The rich girl in the story didn’t have an armin, but right when the bad man was about to carry her off, another man showed up and rescued her and begged her to let him serve as her armin. That’s not how it works at all. You don’t hire someone with no name and no reputation—that’s no better than being with a stranger in the first place. And it was clear that he loved her. There was this place in the story where he says, “I would die for you. You mean more to me than my life and my salvation. I would go to the ends of the earth to bring you your heart’s desire.”
I think I would have melted if someone said that to me. If it was someone I loved, that is. I read that bit over and over until I could say it by heart. And the girl loved the armin too, but she knew they’d never let her marry a nobody.
I skipped through a lot of the story that was about balls and clothes and such nonsense. I suppose it might be fun to read if you thought you might have such things, but I wanted to know what happened to the girl and the mysterious stranger and I wasn’t sure how much time I’d have to find out.
So I went to the end and read bits backward to figure out what happened. I still didn’t know what the Duke of Lautencourt had to do with the maisetra and the baroness. Then everything fell into a pattern. It was a pattern I hadn’t even imagined. I should have guessed how the story would end because fairy stories like this always ended that way. The mysterious armin was really the lost heir, and he fought a duel with the bad man for the sake of the lady’s honor and killed him and then everyone found out who he was. So the armin became a duke and married the lady and they were happy together for the rest of their lives.
I’d gotten so tied up in the story that I’d almost forgotten why I was reading it. When I remembered, my stomach knotted up all sick-like. Because if Baroness Saveze was the Duke of Lautencourt… Baroness Saveze had been the maisetra’s armin before she found out who she really was and became a baroness. That meant that the maisetra must be the rich lady in the story. And it made sense because she was rich. The maisetra and the baroness lived together in the same house and even slept in the same bedroom. I’d never thought anything of it because people did that, you know? Maisetra Fillert’s daughters shared a bedroom with their cousins when they came visiting. I’d never had a bed to myself until here at Tiporsel House and that was because Charsintek didn’t want me getting in trouble. But Maisetra Iulien had said, “The Duke of Lautencourt saves his true love and they live happily ever after.” And the baroness was the Duke of Lautencourt. And Maisetra Sovitre was her true love. And they were supposed to get married and live happily ever after.
I knew the maisetra and the baroness were friends who loved each other, but I’d never thought about them being in love. Not like me and Nan. I never imagined them lying in the big fancy bed they shared doing the things a man and woman who were married did. The things Nan and I had done. Maybe it should have made me feel glad to think the maisetra and I were alike that way, but instead I was frightened. It was one of those secrets Tavit warned me about. The kind that were dangerous to know and even more dangerous for people to know you knew. I thought about how the maisetra had hired me, even knowing why I’d lost my last place. Maybe that had been a part of it—thinking that we were a little bit alike—but it wouldn’t go any further than that.
Would Maisetra Iulien remember what she’d said to me when she woke up? Would she know she’d given away their secret? Who else at Tiporsel House knew? I thought that Maitelen must—you couldn’t be someone’s maid and not know that sort of thing. Tavit, of course—everyone knew you didn’t keep secrets from your armin. And he was the one who warned me about telling secrets. If Maisetra Iulien knew, what about the baroness’s cousin—Mesnera Chazillen the alchemist, who lived with Mesnera de Cherdillac? Did they know? Was it still a secret if everyone knew but they never said anything? I put the book back where I’d found it so Maisetra Iulien couldn’t tell it had been touched.
If she did remember, I think it went out of her head when I had to wake her. Mesnera Chazillen had heard something and come demanding to know what happened. If it had been anyone else, Ponivin would have denied them, but she stormed up to Maisetra Iulien’s room for an explanation and I took the chance to go downstairs to get her a bite to eat and hot water to wash.
