by Jane Routley
“It’s Blessing time,” I told Shadow. “Everybody’ll be asleep until well into the morning.”
Klea grinned. “No, our pale friend’s right. Best be careful.” She shoved the food in her pockets and pulled her kerchief over her face. “Now if you find the letter, how can you let me know? I know, pull one curtain closed in your window. I’ll be checking. And please don’t let anyone know I’m here, will you? This family’s a snake pit.”
I nodded my agreement and she jumped out the window. I expected to see her flying out over the lawn, but she actually flew discreetly along the side of the house away from the Eyrie until she reached the cover of the trees clustered at the other end.
The pale morning sun glistened on the dewy grass. Tendrils of morning mist hung over the trees. A lovely day for the Blessing ceremony, and the heavy dew would mean the ground was perfect for planting. A deer was digging at my strawberry plants, but as I picked up my crossbow to shoot, it scampered away. Great Uncle Five came pottering across the lawn, having been up newt hunting since before dawn. I didn’t worry that he might have seen Klea leave my room; since she wasn’t any kind of amphibious animal, he was unlikely to pay any attention to her.
“This is a beautiful place,” said Shadow from his vantage point well back from the window. “Is the rest of the Empire like this?”
“Most of the Empire is warmer and greener than here. Don’t you like Klea?”
His eyes widened. “I... I felt... she treated me like some kind of toy.”
“That’s just mages. Power makes them frivolous. But I think she’s pretty reasonable. No chance she’ll be on Illuminus’ side, anyway. She loathes all of Flara’s children. Let’s see if we can scare up some breakfast.”
I dressed, put my towel and underwear in a basket and ran down to the bathhouse. Once I’d chased out a half-naked peasant lad who’d obviously spent the night curled up in a towel against the boiler, and emptied and cleaned the baths from the night before, I had a quick bath myself before people started using up the hot water. Then I checked that the boiler was stoked and that there was still plenty of soap, and ran up to the kitchen to make sure everything was going smoothly.
Of course it wasn’t. Tane the Blessing cook and our normal cook Hilly were having one of their quarrels.
“How can I cook for such misers? The shame! The shame!” Tane was wailing at the ceiling, while the empty griddle smoked. The servants holding the empty serving dishes stood around waiting with varying degrees of impatience.
“This bacon has to last four days,” shouted Hilly, arms spread over the front of the larder door. “They can fill up on eggs.”
I looked over the bacon on the table and thought it was plenty, but told Hilly to open the larder and get out another dozen rashers anyway. Tane had to have a win, otherwise he would sulk. That sometimes led to his getting drunk. We couldn’t afford to eat much meat at Willow, so nobody was very good at cooking it. Since Tane was the cook at the village inn and the person in the village who had most experience of cooking meat, we always had him cook for us during family visits. He was good at it too. But he had this weird conviction that people would go hungry if he didn’t cook everything in sight immediately. In the old days, this meant that we always ran out of meat before the final day and had to buy it in from the neighbouring estates—at huge cost. A few years ago I’d hit upon a system of locking up the larder and having thrifty Hilly dole it all out day by day. It saved a lot of money and kept Tane much more sober, but Ladybless, the kitchen dramas.
Oh, bacon! I loved it and I only ever saw it during a family visit. Once Tane had finally cooked some, I bundled a rasher into a roll and gobbled it down before thinking of the ghost. Under the pretence of being very hungry I shoved a couple of extra rolls and some cheese into my basket and ran back up the stairs. I met Thomas on the way and managed to find out that it had been Lady Chatoyant who had received the messenger mage from Crystalline. Thomas was so busy sorting out breakfast that he didn’t pry into why I wanted to know.
Katti, who had returned to the room, was unimpressed that I hadn’t saved any bacon roll for her, and curled up on the bed and ignored me, but Shadow was happy to have the bread and cheese. He asked me all about the map I had on the wall. It was so lovely having someone listen to me going on about my dreams of going on the Spice Road that time melted away. Then I realised I’d be late and, pulling on my green Blessing robes, I hurried down to the Dining Room which had been set up for family breakfasts.
