Rain Washes Off All the Other Colors by Tethys Resort

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Drought

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Each trip took her farther and farther out into the city.  Out of the quarter of the nobility and down into the markets.  Wearing bright clothing and a scarf or ribbons in her hair she slipped through the city, invisible as any other young woman on market day.  Her cats walked with her.  Currently she could see Kiw skirting through the shadows, in and out of doorways and under stalls. 

A small dog ran up to him, and she stifled a giggle as Kiw batted him sharply in the nose without bothering to puff or hiss.  The dog fled with a yipe.

Geil continued onward as Kiw stopped to inspect an especially interesting spider web.  She had a particular goal today down in the market on the eastern side of the river. 

She paused on one of the great stair ramparts on the upper crossing, looking across at the mountains.  Minas Ithil lay that way, a white line on the horizon.  And beyond, the Cursed Land.  The Blue Ones had told them that the Lord of the World only slept, but where they did not know.  She shivered at the sudden vision of smoke over the mountains, staining the skies with poison like the old stories told. 

Geil blinked, and the skies were clear again. 

Gos rubbed against one ankle, purring hard enough that her little furry body vibrated and Geil sighed.  The Blue Ones had again come from the East as the Lord of the World began his long sleep.  They had vanished that way again, leaving only stories and a mission behind: to watch, to hold on, to be ready for the far future.

She trotted down the steps, several cats trotting in her wake.  She needs to get back before sunset and dinner.

The market was just as crowded as last time, and over in the corner behind the wrought iron fence was the sculpture seller. 

The seller was smart, he had set up his shop as a picnic area, with trees and stone benches and sculpture sitting among the flowers.  Geil easily walked in, sitting down in the shade and admiring the sculptures she had noticed last time. 

The Lord of the Wind, in his guise of a violent gale.  Both destroyer and bringer of rains.  The sculpture of the Lady of Pity.  Her lady.  As a jagged maze of grief and beauty, spiraling toward the sky in supplication.  Pure beauty, and very much unlike most sculptures in the garden.  Obviously new arrivals, by the way they sat unsettled in their garden bed with a fresh chalk price written on their smooth black stone. 

Geil smiled, she would send a messenger down to the city when she got home tonight and purchase the sculptures for her garden.  She could afford them on her household budget and such a talent as this sculptor possessed deserved to be rewarded. 

From behind her, Gos said, “Look what I found.”

As Geil went back out of the sculpture sellers and off to the bakery with the blue curtains for the treat of a nut roll, the skinny black kitten lay quiet in her basket next to her coin purse. 

Sil.  She would name the new one Sil. 

***

“They say Denor from the boat docks ran off with a girl.  Went to Pelagir for their fortunes.”  The man sounded certain as he leaned on the table of pots and pans. 

The seller next to him made a gurgle at the back of his throat that Geil thought probably meant disagreement but sounded as though he had an infection of the lungs.  “And I heard tell that Denor heard the tax man coming and went north along the river for his health.”

Geil made her selection of candied oranges in silence and passed over the coin.  Even now, her accent is too strong to risk talking if she can help it. 

The little dried fish that the cats liked as treats were next.  Those sellers didn’t even look in her direction as she picked out grass ribbons of the fish, braided in to dry. 

But those sellers were having a much more interesting conversation and she lingered over her selections.

“Down at the pub, the river runners were saying the King has a lover.”  The man sounded certain and Geil froze.  A concubine? 

Geil suspected from the way he had never come to her rooms that she had not been attractive to him.  Or maybe suffered from some malady that prevented his visits.

She visualized an exotic blond woman.  Or maybe silvery hair like the legends said the forest elves had.  Well, maybe that woman would have better luck bearing heirs the old king needed.  A concubine was no threat to a Queen, and a lover no threat to a wife who did not love her husband.

The other man humphed, breaking her train of thought.  “Well, well.  Went back to that Belfalas knight he was so fond of?” 

“Hush, you know those cats are always listening.  Do you want to be the one to tell That One the King is cheating on her?”

Geil lost their next words as she tried to suppress the surprised snort.  A knight from Belfalas?  That he went back to?  She paid for her fish, passing over money onto their tray as they moved on to arguing the merits of this season’s beer. 

Listening at the blue curtained bakery, two of the customers in line in front of her were also discussing the King’s new lover.  This time they assumed that the lover was a female from the far north, with long gold hair.  Very romantic. 

She tried not to laugh as she walked on. 

Most of the news she overheard was much more ominous.  The rains had not fallen early enough for the wheat crop, then it had hailed rather than raining.  What little wheat had sprouted had been crushed and the farmers left trying to purchase grain on credit to sow a late crop and hope that an early freeze didn’t take the crop again. 

She had another meeting with the ruling families tomorrow.  She would have to try and convince them to lower taxes or provide some other sort of relief.  Without some sort of special care Osgiliath would suffer. 

***

Geil followed the anxious cats outside, and then followed the tiny mewls of terror.  Hidden by the dark, the white kitten sat in the shadows of the sculptures and the garden wall.  The plants had died as the rains had failed to come for a third year and the sculptures were the only hiding place left. 

She knelt down and stared behind the Lord of the Hunters sculpture.  The kitten hissed and she smiled at its spirit and whispered, “Whose colors do you wear?  The Lady of Pity?  The Lord of the Wind?”

The kitten whispered back, “The Lady guarding the night.”

She reached out slowly, the kitten nudged her fingers and she smiled as it rubbed down her hand.  “The Guardian Lady?  How lucky.” 

She sat down between last year’s dry leaves and scooped the now pliant kitten into her lap.  It…No, she, curled up against her thigh, warm and trusting.  “I shall name you El then.  Did you know that one of the Blue Ones was from the Guardian Lady?”

