Caracara's Hunt 102 Hunting Garden

A wave of understanding washed over the crowd, and their gazes aimed at Sylvester changed. There was both apprehension and greed in their eyes. Almost like one, most people stepped forward to get closer to him.

Arawn took a step forward as well, blocking half the people by his presence. Mutallu remained where he was, but the glint of steel in his hands made those on his side not dare to push forward with force. They made a wide circle around him with disgruntled murmurs.

All of them converged before Sylvester, but Lord Bernard was there, and he had hosted many an important guest in his home. He knew how his n.o.bles were eager for any famous people and how they sometimes might lose their composure.

He herded them like sheep and introduced them to Sylvester in small groups. The n.o.bles weren't too happy, but they no longer had any way to disagree. Only guards were allowed to bring weapons into the hall, and ether usage was extremely frowned upon in polite company. Anyone who did it for no reason would be ostracised.

Sylvester's demeanor did not change much when his true status was revealed, but he did grow colder and more detached. He greeted the n.o.bles, but his interest in them was almost non-existent. All their invites and offers fell on deaf ears.

When they all went to have dinner, Arawn was not allowed to eat. He was forced to stand behind Sylvester and watch him have a sumptuous meal along with all the n.o.bles while nursing an empty stomach.

After that, everyone returned to mingle in the main hall. Some people went to smoke and play cards in an adjoining room, but most stayed around Sylvester, trying to garner his favor.

Bored out of his mind, Arawn found himself wis.h.i.+ng for the evening to end. His legs were already tired, and he wanted to sit down to rest them. What was even the point of the fancy dinner? Not even Sylvester seemed to enjoy it, so why did they have to waste time with it?

As he thought that, a servant tapped his shoulder. "Sir, my lady wishes to speak to you."

"I-I'm busy right now," Arawn said, a little surprised by the unexpected invite. Were the n.o.bles planning to move onto him now when their charm didn't work on Sylvester?

"My lady insists. It is paramount that you come with me."

A little peeved, Arawn turned to Mutallu. "Can you—"

"Go if you want. I can protect him better than you anyway," the boy said without keeping his thoughts to himself.

Arawn gave him a terse smile and motioned for the servant to lead him forward. It wasn't so much the lady's invitation that had attracted him, but the chance to walk about and stretch his muscles. He was about to die of boredom listening to the n.o.bles' constant chatter and unsuccessful attempts to ingratiate themselves with the royal physician.

The servant didn't lead him far. They went out into the gardens that were lit up by dozens of torches and toward a sculpture forest. It was filled with men and women standing in various poses, looking pensive, captivated, or longing. Few of them wore expressions of happiness.

And on a bench in the middle before a miniature pond sat a lady that seemed to be a statue come to life. Her skin was marble white and shone in the semi-darkness of the night lit up only by the many torches.

Her hair the color of a raven's wing danced in the wind along with her white-grey dress. It was long and puffy at the bottom, which would make her look like a spinning top if she stood up.

"Milady," the servant said and bowed at his waist.

Arawn inclined his head at the woman, since that was the best he could do without embarra.s.sing himself, and waited. It wasn't him who had called for the meeting.

"Frederick, you can return now. Thank you."

The woman's voice was soft and pleasant to the ear, like the song of the nightingale.

Once the servant left, she stood up and smiled at Arawn. "Thank you for coming. Would you mind accompanying me for the tour of my father's garden?"

A couple standard replies to such offers Arawn had heard flitted through his mind, but they sounded too fake and pompous. My pleasure? An honor to do so? What if he felt no such thing? He was just escaping the stuffiness of the main hall.

"If you would like it," he said in the end.

"Very much!" the woman said with obvious joy, and her whole face lit up with a bright smile. "Come, I'll show you the best parts!"

She led him down a winding path to show a sculpture of a woman with a fishtail looking out from a small stream, another of a beast sleeping next to a tree, and then one of a young hunter stalking a prey.

Once in the forest, the sculptures were placed in random places, making it a challenge to find them, but once they were found, there was an extra sense of achievement. Once, Arawn walked past a tree only to have the lady call him back and tell him to look up.

On one of the tree's branches, a large snake was hanging. It was sleeping with eyes closed, but who could say if it was true when an unsuspecting bird had just landed close to its side.

Both animals were crafted of rock, but with the detail at which they were done and the distance, Arawn could swear they were alive. If he blinked, he was sure the next time he opened his eyes, the bird would have already flown away or have entered the snake's stomach.

"My father loves collecting the works of various masters. Many of them live off of his donations alone," the lady explained when they walked away. "They can do what they love, and my father can decorate his home with stunning works of art. Isn't that great?"

Arawn nodded. He had long ago forgotten to wonder why she had invited him outside. He was too busy trying to locate all the sculptures hidden around the forest.

When they reached a stream though, the lady stopped him. "I was wondering, how long have you been with Doctor Otshoa?"

"Long enough," Arawn answered without looking her way and still examining the forest around them. It was best for him to be as vague as possible, and it was something even he could do.

