Remnants Of The Sun Read online

  Sonja was back in the Keeper’s wagon. The wood around looked blurry. The Sol Shard felt hot in her hands. She looked down at it in wonder.

  For a Keeper, getting a vision from Sol was rare. She was taught that only a handful ever got a vision: Keeper Isabelle who was given the vision of Sol coming back in the sky which was the foundation for the Mission, Keeper Aurora who had a vision of raiders killing every faithful so taught them how to fight and defend themselves, and her mother who had a vision about the decadence of the wagon train so brought in the focus on purity. Despite her belief, Sonja had never known whether these visions were true or not but now she had no doubt.

  And she knew exactly what the vision was saying. She had been tasked to bring together the two sides of the wagon train. No longer should the religious side and the workers fight and fear each other. They should live in harmony. And she would do this by looking at the example of her friends, they were all different people and had different opinions but they seemed to be able to come together with love for each other. Having a sense of community and having a shared goal seemed key.

  As for Sigrun, well the vision seemed to confirm that her feelings were not wrong. That if she embraced what she was and what she wanted then she could be accepted as a leader. And maybe if the two of them came together it would make the coming together of the wagon train more likely. Sonja did seem to remember that Sigrun said that she was going to be the new Jarl. Maybe if they were brought into union that would bring the faith and wagon train into union.

  But she felt she was getting ahead of herself. She didn’t really know Sigrun, and while she found her attractive she didn’t know enough of her personality to know if they could really be together. Maybe it would happen, and that would be nice, but she felt the most important thing to do was to bring the people of the wagon train together.

  And she felt the easiest way to do that was to start with the ones that had been close but had drifted away. She was going to have a talk with the farmers.

  ***

  Sigrun entered Bonde Square at break time. The sky was gray and heavy, with a light rain pattering down. The workers huddled around the awnings of wagons or covered their heads with cloaks, if they had them.

  Yael had given her a new green cloak, fastened with a fancy brooch with her family's rune on, along with a new set of tunics and trousers. She had been very impressed that his workers had managed to make them so fast, as it had only been a few days since she had been named Jarl. When she had mentioned that, Yael had laughed and told her that if something was made a priority they could make it within a day if needs be.

  With the cloak on she couldn’t help but feel a little gaudy and elevated beyond her station. She still felt that the worn down, muddy tunic, with holes in them, was the garb that most suited her. But she guessed that she had to project the image of leadership and nobility to others.

  Still, when she walked into Bonde Square she avoided being seen by Sven and some of the other Baldurs. They would spy on her and tell Gregor what she was asking. And she needed to keep her inquiries to herself for the moment. She didn’t know why Gregor and Yael had lied about Hannes but if they did they would surely not be happy with her digging into it.

  She went straight to a group of farmers that all stood under an awning. She greeted them and told them to carry on chatting. They eyed her a little suspiciously.

  “It’s kind of a shame that you don’t see many Priestesses over here anymore,” a thin man said, leaning back on the wagon. “Even though they wore their robes all across their bodies they were quite nice to look at.”

  “I heard that they were banned from having sex,” a younger man to the side of the group said.

  “Now that’s definitely cruel,” a woman with thick arms said.

  “You wouldn’t be able to survive, the amount you have, Aina,” Thin Man said, looking at the rest of the men in the group and grinning.

  “Hey I like to have my fun, definitely more fun than my hand, Thore,” Aina replied.

  This got a lot of ‘oohs’ and laughs from the group. Thore took the humor well and nodded his head in respect.

  “What do you think this new Keeper is like?” Sigrun asked.

  “I think only the bosses have interacted with her,” Thore said. “From what they have been muttering, the Keeper hasn’t really spent much time outside her wagon. When they ask the other faithful they say she is reading the scrolls.”

  “Man, I wish I could spend all day reading,” Aina said.

  “And miss all this great mud and dirt, nah,” Thore replied, which got a few laughs from the group. There was a little bit of silence, as people shifted and thought about what to say next.

  Sigrun got in there first. “And what about this new Jarl, what do you think about her?”

  She couldn’t deny she felt slightly strange asking the question, pretending that she wasn’t the Jarl, but it was useful to get a real reaction from the people. Generally people didn’t tell you their true opinion of their leaders, fearing retribution, or even just embarrassment. Sigrun felt that as she became more known, more and more would just be polite to her and it’d be hard to get the true reflection of her popularity. Now, when no one knew who she was, she could get a true assessment.

  Thore shook his head. “I still don’t get why Hannes was voted out by the council. I know they all keep saying that he would have made us starve to death, but I don’t believe that. We have plenty of food and when we don’t we just trade for it anyway.”

  “Yeah,” Aina said, wistfully. “I liked Hannes.”

  “He did throw some great parties,” Sigrun said.

  Aina gave her a questioning look. “We liked him for more than just his parties. There was something about him, he seemed to get us, talk on our level. A lot of Jarls look down on us, see us as nobodies, he didn’t.”

  “Plus you knew that he wouldn’t give in to the Mission,” a female voice in the group said. “He was going to go against them every step of the way. No wonder they voted him out.”

