The setting sun’s light came through the window, and its warm glow lingered on the chair where Moryn sat with her knitting. No one said anything until after Herne set the empty wine glass on the stool beside his chair. Moryn laid aside her needlework and said, “All right. Out with it, man. What troubles you today?”
Herne looked at Dax. “They’ve made it harder to travel.” He sighed again and looked at the empty glass. “They are going to require papers for anyone leaving the city.”
“That will get the farmers up in arms.”
“No, coming in to the city, they’ll get papers to go out again. Fishermen too, they will get passes. It’s the other city folk they want to keep track of.”
“Why?” Dax asked. “Are they still looking for me?”
“No, not directly anyway,” answered Herne. “I think they mainly want to keep track of members of the assembly and their people before they call the meeting this summer. They’re paranoid to a fault, but now they have made it harder to get you up to Iron Moor.”
Dax smiled, and Herne looked puzzled. That made Dax smile even more. “If it’s papers we need, I know how to get them.”
Moryn looked up. “You have good penmanship?”
“No, but remember I have contacts with people who specialize in providing services outside the law.” Although Dax had not worked at the bootblack’s stand in the winter months, he had provided Tepp with an occasional bit of castle news Herne had thought might serve to undermine Mathilde.
Now Herne returned his smile. “Not a bad idea.” Then he sobered. “That will cost, though. Silvers or even gold, depending on how big a deal Mathilde makes out of it.”
Dax smiled. “I have earned some credit with the organization.” He nodded toward the closet. “And I still have some of the money I took with me.”
#
The next evening after supper, when it had grown too dark for reading, they all sat talking in front of the fire. For the first time in several months, Herne brought up his search for Dax’s aunt and uncle. “I know Keir doesn’t let me see everything. Yet I’ve tried to watch for patterns in the gaps that might show me at least an indication of what might have happened. Either they are being held somewhere other than the castle, or they really were put to death by the squad who raided their farm. The guard isn’t actively searching for you anymore. Maybe that means they’ve given up—or not.”
After all this time, Dax had not expected any new results, but he was disappointed anyway. Clearly nothing was going to change for him here in Tazzelton. It was time to act. “I’ve reached a decision,” Dax announced. He had thought he was resolved before he spoke, but as soon as he said it, he had second thoughts.
“Have you now?” Moryn responded.
Dax paused, but he gathered his resolve and continued. “Yes. It is time for me to leave. I really appreciate all you’ve done for me, but no matter how I dress and act, I won’t be safe in this city forever. I can travel safely now. Besides, I can’t keep taking your food and help.”
Moryn smiled. “Now that last part is not anything we notice. I don’t know about Orin, but I’ve loved having someone around the house.” She laughed her irresistible laugh. “Even if he has cost me much time and effort in teaching him how to be a young lady.”
“Humph,” snorted Herne, but Dax could see he was struggling not to smile. “He’s always underfoot or in my favorite chair.” Dax understood Herne’s gruff statements much better these days after watching Moryn deftly draw out his real meaning. “Well”—Herne nodded—“we’ve talked enough about Iron Moor, so you know what is involved.”
“‘Lots of hard work, discipline, learning to follow orders . . .’ Did I get all of it?”
Herne gave a small smile. “You do listen, but remember, you will also be learning to be a leader.”
“So being a king doesn’t count?” Dax asked teasingly.
“You are only asking that to irritate me, so let me throw it back at you.” Herne, ever the teacher, smiled gently. “You’ve been king only in name. You’ve never had to make important decisions.” His face got serious. “You’ve never had to send good people into battle, knowing that many of your best would never come back to their loved ones.” Herne, caught up in memories, paused. “Just wearing the crown, leading a fancy parade—that’s not being a king.”
“So how do we get the young lad here to Iron Moor?” asked Moryn, steering the conversation away from Herne’s dark thoughts and back toward Dax’s main concern. “We’ve talked about it a lot, but we never made a decision.”
“I have given that some thought,” Herne said.
