The Vampire & Her Witch

Jocelynn followed Nyrielle from the courtyard into the fortress, marveling as she went at the rich, colorful tapestries hanging on the well-worn stone walls and the chandeliers hung with crystals that reflected and scattered the light of hundreds of oil lamps.

There was nothing ’primitive’ about the way the Eldritch lived, and Jocelynn found herself trying to estimate the price collectors in Trevarthan, or even Gaalen, would pay for such stunning pieces before giving up when she concluded that the artwork on display wouldn’t sell for gold sovereigns or bags of precious stones.

The treasurers here would earn their makers much richer rewards; lands, villas, or perhaps even titles should they catch the fancy of the ruling court. Trying to measure their value in gold or silver only diminished their worth.

”Do you like what you see?” Nyrielle said, pausing beside a tapestry that depicted a large collection of craftsmen from the Horned Clan and the Clan of the Great Claw working together to clear away charred and blackened ruins while simultaneously constructing a new village.

”The histories I read in Lothian said that Cellach and the Church burned much of the Vale to the ground,” Jocelynn said as she inspected the tapestry. ”Is this what came afterward? Have you been rebuilding this entire time?” she asked, remembering the sprawling construction she’d witnessed on their way to the ancient fortress.

”We rebuilt when we reclaimed our home,” Nyrielle said as she gazed at the tapestry. ”But less than a quarter of the people who fled across the mountains returned when I retook the Vale, and many of the outlying villages were unwilling to leave their homes behind to find refuge behind our walls...”

”It wasn’t until your sister came, and Ollie too, that we had a reason to build again,” Nyrielle said with a brief smile before her expression turned serious again. ”But you avoided the question, Jocelynn. Do you like what you see?”

”The artistry itself is beautiful,” Jocelynn said, placing her hand lightly over her heart as she examined the individual figures. Each one of them wasn’t just unique; there was a sense of... feeling about each of them. The figures clearing rubble were stooped as if they carried heavier burdens than broken stones and burned timbers could account for, while others picked up small objects from the wreckage with expressions that were both sad and reverent.

The figures working on construction carried a different mood entirely. Some were focused and industrious, while others appeared almost defiant. Still, there was a sense of exhaustion to be seen on many of the faces, and while she saw a good amount of grit, she saw very little that she would call joy.

”I think that happiness and joy were consumed in the fires,” Jocelynn said, giving the sort of answer her tutors would have expected from her after thinking about the composition of the piece for several heartbeats. ”There’s sorrow here, and loss. There’s triumph in persistence and remembrance for the past, but... There’s a sense to it that what was lost can never be built again.”

”Ashlynn always said you were clever,” Nyrielle praised. ”But you still haven’t answered my question. Do you like what you see?” she asked for the third time.

Jocelynn did her best to remain calm and composed under Nyrielle’s midnight gaze, but it was incredibly difficult. This was hardly the first time she’d been quizzed on a piece of art but her tutors never asked whether or not she ’liked’ a piece of art. They asked what she thought it meant, or why a lord might choose to display a piece, or... Or a thousand different things about how to interpret art. But they never asked her if she ’liked’ it.

Jocelynn wished she knew what kind of answer Lady Nyrielle expected from her. It was such a beautiful tapestry; whoever had made it was clearly a skilled master, and it should be easy to say that she liked something so well made... But did she? Would she want a tapestry filled with people who toiled without joy or hope for the things they were building?

”No,” Jocelynn said definitively. ”I think it’s very well made, I think it’s important to see and remember, but... I don’t like the way it makes me feel. If it were up to me, I would hang it exactly as you have, here in a main hall where visitors are certain to see it so they can learn from it... But I don’t ’like’ it. I would never hang a tapestry like this in my own chambers.”

”It’s... It’s too sad to hold close to the heart,” Jocelynn concluded. ”I would never be comfortable looking at this every day.”

”Mmm,” Nyrielle said with a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she started walking again. ”It’s good to be reminded of the things that hurt, but if we dwell in the pain, it becomes more than a reminder or a lesson. It turns pain into a prison.”

”Mmm,” Jocelynn murmured in agreement because she wasn’t entirely certain Nyrielle’s words were meant for. Was she agreeing with Jocelynn because she felt like she couldn’t live with the piece either? Or was there a lesson she was trying to teach buried in the threads of the tapestry?

Jocelynn didn’t know, but the conversation felt anything but casual and the lessons she’d learned from her tutors could only help her so much when the person testing her was more than twice the age of her oldest teacher.

”I have more that I’d like to show you,” Nyrielle said, pausing at the entrance of a corridor to retrieve a lamp. ”But the works in this gallery may disturb you more than any of the pieces hanging in the halls,” she warned.

”I also have refreshments waiting if you’d prefer to wait,” she offered. ”We can talk for a time and come to know each other before we face unpleasant things. The choice is yours.”

This time, at least, it felt like there was an obvious right answer, and Jocelynn doubted that it involved taking her ease with refreshments. Besides, as much as she enjoyed a midnight treat, it was hard to feel hungry while standing next to someone who treated people like food...

Especially someone who had just ’fed’ on a drop of her own blood, she thought, shivering at the memory of what it felt like when Nyrielle had tasted her blood.

”We can get the unpleasant part out of the way first,” Jocelynn said as she pushed down the memory of what happened in the courtyard. ”That way, we’ll have more time to talk afterwards.”

”Very well,” Nyrielle said, nodding in approval. Then Nyrielle held the lamp up high as she stepped into the dark corridor. ”Stay close, Sister-in-law,” she warned. ”You don’t want to get lost down here...”