Chapter Text
Prologue -- Hidden Treasures
“Here you are. Oh. Look at you.”
Reid blushed brightly and tucked his head to his chest as Bubbles dotted a kiss on the top of his head. She brushed his short curls with her hand, and removed the sawdust from his hair. He had squares of sandpaper and a small paintbrush tucked into his breast pocket, and woodstain drops all over his clothes.
“What a busy young man you have been!” Bubbles exclaimed.
“It took a while to get to the case sanded and stained, but the results are quite nice,” Reid burbled. “We will of course have to let the shelves dry before we can set it into the door again. Another coat of varnish. Another touch of wood glue to conceal the nail holes. By tomorrow evening, we should be able to come back and put all your books in place again.”
“I’ll keep the kitties off the shelves this time,” she promised.
“Malcolm’s toes are not going to taste very good for a couple days,” Reid sighed.
“You did a fabulous job. Who knew you had a hidden talent for carpentry?”
“I Googled it,” Reid admitted.
“The bookcase is beautiful,” she answered, tapping him on the shoulder.
“Bubbles, I’m so sorry for all the trouble I caused you,” Reid whispered, head bowed again.
“Nonsense. Stop beating yourself up,” Bubbles whispered back. She sat down in one of the winged chairs on the antique rug. “Spencer, how many times do I have to tell you? You did the right thing. I’m so very proud of you.”
“Thanks for removing the restraining order.”
“You’re welcome. My daughter forgets sometimes who the adult is in our relationship.”
“I’m so sorry about your bookstore and your home. I never meant for this to happen,” Reid shook his head, ashamed.
“Spencer, between you and that busy little crew you brought with you, everything is back in shape. I’ll be able to reopen in another week. All the windows and doors have been repaired. All the bullet holes. That horrible smoky smell is gone. That clever boy of yours, Miles? He installed a new security system for me, showed me how easy it is to work. Your partner even managed to make himself useful too.”
“Where did Aaron go?” Reid wondered, glancing towards the open door and the forms walking back and forth. The floor boards squeaked upstairs, and the gallop of a cat hurrying down the steps was heard.
“He’s planting a tree in the courtyard for me. I’m not supposed to notice, I take it? A pink dogwood. It will fit in nicely. Spencer, I promise you, given the choice, I would do it all again. You saved Ed’s life. He would never have walked out the door free and breathing, not with that many feds waving that many guns, and certainly not with Mr. Wingtips out there running the takedown.”
“Mr. Wingtips,” Reid snickered softly.
“You know how I feel about men who wear wingtips,” Bubbles sighed. “This, all this, it is a temporary bump in the road, like a flat tire you have to stop and fix. I’m going to be just fine. But Ed, he’s going to remember the kindness that you’ve shown him, and you mark my words, you are going to see a changed man.”
“I do hope so,” Reid murmured, rubbing his fingertips over his green and yellow bruises.
“You want a break from the sanding and staining? I’d like to bring a few trade paperbacks into this room. They’re from an estate sale. A science-fiction and fantasy buff by the looks of it. Would you catalogue the boxes for me?” Bubbles asked hopefully.
“I’d be happy to,” Reid beamed, holding out both arms for the box she ported over from the open door. Eight of the ten fingers he was holding up had a Band-Aid, a bump, a nick, a ding, or a cut on them. Bubbles handed Reid the box, and shook her head at him. “Alphabetically?” he asked.
“That would be just fine, Dr. Precious,” Bubbles answered. She patted Reid on the shoulder, but he didn’t notice. He was already diving into the box of books, eyes alight with the flames of curiosity.
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Part 1 - The Virgin Land
Chapter 1 - Home
“Lord Aaron!”
A swift form in blue raced down the castle steps, dodging past a scullery maid and a milkmaid who were headed for the kitchens. He received a whack on both ears for disrupting their conversation. A long train of mounted knights was making its way up the hill, under the raised portcullis, and up the cobblestone road to the castle itself. Groomsmen waited for their horses, to take them to the stables nearby the main guard tower. The squire had spotted his master among those returning, and he was eager to grab his lord’s attention before he could be otherwise distracted. His master was a very busy man, and much in demand.
Lord Aaron dismounted his steed, planting his mud-caked boots on the firm, stone steps of home for the first time in weeks. A stable boy led his horse away. Aaron shouldered his bags and faced Castle Rossengild. Never had his eyes beheld such a gorgeous sight, no matter her grimy façade, and gray windows, and general dearth of color and light. Such was the tone of the world in winter. At least it wasn’t snowing today.
