Masks of devotion

Annika stepped out into the cold air. The waterfall drowned out the sounds of revelry she had just escaped. Her customers deserved some fun. Annika just needed a moment and some space.

She stepped across the narrow balcony of the bathhouse to rest her elbows on the balustrade, savouring the release of pressure in her lower back. She wiggled her hips to the sound of dull cracks up her spine.

She swirled the wine in her glass. A deep red. Expensive. Well it would have been if she served it instead of drinking it herself.

The mountains above were covered in thick layers of snow. Below her, the town fell away in steep switchbacks, steps and bridges which straddled the cascades.

Directly below her the outside baths bubbled up their clouds of sulfuric steam. She had grown up with that smell, but even though she'd been back for many moons now, she still wasn't used to it. The city had changed her.

The bathhouse was her pride if not quite her joy. Its many levels carved into the cliffs with balconies catching the sun. There, people relaxed in the baths, or ate and drank together at the bar. All were welcome and safe. Annika had even designed the pipes that brought the steam to all who needed it. She had brought warmth to her village.

The cascades emptied into the Blackwater harbour far below, where the long boats jostled for space and distant workers bustled on the docks. Their shift would be ending soon.

She took a sip of the wine. Strong. It burnt the back of her throat.

"I'm going to have to give this a rest," she said to no-one.

After a moment, she took another.

Her gaze wandered across the Blackwater to the Fort on the headland. It loomed over the village, hogging the light. The village itself, a chaotic slum of lean-tos, ladders and dugouts crawled up the shadowed side of the mountain, thick with sleet that rarely melted: The Icepens were aptly named.

Looking at them turned Annika's thoughts to memories best left frozen in time. So, she drained her glass and shifted her attention back to the harbour.

At that moment the bell atop the Chantry began ringing. Bright and clear, it cut through the roar of the falls. She could see the workers far below put down their tools and begin their slow trudge up to the Bathhouse.

Those within would be draining their last drinks, grumbling their way back to work, or off to sleep at the Icepens.

Annika would have a few moments to ready her smile and welcome the new shift with a joke, a drink and a few hours of comfort.

But first, she would need to refill her own glass.

---

Annika was up to her armpits in spilled ale when the newcomer entered.

She was tall, slender and wearing a flowing white robe. Her face was covered by a featureless mask. Only her mouth could be seen. Lips that smiled gently as she nodded to the crowd. Clasping hands, sharing smiles. The murmur of conversations rippled through the room.

It seemed the newly arrived priest had finally decided to make a house call. Annika dried her arms on her apron. She didn't know why she suddenly felt so nervous.

---

"I have yet to see you at the Chantry for Devotions," her voice was soft, but clear. Her accent was high-born, from the capital. It chimed like silver spoons on crystal.

Annika snorted and paused before gesturing to the bar, "What do you… do you… drink?"

"I'm a priest, not an ascetic." a soft chuckle as she leaned back. Annika could not tell where she was looking and it unnerved her, "I'll have whatever you recommend."

Annika ratcheted up her smile as she turned to the bar.

"And bring yourself a glass too Annika," the priest called after her, "We have much to discuss."

---

"How do you know my name?" Annika slammed the bottle and glasses on the table.

"You're quite well known around here, it was not difficult."

"And your name?" Annika poured their drinks. She'd clean up the spills later.

"You know I can't tell you that."

"Your mask name then."

"Grace." The corner of her mouth turned into a half-smile, "and besides. You're the reason I came to this village."

Annika nearly choked on her wine. In the bottom of her glass she rippled images of hiding in the capital, getting lost in the crowd. Before guilt had dragged her home. She always knew they'd find her eventually.

She switched her smile back on before lowering the glass.

"Me? What do you mean? What does one of the Faceless want with an ageing barkeep this far from Court?"

Grace leaned forward, her hand reaching out across the table to touch Annika's hand. The touch was soft, gentle. Annika snatched it away.

"Relax, please. I'm not here to…"

"I know what you're here for," Annika narrowed her eyes, and gestured to around the bar, "Spread the word? Keep everyone in line?"

Her eyes snapped back to Grace, "Report what you find?"

"I found your journals."

Annika froze. The sounds of the other patrons disappeared.

"In the Library," Grace continued.

Annika slowly rested her hands on the table.

"At the Academy."

"I know where the library is." Annika dropped her voice to a low growl, she could feel the blood thrumming against her jaw as she clenched and unclenched her teeth, "I was told they were destroyed."

Grace's mouth broke into a wide smile.

"They were wonderful!"

---

"I can't go back there Grace!" Annika's voice echoed through the dome rafters of the Chantry.

They had had one of their arguments. Common after two bottles of wine, and Annika had followed Grace down the hill in a rage, until here she stood, a small woman on an expanse of marble, bathed in the fractured light from the stained glass arches overhead.

Grace sat at the foot of the pulpit. Her shoulders sagging, "Anni, I'm too tired for this now… please."

"I owe these people. I can't leave them."

"You've done all you can."

"It'll never be enough!"

"We need you back at the Capital. Your ideas… the reform… its time. These people will be better for it too."

"You don't need me for that! It's all in those journals they stole. My wretched life can be a lesson to you all!"

"Please…" Grace began.

"You want me to go back there… and I don't... I still don't even know who you really are!"

"You do… yes… you know what matters at least. The rest is…"

"Just a mask? You think I don't notice when your accent slips? There's more to your mask than just," Annika gestured towards the ornate candelabras on the altar and then back to Grace before sneering, "just, trappings of devotion."

Grace was silent, but Annika could see her lips quivering.

"You're hiding as much as I am."

"Not from you." Grace's voice was quiet now. Gone the sibilant lilt. It had dropped to that deeper drawl Annika had caught every now and then, one born to working the fields. "Ne'er from you."

Annika stepped forward.

"I can't do it without you." Grace whispered.

Annika sighed and crouched down beside her. She had run as far as she could run, hid behind bottles of wine, clouds of steam, promises of atonement. And still it had caught up with her.

"And I'll be in a gibbet the moment I step into that place." She placed her hand on Grace's forearm, "You know it."

Grace shrugged her off, and reached her shaking hands up to the white porcelain mask, "There is a way."

Annika sat back, watching as she fumbled. Grace's mouth fixed in that way she did when concentrating. Her top lip pulled up, her teeth gently biting her bottom lip.

She whispered softly, "I don't deserve you Grace".

She could take her eyes off as the clasps finally snapped apart, and Grace slowly lifted the mask down.

There was a stranger, but not a stranger. Not really. Tears down her cheeks. Blue-grey eyes looking straight at Annika's.

"Yes you do, " the woman said as her lips curled up that familiar half-smile, "my name… is Espa. Nice to meet you Annika."

They sat there for a while, bathed in the light from the stained glass windows, just looking at each other, smiling, knowing.

Eventually Annika reached down to the discarded mask. She knew what she had to do. She had known as soon as Grace… Espa… had taken it off.

Annika was the Masked Grace now. And she would do whatever Espa needed. Of course she would.

"I didn't know you were blonde," Annika said softly.

Espa laughed.

"My Love," Annika stood up and helped Espa to her feet, "We have work to do."

Another short story completed for my writing course at Sydney Writers' Studio. This one we were meant to explore a love story, so i used it as a chance to explore where I think two of my favourite characters are headed.