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“Shadia!”
She’d been in her room, sketches spread out on her bed, trying to put together where all the murals would fit into the decorations of the Hallowed Round. Shadia needed to have everything arranged in the next couple of days, when the artist would be at the Round to meet with her on where the various artwork would be arranged.
Shadia was up off the bed the moment her Dad said her name and telling her he was in the kitchen, wondering what he wanted. It wasn’t any of his myriad “Dad” voices and, in fact, it wasn’t even yelling. He’d used Thaumaturgy to cast his voice to her, which was generally a sign that he was in the middle of something and didn’t want to stop.
That made her curious.
So, Shadia was down the stairs going in search of him.
He was right where he’d said he was, in the kitchen, and…
“Why do you have our old picnic basket out?”
It was sitting on the counter, surrounded by various sorts of cold food. Chicken, cheese, bread, and the remains of the apple pie from the other night all were lined up, as her father finished cutting carrots in neat, three inch long, pieces.
Dad gave her a wide smile. “It has come to my attention that your uncle doesn’t take care of himself enough. So, I have decided to take care of him despite himself. And,” he set the knife down and gently booped her on the nose like he used to do when she was younger, “you are going to be my co-conspirator.”
Shadia bounced on her toes in joy. Ever since Dad and Uncle Bolaire had talked – just about a week ago! – everything had fallen back into its old patterns. Three days back, the two men had actually gone back to meeting in whatever nook they had, and Shadia couldn’t have been happier. It was so good to see her Dad back to his old self when it came to Bolaire, and it made her quite proud to have been the one to get him to rethink his silent treatment of her uncle over a secret that couldn’t have been nearly as bad as their estrangement had made it seem.
And to hear he wanted to take care of Bolaire…
Then her joy dimmed a little. “Is he really that bad?” Shadia honestly hadn’t noticed. Bolaire seemed to eat whenever he was over, so it wasn’t something that had been brought to her attention before now.
But, since he’d said something…she could recall days when her uncle hadn’t seemed quite like himself. Shaky, tired, even a little weak. Was he making himself sick and she hadn’t known?
Well, that was going to stop right now!
“Unfortunately,” Dad answered. “And I know you want to keep that body of his healthy, just like I do. Eating good food, drinking anything else other than wine…we want to have him around for as long as possible."
A shadow flickered over his face, and Shadia could tell Dad was really worried. “Count me in,” she declared.
“I knew you’d say that.” He went back to chopping carrots. “Now, what we’re going to do is make sure he eats at least one meal a day, and that meal is going to be lunch. We’re also going to have him over for dinner as often as possible. Of course, we can’t really let on what we’re doing –”
“He’ll figure it out pretty quickly, Dad.” Uncle Bolaire was a highly intelligent person, after all. He was sure to work things out sooner rather than later.
“I’m hoping by the time he does, we’ll already have our routine in place.” He finished with the carrots, wrapped them carefully, then began to pack the basket. “If we can’t do it together, then the one not occupied will be the one to feed him. I’m also hoping that if we mix things up a bit it might keep Bolaire’s admittedly suspicious nature from catching on any faster.” He smirked at her. “And, if all else fails, I have a secret weapon…you. I’m fairly certain he hasn’t been able to say ‘no’ to you since the day you asked his opinion on the plays of Willhan Sharkspur.”
Shadia laughed. Dad had a point. It hadn’t hurt that Uncle Bolaire had a soft spot for Sharkspur.
He stopped packing suddenly. “Oh, sweetheart, can you grab the flask of juice for me? That spicy dip as well for the carrots.”
Shadia did as he asked, and Dad carefully packed both away. “We’ll need cups, too.”
“Already have them in the basket, as well as plates. You might want to get that big red blanket from the hall closet. Afterlife forbid your uncle sits on the grass and gets his trousers stained.”
Shadia snickered. Her fastidious uncle would certainly have something to say about that!
Blanket fetched and basket secured, they left the house and headed toward the Archanade. Shadia had to admit it was a lovely day for a picnic; the sun was shining through the nearly ever-present clouds, causing golden streaks to pierce toward the ground in long columns. It was warm as well, just perfect weather where she was concerned.
She really couldn’t be happier…well, she could, if her Mom was home. But she was out somewhere in the world, with that new kid she seemed to have adopted…Occtis, right? The one she’d tried to get Shadia to make a move on. Honestly, he hadn’t been her type at all. As well as being younger and less mature from what she’d seen. Shadia certainly wasn’t still a virgin, not like Occtis has been, and there was a part of her that had been a little insulted at her Mom’s heavy-handed attempt to get her to, well…the poetic phrase would have been to ‘deflower him’, but there was something a little…really, if he couldn’t get his own girlfriend or boyfriend…
All right, that sounded a little snobby. But Shadia just couldn’t help herself. She had standards.