* * *
There’d been another row I’d missed. Lufise told me about it while I made up the tray. Maistir Brandel had wanted to go with the carriage, but Marken put his foot down and said there must be a man in the house, no matter that Maisetra Iulien was left in charge. I think it was the double blow he minded: that he wasn’t allowed to return to the baroness and that Maisetra Iulien was set over him. But Lufise said Marken had strong words for him—more words than he usually said in a whole month. He said that being an armin meant obedience even when you were set against it. That Brandel could take it as a test of his abilities or he could give up on ever getting a worthy post. I knew Lufise was repeating Marken’s words because of that: “a worthy post.”
After that first day, Tiporsel House settled down to wait. Until the Pertineks returned, no one was supposed to know that Maisetra Iulien was here alone. Charsintek and Ponivin gave very strict instructions on that, though if Mesnera Chazillen knew, someone must have told. When I went back to my work with Mefro Dominique, I lied and said I’d been sick. I felt terrible lying to her and even worse about lying to Celeste. I promised myself I’d tell them the truth later when I could and they’d understand.
Around the day we could expect the Pertineks to arrive there was another late night knock at the door when I had just finished putting Maisetra Iulien to bed. No clatter of hooves or carriage wheels this time, so it couldn’t be them. Sikipirt, who was on duty at the door, wouldn’t open it until Ponivin said to, but then Ponivin sent up to fetch Maisetra Iulien and I followed her down because I was that curious.
This time it was Maisetra Talarico—Celeste’s friend—looking tired and frightened. And then even more frightened because Maisetra Iulien had to tell her what happened and why the house was so empty. That’s how secrets get out. But once Maisetra Iulien said the word—that Maisetra Talarico was to stay at Tiporsel House—things happened quick enough. Charsintek went to see which guest room was most ready, and Ponivin said he’d send someone for Maisetra Talarico’s valise at first dawn.
“No need to send a footman halfway across the city at night, maisetra, as we couldn’t have it here before you’d want to sleep.”
Maisetra Iulien turned to me where I was half-hiding on the stairs and asked, “Roz, could you see to my guest tonight? No need to wake someone else. I won’t need you afterward.” And as a more practical thought, “Borrow one of my cousin Margerit’s nightgowns. It may be a bit short, but it should fit better than any of mine.” While Charsintek showed the guest up to her room, I went to fetch wash water and towels and anything else I thought she’d need.
I’d never done for anyone else but Maisetra Iulien and I knew I still had a lot to learn as a lady’s maid, but I was determined that Maisetra Talarico wouldn’t know the difference if I could help it. I tried to remember every little charm and trick Maitelen had taught me, from the prayer to Saint Verunik over the lavender water in the wash pitcher, to how you undid all the buttons and laces smooth and easy-like without any jerks or pulling. I made sure the wash water was warm and poured it over her hands and wet a cloth for her to wash as she liked, then passed the warming pan between the sheets, saying a charm for an easy and dreamless sleep, before fetching the towel where it was warming on the fire-screen.
I remember how awkward I was back at first—all splashing and quick nervous movements. Now I could see how being a lady’s maid was like being a kind of artist, but your mistress’s comfort was the work of art. I hummed a snatch of lullaby I remembered Aunt Gaita singing as I held up the nightgown to slip over her head. We hadn’t really spoken up to then. I thought she was tired and wouldn’t want it. But now I asked, “What would you like me to do with your hair, maise
tra?”
She frowned a little and sighed and reached up to pat the scarf that was still tied around her head. “It will do till morning and then I’ll have my combs and oil.”
I was a bit sorry for that, because brushing out Maisetra Iulien’s hair was always the last part of getting ready and the day didn’t seem finished without it. The quiet had been broken, so I asked, “Maisetra, have you come back to Rotenek to stay?”
She started a little. “I scarcely know. I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”
“Rozild…Roz. I was wondering because—” And then I wondered if maybe Maisetra Talarico’s staying here was supposed to be as much of a secret as anything else. “I was wondering because Celeste was so unhappy when you left. Might I tell her you’re back? She’d want to know.”
She turned and looked at me curious-like. “And how do you know Celeste?”
“I’m half-prenticed to Mefro Dominique. We work together.”