Dax looked at the two of them. “I’ve been here long enough to know you’ve already talked about this between the two of you.”
Herne’s smile was larger this time. “In exhaustive detail, of course. However, it was all stuff and nonsense until you made the decision to actually go.”
For the next two hours, they discussed the plan. They had decided the Bington route made the most sense, and Dax agreed. It was not the shortest, but it should be the safest. Dax would sail, at least to Bington, in the role of Leith—he would get papers for that.
Although Herne wanted to go as an escort, they all agreed it would draw too much attention. He was too well-known in too many places to travel incognito. It was one thing to go about as Tulee in a quiet corner of a bustling city, but on board ships, at inns, and along the road, they would likely meet people who knew Orin Herne. They could think of no plausible tale that would justify him escorting an unknown young girl on a trip to Iron Moor.
Moryn made a sly suggestion about pretending an illicit relationship between the two. That earned her a black look from Herne, and Dax flushed with embarrassment. Moryn smiled, having made the two uncomfortable, but she had made her point. “You really should think of an escort,” she said primly. “A young girl just wouldn’t travel by ship without a companion.”
No one said anything for a while. Finally Herne nodded. “I will think on that some.”
Moryn nodded, satisfied. “And it would attract less attention if the young girl were a person of substance. Oh, everyone would notice a fine young lady, but no one will think of the boy king when they are talking to the daughter of an earl or baron.” Moryn’s eyes sparkled in the firelight as she looked at Dax. “A fine wardrobe with your fine manners . . . Yes, a well-bred young lady on a trip to visit nobility.”
Chapter 10
Kynthelig, the seamstress, pulled another pin from the cushion attached to the sleeve of her work jacket. This was going to be a good day. Yes, a very good day. The noble couple wanted a nice traveling wardrobe for young Lady Leith, and they said no one else they knew could do the job. Well, she would show them how well-placed their trust had been.
She had worked with Lady Leith all morning while her doting mother, Baroness Zahirah of Butterock Haven, kept up a happy conversation about her preferred taste in style and fashion, her hopes and plans for the young lady, and her thoughts about life in Tazzelton. Kynthelig kept a half ear on her chatter; it would not do to completely ignore Lady Zahirah, but she had to concentrate to make sure she had the proper measurements and fittings. With the clothing they had ordered, she would be working steadily for at least a week, and she did not want to have to call them back for another fitting.
The shop door stood open, and the usual street noise from Peddler’s Square added a counterpoint to Lady Zahirah’s chatter. Cool spring air brought in the usual smells from the food vendors in the street—a rich blend of meats, spices, and other fancy provender. Her shop, however, caught the morning sun through the window and was plenty warm. That suited Kynthelig just fine. Lately her eyes needed more light to see details in the seams she stitched. The warmth was good too. When the shop got cool, her knee joints complained every time she got up and down.
She was mildly puzzled by the commission. The poor girl just needed everything—right down to her undergarments. The clothing Lady Leith wore was common�
�good enough to serve, but not to visit the duke up in Silverdale. No, ordinary would not do. No, not at all.
The poor girl showed signs of hard work as well. Behind the modesty screen, Lady Leith had removed her outer dress for Kynthelig’s convenience. Lady Leith’s hands had unnaturally smooth spots, signs of where calluses had been. And there were calluses on her knees plus scars here and there on her arms and legs. Highborn girls just did not accumulate such a wide array of marks and blemishes in a ladylike way.
Kynthelig had not asked her to remove her shift, but she suspected that underneath the plain garment there were just as many flaws on the rest of her skin. Lady Leith’s hair, although shoulder length and well brushed, showed signs of having been neglected until recently. To her practiced eye, although both Lady Leith and her mother were well-groomed, the young lady appeared to have been smartened up not long ago. Kynthelig never said a word, but as she measured the young lady, she suspected the baroness and her daughter were new to the peerage. Perhaps a recent marriage? She had not heard any gossip along those lines, but she let the business in the castle go its own way without her attention.