Pushing those thoughts away, she considered her current happiness. Her Dad was finally back to normal with her unofficial uncle. Both of them deserved happiness, and she was so very glad that it was finally happening. They were literally the most parental toward her than anyone else, and Uncle Bolaire had been the one to stay, where her mother had gone off into the world.
Well, she supposed she couldn’t blame her, not when Thaisha Lloy wanted to help the world. She’d explained that she’d been inspired by Halandil Fang’s works, and to do what she’d wanted she couldn’t stay in Dol-Makjar. Shadia supposed she understood, but she did miss having that mother figure around. Sure, Elodie was nice enough, and Shadia adored her little sister, Hero, but it wasn’t the same.
But now, she had Uncle Bolaire. And he was bitchy and sarcastic but he was also kind and he cared. Him trying to protect herself and Hero during Uncle Thjazi’s farramh when that fight between Lady Aranessa and that Halovar scion had nearly broken out. Yes, Shadia was old enough to look after herself, but she’d been touched by Uncle Bolaire wanting to keep herself and Hero out of the line of fire, so to speak. And then he’d tacked that lesson onto his actions…
Okay, yes. Shadia adored her Uncle Bolaire. He was quite possibly the only one in the entire city that could still treat her like a child and she would stand it…no, she would love it.
Her uncle was an old soul and no mistake.
As they got closer to the Archanade, Shadia noticed that there were soldiers outside the building, a couple of them on guard at the doors.
“What is the Revolutionary Guard doing here?” Dad murmured.
Excellent question, Shadia thought.
They made their way up to the steps, where they were stopped by the two guards. “I’m sorry, but the Archanade is closed until further notice and no one is allowed in.”
Dad stared at the man, a human who appeared to be a bit younger than Shadia herself, who’d spoken. “Is Arcane Marshall Azune Nayar here?” There was an undertone to his voice that had even Shadia standing up straighter in response.
The guard blinked. “Yes, he is.”
“Then please tell him that Halandil and Shadia Fang are here to see Master Bolaire Lathalia, the curator of the Lloy Wing."
The man hesitated for a moment, obviously not sure he should disobey orders, let alone leave his partner on lone duty. Hal rolled his eyes.
“My father and I will stay right here,” Shadia added. “But I’d like to see my uncle today, please.”
If the guard wasn’t surprised before, he was now. Still. Shadia wasn’t about to deny her relationship to her own uncle, and if it made the man do what they wanted…
And, he did.
Shadia gave a grin to the other guard, a tall Orc woman who looked mildly amused by her partner’s skittish behavior. “I’m sorry about him, Master Hal…Miss Shadia. He’s still so wet behind the ears his hair is damp twenty-four hours a day.”
Her Dad relaxed, chuckling lightly. Shadia knew he was used to being recognized by random people. “What’s going on, if I may ask?”
The woman shrugged. “I’m not sure, but then they don’t tell the grunts why they’re dragged out of the barracks and placed on guard outside one of the most important buildings in Dol-Makjar.”
Shadia shook her head. “It seems you’d do your job better if you had some sort of clue was to what that job entailed.”
The guard chuckled. “I just wish our superiors had the same idea.”
They didn’t have to wait long before the male guard was out of the door, and another man was with him. Shadia recognized him from Uncle Thjazi’s farramh; he’d fought in the Falconer’s Rebellion as well. She hadn’t caught his name, but this must be the Arcane Marshall Azune Nayar.
He nodded to both of them. “I’m sorry about that. Things are a little crazy right now.”
“They look it,” her Dad commiserated. “Can we see Bolaire?”
“Absolutely.” He waved them in through the door, closing it behind him. “In fact, you’d be doing me a favor. He’s acting like a bear with a sore head, and I really can’t blame him.”
“What’s going on?” Shadia asked. If it was upsetting her uncle, then she wanted to know so maybe she and her Dad could help.
The Arcane Marshall glanced at her Dad, who nodded. “I’d like to know myself.”
“Well,” the man said as he escorted them through the deserted museum, “it seems that House Cormoray has demanded an audit of the entire wing…especially the Pariah Blades.”
Shadia winced. That wasn’t good, she didn’t think, but then she wasn’t as up on her politics as she could have been. Sure, she knew – the whole city did – that something rotten was going on with the Sundered Houses and the Council of the Lords-Advisory but no one could prove any of the wild rumors that had been swirling around for weeks, ever since the entirety of House Davinos had vanished and House Royce had fallen.