I could hear the argument in progress all the way down the stairs. (Ah, Family. Such joy!) When I recognised Auntie Eff’s raised voice, I broke into a run.
“What’s happening?” I asked Thomas, who was standing impassively by the door.
“Innkeeper’s been here demanding recompense for her inn. Lord Impavidus thinks we should pay,” muttered Thomas, out of the side of his mouth.
“My dear Marm, I merely follow orders.” Impi was at his suavest. No sign of Splendance or Great Uncle Igniate, who would be the proper source of such orders.
“You burned the inn down. Lady Splendance should pay the woman,” shouted Eff.
Most of the rest of the mages were in the room, eating the Blessing breakfast of eggs, beefsteak and bacon and watching this performance with the interested air of an audience at a play—except for Great Aunt Glisten, who looked disapproving, and Chatoyant, who was whispering something clearly startling to a wide-eyed Blazeann.
“Come, come, my dear Effulgentia,” sneered Impi. “We all know you are skimming the top off the estate to keep you and Shine in luxury.”
“In luxury?” screamed Eff. “Luxury? We don’t even have wax candles, you...” Her fingers gripped her breakfast plate and I thought she was going to throw it at him. Both Thomas and I stepped forward. The movement must have brought her back to reality, because she stopped, took a deep breath and said in a softer tone—but through gritted teeth, “Forgive my tone, my lord. The foolish innkeeper has upset me. But I do think the bill is down to you. Any court of law would find that the inn is your responsibility.”
“Well, I do not. We were protecting the youth of the village from your son’s vice. You should have brought him up—”
“I shall pay!” cried Blazeann. “Yes!” she continued, standing up and confronting the astonished eyes of everyone in the room. Her voice broke a little under Impi’s outraged glare, but she kept on bravely. “I... I do not agree with your... with my mother’s decision in this, Lord Impavidus. It is neither Aurora’s nor Eff’s responsibility.”
She pulled one of her rings off her finger and held it out to Eff, her hand trembling.
“Yes,” added Chatoyant quickly. Her voice was perfectly calm. “Lady Blazeann rightly feels that if Lady Splendance is determined to shirk responsibility for her consort’s actions, then rather than bring shame on the family, she should pay. Bravo to you, Cousin. At least someone cares about Lucheyart honour.”
She started clapping. Great Aunt Glisten joined her and all rest of the family joined them. Nobody much liked Impi. One or two of the retainers clapped as well, but the rest looked anxious, torn no doubt between offending Impi, who was currently the real power in the family, and offending Blazeann, who might one day be the family’s leader. (Poor sods. It couldn’t be easy.)
Blazeann smiled and nodded at everyone. Eff stood there, mouth open. Thomas nudged me.
“Quick, get the ring,” he hissed. I stepped over, prised the ring out of Blazeann’s hand and went round the table to give it to Auntie Eff. If it was real, it could pay for at least three new inns. Or an inn and four new workers’ cottages. And a new downpipe on the kitchen wall too with any luck. Blazeann probably thought of it as a cheap little ornament.
By then Eff had recovered enough to come back round the table and kiss Blazeann on the hand. I stuck close to her because Lord Impavidus looked ready to explode. So I was able to overhear Chatoyant saying softly to Auntie Eff, “We’ll be wanting a receipt for that, Eff,
and a return of the money you don’t use. One must keep a close eye on the pennies.”
She smiled at an approvingly nodding Lady Glisten. Shit-eater.
Impi sucked in a breath. Here came the tirade. Eff and I both took off out of the dining room so fast, we almost knocked over the servants bringing in the hand-washing bowls.
Before Impi could really get into his stride about how much he regretted joining our family and how much of a burden keeping us respectable was, the Blessing ceremony started. A great light burst from the top of the Eyrie, a light so powerful that it spread all the way to the bottom of the tower and down into the passageway to touch even us. The silken canopy had been removed and a glowing figure came floating down the Eyrie’s central well, bringing light with it as it came. A mage in full flight is a true marvel.
