing the mountain peeks.
“Didn't he?” drawled Sophos. “Someone must have been pelting him with dried vegetables, and he already knew it wasn't me.”
“Hey... I got us outside for the rest of the day, didn't I?” his friend replied, stretching his arms above his head.
As they neared the village commons, Eugenides spotted Helen exiting her family lodge and waved to her enthusiastically. When Sophos saw who his friend was waving to, he froze and averted his eyes from Helen's approach.
“Well, you're out early,” Helen observed as she walked closer. “Getting into trouble?”
“Who me?” Eugenides asked with a mischievous grin. “Of course not.”
“Did he get into trouble, Sophos?” Helen asked the silent boy, looking to include him in the conversation.
“Ah...” said Sophos, opened mouthed. “Umm... No. I mean... Yes. Yes, he did.” Sophos blushed and tried to hide behind Eugenides's arm.
Helen raised her eyebrows at Sophos's behavior, but politely deferred to comment. She returned her attention to Eugenides. “I'm on assistant cooking duty tonight, then on prep work for the next night's Fire Festival, so don't expect to see me till after dinner,” she said loudly, as if wanting others to overhear.
Eugenides stared at her with a sour face, but before she spoke again, Helen leaned closer, lowering her voice, “Cleon's on the storming warpath, because you're to return to sword training next morning. Be careful.” She stressed the last word, as if she expected Eugenides to do just the opposite.
He smiled at her, mouthing his thanks.
After a short goodbye, Helen patted Eugenides on the shoulder and warmly smiled at Sophos before proceeding to the village kitchens for her duties.
“She already knows you like her,” Eugenides told Sophos flatly. “And you can let go of my arm now.”
Sophos blushed and sheepishly released his friend's arm. “Who says I like her?” Sophos muttered.
They began to walk again, passing the lodges as they went.
Eugenides thought to remind Sophos of what he'd said to him just that morning, especially in regards to lying and the you can't do it bit, but decided against it.
“What are are you going to do about your cousins tomorrow?” Sophos asked abruptly.
Eugenides titled his head to the side in thought and waved to a passing aunt who'd greeted him from her stoop. “Oh, the usual. Cleon tries to say something witty, I say something that actually is witty, Cleon tries to whack me with a stick, I run away. Simple as that, really,” he answered; his bored tone meant to mask his deeper anxiety.
Sophos choose to ignore his friend's false nonchalance. “That why you ran all the way to the library this morning?”
Eugenides nearly tripped.
“You need a plan,” said Sophos. “A good plan. One that will have them leaving you alone for good.”
“If there were such a plan, I would have thought of it years ago,” answered Eugenides, unimpressed by Sophos's conviction.
“Well, now you have my help,” supplied Sophos, sounding satisfied with himself.
This time, Eugenides, whole-heartedly, indulged the urge to roll his eyes.
Author: ninedaysaqueen
Betas: openedlocket & earthstarmoon - Always a pleasure.
Rating: PG/K+
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of The Thief, The Queen of Attolia, The King of Attolia, A Conspiracy of Kings, nor of any characters, locations, and elephants contained within. All rights of the Queen's Thief series belong exclusively to Megan Whalen Turner and her respective publishers.
Summary: Forests are full of danger and deep at its roots, the Tanglewood hides many secrets. What happens to young boys who never learn to stay out of the woods?
Enjoy!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A wounded deer leaps the highest.
- Emily Dickinson
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Heart of the Tanglewood
Chapter Four
“Umm...” Eugenides muttered from across the table, nervously toying with the edge of his plate. His father glanced up, mild interest in his eyes.
Eugenides rarely ate with his father anymore. Possessing an endless arsenal of doting aunts and other relatives who welcomed him at their dinner table, he found the avoidance tactic the best strategy at meal times. Since his mother's death, the only time Eugenides and his father ever seemed to speak was to shout at one another.
“Do you have a question, Eugene?” his father asked mildly.
Eugenides cringed at the name. The old man had a talent of making a delicate situation even more tense by saying as few words as possible.
“Eugenides,” he answered, stressing his archaic name, “does have a question. About the history of the hamlet.”
His father's expression didn't change, and the headman waited to speak till he was done chewing. “First...” started the old man, “Eugene is what your mother and I named you. It's your true name, no matter what you may think of it.”
Eugenides set his jaw at the mention of his mother but didn't respond.
“Second, I assume this question would explain your presence here tonight?”
Eugenides nodded sheepishly. If he was going to endure his father's cynical glare, he might as well gain something from it.
“Did anything...” Eugenides searched for an appropriate word, “unusual happen in the hamlet around ten or twelve years ago?”
The headman stopped eating. His fork poised just an inch above his plate, frozen in place. Eugenides swallowed as his eyes met his father's. The old man starred at his son angrily, as if he'd just insulted his mother, her mother, her mother before her, and every family god on the mantle with a single word.
