“They’re wanted in Latoph too,” Vahn added with a tone of annoyance. Terzak was wasting his time.
Terzak swallowed. “Yes, of course. But what does that have to do with me?”
“I just found it odd for them to escape to Fendrus after raiding a farm south of Ny. You wouldn’t be harboring fugitives, would you?”
“I harbor no one, your highness,” the marquis replied. “The fact that you caught them outside my gates should dispel that myth immediately. So, are you returning them for the reward then? I’m sure old King What’s-His-Name will be making a sizable donation to your coffers...”
“No. I pronounced their sentences myself. I care not for gold or silver when my subjects are terrorized.”
“Your subjects?” Terzak sputtered. “Last I heard, Arx still wore the crown. I should think that his inability to safeguard poor Itzi women would only weaken his popularity.”
Vahn arched a brow. “I never said they attacked Itzi or women, only ‘a farm’. How would you know who was attacked?”
Terzak frowned and shifted in his seat. “I never said Itzi women were attacked. I only said that they are poorly safeguarded and that it was King Arx’s problem, not yours.”
“Hmmmn. So you did,” Vahn conceded. Though his private thoughts were far from excusing, he had no proof and thought it best to see whether he could instead turn the situation to his advantage. “So, tell me, Marquis Terzak, where do you stand with my dear brother?” His tone was sugary sardonic.
“Let us say that my ambitions do not include aspiration to the Throne myself, but if my personal goals were to be furthered by someone with legitimate claim to the Throne...” He paused briefly to give Vahn a knowing look. “...I would return the gesture in kind and aid in furthering his goals.”
The careful wording was not lost on Vahn. Terzak was no idiot. Nothing in his statement could get him hung for treason, but the offer was unmistakable. Vahn leaned back into the chair casually and took another measured swallow of tea before sliding his gaze over Terzak. “And what, praytell, dear cousin, are your personal goals?”
Terzak tried to feign surprise, but his act was less than convincing. “Well, as you can see, I have less than standard amenities for someone of my position. I want my house to rival yours and your brother’s.”
Vahn chuckled. “You’re not saying all you want is a staff and some better décor, are you?”
Terzak frowned, then answered diplomatically, “Staff is only the beginning of a proper house. I want my name known and feared. I want a reliable income—substantially greater than what I have now. My father left me woefully inadequate means to be whom I was born to be.”
Vahn shook his head and clicked his tongue. “I see. Such a shame. Do you have plans for how this is all to come about?”
“I do have some preliminary outlines, but I wouldn’t want to bore someone of your importance at this point.”
“But how could a family member help your cause if he didn’t know the plan?” Vahn asked, being just as careful to keep his own back clean from treason charges.
“For right now, I don’t think you could. But it would be helpful to know if you were interested.”
“I am always interested in mutually beneficial alliances.”
“Excellent, then perhaps we could talk further at a later date?”
“I will look forward to it,” Vahn said as he stood up from the chair. He narrowed his eyes and set the muscles of his jaw before resuming. “Just one more matter. If I ever discover that your plans include terrorizing any resident of my duchy, our ways will part. Violently. My brother may be technically responsible for the entire kingdom, but Occi is a long way away. The people look to me... and to you... to uphold justice in the south. This is not a topic of compromise. I need the support of the commoners to further my goals. Are we understood?”
Terzak nodded, hiding his eyes. “Understood completely, your highness.”
“Well then, I thank you for the tea and I leave you to your servant-hunting. It seems you haven’t a moment to lose.”
“Do drop in again, if the duchess would spare you the time.”
Vahn recognized the implication that his wife had him tethered and kept, but he didn’t allow it to affect him. He replied, “The beautiful Duchess Saerula is about to bear my child, but even in her condition, I’m sure she would welcome you as our guest at Rebono Keep or The Scarlet Dryad.”
“Thank you, your highness. I would be honored.”
“Very well. Good day to you.” Vahn was already on his way out the door without being shown. It had been a taxing trip and he was eager to get home.