Aaron was careful to couch his joy in the grimness which was his usual mood. It wouldn’t do for anyone to see him looking too happy to have returned without his prize. He was simply relieved to be home again. He needed some rest. A form in blue hurried towards Aaron. It was his faithful squire. The youth went so far as to take Aaron’s arm in anxiousness.
“Sir? So good to see you again!” Torgeson panted.
“Good to see you as well, Karl. What troubles you?”
“Your replacement has arrived, my lord,” the young squire babbled, letting go of his master’s arm and taking an appropriate step back from him.
“Where?” Aaron asked, careful to keep the anguish from his voice. It had been seven days already since his last dose, and he was beginning to feel the absence of antidote deep in his bones.
“You look pale, sir,” Karl observed. “How long have you been without?”
“Lord William was kind enough to share his rabbit with me while we were on the hunt, but it has been a week since my last dose.”
“That was most kind of Lord William.”
“I am in his debt all the more,” Aaron observed wryly. “Where is this replacement?” he asked.
“I left him in your rooms for you. I pray you will not be disappointed, sir, as I had but a brief amount of time and even fewer resources with which to perform the duty you set before me.”
“Him?” Aaron questioned in surprise. Karl winced.
“Forgive me, my lord, but him, yes, my lord.”
“Karl….”
“I apologize, my lord,” Torgeson winced. “It was the best I could do on such short notice. I know it’s not the done thing for a man to take a male rabbit, but honestly, my lord, he has a very female look about him. I myself mistook him for a wench. Perhaps if you were to dress him as such, no one would be the wiser.”
As his squire was saying the words, the lad was moving another step back, closing one eye in anticipation of a blow. The number of times that the lad cringed in Aaron’s presence made the knight quite concerned for him, truly. How often had the lad been whipped and beaten for displeasing his former mistress? Aaron waited calmly, gauntleted hands folded at his front. When no blow was forth-coming, Karl came back within arms’ reach.
“He waits in my rooms?” Aaron asked.
“In your rooms, my lord. I fetched water for a bath, a light meal as well. Baron Rossen will be expecting you later this evening, I dare say.”
“I will be expected to make my report, yes.”
“Did the gods above smile on you, my lord?”
“No, but the gods below made fair play of me. Fielding escaped across the border into Mary’s Land. We did not pursue him for fear of starting another Border War.”
“I am sorry, my lord.”
“So am I.”
“I’m off to the village apothecary for your medicines. Master Bottler was not in his shop when I checked. I will see you tomorrow?”
“Thank you, Karl,” Aaron smiled finally, clapping a hand on the lad’s shoulder.
“You are too kind to me, my lord,” Karl smiled back before rushing away.
Lord Aaron counted himself lucky in that he had survived the Border Wars, as the local army his master had managed to raise had been used as little more than fodder during those violent campaigns. Aaron had survived by his wits and his brawn while many others had perished, including the previous baron. When he had returned home in one piece (for the most part) he had been granted a court position in gratitude for faithful service to his kindly master, who became the serving baron. True, since his master’s star had risen in the time since those wars. Lord David Rossen had become one of the most powerful barons in all of the Virgin Land, and Aaron found that he too enjoyed the benefits of his master’s increase in power.
Lord Aaron served as the shire reeve for Baron Rossen’s barony of Quantico. He was responsible for maintaining law and order with his knights and under-shire reeves, keeping the peace, protecting trade, and controlling the populace when needed. It was a task that suited Lord Aaron very well. He like law and order. He liked routine. He liked stability. He liked knowing the rules, and knowing his place and his responsibilities, what society expected of him. If only everyone would have been so fond of the rules and of order, then he might have found himself bereft of a job. So while he enjoyed the order and stability, there was also a part of him which was grateful at his age to be able to enjoy the excitement of the hunt and the thrill of the chase, all things considered. Very little pleased him more than dragging home a dangerous criminal and handing the villain over to Baron Rossen. Unfortunately he would not be able to do so this time.
Aaron pondered these things as he slowly climbed the tower steps towards his private apartments. When he passed the intermittent windows, he would peer outside. The Virgin Land was not much to behold in winter. The trees were barren of both leaves and fruit, and were nothing more than stark black and brown sticks ranging out of the earth, over the hills and mountains. Pale sheaves and stubble covered the fertile fields. When it snowed, there was a brief passage of time during which all the world was white and pure again, but alas, not for very long. The dirt and mud always found their way through the clean snow.