“Who have you been talking to?” he asked tersely.
Eugenides opened his mouth but was given no chance to speak.
“Is it one of your uncles? Has one of them been at the tankard again, shooting their mouths off?”
Eugenides shook his head slowly.
Noticing his son's blank stare, the headman's angry brow melted into a thoughtful frown. He sighed and leaned backwards in his chair.
The only sound was the gentle crackle of the fire.
Rubbing his temples, the headman spoke more calmly. “It wasn't my intention to raise my voice. I'm sorry.”
Eugenides set his fork down and looked away. It was odd for the old man to apologize. Even odder for him to recoil like a calf poked with a hot iron.
“There was an incident...” his father began, his voice low. Eugenides raised his eyes with interest. “Twelve years ago, like you said, during the greatest plague of red fever this village has ever known, there was a doctor from the lowlands passing through just before the bridges closed up with snow.”
The old man's voice was distant and hazy, as if he were remembering a home consumed by fire or bountiful harvest lost to the winter storms.
“This happened when you were barely walking,” the headman noted, looking at Eugenides who was leaned forward on the table listening carefully.
“My brother and I sent you, your mother, and all the healthy women and children higher up the mountain to the caves the shepherds use in the spring.”
Eugenides hadn't realized he was griping the edge of the tables so hard his knuckles hurt. He relaxed his fingers and waited for his father to continue.
“This doctor, Relius was his name, had a female assistant traveling with him. I don't recall her name, but she was helping him attend to the sick that remained in the village.”
Eugenides's eyebrows shot up. Female?
“There was...” his father trailed off but continued with his story, “There was a disagreement between the doctor and the village headman at that time, Helen's father as you know. A very ugly disagreement... And all of us, all the prominent men in the village, we swore upon all the honor of all the clan gods to never tell our wives or our children exactly how ugly it was.”
Eugenides narrowed his eyes at the statement but said nothing. Falling into silence, his father's gaze became unfocused before drifting back to the food in front of him. Picking up his fork, the old man began to eat again.
When it didn't appear as if his father was going to continue, Eugenides decided to ask the question perched on his tongue.
“What happened to the girl?”
The old man looked up to meet his son's gaze, and for a single moment, that lasted as long a lightening strike flashes through the sky, Eugenides understood his father perfectly.
In saying nothing, he said absolutely everything.
“Don't ever ask me about this again,” his father warned, and Eugenides sat up straighter. “And whatever has you interested this occurrence,” the headman continued, “I strongly suggest you forget it exists.”
Eugenides looked away, picking up his own fork. He'd known his father long enough to understand when he meant what he said.
“And Eugene?” Eugenides raised his head at his father's voice.
“Stay out of the woods.”
-X-X-X-
The next morning, Eugenides walked to the library for his last day of punishment duty. He strode quickly through the gaps between houses and ducked behind lodges and sheep wagons to avoid detection. As he neared the field that skirted the training yard, he broke into a full sprint, keeping his head low. Though he didn't have the courage to look up, Eugenides could feel the menacing glares of his cousins on his back, and his neck prickled in anxiety. He was not looking forward to tomorrow.
Reaching the library entrance, Eugenides spun on his toes and leaned his back against the shut door with a relived sigh; chest rising and falling in a pant.
He noted Sophos was sitting at the long table near the door. His feet propped up and a book on his lap. “Was something chasing you?”
Eugenides leaned his neck back as far as it would go and groaned loudly before falling into a wide-armed chair. “Might as well be,” he answered peevishly. “Found anything?”
Sophos slid his feet off the table, shaking his head. “I thought to ask the magus, but he's only been here for a few years and either way... I don't think he knows anything more about the witch than what he told us the other night.” Sophos paused considerately, “And if I do ask... I'm afraid I'll accidentally tell him what happened.” Sophos placed his book on the table and fiddled with the cover. “He seems to know what I'm thinking all the time.”
Eugenides smirked. “That's because you're a terrible liar.”
Sophos studied his friend with narrowed eyes. “How would you know? I've never-”
“Lied to me?” Eugenides's smirk grew more sly. “That's how I know.”
Ignoring Sophos's surprised face, Eugenides leaned forward from his slouched position and crossed his arms on the table; his head pillowed against his forearms. “I don't suppose any of the books would help?”
Sophos shook his head again, “I already checked. You have some local history books here, but it's all general information-agricultural, population fluxes, major wars, changes in ruling families. That sort of thing... What did your father say?”
Eugenides didn't move from his relaxed state. “More than I thought he would. He said something about a doctor passing through the ham about twelve years ago, during an outbreak of red fever. He said the doctor had a female assistant, but I have no idea if it's the same girl or not.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “Either way, it doesn't explains why she would still be here.”