"Then do you know, was he treated well by the Katalans? Did he have a room for himself? Was he overworked? Please, tell me anything you know!" the lady begged, her voice growing a little desperate.

Arawn turned to her, surprised. "He had his own clinic and did whatever he wished. If he wasn't treated well there, why would he stay?"

"I-I… I thought…" The lady shook her head, then lowered it to face the ground. "It doesn't matter. I'm sorry to have taken your time."

She was about to run away, but Arawn wasn't going to be left alone in the middle of a forest he didn't know well. He grabbed her hand and held her still. "Milady, I do not know the way back."

"Right, right," the lady said, somewhere between laughing and crying. "I'm sorry. Give me a moment. I… I just need a moment to calm down."

It was unclear why or for what, but Arawn let go of her hand and took a step back to give her s.p.a.ce. She breathed for a moment with eyes closed, then forced a smile on her face. "Come with me. I'll show you the way back."

Compared to the previous amicable atmosphere, the way back had the mood of a graveyard. Arawn had no clue what had changed, and it grated on his conscience. He didn't like having made another person cry.

"Can I ask what is your relations.h.i.+p with Sylvester?" he asked after a while.

The woman jolted, and her head snapped back to look at him. Upon noticing his look of innocence, she sighed and looked away. "Do you know what happens when a flower grown in a greenhouse is brought outside? She dies, since she never learnt how to face the world's challenges.

"I was like that, and when the blind death struck the land's around here, there was no saving me. All doctors had given up, but my father was desperate. He called on anyone and everyone, even foreigners. Doctor Oshoa was among them, and he found a way to help me.

"Then, by himself, he treated hundreds of victims afflicted by the blind death. He healed them until he dropped from exhaustion, and then did it again once he woke up. Although many people died, with isolation grounds and his healing, the spread of the disease was stopped before it enveloped the whole country.

"I'm but one among the many people who owe their lives to him. My mom died giving birth to me, so my father wanted to shower the person who saved me in wealth and fame, but soon after receiving the royal award, he disappeared in the middle of the night and was never seen again. Some even thought that he was the ghost of Scholar Asok come to save our country."

The story made Arawn stop and stare at the lady. Were they really talking about the same Sylvester? Wasn't he just a bitter washed up doctor who mocked his profession for not being respected enough? There was not an ounce of a philanthropist in him, so where did such a self-sacrificing doctor come from…

"Something wrong?" the lady asked with a glance back.

Arawn shook his head, not certain what he was feeling himself. The Sylvester he knew seemed to have nothing to do with the real Sylvester.

"So that's where you were," a familiar voice said from a distance.

With only Mutallu behind him, Sylvester strode over to Arawn and the lady. "I don't mind you leaving for a bit, but it's been over an hour. Do you even remember that you have a job?"

His words were acerbic and aimed at Arawn, but the lady instantly went to his defence. "I'm sorry. It was my fault. I brought him to the Hunting Garden and we lost track of time."

"Lady Bernard," Sylvester said with slight mockery in his tone. "I did not know you to be this free-spirited, going off with unknown men into the woods at night. I wonder what your father would think if he knew."

"Doctor!" The lady's cheeks flamed up, and she glared at Sylvester. "You speak you know not what of!"

Sylvester raised an eyebrow. "Do I not? You disappear with my bodyguard for an hour into the woods and I should believe it's for a mere conversation?" He laughed. "Make sure you're more subtle next time. Everyone recognized your servant."

"Arawn," Sylvester called to him while turning around. "Return to my side. Plan your trysts on your time off."

Arawn lifted his foot to follow, then stopped and wondered. Why did he have to do as Sylvester said? Sure, he was older and better at all this n.o.bility stuff, but what right did he have to always mock and put down Arawn? He wasn't a dog to be pulled around on a leash.

His knowledge might be lacking, but that didn't mean he couldn't survive on his own. That time was long past. The only reason he had chosen to stay with Sylvester was because he wanted to learn to heal and Mutallu said it would help them remain unnoticed, but if it meant living as a slave, he was fine without it.

With a resolute shake of his head, Arawn turned away from Sylvester and faced the lady who was almost in tears.

"I'm sorry for his behavior," Arawn said and pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket. He handed it to the lady and smiled at her warmly. "I'm sure he's exaggerating. Your father would never let bad rumors spread about you, would he?"

The lady snuck a glance at Sylvester, who had stopped with a stiff back, then smiled gratefully at Arawn. "Thank you. For this and for the evening."

"It was a pleasure to talk to you. I learned a lot," Arawn said with genuine feeling. "I hope we can meet again."

"I'd love that." The lady dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief, smiled with her cheeks still red, and pulled away a little. "Thank you again. I'll go find my father now."

She left in quick steps in the opposite direction from which Sylvester had come, and once her silhouette disappeared, Arawn turned to face one very p.i.s.sed off doctor. He was so angry, it wouldn't have been a shocking event if his whole head went aflame from the fires in his eyes.