“Ah. Have I seen you there? I’m sorry I didn’t remember.”
I looked down in embarrassment. “No reason you should, maisetra.”
“Now I see Celeste’s hand in those little homely mysteries you do. Did she teach you?”
I felt my face grow even redder. “No, I don’t do mysteries, maisetra.” I hadn’t thought she’d notice what I was doing that way, but I’d forgotten Celeste said she had a sharp eye for visions. “But may I tell Celeste? Or will you be leaving again soon?”
“Tell her I’ll come see her as soon as I may. But I don’t know how long I’ll be back. This…” I think she was working out what she could tell me. “I don’t know when this business will be settled. Or what I’ll do after. But yes, tell her I’ll come.”
I don’t think the business she was talking about was the baroness. She hadn’t known about that. But what it could be was beyond me.
Chapter Eighteen
June 1825—Asking
Old folks talked about France rising up again. Others whispered about the Austrians and remembered that Princess Anna had married an Austrian duke. There were rumors of spies in the court and talk that the guilds were working together on some Great Mystery. Men in the Nikuleplaiz grumbled about disasters like the warehouse fires. Liv said the rivermen had a saying that floodtide washed away the bad luck of the year and we were due for a real scrubbing.
When that summer was past, people remembered it as feeling strange and out of balance. For me, the real strangeness started the night we heard about the baroness, and it became worse after Maisetra Talarico came.
She was as good as her word and came down to the dress shop the next afternoon. From the moment I said Maisetra Talarico was back, Celeste was hanging in the front door of the shop looking up the street, even though we didn’t know when she might come.
Mefro Dominique made tea and I fetched some sweet buns from the baker’s and we even closed the shop—though that wasn’t a hardship in high summer—so we could hear about her adventures and why she came back.
“I was traveling through the mountains,” she began, “and I had a vision. I knew I must return to tell Maisetra Sovitre about it.”
She didn’t tell us everything that first day, but as the summer went by I learned more about the doings at Tiporsel House from Maisetra Talarico than I did from household gossip. After they brought Baroness Saveze home and the doctors said she was strong enough for visitors, there were comings and goings all the time: important people coming in the door or sometimes landing from the river. At first they’d gather in the baroness’s bedchamber when she wasn’t allowed to come downstairs yet, and later in the parlor, with the doors closed and all the staff shut out. We knew it was important because for anything less the maisetra would have bitten your head off if you worried the baroness about it. But it was Maisetra Talarico who told us what it meant.
“There is a curse on the land,” she began, and we all gasped like you would for a ghost story. “We knew the curse lived up in the mountains. The snows of three winters are locked up on the peaks. That’s why your river hasn’t flooded. It’s more than the snow. The curse is spreading. Here in Alpennia and everywhere.”
She waved her arms and I tried to imagine what might be happening in other lands. People talked about the land feeling cursed, but what did that mean? If someone cursed your chickens, they stopped laying. But what happened if the whole land was cursed?
“What can we do?” Celeste asked, like she was ready to put her hand in.
I scoffed. “We can’t do anything!”
I meant people like her and me, but Maisetra Talarico told us a little about what they were trying to do to lift the curse.
“We’re making the tutela of Saint Mauriz into a stronger shield. And Maisetra Sovitre is building her new mystery to be even better. The mystery guilds are all working to put their strength together. Every little piece we can think of.”
“Like the songs that Maisetra Iulien is writing?” I asked. She was proud of doing her part, but I wasn’t sure how it fit into the mysteries.
Maisetra Talarico nodded, but she looked worried. “I think the songs will be important. We’re building a mystery into an opera—a story that tells what we want the magic to do. There’s a woman who can set mysteries in music. The right words make the mystery even stronger.”
It made sense they’d asked Maisetra Iulien to help with that, because she had that knack of putting words together to make you feel what she wanted you to feel. It was a kind of charm. I’m not talking about coaxing and sweet-talking people to do what she wanted, but her stories and poems had that way of making you see what she was talking about and feel what the people in the story felt. The words stuck with you. I still had bits from the Lautencourt book stuck in my head, as solidly as my nightly prayers.