  “Well he still might be going against the Mission,” the young man said, eyes bright. “With the…”

  He was silenced with an elbow from Thore. “No talking about that stuff in front of newbies, Daniel”

  Sigrun wondered what Daniel was going to say, surely it would have revealed in some way the true reason why Hannes had been voted out. “Come on, I’d love to know what you mean. I don’t have any love for the Mission.”

  Thore narrowed his eyes. “You have a fancy cloak on and some nice clothes, we know you're one of the higher ups, so you’ll have to forgive us if we don’t share.”

  She could feel the rest of the group staring at her, and now becoming more guarded about their words. Damn it, and she was so close!

  She nodded. “Fair enough, I think I’ve had enough fun for one afternoon.”

  Sigrun looked around to see if there were any other groups she could join. It felt like break time was winding down as a few people in the groups were waving their hands and walking away. The same thing was happening to this group, until an older man ran towards them.

  “The Keeper, she’s here,” he shouted to them.

  Despite their talk about disliking the Mission, everyone was interested in going to see the new Keeper. Sigrun was amongst them. She wanted to know whether it really was the same Sonja that had randomly kissed her.

  She followed the group of farmers, as they joined the gathering crowd, and made their way to the entrance to Blomst Street.

  A woman in an orange robe came walking through the square. As soon as Sigrun saw her, her heart beat fast and her mind went back to the passionate kiss on Kveg Plain. She knew exactly who the orange robed woman was, because that face had been in her dreams every night since she saw it. It was Sonja.

  ***

  Sonja couldn’t be anonymous anymore. As soon as she stepped out of the Keeper’s wagon, the faithful formed a crowd. Men and women looked up and praised her, even though sh
e hadn’t said or done anything. It felt strange and wrong to get this amount of respect from them for just a title. Say what you will about her mother but she had at least shaped the Mission and had given it a direction that could be praised. Sonja hadn't even started any of her changes. She wondered whether she would still be praised by these faithful when she did.

  The crowds were worse when within the wider wagon train. Many stared at her, or formed a line, as she passed down Blomst Street. Despite the gray clouds overhead, the waft of perfume from the flowers gave everything a sense of spring. She could imagine that at any moment Manang would pop out of the clouds, and give everything a ray of red light.

  The faces on the men and women that watched her were more mixed than the ones on the faithful. There were some that looked at her in wonder and respect, but most had neutral faces, silently judging whether they should like her or not. Though she noticed that a few in the back had very hostile faces. What surprised her about that was that those hostile faces still stood to see her. She would have thought that if they had hated her they would just not show up. But she guessed that even amongst the workers the title of Keeper had a fascination to it. Even if you hated it, you still had to see who was using it, so at least you could know the face you would be hating from now on.

  As Sonja walked past the wagons in Blomst Street - with baskets of flowers hung on their front axles - a little girl ran out in front of her. Sonja stopped, and bent down to the girl. The girl had striking red hair and a bright happy face. Her hand held a single red rose, which she proffered to Sonja. Sonja thanked her and delicately took the rose, bowing her head. The crowd cheered and clapped, and even the faces that had been hostile a moment ago broke out in slight smiles.

  She felt an important moment had just happened, that she had in a small way shown everyone what kind of Keeper she would be. In her bones she felt that her mother would have never acknowledged the little girl or taken her gift. Her mother would have looked down at the girl, seen her as impure and not worthy enough for her attention. That was why Sonja felt that a lot of the caravan was against the faith. The crowd thought that people like her thought they were better than them, and forced them to become better by trying to change the laws.

  Sonja understood deep down that she was not better than the people, in some ways she was worse. She didn’t feel that everyone ate or drank excessively, or paid for sex. She needed them to understand that she was on the same level as them, and by doing that she could then say “hey let’s become better together.” Not in the extreme pure way that her mother had demanded, just in a way that brought the people into a unified community.

  She had to stop when she entered Bonde Square, as the crowd had circled around the exit from Blomst Street. All these farmers looked up at her, pleading for something. At first she didn’t really know what to do, what could she give these people that would please them? But then she flashed back to her mother in a similar situation within the faith, how she would loom over people, give the Sol sign, and say a little prayer. She decided to do the same. When she told them they were blessed by Sol, many had tears in their eyes and thanked her profusely.

  As she passed each worker, she became more and more confident at making the Sol sign and saying a prayer. Every time a person would thank her she would get a boost of joy, and smile. She might actually be changing these people’s lives, even just a little.

  When she got into the middle of the crowd she stopped dead. Sonja recognized the face staring at her instantly. She had seen it in her dreams every night since they had kissed. Though the Sigrun in front of her now was wearing completely different clothes, a finely made tunic with cloak. Clearly Sigrun hadn’t joked about becoming Jarl.

  “Would you also like a prayer, Jarl,” she said, trying to keep her voice serene even though her heart was beating like mad.

  There were a few gasps and mutterings from some of the men and women that surrounded Sigrun when she said the words Jarl. Sigrun grimaced, and looked back at them in an apologetic manner.

