“And were they so easy to find?” inquired Lord Shaine. “I had always been told that their success lies in stealth, and in possessing secret strongholds whose location no outsider may know.”
“You would know the truth of that better than I, my lord,” Brahn replied, and this time he did not make quite such an effort at politeness.
Even an undiscerning listener would know right away what Brahn’s personal feelings on slavers and slavery were, and Shaine was far from undiscerning. His mouth tightened somewhat at the corners, but his voice was mild enough as he said, “As to that, I only know what I have been told. I have had no direct dealings with such people.”
I wondered if that somehow made it better, to have his slaves brokered by a steward, so that he never had to dirty his hands by going to the slave markets of Myalme and arranging for a fresh batch of workers there. Then I thought that was uncharitable of me. Lord Shaine could not help the customs of the land where he had been born, and he did well by his slaves compared to most, for they had comfortable quarters and plenty of food and clothing that was strong and serviceable. True, they did not have their freedom, but I knew I was expecting much if I thought he should throw off the traditions of his land and free all of them, and collect rents from them while he paid them a wage to work the fields or the dye houses or the looms. Truly, how different was it in Farendon, where I knew many peasants beggared themselves to maintain the rents on their properties, and so might as well have been slaves? Yes, they had the freedom to gather their meager belongings and leave when they so desired, but in practice that happened very rarely.
Brahn seemed to pick up the hint, and adopted a breezy smile. “Lucky you are, then, my lord, for I would not say they are the most pleasant people to be around. However, they suffered this winter, along with everyone else. The news seemed to be that most of the bands had dissolved, having lost most of their men, and those few who remained could be found washed up in various taverns. So it was that I chanced upon a fellow in Chondley, who—after I had bought him several rounds of ale—went quite melancholy in his cups, and informed me that he used to be such, but that the trade had all dried up. ‘And,’ he said, as he embarked on his fourth mug of the innkeep’s best porter, ‘I wish I had kept one, and not taken her to Myalme, for with a doctor such as her perhaps I would not have lost so many men.’
“This piqued my curiosity, as you can well imagine, and I pressed him for more information. So it was that I learned he had taken you, Merys, from Aunde, and sold you in a private transaction to the steward of Donnishold. From there it was a simple enough matter to come south in search of you.” He shook his head, and his smile began to look a little shopworn. “Well, ‘simple’ is a relative term. I mean that I was not challenged along the way, though it was a grim journey. Days passed where I saw not a single soul, and I began to wonder whether all of Seldd was dead. I avoided Myalme altogether, knowing that the plague could hide itself within a city and linger there far longer than in a small village or estate. But I continued on, and here I am.”
“Yes, here you are,” Lord Shaine said. “And great joy Mistress Merys must have in your arrival.” With that his gaze slid toward me, but those dark blue eyes were unreadable, and I could not guess what he thought. Most likely that I had been given a graceful way to make my exit, and I could leave and take my painful memories with me.
“I am very glad to see you, Brahn,” I said, and it was not a complete lie. For there was something in seeing a familiar face after so many months, and to hear the accents of someone from my homeland. “And I very much appreciate the labors you undertook to find me.”
He gave me a little half-bow while seated, obviously happy with my praise. I doubted that he even noticed the omission, that I had said nothing about plans for leaving.
But if Brahn was oblivious, Shaine was not. I saw his eyes narrow slightly before he gave the slightest shake of his head. “And I am sure you are weary, Master Brahn,” he said. “I have had one of the guest chambers made up for you. No doubt you wish to rest after such an arduous journey.”
“I do, very much.” If he sensed the undercurrents swirling through the hall, he gave no sign of it, but only rose from his chair and bowed to Lord Shaine, and then to me, before the pert Alinne appeared to guide him to the rooms that had been prepared. Her dark eyes fairly danced, and I guessed she thought it a very good duty, to be able to show such a handsome guest to his suite. And Brahn grinned down at her as well, no doubt pleased to have found someone who seemed happy to see him. Very likely he thought my response more than a little lackluster. He knew me well enough to realize I was not the sort of woman who would fling herself into his arms to show her thanks, but I guessed he had expected a little more show of appreciation than what I had displayed.
Master Breen and Master Wilys had not participated much in the conversation, apparently content to listen, but after Brahn had gone, Master Breen turned to me and said, “So you will be leaving us, mistress?”
I did not dare look at Lord Shaine. I somehow managed to turn to Master Breen and reply, “Yes, it appears I am.”
No visions of Inyanna came to me that night, no soothing dreams to guide me and tell me what my path should be. Instead, I was haunted by broken jumbles of faces and voices, of those I had lost. I saw Lady Yvaine’s accusing eyes, and heard Merime’s chiding tones, and then the boys from the stable, and finally Auren, who stood on a low rise I recognized as the one just south of the castle walls, where we had gone to gather the last of fall’s wildflowers together. The wind whipped at her dark blonde hair as she stood facing away from me. I reached out to touch her arm, but as I did so she shifted, and her face was not Auren’s at all, but Dorus’, his features contorted with anger. Then it was his hands on my throat, and I sat up in bed, gasping and choking, and realized I was safe in the room I shared with Elissa.