“Lady Amariyah Cormoray has been here,” Arcane Marshall Azune went on, “acting has if she owned the place. Master Bolaire has been holding her off by citing the original charter for the Lloy Wing, but since Thaisha left town we don’t have anyone of proper status in the city to put their weight behind the official charter, so it’s only a matter of time before the Cormoray get what they want.”
“What do they want?” Dad looked angry, and Shadia felt the same way.
“No one knows, but when it seemed like she was going to get her way, Master Bolaire contacted the Revolutionary Guard…and here we are.”
Shadia nodded. That made good sense. But there was no telling how long it would be before House Cormoray decided to take things into their own hands. And, with Mom gone…there was no one to stand up to them, except for Uncle Bolaire and whatever archivists and backers that would uphold the charter that had formed this place to begin with.
Arcane Marshall Azune led then through familiar halls toward Uncle Bolaire’s office. Every once in a while, they would pass a museum employee bustling about, as if they thought moving quickly would let them escape the trouble that was no doubt approaching. Shadia felt sorry for them, caught in the middle of something they most likely didn’t understand.
Not that she really understood, either. Shadia had heard rumors, but nothing that would point toward why House Cormoray would target the Archanade like this.
There were also other Guard scattered about the place, but there were four stationed about the Pariah Blade that was on display. Seeing that sword made Shadia shiver; she was proud that it had been her mother’s family to have created the Blade but, at the same time, they just didn’t ‘feel’ right to her. She couldn’t say why; however, despite their history and how they’d been used to free her people, they were somewhat disturbing.
The office door was closed, and the Arcane Marshall rapped on it sharply, then twisted the knob.
“I thought I told you I didn’t want to be disturbed.” Bolaire’s voice was sharp with anger, quivering a little in a way that worried Shadia. It was as if he was close to the end of his tether, and was holding in his temper by a thread.
“Not even by us?” Dad called out, pushing past their escort and entering.
Uncle Bolaire was at his desk, paperwork spread out all over the surface. His head snapped upward at Hal’s words, the irritation visible on his face fading out almost immediately, replaced by fondness. “My need to stab someone will never extend to either of you.”
Dad snorted. “Don’t say that. I haven’t told you what we’ve decided to carry in the concession stand besides fruit leather and boxed wine."
"It should have been a gift shop." Uncle Bolaire grumbled. “You’d make more revenue with theater-themed tchotchkes than with an ostensible food item with the word ‘leather’ in it. And don’t get me started with whatever that fluid is in the boxes.”
Shadia tried very hard to hide her laughter. She wasn’t about to tell him that there would be a gift shop eventually. She hadn’t known how strongly he’d felt about having one, and felt a little bad about it since it had been his idea in the beginning. And she fully intended on asking for his help with it when it was time for the big reveal.
Bolaire waggled a finger at her. “None of that, young lady.”
The scandalized expression on his face made her laugh a little harder.
She heard the door shut, mentally thanking the Arcane Marshall for giving them privacy. Her uncle seemed to relax as well, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. “To be honest, I am very glad to see you. It’s been horrible around here today, and friendly faces make it all better.”
“Azune clued us in,” Dad answered. “Just how bad is it?”
“Bad. But I don’t want to burden you with this.” He glanced at Dad, then Shadia herself. “And just what do the two of you have planned?”
Well, the basket and blanket were pretty much dead giveaways that they were up to something. “We’re going to take you with us on a picnic,” she said before her Dad could do so.
“Exactly,” Dad added. “And, from what we’ve seen, it seems like you can use an excuse to get out of here for a little bit.”
“That’s oh-so very tempting,” Bolaire said ruefully, “but I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea at the present..."
"Nonsense!" Shadia exclaimed. She made her way around the desk and grabbed his arm. “You need fresh air and Dad’s baked chicken. Up you get!”
And see, this was why Shadia was her Dad’s co-conspirator; her uncle really couldn’t say no to her.
Grumbling lightly, Uncle Bolaire got to his feet. Dad was beaming, and he gave Shadia a wink. Oh yes…despite the obvious feelings between Dad and Uncle, it was Shadia who could get things done.
“I’m not really hungry –”
“When was the last time you ate?” Dad asked.
Bolaire looked confused. “I…think it was breakfast…?”
“Today or yesterday?”
Shadia was interested in that answer, as well.