We saw Maisetra Talarico a lot that summer. She was coming and going between Tiporsel House and the school and visiting the lady who was writing the opera, who lived around the Nikuleplaiz. In all that she came to talk to Celeste about charms and mysteries, like she was trying to get a whole life of talking into that one summer. Celeste never asked if she’d come back to stay for good. She didn’t want to hear the answer.
* * *
You might think the mysteries wouldn’t touch us downstairs at Tiporsel House, but you always had to know who’d be out of temper or how the day’s schedule might be upset. From the moment we got the news about the baroness, we knew nothing would be the same for a long time, maybe not ever. When the maisetra first brought her home, it was all uproar and hushed at the same time. There were physicians and nurses and the maisetra’s friends coming over to work mysteries for her healing and everyone downstairs doing special things. Cook made all her favorite dishes, and we were extra nice to Tavit because he must figure it was his fault he’d let her get hurt. He never said anything about what happened except maybe to Liv.
Sometimes at twilight I’d hear Chennek barking up the path, then Tavit would slip down to the bottom of the garden to meet her. He didn’t worry about people knowing they were sweethearts any more. Sometimes I saw them sitting together on the marble bench talking and kissing. I wished I had someone to kiss like that.
Tavit didn’t leave the house evenings, with the baroness laid up, and I didn’t often ride downriver with Liv that summer because the days were all turned around. I could never tell when I’d be able to fit my dressmaking time in. But once it worked out to ride with her and I asked after him.
“You’re funny,” Liv answered. “You live under the same roof as Tavit, but you’re asking me.”
I smiled a little. “You know how he is, never talking much. He’s been all stretched tight—more than he was before. I worry, that’s all.” Though mostly I worried for Liv’s sake.
“Well, he talks to me,” Liv said. “Maybe you should listen more.”
“Liv—” There was something I’d wanted to ask, but I’d never dared. We’d never really talked about him except when she was sick with the cough. I tried to work ou
t what to say. “You and Tavit…can you—”
“That’s no affair of yours!” Liv snapped.
I felt myself turn red when I realized what she was thinking. “That’s not what I was asking! I meant, can you get married some day? In a church and everything?” I suppose in a way it was the same question as the one she thought I asked.
Liv bit her lip and the oars stilled for a few heartbeats while we drifted with the current. Then she moved them again as if the whole boat shrugged. “Armins don’t marry. Not while they’re in service. So it doesn’t matter, does it?”
She’d thought about it, I could tell. I wondered if they’d talked or if she figured it didn’t belong to her to make him choose. I thought about marriage sometimes. How everyone would expect me to do it some day and how I didn’t want to marry someone unless I felt about him the way I’d felt about Nan or Liv or the way I felt about Celeste, which was different but fiercer somehow. Then I thought, what if I did love someone like that and couldn’t marry him? I always knew I couldn’t have married Nan or Liv, so that hadn’t hurt the same way. But Liv was right, it didn’t matter. Not if there were other reasons you couldn’t. Lots of girls in service didn’t get married or not unless they found themselves in trouble and had to.
* * *
I still saw Nan sometimes, going in and out of shops when she was running errands for her maisetra. Once or twice in the Nikuleplaiz. I never said anything and if she saw me, she didn’t show it. Not until one hot day when Celeste took me along to the stationer’s to buy some special papers and inks and after that to Saint Nikule’s to try out a new charm. It wasn’t like she needed me along, but we’d finished most of the work on the dresses on order and Mefro Dominique needed to do fittings for the last bits. I liked helping Celeste when she worked: watching over her things or handing her the bits of candle and paper she needed as she was getting them blessed and fixing the charms to them. Making sure we didn’t get in the way of the priests, though they were used to the charmwives coming in to make up their bits and bobs. And we had a right to pray there the same as anyone else.
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