It was past meridian toll when he reached the South Wall to inspect the mounted heads. A large crowd of farmers and merchants had gathered around the pikes. Most of the posse had returned to their homes and shops. As soon as Vahn was recognized, cheering erupted from the onlookers. Though he nearly broke into a satisfied smile, he decided the occasion was too solemn to warrant such a display and simply raised his arm in acknowledgment.
With a regal nod, he urged Fortitude through the South Gate. Adoring throngs accompanied him through the city, cheering and singing. Vahn wished more of the men were with him to enjoy this. He felt guilty to accept their accolades alone as if he had somehow cleansed the whole duchy, all by himself. He rode briskly, anxious to reach home.
When he arrived at Rebono Keep, Vahn waved his subjects away. Once behind the crested iron gates, he watched them disperse. They were all in such a joyful, triumphant mood. A simple act of justice had inspired such loyalty and civic pride. Good. Too bad Terzak hadn’t seen it.
Vahn stopped at the guest cottage first. He dismounted and sent Fortitude off with a soft slap to his hindquarters, then rapped lightly on the front door. Keedrina opened it. Her cheeks colored and bright blue eyes widened. She looked down immediately. Vahn’s gaze strayed to her throat where he couldn’t help imagining a slave band bearing his name. What he saw instead was a hard swallow. Trembling, she opened the door further and moved aside to allow him room to pass.
He hadn’t planned to enter. He had come to tell her that her family had been avenged, but it suddenly struck him that the news wasn’t as triumphant for her. The crowds could be happy that the Evil was purged from the land so that it could not strike again, but for this poor girl, it was too late. Nothing would bring her mother and sisters back. He stood silent for a moment, wondering how to begin. The girl slipped to her knees and trembled lightly.
“Lady Keedrina...” he said softly. He wasn’t a flatterer. He knew she wasn’t highborn. What had Mother always said? “You don’t have to give honor to anyone but your father and your brother. But if you give it freely to commoners, it will be all the more an insult when you find it necessary to withhold from a nobleman.” This poor Itzi deserved any verbal token he could fathom.
Keedrina exhaled as if she had been holding her breath.
Vahn continued, “I know it will not bring your family back, but the filth who hurt them have paid for their crimes. Their heads are mounted on pikes outside the South Wall.”
“Thank you, your highness.” She lowered her head even further.
“No thanks are necessary.” He admired her for a moment. He knew of slaves that didn’t pay respect as well as she. A smile meandered over his slender lips. “And now on to the business of resuming life. I find your manners very pleasing. If you were willing to be banded, I could promise you a comfortable home and fair treatment. I would certainly make it worthwhile financially. You talked with timna, no?” he asked, suddenly noticing timna was not present.
Without lifting her gaze, Keedrina tilted her head to speak. “Yes, your highness. I talked quite a bit with her. I do not come anywhere close to her grace. I’m not worthy of your house.”
“You’re probably fit for the king’s house, but I hope you’d consider mine.”
“You honor me with such words. You have shown me nothing but kindness and hospitality. I am embarrass
ed to spurn such a generous offer.”
Vahn suppressed a sigh. “Not at all. You said you have a poultry business, no?”
“Yes, I have a henhouse. It will be adequate,” she murmured.
“Of course. The loss is entirely mine. Please consider my offer if you ever change your mind, all right?” he said, lifting gently on her chin. He stopped once her eyes met his, not inducing her to stand. He was quite pleased with her kneeling at his feet.
“I would consider no other, your highness.”
Was that longing in her voice? He dismissed it as wishful thinking. “Excellent. Now would you stay for supper?”
“Thank you, but no. I need to get home before dark.”
Vahn frowned. Keedrina reacted immediately, cringing and averting her eyes. He was touched by her sensitivity. Long fingers abandoned her chin to slide across her cheek in a light caress. Keedrina bowed her head again. “I understand, Lady Keedrina. How callous of me. May I have someone give you a ride?”
“No, thank you. I want to spend some time alone outside the South Wall.”