When her uncle didn’t say anything, all the concern that she’d been experiencing since Dad had claimed Uncle Bolaire hadn’t been taking care of himself made itself known once more. “You can’t do that to yourself, Uncle Bolaire,” she murmured. “You have to take care of yourself, because we don’t want you to make yourself sick…or even leave us. So, you’re going to eat with us, and then you can get back to work.”
Chivvying him out from behind his desk, Shadia wrapped the arm that wasn’t holding the blanket around his, gently tugging him toward her Dad, who took the other arm so that they flanked him in case Bolaire tried to get away.
Bolaire sighed. “I can never say no to either of you, it seems.”
“Good,” Dad proclaimed. “We’ll just be across at the park. You won’t be far, and we’ll let Azune know where we’re going in case something happens.”
Together, they maneuvered Bolaire out of his office and down the corridor, seeing Arcane Marshall Azune and passing along the information where they were going. The closer they got to the front entrance, the more Uncle Bolaire seemed to relax, for which Shadia was grateful.
Just how much stress was he under, not counting this so-called audit? What was going on that was keeping him from taking basic care of himself? She was determined to get to the bottom of things, and help as she could.
If that meant making him lunch every day, then Shadia would be happy to do that.
**********
Shadia wasn’t sure if the park is actually Archanade property, or just something that was created to make use of the foot traffic coming and going from the museum. It was a beautiful place, obviously touched by a druid’s hands in the way the trees swayed and the flowers bloomed and the bushes rustled in the breeze.
There weren’t that many people in the park, which was just fine. Her eyes looked around for a little privacy, and found it under a tall oak tree that was far enough away from any of the other gathered groups, but it also gave them a fairly good view of the front of the Archanade, which would make her uncle happy.
She spread the blanket out, then settled herself on the far right; her dad took the unspoken hint and sat himself down on the left, leaving the area between them for Bolaire. Her uncle seemed to understand what they were doing; his blue, star-like eyes flickered in a way that Shadia had long ago interpreted to mean he was giving his version of an eye roll.
Still, he accepted his fate, crawling in between father and daughter…although, to Shadia’s surprise, Bolaire put his back to the Archanade, which Shadia approved of wholeheartedly.
Dad began to unpack the basket, setting dishes onto the blanket. Once everything was out, he plated up food and handed it around.
It didn’t escape Shadia that Uncle Bolaire received more than either herself or Dad.
She thought it didn’t escape Bolaire, either, but he accepted it with equanimity.
Once the juice was poured, they ate, at first silently then small talk flowed between them easily. Shadia reveled in being a part of it, her uncle asking her questions about how her mural project was progressing, and then her Dad about his newest production. There was such a sense of family in their spot on the grass that, for one of the times in her life Shadia felt complete, like she was meant to be there with these two, her precious father and uncle whom she loved more than anything.
But that didn’t stop her from conspiring to get Uncle Bolaire to eat more.
When his plate would get close to clean, she would sneak something else onto it while Bolaire’s attention was on her Dad. And, Dad was on the same page, because he would do the same when Bolaire was listening to something Shadia was saying and not paying attention.
Eventually though, the meal was gone. Her Dad put everything away, and then laid back on the blanket, eyes on the leaves blowing softly above them. Thinking that was an excellent idea, Shadia joined him, only she laid on her side, facing her uncle and father.
“You’ve already stuffed me full of excellent food,” Bolaire said dryly, “are you going to make me take a nap as well?” He looked amused, as if he knew exactly what they up to, and yet was allowing it.
And she supposed he’d noticed the extra food.
Oops.
“Nope,” Dad answered, “but it can’t hurt you to rest for a bit.” He glanced toward Shadia. “I know for a fact that you don’t sleep as much as you should.”
“You need to rest, Uncle Bolaire,” Shadia added. “Being exhausted isn’t going to help you protect the museum.”
He hummed, but buckled under the gentle pressure and laid down as well. He shifted a little, then went still. “This isn’t as uncomfortable as I thought it might be. I don’t usually lie on the ground if resting is what I intend on doing.”
“Then it’s time you learned,” Dad proclaimed. He in turn twisted onto his side, so he could look fondly at them both, tucking his arm under his head. “After all, it’s worth it to have two of the most important people in my life lying beside me.”
Shadia’s chest warmed at the sentiment. It hadn’t been that long ago that her uncle and father had been on the outs, and to have them there now…yes, she did good work, even if she hadn’t really realized her words would make that much of a difference.
She let herself doze a little, the sounds of the breeze in the leaves, children laughing, and coaches rattling along the street. It was peaceful, she was with her male parental figures, and all was right in the world for just this one, brief, time.
She was going to take it.
Fin