The society that Lord Aaron lived in was divided as it had been divided since before memory, since the time of the Great Plague which had swept across the land, tearing the joined states apart into fractious fiefdoms who were concerned more about their own interests than the interests of the whole as one. People themselves were divided into three categories: those who were infected, those who were immune, and those who served as living antidote to the Great Plague.
Those who were infected with the Great Plague usually lived in the Virgin Land, where their fore-bearers had abandoned technology and embraced an agrarian society, a feudal system of sorts. The toil was hard and life was often short, but it was not without its rewards for those willing to work.
Those who were immune to the Great Plague usually lived in Mary’s Land across the border. Tales filtered through of flying machines and horseless-carriages, of great cities built of steel and glass which glistened in the sunlight. It was reportedly a place where magnificent, gleaming castles could maintain summer warmth or winter cool no matter the time of year. Aaron had never been to Mary’s Land. He had always been told that these tales were the ravings of lunatics driven mad in the final stages of the plague. Everyone in the Virgin Land believed that all Mary’s Land contained were crumbling structures, polluted rivers, barren fields, and fruitless trees – a land ravaged by war, chemicals, and pestilence.
However, Aaron knew that from the top of his tower, when he gazed across the borders on a very clear night, he could see shining domes of light far in the distance. It was not all chaos and anarchy over there.
The conflicts going on between the Virgin Land and Mary’s Land stemmed from many reasons – mistrust, hatred, and fear foremost. Those in Mary’s Land coveted the wide, green spaces of The Virgin Land, and those in the Virgin Land coveted the technology to be able to one day find a cure for the Great Plague. The scientists of Mary’s Land were constantly promising a cure was in sight, but none had yet been discovered. Further, raiders from Mary’s Land crossed into the Virgin Land to obtain infected specimens on which to conduct their inhumane experiments in search of this elusive cure. It was an intolerable and unspeakable practice which had been going on almost as long as they had been divided into two worlds.
The Great Border Wars had been fought to a standstill with tremendous losses on both sides. Smaller wars flared up now and then, though they were little more than skirmishes, not great battles. A raiding party here, a fly-by-night grab there. It was nothing the Virgin Land could not defend against though, Lord Aaron was confident. There were sentinel posts in all the baronies, and the barons were in constant contact concerning the threat of danger from the outside.
While those with the plague and those that were immune continued to squabble, the remaining people also played their own role in the conflicts – usually much against their will. These people served as a living antidote for those infected with the Great Plague. In the Virgin Land, these people were referred to as ‘rabbits’. They were kept as possessions. Mary’s Land decried this practice as worse than slavery. But for those in the Virgin Land who were infected with the Great Plague, the keeping of rabbits was a necessary evil. There was no cure, none whatsoever, in spite of what the people of Mary’s Land continued to promise. There was only brief respite from the disease to be found in the form of the blood, sweat, or tears of the captive rabbits.
The antidote was simple enough to obtain — one had to drink the body fluids of their rabbit in order to maintain good health. It wasn’t a cure. But it could prolong one’s life by years, decades even. It wasn’t uncommon in the Virgin Land for an infected man or woman to reach as many as five or six decades, even seven! If you had enough money to procure rabbits of the highest quality, you could stave away the aches which would rake your bones, or the dizziness and nausea which would fill your body, and the eventual madness which would end in death. Those who were lucky enough to have a good supply of rabbits could abate their symptoms, and go on to lead nearly-normal lives.
Rabbits were therefore very highly-prized commodities. They were bought and sold, traded and bartered, kept and bred. A lord or lady’s rabbit might be dearer to them than their own flesh and blood family. That all depended on the lord or lady. The quality of one’s rabbit depended on the money they had at their disposal. Rabbits lasted longer when treated well, more briefly if mistreated.
The longest one of Aaron’s rabbits had survived was six years. Aaron did not mistreat his rabbits. He was greatly torn on the morality of keeping someone as property and using them in such a fashion. His rabbits never lasted long because being in the company of a shire reeve was fraught with danger. If they were of weak constitution and not much for heavy travel and rough conditions, life with Aaron was very hard on them. Also, it was not uncommon for a fugitive to attack Aaron’s rabbit instead of attacking Aaron. Therefore Aaron did his best not to get too attached to his rabbits, though that was often a losing battle from the outset.