Her voice came to me in the darkness. “Mistress Merys? Is something amiss?”
Oh, it most definitely was, but I knew I could never begin to explain the cause of my unrest. “No, Elissa,” I said gently. “Nothing is wrong. Go back to sleep.”
Silence then, but after the space of a few heartbeats I heard her shift on her pallet, as if she settled herself back down to sleep. I realized then that she had no real reason to still stay here, as of course she was now no one’s lady’s maid, but Lord Shaine had not requested that she move into the slave’s quarters, and I had remained silent on the subject as well. She was too fragile for such work, I thought, but I had lately begun to show her how to make simple tinctures and healing draughts, and I hoped they would allow her to continue after I had left. The girl could never be a healer, but I believed in time she would be a worthy successor to me in the stillroom.
These thoughts were pleasant enough, and allowed me to settle myself down in bed and contemplate a hopeful future for her, and for all the residents of Donnishold. I could not stay, it seemed, but at least I could send forth my wishes that they would all do well and prosper. Nothing else remained here for me.
I was awake at dawn, although not because I wished to hasten the day in any way. No, I slept restlessly for the remainder of the night, and arose early because it seemed slightly more appealing than lying in bed and pretending to slumber. I moved quietly, so as not to wake Elissa. Normally even a household slave would have been required to rise earlier than that, to start the fires and heat water and begin the preparation of breakfast. But though Lord Shaine had taken over as much of the management of his household as he could, still there were things that were let slip, and Elissa, because of her dubious status, was one of them.
After all, I had very little to pack—my satchel with its complement of medicines and surgical implements, my two gowns and clean chemises and underthings. In fact, it seemed I took nothing away that I had not brought with me in the first place.
Only a broken heart, some maudlin part of my mind put in, but I dismissed the thought as self-pitying and instead set about braiding my h
air and putting it into its customary coil at the back of my head. Broken was a bit extreme—sprained, perhaps. I would heal, and go on, and do the work I had spent years training for. Someday I might even forget the sound of Shaine’s voice, or the calm regard in those dark blue eyes as he told me I was a gift from the goddess.
I gasped then, feeling the pain of it as a knife wound in my midsection. I put a hand to my mouth and forced the tears back, choked them down like the bitterest of wormwood extract. Tears would avail me nothing now; better that I should descend the stairs and make my goodbyes with the dignity that befitted a physician of the Golden Palm. I did not want Shaine to see me with red eyes and a blotchy face. If he did not love me, there was nothing I could do about it, but at the very least I wanted him to respect me.
So caught up in my own thoughts had I been that I did not realize Elissa had risen from her pallet and thrown a shawl over her shoulders. She stood a few paces away, watching me with a grave expression on her delicate features. I had told her the night before that Brahn had come to fetch me home, and so she knew why I had my satchel out, and all my things neatly packed away. Even so, her eyes shone with tears, and her voice trembled as she said, “Do you really have to leave?”
I could not give her the truth—not the whole truth, at any rate. My feelings for Shaine of Donnishold were my own concern, and I would not burden her with them. “This is how the life of a physician of the Golden Palm is ordered. I am a free woman, and I must return to the work for which I was trained. I did not leave ere this because I wanted to make sure we were all out of danger, and then travel still would have been treacherous because of the weather. But now spring is here, and I can tarry in Donnishold no longer.”
She nodded, although I saw her bite her lip and look away, her eyes unable to meet mine. I suppose I had been her mainstay during all her months here—with me gone, there would be no one to protect her. Not that I expected any ill to come to her, but the life of a slave is a difficult thing even in a household as civilized as Lord Shaine’s, and of course she did not know what was next intended for her.
Speaking more gently than I thought I could manage, given the circumstances, I said, “I will speak with Lord Shaine before I leave, tell him of the good work you are doing in the stillroom. I am certain he will allow you to remain in the house, and not go to the fields.”
Obviously this was the fear that had been preying on her, for she grasped my hands then and breathed, “Oh, thank you, Mistress Merys! It is too much—but if you would!”
I assured her that I would see she was taken care of. Then I picked up my satchel and left to descend the stairs for what I guessed would be the last time.
Despite the early hour, I found Lord Shaine in the hall before me, Markh the overseer at his elbow. Spring was a busy time at the estate, what with the preparation of the fields, the plowing, the sorting of the seed. No wonder Shaine had been up even before me. Of Brahn, however, there was no sign.
“Mistress,” Lord Shaine said formally. I had expected no less, but still that painful tightness rose up in my throat, and suddenly I found it difficult to reply.
“Good morning, Lord Shaine,” I managed, and somehow gathered the strength to force a few breaths into my lungs.
“Eager to be away?” he inquired then, with a glance down at my satchel.
That was not the word I would have used. Rather, I had approached my departure as any other unpleasant task—something I wanted to get over with quickly. “It is always best to get an early start when one is faced with a long ride.”
“Ah. Yes, I suppose it is. You may take Surefoot with you—he is a good and sturdy mount, and will bear you safely home.”