  “No I don’t need a prayer,” Sigrun said. “But it’s good to see the new Keeper. I feel we should meet some time. Have a chat about the wagon train and how we see our roles within it.”

  Sonja’s breath caught. She had wanted to meet Sigrun ever since they had met, but she had just not had the courage to go find her. However was Sigrun inviting her now for personal reasons, or just because she was the faith’s leader?

  “I would like that, do you feel it should be in your wagon or in mine?” she said, hating that everyone was looking on at them, scrutinizing everything they were saying.

  “I think my wagon might be more comfortable for a meeting, though I will confess I am not familiar with your wagon,” Sigrun said.

  It might have been Sonja’s imagination but it felt that Sigrun was putting a flirtatious spin on her words. Sigrun was staring at her with come hither eyes, that Sonja hoped no one else could recognize.

  “You are probably right, most of my wagon is made of candles and scrolls. If we want a chat I’m sure you have better facilities for it.”

  Sigrun bowed. “I look forward to meeting you. Shall we say after whatever you are doing here?”

  “Yes!”

  Sonja’s heart pounded, she wanted to go back with Sigrun now, but she came here for a reason. And since the crowd had already gathered, she might as well say that reason now.

  “I have come to you here to start something special. I believe that after your harvest you workers have a little celebration. Me and my faithful would like to host that celebration. Bring whatever you were going to bring to your celebration to ours, and yes that does include drink.”

  There were a few chuckles, and some gasps from that. Everyone knew that the faithful didn’t usually allow drinking or excessive eating, so for her to be suggesting to do both was a big thing.

  This was what Sonja was hoping for. She would show the wagon train that the faithful were different, or at least they would be under her leadership.

  TWO LOVERS MEET ON THE RIVER OF LIFE

  ‘Two Lovers Meet’ Skald Song

  Sigrun kept re-arranging everything in the Jarl’s wagon in preparation for Sonja’s visit. Everything had to be comfortable and perfect for her. Initially Sigrun was going to keep everything in the room the same. Her and Sonja would sit in the armchairs at the desk, Sigrun sitting behind it and Sonja in front, but she felt that was way too formal. Then she decided to take the armchair behind the desk and moved it to the front, but when she sat down to test it she felt the desk got in the way. Finally she decided to move the desk, but then realised there would be nothing to put any drinks down on.

  Should she serve drinks? Sigrun remembered that the Mission was pretty against drinking and drunkenness, so she felt offering the leader of the faith one might be insulting. But then again Sonja did say to the workers they could bring drinks to the harvest party, so did that mean she was pro drinking? In the end Sigrun decided to move the small circular bed stand next to the armchairs, and put a bottle of whiskey and two glasses on it just in case.

  Next she stoked the fire, so the room would be warm and cozy, and neatened her mother’s books on the shelf. Even with everything major done, she still felt she couldn’t just sit and wait for Sonja. She paced across the room, neatening up the silk curtain hanging from the four-poster bed, straightening the Kings Game on the desk, checking the bottle of whiskey for the hundredth time, and shifting the chairs a few millimeters so they were in the right optimal place.

  Her heart was beating like mad, and her brain thought of a hundred different worries. What if she got the tone of their meeting wrong and this was actually a political meeting and not a date, what if Sonja got to know her and she didn’t like the real her, what if Sonja found her uncouth and vulgar? Now part of Sigrun didn’t want Sonja to knock on the door, just so these things wouldn’t happen.

  The knock on the door came. Sigrun almost ran to the door to open it, but understood at the las
t second that she couldn’t seem that desperate. She brushed her hair back, shifted her tunic a little, and opened the door.

  Manang had come out of the clouds at the perfect moment, because when she opened the door Sonja was bathed in a brilliant glow of red light. Her robes radiated a burst of flame orange, which complemented the redness of Sonja’s cheeks. Her hair seemed to counterpoint it all, the dark black absorbing the light.

  Seeing Sonja smiling and holding herself up like a leader caught Sigrun’s breath. She just stared at her dumbly, all sense of politeness gone out of the window. However Sonja took it in her stride, nodding to Sigrun, and closing the door behind her.

  She closed out any prying eyes that had found themselves gathered around the Jarl’s wagon.

  Sigrun got back her composure and the job that she had to do. She gestured to the armchair. “Welcome Keeper, it’s a pleasure to meet you...err...again.”

  Sonja smiled at this, and sat down at the armchair. “You can forget all the formalities. We are alone together. No one outside can see or hear this.”

  Sigrun breathed a sigh of relief, so this was something more than a political meeting. She sat down and grabbed the bottle of whiskey. “Do you want some?”

  “Yes,” Sonja said.

  Sigrun poured out a good two shots of whiskey in each glass. Her hands were shaking. “I’m kind of surprised you are drinking, and told the farmers that they could drink. I thought drinking was banned in the faith.”

  “It is,” Sonja said, taking a good glug of the whiskey. “But I hope to change that whole purity nonsense.”

  Sigrun looked surprised. “I thought that nonsense was your whole thing.”