Page 23 of Thief of Roses
She didn’t think she liked his laugh.If his voice was strange, his laugh sounded even more unbelievable.In addition to not being built for language, his body had also not meant to accommodate expressive sound.There was a deep, breathy, growl-like quality to it.No, she didn’t like it at all.
“Yf only Y knew.”He shook his head and resumed his walk, talking to her over his shoulder.“Aberrationne of nature?Yf thou askest for clasfyfycationne purposes, Y belyeve that anymal myght be best, the lyke of whyche thou mayest only see on the pages of yllumynated manuscrypts.Yf monster, thou sholdest refer to vases of the antyquyties.Y could, with some little ymagynationne, fynd other ways to descrybe myself but Y think that such exercyse woldeth not help thee.”
She held a few debates in her own head about what he might be, but neither “monster” nor “animal” satisfied her.Though Baró was incredibly ugly, she disliked the disparaging description of “aberration of nature.”
“The Fir’Darl is referred to as a masculine god and I have fallen into using masculine language for you without asking.Would you prefer I use something else?”
The Rivani, unlike the followers of the Great Holy, invited, welcomed, and celebrated sex and gender variance.While Baró’s physique resembled something she would call masculine, even if those wide, curved hips of his gave her pause, he knew his gender better than any campfire story.
“Nay, my clasfyfycationne mayest be unknown, but Y am a male beast.”
Like “aberration of nature,” she did not appreciate “beast” either, but she had little time to consider why as he brought her to a new expanse of vegetation.She might have called it a field only there were rows upon rows of trees, the grass up to her belly, the branches heavy with fruit.A momentary stirring of her initial wonder rose up.She could feel the Magic humming around them.
“Thou wilt spy all manner of froot.Nothing quyte satysfies lyke mete but Y do oft enjoy that whyche Y fynd.The orangerie hath gone but yet some trees doth survyve.”
Of course they did.She could feel the Magic like a caress on her skin.Trees so steeped in magic would have been more impressive if they had failed to thrive.
“We will have plenty of food.I promise it.Nothing will go to waste this year.”
She spent a little time wandering through the trees, letting her massive host wander as he would, just a little behind or off to her side most of the time.Still, their conversation on their way to the orchard nagged at her.She should have left well enough alone, but could not.She needed to know.
“Baró, did you have parents or did you just come into being as you are?”
He came out from beneath the branches to answer her, a sweep of leaves nestling between his horns.He pointed at his navel with his claw, providing her all the answer she needed.
“Aye, Y had parents.”
“Were they gods or mythical creatures too?”
“Nay, Rivani.They wore the faces and forms of humans.”
She stopped walking, trying to process.If he had human parents, then how did she account for him?Did the gods grow angry with his parents and curse them with an abomination?There were stories like that.She didn’t know how to ask without being rude and insensitive.
“Baró, have you always been as you are?”
She could feel the tension ripple off him like waves.He closed his eyes, tightened his lips, and assumed the same look of concentration as when he had requested her jars.What he could be asking now?When his eyes opened again, he gazed at her, and in that look, she could see the horrible answer.
“Y have always been a monster,”he said at last.“But Y told thee,”he added, holding her gaze so that she understood,“Y change.”
His unspoken revelationdestroyed her peace of mind.He made a hasty departure after their exchange, undone by such a confession made under invisible potential constraint.She spent the next few days unable to banish the implications of his answer.
Baró had once been a man.
A man becoming a monster made more sense to her than thinking he materialized out of the ether fully formed and ready to terrorize the world, even if the strangeness of his being was worthy of a myth taking form.And she still did not dismiss the idea that he was the Fir’Darl.In some tales, the Fir’Darl stole a human form from this world in which to inhabit.That would account for his statement about having always been a monster.But that did not seem right for the creature with whom she had been keeping company.Words had to be selected here.Just how was he being careful with his words?
She did not have the opportunity to ask him for clarification.She ate breakfast alone for the next few days.By that time, she passed the point of disappointment, confusion, and upset at his unexpected absence.How could he leave her with such a massive revelation and then give her no chance to pry into it?
She had been up to her elbows in the dirt of the vegetable garden when he, at last, presented himself.She cast him an unamused glare, trying to cover over the moment of pleasant relief at regaining his company.
“At last, the prodigal beast returns,”she said.The term he used for himself fit, at least when she was disinclined to be civil.She sat back on her heels, wiped her hands on the skirt and glanced up at him.
Something twisted in her belly when she beheld him.She had seen many women over the years who had worn such telling marks.Many of them came to her in secret when she traveled through towns, asking her for balms, for concealing creams, for talismans to make their spouses or their lovers care for them again, for poisons to kill those spouses and lovers if not.Such stereotypes followed her even when she did not provide those particular services, but the women often confided their miseries to her because they had no one else.He may not have been human, but he wore the evidence of abuse like anyone else.Sunken hollow eyes made the strange face look cavernous and hunted.The bruising on his temple, cheekbone, shoulder, and chest offered a strange palette against his bronzed furred skin.A split lip and scabbed scratches on his face, chest and arms completed the picture.
“Baró, what happened?”
He shook his head.
She did not know how to offer meaningful preventative help if he could not tell her what tormented him.She tried not to make a fuss as she stood.