Eugenides arched his back, stretching like a cat. Sophos twiddled his thumbs. “Are you sure about what she said? The 'blood soaked soil' bit.”
The prone boy froze. “Certain,” he said quietly. “If there's one thing I'll remember for the rest of my life, it's the look of hatred she had on her face.”
Sophos was silent.
“There's another mystery too,” wondered Eugenides distantly. “How did she become a local fairy tale?”
“Oh, that's easy,” answered Sophos, looking up eagerly. “A day without stories is like a day without the sun-nothing bright and nothing new.”
Eugenides snorted. “You read too much poetry.”
“No...” Sophos scolded, “You don't read enough. That means stories are as essential to the human life as sunlight.” Sophos usually spoke like he was quoting from a book. It was the first time Eugenides had heard him sound so original. “All it takes is a little imagination and anything can become a story. Even something as simple as a strange woman in the woods.”
Eugenides smirked. “I suppose you're right about that.”
“Right about what?” mildly inquired the magus from the stairs.
At the sound of the magus's voice, Sophos flinched like he'd been caught stealing mutton from the common stew pot. Eugenides stifled a desire to roll his eyes. “Right about me needing to read more poetry,” he answered smoothly and not taking his eyes off Sophos, who was biting his lip.
“Ah...” commented the magus. “Not bad advice, Sophos.” He shifted his gaze to Eugenides. “Start with Milton, but before you do, sweep all the floors. The dust is so thick, I can still see an imprint of where Sophos fell off the shelf ladder last night.”
Eugenides's groan was drowned by a laugh, and he gently laid his head on the table, shoulders shaking in mirth.
Sophos looked away with a blush.
-X-X-X-
After Eugenides finished his chores, Sophos and he were promptly ordered out into the fresh air, as they were quote, 'getting on the magus's nerves.'
“I told you to stop throwing the dried beans at his back,” Sophos said, barely matching Eugenides's lazy gait.
“He didn't know it was me,” he answered, looking out across the fields to where the afternoon sun was nearing the mountain peeks.
“Didn't he?” drawled Sophos. “Someone must have been pelting him with dried vegetables, and he already knew it wasn't me.”
“Hey... I got us outside for the rest of the day, didn't I?” his friend replied, stretching his arms above his head.
As they neared the village commons, Eugenides spotted Helen exiting her family lodge and waved to her enthusiastically. When Sophos saw who his friend was waving to, he froze and averted his eyes from Helen's approach.
“Well, you're out early,” Helen observed as she walked closer. “Getting into trouble?”
“Who me?” Eugenides asked with a mischievous grin. “Of course not.”
“Did he get into trouble, Sophos?” Helen asked the silent boy, looking to include him in the conversation.
“Ah...” said Sophos, opened mouthed. “Umm... No. I mean... Yes. Yes, he did.” Sophos blushed and tried to hide behind Eugenides's arm.
Helen raised her eyebrows at Sophos's behavior, but politely deferred to comment. She returned her attention to Eugenides. “I'm on assistant cooking duty tonight, then on prep work for the next night's Fire Festival, so don't expect to see me till after dinner,” she said loudly, as if wanting others to overhear.
Eugenides stared at her with a sour face, but before she spoke again, Helen leaned closer, lowering her voice, “Cleon's on the storming warpath, because you're to return to sword training next morning. Be careful.” She stressed the last word, as if she expected Eugenides to do just the opposite.
He smiled at her, mouthing his thanks.
After a short goodbye, Helen patted Eugenides on the shoulder and warmly smiled at Sophos before proceeding to the village kitchens for her duties.
“She already knows you like her,” Eugenides told Sophos flatly. “And you can let go of my arm now.”
Sophos blushed and sheepishly released his friend's arm. “Who says I like her?” Sophos muttered.
They began to walk again, passing the lodges as they went.
Eugenides thought to remind Sophos of what he'd said to him just that morning, especially in regards to lying and the you can't do it bit, but decided against it.
“What are are you going to do about your cousins tomorrow?” Sophos asked abruptly.
Eugenides titled his head to the side in thought and waved to a passing aunt who'd greeted him from her stoop. “Oh, the usual. Cleon tries to say something witty, I say something that actually is witty, Cleon tries to whack me with a stick, I run away. Simple as that, really,” he answered; his bored tone meant to mask his deeper anxiety.
Sophos choose to ignore his friend's false nonchalance. “That why you ran all the way to the library this morning?”
Eugenides nearly tripped.
“You need a plan,” said Sophos. “A good plan. One that will have them leaving you alone for good.”
“If there were such a plan, I would have thought of it years ago,” answered Eugenides, unimpressed by Sophos's conviction.
“Well, now you have my help,” supplied Sophos, sounding satisfied with himself.
This time, Eugenides, whole-heartedly, indulged the urge to roll his eyes.