She sighed, but silently to herself. The money was good. They even offered a small bonus if Kynthelig finished within a week. The baroness and her daughter wanted to be on their way soon. It would mean hard work and late nights, but this commission would put her close to her retirement goal. Her husband had already trained a young man in his silversmith’s business, and they both looked forward to moving up to Silverdale where their daughter and her husband owned a busy livery stable. Their four grandchildren were growing up fast, and she and Kerl could help mind the children. She looked forward to that.
Distracted by her thoughts, she let one of the pins go in a little too far. Lady Leith jumped at the poke but said nothing.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Your Ladyship.” Kynthelig’s apology was sincere. “That was inexcusable of me. You’ve been so patient all this time, and then I go and poke you.” She spoke loudly enough so Lady Leith could hear. Her mother had explained that the unfortunate girl had had a fever in childhood which had left her hard of hearing.
The young lady smiled. “That’s all right. It just startled me. I can tell you are doing a fine job.”
Lady Leith’s voice was soft and well modulated. The girl spoke with refined courtesy anyway. The most arresting feature was her eyes. They were dark and lively, and when you looked at them, you could hardly look away. Yes, in a few years she would be an attractive little thing. Maybe she was one of those tomboy types, and her mother had finally gotten her to settle down.
Kynthelig nodded. “And you are behaving admirably, Your Ladyship. I should be done soon.”
The baroness joined them again to admire the fabric they had chosen for this last item, a traveling cloak. “Yes, I just know she will enjoy her new clothes,” the baroness said, pushing a lock of hair back over her daughter’s ear. “She has shot up so much this summer that nothing fits anymore. Besides, everyone in Silverdale will just die over these new styles!”
“There,” Kynthelig finally announced. “Done with the fitting.”
Lady Leith sighed with relief and stepped down off the platform.
Kynthelig gestured to the privacy screen. “Now, if Your Ladyship would step behind the screen once more, I’ll help you off with this last one, and you can get dressed again.”
Careful not to dislodge any of the pins marking the fit, Kynthelig worked the dress up over Lady Leith’s head. Halfway up, however, she was mortified to see the shift following the dress upward. One of the pins had caught the material of the shift and had lifted it to an embarrassing height before she realized it.
“Oh, my goodness, it’s caught. Just a moment, Your Ladyship.” She located the errant pin. “There. That does it. Let’s get your tunic and overgrown back on.”
Once she had Lady Leith redressed, Kynthelig made final arrangements with the baroness to pick up the finished garments. The baroness counted out half the price of her work to her so Kynthelig could buy the fabrics and accessories she would need.
#
The baroness and her daughter left with many compliments and pleasantries. Kynthelig sat for a moment to finish a cup of tea that had long gone cold. Wasn’t that the strangest thing ever? she thought. Over her years she had done many large orders of fine clothes for ladies and lords alike. Yes, this was a good order. What had been really strange was what she had seen at the very end. When the stuck pin had hoisted Lady Leith’s shift almost to her waist, Kynthelig had been startled to see the lady had a boy’s undergarments on. She told herself it must be her imagination, but she could have sworn she had seen a bump of what might have been a boy’s privates under the thin fabric.
She set the teacup down and shook her head. Yes, the rich are different. Oh, well. It was no business and no never mind of hers.
Time to get up and go to Felly’s Fabrics. He would have most of what she needed, and anything he lacked, he would have for her the next day. Since it was almost midday, she decided to stop by Kerl’s shop to see if he wanted to have a cup of pudding and gravy with her for lunch.
Chapter 11
Dax alternated between being deathly afraid and completely mortified. Moryn had insisted on dragging him through the whole of Peddler’s Square this day. The people they passed took no particular notice of them. Neither did the members of the guard they saw from time to time. After all the time he had spent under the close scrutiny of the seamstress, now he was surrounded by crowds of people—all while dressed as a girl. Dax was constantly on alert, trying to remember all the mannerisms he had practiced with Moryn about how to act and behave. The whole expedition had his thoughts in a turmoil.