“Come, mortals all,” shouted Lady Splendance in a mighty and enhanced voice. “Witness the blessings of the Lady of Light.”
As Auntie Splendance reached the bottom of the tower, trumpets were sounded and the huge door at the front swung open so that she could be framed in the doorway. She was wearing the cloth-of-gold robes of a High Priest. Peering out from behind her, I saw her light and the reflected light from the robes glowing on the faces of the peasants who had been gathering outside the house since dawn.
They let out a loud cheer.
“Blessings on you all,” cried Splendance.
Even with all I knew of her and our family, I still got a lump in my throat. I found myself crossing my hands above my heart and murmuring my thanks for the Lady of Light’s Blessings.
Then Lumina, brushing past me, trod hard on my foot and gave me the nasty grin that told me she’d done it deliberately.
CHAPTER NINE
ACCORDING TO THE legends, before the Light Mages had come, the people of this land had been wandering hunters living hand to mouth in a trackless forest. The Light Mages had brought agriculture and the easier, more civilized life that came with it, interbreeding with the local people and populating the land with contented farms. At least that’s the story. Our priests tend to gloss over the major stumble that was the Crystal War, but lots of folk songs telling of those times get sung around tavern fireplaces.
But the Crystal War had brought Shola’s Pact, which required mages to do something useful with their power. Every Blessing festival, the Matriarch, in her role as High Priest, leads the other noblewomen of the family in reciting the words of Blessing over the sacks of grain and seed potatoes. The sacks rose into the air and glowed as they did so, and—aided by the attendant mages—distributed themselves among the baskets of those waiting to sow them in the earth.
The Matriarch blessed the fields themselves before the crops were sown. The sowers were always the older peasants, those wearing the long hooded robes that indicated they did not wish to take part in the Blessing congress.
Did the Blessing make a difference to the harvest? I’d never heard of anywhere where the crops didn’t get blessed in spring. The peasants swore that unblessed grain came up slower than blessed grain and that unblessed fields were less fertile. While most of the aristocracy regarded peasants as stupid and ignorant, experience made them extremely wise in the ways of nature; I’d learned to respect their knowledge in such matters. Certainly the orchards always blossomed a couple of days after the ritual had been completed. If the harvest was poor, the peasants could always trace it back to some misstep or wrong word of the previous spring’s Blessing ritual.
I always felt hopeful for the future after a Blessing ceremony, and this year I really longed for that feeling. I dreaded yet another year at Willow, even though I knew I mustn’t leave Eff alone. I nodded my head at the respectful bows of the peasants (as well they might bow—they had a very good deal with me and Eff running this estate, as they must know if they took a look at our neighbours) and tried to take pleasure in how well the fields looked. I’d worked hard, chivvying the peasants to till the soil and keep the ditches clear, and the result was good. But I couldn’t quieten that little voice in the back of my mind that said, Like last year and the year before. The same old, same old until the end of your life.
However, I had a task to perform today. As soon as the procession set off for the second field, I ducked through a thin place in the hedge and ran back to the house.
On the way, I passed the place where I had seen the big wild cat the night before. The Mooncat—I had started calling it that. Had it even been real? I stopped and looked around the place where I thought it had happened. Something large and heavy had run across the pasture here. I wasn’t a good enough tracker to say what it.
Focus, woman! I told myself. A light night puffball vision was not important today. I had more important things to think about. If I could find this letter for Klea, and she kept her promise to take us up to Elayison, that would be so much easier than keeping Shadow hidden while we travelled on the canal boat. And Klea was always good fun. Maybe she would take me down to Crystalline for a little visit after we’d dropped off Shadow.
Although most of the mages were at the Blessing ceremony—the retainers were always expected to show up—Great Uncle Nate and Cousins Illuminus and Scintillant had not attended, which meant I needed to be careful. I avoided the kitchen, too. Most of the servants were out with the Blessing procession, but I could hear Tane pottering around; if he caught me, he’d want to tell me of all Hilly’s heinous crimes against him. So I crept into the house through the small door in the side of the Eyrie.