To the casual observer, it might have made more sense for Lord Aaron to leave his rabbits at home when he travelled for work. But his work often required that he be gone from home for more than a week at a time, and bringing his own rabbit was an absolutely must. He needed a steady supply of fresh antidote.
At times it was no less dangerous being a member of the court at Rossengild Castle. There were numerous intrigues running rampant at any one time, lords and ladies plotting against one another. These intrigues invariably involved their rabbits, who were authorized to act as seconds in duels, and to act as liaisons between warring factions. Rabbits might also be offered as gifts between rivals, or they might be given as part of a dowry as well. Because of this involvement in politics, rabbits were often the objects of fatal wrath. When you can’t attack your enemy outright, it was seen as almost acceptable to attack their rabbit instead. Lord Aaron had lost a rabbit in a duel when he was a teenager, and he had been much aggrieved to have lost his friend Anselm in such a fashion.
Thus it was a dangerous assignment, being Lord Aaron’s personal rabbit.
Lord Aaron was grateful to have a job, a home, and a little money. He knew that compared to most of the population, he was a very lucky man indeed. He was also well aware that his squire had not had much hard currency on hand, and that he would not have been able to purchase a replacement rabbit of very fine quality. Aaron steeled himself not to expect a great deal once he reached his apartments.
It had been six months since Lord Aaron’s previous rabbit had been killed. He had mourned Haley because he was fond of her, but necessity demanded that he must now move on to a new rabbit. That didn’t mean he was without feeling over her loss – not at all. He missed Haley terribly. They had shared a child, though that child had been stillborn. Years ago, Haley had given birth while Aaron was travelling for work. Haley had given their stillborn son to the reeds, the custom of placing the deceased in a basket in the river, and letting the current carry the dead away.
When her time had come and Haley had died, Aaron had given her up to the reeds as well. He had wrapped her corpse in her finest dress and cloak, and kissed her on the forehead, and pushed her basket into the current. He had watched from the riverbank as she drifted on to the next world, taking the better part of himself with her. He had wondered if the fairy tales were true, that somewhere on the other side, Haley had been reunited with their son, and that now they waited for Aaron to join them there.
Life being what it was, Aaron didn’t have the time to stand about wringing his hands in despair. Haley was dead, but it was time to move on. Six months was a long time to wait between rabbits. His life depended on acquiring a new one. Aaron had tried to abstain, but Lord William had insisted that he would share his rabbit with him. As the pursuit of Fielding had dragged on, Aaron had sought the services of professional rabbits because he did not want to put a strain on his friendship with Lord William or on the life of Lord William’s rabbit.
Depending on hired rabbits could be dangerous. They were not always as pure as they might have claimed. His visits to rabbits for hire had left Aaron feeling queasy and ashamed, and he had tried to abstain from antidote again. His physical condition had gradually worsened. His joints and bones ached deep inside. His every movement was clouded with nausea, to the point where he could hardly keep food down. As he deteriorated physically, his mental capabilities suffered as well.
A week ago, Lord Aaron had had no choice but to accept Lord William’s kind offer to share his rabbit again. This practice was also wrought with hazards, as sharing a rabbit could lead to enmity and jealousy between masters, and all manner of confused loyalties on the part of the rabbits as well. Master and rabbit tended to be closely bonded. The longer they had been together, the deeper the bond was, although there were situations where the bonding could be instant and irrevocable. It wasn’t uncommon for a master and a rabbit to share a close friendship, even an addiction to one another’s company. It was also not uncommon for a rabbit to share a master or mistress’s bed, for them to be involved sexually. In recent years, there had even been a growing number of masters had taken rabbits as marriage partners, rather than making them merely mistresses. Sharing a rabbit with another man or woman stirred up too many conflicting emotions, and therefore it wasn’t a recommended practice.
In short, while Lord Aaron was grateful to Lord William for his kindness, he was unspeakably happy to be home, where the promise of a new rabbit of his own waited him. The shire reeve didn’t have very high hopes, as he knew how empty his purse was, and how little money his squire had had at his disposal. But Lord Aaron was not the picky sort. His life depended on having a rabbit, and his squire had procured a new rabbit. There would be no quibbling on Aaron’s part about the fact his replacement was not Haley, and not even a female.