The servants, soldiers, and others that inhabited the tree watched the two of them with open amusement. Smirks greeted her whenever she met someone’s gaze and outright laughter often followed. Several times she looked over her shoulder to see lewd gestures being made behind their backs. Those making them didn’t bother to stop when they noticed her watching. If anything, the gestures became lewder and the laughter louder.
Jamshir noticed none of it. He greeted those he passed as if he were the respected Head of House Glittering Birch, and acted as if they responded in kind, rather than with the derision and ridicule they really used.
“And here, this is one of my favorite rooms,” Jamshir said.
He opened the door to a large, nearly empty chamber, with expansive windows in the far wall letting in plenty of light. Inside were three statues and nothing else.
Jocasta let go of Jamshir’s hand and walked in, studying the statues. For once, he didn’t try to touch her or even talk. Instead, he only watched her, his face alight with pride like he was the sculptor.
Carved from stone in great detail and brightly painted, two of the them appeared to be men and one a woman. Clothes that would be out of place here in the Greenweald, simple pants and shirts in brilliant colors. One bright green, one deep blue, and one blazing orange. The figures wore boots and gloves, the same color as their outfits, and their hair was styled into crazy points and whorls, also colored to match.
The only thing on them that wasn’t brightly colored were the masks on their faces. Those were solid white, with no holes for eyes, noses, or mouths.
The workmanship was impeccable, yet the overall effect was disturbing.
“What are they?” she asked. “Who made them?”
“Do you like them? I don’t know who made them, but I find them quite breathtaking.”
“They are….truly something.”
“Indeed. I’ve shown very few people, you know. Only those that I trust and care about. Like you, and my father, and of course my dear friends Jediah and Florian. Why just yesterday, the three of us stood here, contemplating the art and discussing life and its vicissitudes. Perhaps they’ll stop by later, and I can introduce you to them.”
Jocasta studied Jamshir’s face as he spoke. There was no sign of mockery. He believed what he was saying and for the moment, seemed almost calm. The normal inner turmoil of his mind that was usually evident in his speech and manners was subdued as he gazed at the statues.
“Anyway,” he said, turning back to her. “I must return to my duties. Would you like to accompany me, or would you rather stay here for a while?”
“If it’s all the same to you,” she said, “I’d like to return to my chambers. I’m afraid you’ve worn me out.”
She smiled and managed to keep it in place even in the face of his leer.
“Not too tired, I hope.” He stepped close, grabbing her and forcing a sloppy, foul-tasting kiss on her once more. She fought to restrain the shudder that tore through her. “I’ll come find you when I’ve finished.”
He touched her face and then turned on his heel and left the room. Jocasta stood still a moment longer, then spit and wiped her mouth with her sleeve. She needed clean water but doubted there was any in the whole tree.
As she left the room two soldiers approached. The hallway she was in was long, and Jamshir hadn’t reached the other end yet. He walked on, a slight stagger to his gait. Jocasta was watching him and not paying much attention to the two men passing her.
At least until she felt a hand on her buttocks.
“Hey!” She spun around, her hand going to her belt where her knife usually was, but she had left in her chambers. She cursed when she saw the open mockery on the faces of the soldiers.
“What?” One of them, the shorter and stockier one said. “We thought that maybe when old Lord Jamshir is done with you, you’d like to try someone else out.”
He sniggered, and his companion joined in. They moved closer, separating so that they were on each side of her.
She narrowed her eyes. If one of them dared to…
The one on her left reached out for her breast. His hand never made it that far.
She grabbed his little finger, twisting it hard until it gave with a satisfying snap. The soldier howled and jerked his hand back, but she was already turning, driving her knee up into his groin. His howl turned into a groan and he began to bend, as she brought her fist up to meet his nose.
The crack could have come from his nose or her hand. Either way, he pitched over backward, crashing into the wall behind and sliding down it.
Before she could turn the other man hit her from behind. His fist crashed into the back of her head, sending her stumbling toward the man she had knocked down. Her feet tangled with his legs and she began to fall. The man behind her lunged forward but misjudged when she stumbled, and his arms barely brushed her.
Jocasta rolled to the side, shaking off the ringing in her head from his blow as she climbed to her feet. The man on the floor was slowly getting up, while the other spun to face her. She raised her hands and used quick jabs to connect with his chin, his throat and his right eye before he could raise his own in defense.
She was strong and knew how to punch. The force of her blows pushed him back,