“Of course.” He hesitated another moment, studying her. He wanted to give her so much more, but he only caused embarrassment at every turn. He had to find a way around her pride. “May I have timna call on you tomorrow? I’m sure she will be disappointed at missing your departure.”
Keedrina blinked and a smile dawned. “She is welcome any time. Thank you.”
“Excellent. Now, please forgive me, but I really must go and find the duchess.” His voice sounded detached as his thoughts flooded to his beloved. He turned and hurried home.
Chapter 13
Duke Vahn rushed away, leaving Keedrina knelt with her head bowed. She was relieved that he didn’t expect her to ask for release. Kneeling at his feet felt so natural and so right. When he touched her face with those strong fingers, she thought she would melt into a puddle. She felt safe and welcome here. She had wanted to accept his offer, but she needed time to think. A distant memory of something Mother once said seemed to urge against this, but she couldn’t remember why. Her Mother’s voice echoed in her mind, admonishing caution. Keedrina didn’t have the strength to attempt a debate with the object of her bereavement.
Once the duke was out of sight, she stood and checked the guest cottage. The only evidence of her visit was all the food timna had left for tea. Though it was rightfully hers to eat or take home, Keedrina left it untouched. She knew it was ridiculous, but she felt her little rebellion against sensibility would somehow reprove her mother.
The Itzi stepped outside and reluctantly put her saggy socks and worn brogans back on. She would dream of life without repulsive footwear. Of course, shoes were necessary for protection if she were to be a chicken farmer. But did she have to be that? Weren’t there any other options?
She thanked the guards at the gate as they let her out, then stopped another moment to engrave the beautiful Rebono crests to her memory. What was it about the Elva and Duke Vahn in particular that had her so enraptured? Despite her grief, it was hard to stop thinking about him.
Keedrina took the road through the city toward the South Gate. She planned another stop—one which she couldn’t bring herself to ask some Castle Guard to accommodate nor admit to the duke. It was the real reason she had refused the offer of a ride, using time alone at the South Wall as an excuse. The Institute for Training and Correction, or simply ITC, was on the way, in the southeast section of Ny. She hoped to find a disinterested party that could answer her questions about slavery.
The ITC fortress was larger than Rebono Keep. It lacked the fields, gardens, and landscape, but the building itself bespoke strength and timelessness. Keedrina was intimidated by the immense stone structure, but willfully swallowed her timidity and approached.
As she neared, she saw owners leading slaves in various levels of submission. One Elva male was particularly resistant. His owner yanked on the chain attached to the thick iron neck band, but the slave would not go where he was ordered. The owner yelled insults and eventually pulled a cat-o-nine tails from his belt and whipped him. Keedrina shuddered.
Two Elva dressed in purple silk trimmed in gold with embroidered ITC crests ran out to help. Keedrina saw that the obstinate slave had a letter “P” tattooed on his right forearm where timna’s 22 had been. The ITC workers dragged the slave, kicking and screaming, through the vestibule and into a room where they quickly shut the door.
The relieved master thanked the two aides and returned to the informal line where the other owners and slaves waited. Keedrina noticed one young girl in the line who was banded. Her eyelids and nose were red and swollen as if she had been crying, but she seemed resigned and passive. Her eyes looked blank and distant. There were no chains attached to her bands, though they had rings available for that purpose. Her bands were not thick iron like the “P” slave’s had been, but thinner steel ones, like moxi’s. Keedrina saw no fancy Unringed bands like timna’s.
The line formed outside a window marked “Check In”. All eyes followed Keedrina, making her self-conscious. She nearly gave up the whole idea, but running away seemed as embarrassing as going in, so she decided she may as well get what she came for: answers. A little further down the hall, she found a window marked “Information”. Keedrina smiled. This was exactly what she wanted. When she arrived at the empty “Information” window, she noticed a sign: “Out to Tea”. Sighing deeply, she was just about to leave when she spied a large wooden rack sitting on the window counter. “Slavery: History, Laws, and Practices” was carved into the wood. She whisked a parchment scroll from the rack. The Itzi farmgirl grinned widely. This was better than asking—no one to be embarrassed in front of, no one to question her, no one to eye her suspiciously and possibly notice her rounded ears. Thank the Nymphs for teatime! She drew the scroll close and hastened out.