“He was?”  Sil and Kiw sat nearby, legs folded in cat comfort, enjoying the dark. 

Geil smiled at them.  This was one of her favorite stories, and her mother had told it over and over when she was a child.  She took a deep breath, “Long ago, it is said.  Long ago before Numenor sank beneath the Sea for the sins of its Kings, the Blue Ones walked out of the wilderness and into the Known lands.  Both wore blue.  One the light blue of the Lord of the Wind, the other the deepest darkest indigo of the Guardian Lady.”

“Some say the Blue Ones came to help us change.  Cast off the name of Cowards and become the Hidden.  The ones who would carry the stories onward when all else failed.  Some say the Blue Ones came to help us, to save us, and that is why the hiding houses to protect those that need protecting are always marked in blue.  Some say the Blue Ones came to fight in the war between the Gods, to try and stop the Lord of the World.”

She glanced around, more cats had joined them and she smiled. 

“There are many stories, because the Blue Ones are forever traveling and forever trying.  But this story is a tiny story.  A story of a pair of cats, El and Bar.”

She smiled down at the kitten.  “Now El was a white cat, with quick feet and a long tail.  Bar was a black cat with long fluffy fur and a brush of a tail like Gos.  They lived in a tiny village in the North, almost as far North as the dark mountains where the Lord of the World lived.  This was important you see, because one day-“

“Your Highness,” it was the cook’s daughter, “did you need help?  Is something wrong?” 

Geil smiled at the girl.  She was only a handful of years younger than Geil had been when she had been married away.  Did the women of Gondor marry as young as the royal families of Umbar and Harad?  Or at true womanhood as the women of the City of Spices married?  As mistress of the household she should inquire and discover if she would be expected to help negotiate marriage contracts. 

For tonight though, she waved the half given offer of assistance away.  “I was telling stories to my cats.  I can translate them to Westron, if you want to come and listen?”

The girl’s face was pale in the darkness, and she took a step backward.  “No, no.  I have chores your Highness.  If you would excuse me please, I have chores.”  She almost bolted into the mansion. 

Somehow Geil wasn’t surprised when a few weeks later she heard the vegetable seller and the cheese merchant gossiping that she practiced magic, torturing her cats and sending them out to do her bidding.  Silly child.  Stupid fools. 

As if even with magic you could force a cat to your will.

And maybe she was a stupid fool as well, because what came next was still a surprise. 

It was a fine summer day in a season that the market sellers were telling each other was one of the hottest in memory.  She had not seen the cats for a little while, working at her desk and trying to compose yet another letter to her husband the King, informing him of the continuing drought and the need to start plans in case of famine.  Despite her pleas and conversations, the noble families of Osgiliath assumed that the weather would simply revert to its normal patterns at any moment. 

She looked out into the courtyard as she went to fetch herself a glass of cooled tea and perhaps some cookies as a snack.  Mis walked past the window, carrying a little fish in his mouth.  He said, “Treats were left today, more than we can all eat.”

Geil gasped, her fingers turning cold and prickles running across her scalp. 

No one would feed her cats.  Not unless they meant them harm. 

She ran to the courtyard door, running after Mis and bowling him over startled with her foot and snatching the fish away.  He yowled and fled.

She spun and ran toward the spot Mis had come from, where she could see the others gathered by the garden wall.  Geil shrieked at them, “No, bad cats!  No!  No!  No!”  She ran toward them, pulling off her slippers in her haste and throwing them.  One slipper hit Gos, causing her to drop the fish she had taken as cats fled hissing in every direction. 

Geil stared at the haphazard pile, panting.  How could you tell if any was gone?  Tears dripped down her face as she turned to Tim, hiding under a bush nearby.  “Tim?  Tell me, please.  Did anyone eat these?” 

Tim hissed.

“Please.  Please.  These are poison, they will make you sick or kill you.”  She wiped at her face.  “Did anyone take any?”

“Bet.  Bet found the fish.  She took one inside.” 

She darted back across the courtyard, slamming into the kitchen and startling the cook.  “There are fish in the garden, next to the gate wall.  Clean them up and throw them in the midden.”  The words came out harsh and cold and the cook just stared at her.  “NOW, and use the ash bucket and shovel.  They are poisoned.”  The woman fled, grabbing the hearth can and the full set of poker, tongs and shovel as she scuttled.

Geil marched into the house.  She needed to find Bet. 

She searched half the mansion before she found Bet behind the Lord of the Waters statue in the formal entrance. 

With a small fish piece. 

“Bet!  That’s poison!  No!”  How much had she eaten?  Some poisons kill fast, and some slow.  The fast were easier to detect, less likely for a cat to actually eat.  Slow would kill equally well, just with a little more cruelty.

“It is good.”  Bet licked her chops and then rubbed at her nose with one black paw. 

“It is not good!”  Geil swept up the cat, clutching her squirming to her chest and grabbing the remaining piece of fish on her way back to the kitchen.  Hopefully the kitchen would have what she needed.  How much had Bet eaten?  She smelled it; it smelled of fish but people noses were not as good as cats’. 

By that evening it was obvious that Bet, Mis and Kiw were sick.  They lay panting on her bed and she caressed them, trying not to cry.  She whispered, “Lady who guards the night, please save them.”  She hummed the lullabies her mother had sung, trying to comfort them. 

The Guardian Lady did not come.  But neither did the Lady of Pity or the Lord of Endings.

Sometime in the late hours of the night all three slowly recovered, slipping into a quiet sleep. 

Geil awoke to Bet’s purring against her cheek.  Mis was industriously cleaning her toes.  Kiw was sitting next to Gos, staring out the window toward the dark Mountains.  Mis said, “The Lady of Pity says we have many adventures to take yet.”