They had all agreed it was time for him to leave the city. Dax had agreed he needed a disguise. But this outing had lasted far longer than their previous forays. Moryn insisted on stopping at every other booth on the way home to examine one item after another. Dax was impatient to get back, but Moryn made a point of asking his opinions and getting him to talk with the shopkeepers.
The absolute worst moment happened at a leather goods shop. While Moryn looked at caps she said were for her husband, a young lad approached Dax. “Hi. My name is Nels,” he said shyly. “What’s your name? Can I show you something?”
The shopkeeper looked up. “Nels. Manners!”
The boy gulped. “Sorry, Your Ladyship. Father just let me start waiting on customers. I need practice.” Nels forged on. “I could show you a nice band to hold your hair. I tooled it myself just yesterday. See, the ends fit together so you can put this wooden pin through the holes, and it holds your hair back. This color would look nice with your hair.”
He held the band up behind Dax’s head, out of sight. Dax reached up and took the band from Nels. He pulled a strand of his hair around where he could see and compared the two. “Yes, I see what you mean.”
Nels took band the back and stepped behind Dax. Pulling back Dax’s hair, he slipped the band around it and pinned it in place. “There. It really looks nice like that.”
“Nels!” the whip crack of the shopkeeper’s voice startled both of them. “What did I tell you about touching customers?”
“Yes, Father, but it looks so good on her.”
Dax could see Moryn’s eyes dancing in amusement, and his face flushed.
“Yes.” Moryn smiled and nodded. “That’s quite fetching.” She turned to the shopkeeper. “I’ll take this cap and that hair band for my niece.” The shopkeeper was delighted with the sale, but he continued to apologize for his son. Moryn waved her hand. “No, youth is youth. Your son is charming in his own way, but it’s a good thing her father isn’t here. He’s very strict about such things.”
They left after another round of thanks and more contrite comments by the shopkeeper. Dax was silent until they were out of earshot, but his ears were flaming red. “You enjoyed that,” he accused.
“Yes, I did. In many ways. However, the most important
thing was that you charmed that young man.”
“I don’t see how that is . . .” His voice trailed off as he thought about the incident again. “All right. I guess that means that my”—he hesitated—“disguise is pretty good.”
“That’s right. Now tell me again, what’s your name?”
Dax hesitated only briefly. “Leith. My name is Leith.”
“Good. Are you really a girl?”
He smiled. “Now why would you ask a question like that?”
Moryn smiled in return. “You are getting better. Not being able to tell a lie is a problem for a person who has to be someone he’s not.”
They had worked for some time on conversational exchanges. Many times an awkward question could be deflected by answering with a question. Besides, the right question often encouraged people to talk about themselves rather than probing further.
#
The dressmaker was as good as her word. Dax’s new wardrobe was ready in a week. It took a fair amount of coin, but he still had some left from what he had taken from the royal treasure room. The clothes were not extravagantly fancy, but they were of proper quality for a young lady on a trip to visit her aunt in Bington.
Dax had thought he was used to the mechanics of wearing girls’ clothes, but these new clothes had more complicated wraps, fasteners, and decorations, all of which had to be manipulated. Now he had a new set of chores to practice for his life as a girl, and Moryn was as much a taskmaster as Herne.
The next day they started packing. Herne, of course, had his duties at the castle, but Dax and Moryn began to organize what he would take. They had to organize Lady Leith’s travel wardrobe for the trip to Bington. The fastest way to Iron Moor from Bington would be passage on an upbound river boat from Bington. That meant Dax could continue on as Lady Leith. However, somewhere along the way, he would have to give up posing as a girl. Although women trained at Iron Moor, the reality of barracks life as well as eventual puberty meant he should arrive as a boy. Dax looked forward to the day he could leave the dresses behind, but for now they were a necessity. They also added to the packing he had to do. Since he would wear a uniform at Iron Moor, he did not need to take a large male wardrobe. He stuffed a few of his old clothes into his pack, so he could arrive at the academy dressed as a boy.
King's Exile: Chronicles of the Dragon-Bound: Book 1 Page 16