Keedrina stopped only a few moments by the four piked heads. She had hoped that the sight would evoke some sense of triumph, but it merely brought closure to a nightmare. Victory was hollow; the grotesque globes imparted no comfort, no balm to her heartache. She wouldn’t have given them more than a passing glance if she hadn’t used the stop as an excuse to decline the ride. People exchanged whispers behind her back as she stood there. A few patted her shoulder and offered condolences. She nodded numbly and thanked them.
The suns hung low in the late autumn sky when she arrived at her henhouse. The lad whom Lord Patkus assigned (not Botlop, to her relief) had done well. Keedrina noticed several blankets in the corner where the bedding straw was kept. There was also an oil lamp and a large iron skillet. She reminded the lad to gather his things, but he insisted they were not his. Her neighbors must have left them as charity.
The chickens were as healthy as could be expected. Smoke had finally cleared enough to calm them into laying again. Before he left, the farmhand delivered a small basket of eggs—a fraction of what was normally produced, but enough for one meal.
Scouting out the rubble of her house, Keedrina found her family woodstove, ruined. The clay had cracked under the weight of the falling roof. Not that anything else had fared better. She recognized a pattern in charred fabric—a tunic belonging to her youngest sister. Keedrina choked back tears and ceased rummaging except to recover fuel.
She gathered enough half-burned wood to make a cooking fire in the open. Felton berries from near the stream complemented her egg supper. After eating, she reckoned it two hours before suns-set. The chickens would need watering. Keedrina scrutinized the two small water pails. Five trips to the stream would take nearly an hour. A hand pump would be nice with all these chickens needing water.
She stared at the ITC scroll longingly. If she started reading now, she wouldn’t want to stop to water the chickens and they had to be priority. Already, she resented them and hoped to rationalize a way to be rid of them. It was difficult to appreciate the henhouse after staying at the duke’s guest cottage.
Did she have this notion to join the duke’s house j
ust for the conveniences? Was this about inhouses and hand pumps? Was it the crisp broadcloth dresses and deliverance from clunky brogans? How much of her yearning for Duke Vahn’s caressing hand would be moot if her family were still alive? Was it even reasonable to hope she would be treated the same as timna?
Alone with the chickens, she should have been content. Grown Itzi weren’t supposed to need families or help of any kind. Yet, that was exactly what she yearned for—a place to belong, others to care about her, some purpose beyond a chicken farm and the inevitable dull compact-seekers she’d be forced to choose from.
Depressed and confused, Keedrina walked to the woods where she was supposed to be when she had her reading lessons. It was time to address the Wood Nymphs she had slighted. She knelt and repented her deceit, then asked for guidance in the present. No answers came, but she felt compelled to postpone any decisions concerning slavery. She would read, ask questions, and plan. To be certain of her motives, she would force herself to wait until the end of the mourning period—three months. She vowed beneath a tall pine.
Keedrina hurried to get the chickens watered while light lingered. She barely finished as the suns dipped into the Great Sea. She headed to her corner of the henhouse and arranged the blankets on the straw. Again, she thought of the ITC scroll, but she was reluctant to waste any lamp oil. In the dark, she lay awake for a long while, alternately thinking about the duke’s house and crying before she drifted off to sleep.
Nightmares woke her twice. She cowered in the dark, paralyzed by the feeling that more marauders would come. The sounds of nature had never frightened her before, but now the distant howling of wolves struck terror in her heart. Mother had always been the one to protect the chickens. Keedrina didn’t think she’d have the courage. Let the wolves have them.
The next morning, she was up before the roosters crowed. She shivered in her thin bloomers and muslin chemise. She quickly donned her tunic and built a fire. If she sold the henhouse, she could move to Ny for the next three months. She’d be warmer and safer there, not to mention closer to Rebono Keep.
The Duke's Handmaid (Book 1 of the Ascendancy Trilogy) Page 6