Three of the local servants were standing round a pile of sheets in the centre of the Great Hall. Luckily they were too absorbed in gossiping to notice me creeping past.
“Lord Scintillant always gives babies,” crooned one of them, rubbing her belly.
Curse Scintillant. Of course he’d found someone else to tread the Blessing path with. Probably several someones, knowing him.
“Well he’s not going to do so right now, is he? So how’s about you help me with this?” replied another.
At least I knew where Great Uncle Nate was. I could hear his snores echoing down the Eyrie. He snored so loudly that he slept during the day so as not to disturb anyone else’s sleep. In the gaps between his thundering grunts, all was silence as I crept up the stairs. The doors to Illuminus’ and Scintillant’s rooms were closed. This meant nothing, of course; Scintillant especially was notorious for never sleeping in his own bed.
The mages brought extra furnishings when they came to inhabit the Eyrie. Though we did our best, Willow’s furnishings had become very threadbare in the twenty-five years since they’d been bought. I stopped to admire the tapestries on the stairs and wondered if I might be able to scrounge some of the old ones. The house was draughty in winter.
Despite arriving late and without warning, Chatoyant and Glisten had been given rooms befitting their station at the top of the Eyrie. Eff was good at organising a noble household into correct rankings, which was ironic considering all her years of radical pamphleteering.
Chatoyant’s room was hung in elegant green silk, as luminous as cat’s eyes and as delicate as their paws. The hangings felt lovely, but I only stroked them for a minute before I set to searching the room. I quickly found her small treasure chest. Unfortunately it was locked with a fiendish little mage-proof lock. Nothing could actually keep a mage out of your things, but if the chest was not opened using the correct combination, a mage-proof lock leaked a sticky coloured powder that stained everything inside, so at least you knew when someone had been prying. No chance of getting at Toy’s valuables discreetly, but in the hopes she hadn’t put Klea’s letter in her treasure chest, I began searching the rest of the room.
I was keeping an ear open for approaching footsteps, but I heard nothing until suddenly Great Uncle Nate’s snores became louder. I looked up from where I was crouched on the floor, my hand feeling under Chatoyant’s mattress. Hagen Stellason, the supposed secretary, stood in the doorway smiling at me. Then he closed the door between us and left me to i
t.
In a fright, I rushed out into the hallway.
“What are you—?” I cried, seizing his arm.
He turned and clapped his hand over my mouth.
“Shhh, you’ll get yourself caught,” he hissed.
I glared at him and pulled away the hand.
“You should show more respect to one of the lineage,” I muttered. “What are you doing here?”
He sighed. “The mages asked me to keep watch on their possessions while they were here. There’s been pilfering in other places. I heard a noise and came up to check.”
I found that very hard to believe. The mages would never have been so easy-going about pilfering. They’d have struck back so hard I would have heard of it even here.
“Is that what you were doing last night?” I hissed back at him.
His glance hardened. “Do you want me to tell your cousin you were searching her room?”
“I could tell Lord Impavidus about you in my Aunt’s room,” I said, feeling even as I said it that it was a weak threat.
To my surprise he grinned. “You’re a feisty one,” he said. “What if nobody told anybody anything? I promise you, I’m doing nothing that would harm the family and I’m doing it for a good reason.”
“Very well,” I said, trying to be dignified.
“Have you finished your search?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I snapped. “I was simply straightening the bed.”
“Of course you were, O woman of the lineage. I’m sure you make all our beds.” Despite myself, I liked the teasing look in his eyes. “Have you finished your ‘tidying’?” he continued. “I could keep watch for you while you finish. We mundanes should try to help each other.”
“Thank you, I’m fine.”
He took my hand and kissed it. Something about that kiss, or maybe it was the way he looked up at me over my hand, went right to my belly and made me tingle. Impressive.
“Go back and tidy up and I’ll keep watch.”