“Thank you, my lord.” I replied. That was all I trusted myself to say, for although I appreciated the gesture, it seemed only another means for him to rid himself of me as quickly as possible.
“It is the least I can do, considering the service you have rendered here.”
As he spoke, I thought I glimpsed the slightest flicker in his eyes, the smallest tightening of his mouth. Was he regretting his coldness to me over the past few weeks? Impossible to say, and I did not have the strength to press the issue. A clean break always heals the easiest.
Then I heard Brahn’s voice as he called out, “Good morrow, Lord Shaine—and Mistress Merys. Ready for the journey, I see!”
I looked away from Shaine and saw Brahn descending the last few steps into the hall, the pert Alinne darting away with a giggle. No mystery as to where she had spent her night. I had the feeling she might regret those hours of pleasure. While Lord Shaine did not meddle in the affairs of the slaves, it was quite another thing for one of them to take a tumble with an honored guest while under his roof.
“We have a long day ahead of us,” I said simply, choosing to ignore Alinne, who had already slipped off to the kitchen.
“Ah, that is true enough,” he agreed, although he appeared less than eager to be off. Most likely he would have preferred to stay a night or so more to enjoy Donnishold’s “hospitality” before he set forth again.
“Allow me to send a guard with you, to see you safely to the border,” Shaine said then, and I noted yet another of those diffident glances before he shifted slightly toward Brahn.
“No need of that, my lord. As I said, most of the population appears to be gone. There are always some few survivors, of course, but I encountered no one bold enough to approach me. And of course, I took my own precautions.” And his hand rested briefly on the long dagger he wore at his waist.
Some of the Order did ride armed. I had never done so, save for the knife I used to cut my meat—although I supposed in a pinch my scalpels could have also served as weapons.
Lord Shaine nodded, but his eyes narrowed slightly, as if he were not wholly convinced. He said nothing more, however, but only bade us accompany him to the table, where we broke our fast together on fresh bread and honey and some of the last rashers of bacon. What we spoke of, to this day I cannot recall—inconsequential things, I believe, the weather, and the condition of the roads. I said very little, glad that Brahn loved the sound of his own voice so much. It saved me from having to put forth much effort.
Afterward the horses were brought around, and we were given packs filled with as much food as Donnishold’s larders could spare. Lord Shaine said only, “Goddess go with you, Merys, and guide you on your journey.”
I believe I mumbled some thanks before I turned the horse around. The courtyard dissolved into a wash of tears, and I blinked against the brisk wind as we rode forth, glad the horse knew his way, for I was unable to guide him. I could only sit in the saddle as each step took me farther from Donnishold, farther from the man I loved.
I did not allow myself to look back.
Blessedly, we rode for some time before Brahn spoke. “You must be glad to be away, Mistress Merys.”
I blinked, and kept my face forward as I replied, “Brahn, there’s no need for the ‘Mistress.’”
He chuckled. “Very well, then, Merys. What an ordeal that must have been for you!”
Oh, yes, quite the ordeal, although that which had caused me the most suffering was a matter I would never discuss with him. “It was…trying…at times.”
“Trying!” The word came out as almost a snort, and his mount tossed its head a little at the sound. He patted the mare’s neck. “Only you, Merys, could describe living through the plague while a slave at a Selddish estate as ‘trying.’”
“I was not a slave,” I said at once. “Lord Shaine freed me on Midwinter Night.”
“He did, eh? Why?”
“I had saved his life, and the life of his daughter. I suppose he thought he owed me that much.”
“Never knew a Selddishman to be so honorable. Daughter, eh?” Brahn shot me a sideways, silver-tinted glance. “I didn’t see her.”
“She died of the plague,” I said shortly, almost biting out the words.
He appeared to take the hint and looked off
into the distance. We rode at an easy pace, for we had a long way to go, and no place to obtain fresh horses if we tired these ones overmuch. Despite my heartache, I could not help glancing about me, as this was the first time I had ventured farther than a few hundred yards outside Donnishold’s walls since the plague had swept over the countryside.
Truly it did seem as if Lord Shaine’s estate was an island of life in an ocean of desolation. I saw no other human soul, and not even signs of life such as smoke rising from chimneys. From time to time I spotted the bones of plague victims along the side of the road or lying in a field; the birds had long since stripped the flesh away. And I saw as well the skeletons of horses and cattle, who must have perished in the harsh winter weather with no one to care for them.
The enormity of it all came to me then, and I felt once again the useless tears stinging at my eyes. What good would my tears do, after all? Weeping would not Brahng back the dead. I wondered, though, how Seldd could ever continue after such devastation. We had heard nothing, so I did not know whether the king and his family survived. I did know that Myalme had been decimated, but the true seat of government was farther north and west, in Tyrlanne, and perhaps it had fared better than the regions of the country closer to the disease as it spread out from Purth.
Despite all that, the day was finer than it had any right to be—birds called riotously from all sides, and wildflowers blossomed in yellow and blue and pale pink from either side of the roadway. The land would heal, although whether its population could manage to do the same was still unknown.
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