by Anne Logston
Kayli sipped her wine quietly, wondering what Randon was doing. It was a daring move, to take such a step before he was confirmed as High Lord. Surely he would lose some of his support; the very fact that he had brought the matter up at this dinner indicated that the guilds might well be the worst offenders, the largest purchasers of slaves—of course they would be; slave labor was cheap, and slaves were not accorded the benefits and rights of guild members. Why, then, did Randon risk alienating the guilds, who were his staunchest supporters?
As Kayli looked down the table, however, many of the men and women nodded slowly, and she saw a cautious relief on several faces. Abruptly Kayli realized her mistake. These were commoners who had worked their way to a good position but who largely depended for their livelihood upon other commoners. The guilds fared best under a firm and orderly government, and would thrive in a country in which the law gave full justice even to slaves. Randon had made a subtle statement that he valued his responsibility as High Lord above his popularity with his friends, and by doing so, won only their respect.
Kayli was gratified by the warmth with which the men and women took their leave when dinner was concluded, and even more pleased by the numerous invitations she received to visit their guilds. Her joy was marred only by a gnawing ache in her stomach, likely caused by her anxiety, or perhaps the unaccustomed variety of vegetables and grains disagreed with her. Still, she was glad to return to her quarters with Randon when the guests had left, and put away her finery and jewels and ask Endra to fetch her a mug of minted water. Then she thought she could relax, but to her disgust she found her hands shaking. She clenched them resolutely and hid them in her lap.
“You surprised me with your choice of conversation,” she told Randon, sipping the minted water. “Will your advisers not resent that you consulted the guilds instead of them?”
“Doubtless they will.” Randon shrugged. “After what you said about them likely thinking me more easily influenced man Terralt, I thought it wise to show them otherwise. Besides, as I told our guests, I think they’re closest to the problem. The nobility, so far as I know, isn’t greatly involved with the slave trade. The mercantile houses won’t sully their reputations by dealing in Sarkondish captives, and the landed nobility won’t tarnish their names by buying them. Outland slaves are usually bought for menial work, and that means city businesses—the crafts and guilds, small inns and taverns and the like. The ministers are just too remote from the goings-on at that level of society. It’s one reason the trade has gone on as long as it has—because the nobility just don’t take any interest.”
“But you should have warned me,” Kayli told him. “I was hard-pressed to answer when you asked for my recommendation.”
“You did well enough, I’d say.” Randon smiled at her. “But to be truthful, I wanted you a little off balance.”
Kayli said nothing, swallowing her anger with her mint water. Neither rested easily in her aching stomach.
“You gave me a fiery speech yesterday,” Randon told her gently, “but that won’t go far in dealing with these people. If I’d told you last night what I was going to talk about, you’d have come up with even harsher penalties and a thousand arguments to justify them, and come to the table with your mind made up firmly. I wanted you to think on your feet, as it were, after you’d heard what the others had to say about it. And you made a wise recommendation.”
Kayli frowned and clenched her hands more firmly.
“You wrong me if you think me so inflexible,” she said a little more coolly than she meant to. “After our discussion yesterday I thought on what you had said, and the recommendations I made were the ones I had already planned to give you. I was surprised when you agreed.”
“Mmm. I’m sorry, then.” Randon reached across the table and stroked her arm. “I meant that as a gesture of trust, inviting your suggestion in front of my friends. I suppose sometimes I don’t know who I’m dealing with—my wise bride, or the High Lord of Bregond’s loyal daughter.”
“Well, as you wed both, you must deal with both,” Kayli said, her anger fading slightly. “Forgive me, too, my ill temper. So often I feel tested—by you, by others—that sometimes I question every word and deed. It is unfair of me.”
“Hah! There is mistrust in every word and gesture,” Randon said wryly. “But mostly it’s directed toward me, not you. However insulting you may find it, nobody expected much of you. As long as you bore my heirs and didn’t run screaming down the streets with a sword swinging, you’d do. But me—”
“Oh, we must stop this,” Kayli said crossly. “We both are whining with self-pity, and there is no excuse for it.” She was horrified by her words as soon as they had left her lips, and she stood, holding out her hand to Randon. “Oh, Randon, I—” Abruptly the room seemed to drop out from under her feet, and she grabbed desperately at the edge of the table, crying out involuntarily as sharp cramps doubled her over.
“Kayli!” Randon rose; Kayli only dimly felt his arms around her, guiding her to the bed. She retched helplessly, alarmed to see that the vomitus staining her pillow was red. A river of heat, of pain, ran through her veins—
And at the end of the river, silence.
Chapter Eight
Crash of thunder. Kayli forced open crusted eyelids. The room was dark but for the embers of the hearth fire. She rolled her head to the side; there was Randon in a chair beside the bed, his head down on his folded arms on the coverlet.
“Randon?” Kayli’s voice came out a harsh, weak croak, but Randon’s head jerked up as if he had been stabbed.
“Kayli. Thank the Bright Ones.” He took her hand, pressed it gently to a cheek rough with stubble. “Don’t move, Kayli. Don’t speak. Just be still until I get Stevann.”
Kayli was too weak and tired to do anything but obey. It seemed only a moment later that Stevann appeared at her bedside, Endra with him; had she fallen asleep again?
“Well, good evening, lady,” Stevann said cheerfully. “Or good morn, rather, as it’s nearly dawn. You had us all well frightened, I don’t mind saying. I’ll make you a bargain—if you can swallow another of my nasty brews, you can have all the broth and cream you want. No, don’t try to sit; let us do all the work for you.”
Randon’s arm was warm and strong under her head and shoulders, and Kayli dutifully swallowed another potion, choking a little at its sickly-sweet flavor. Then, thank the Flame, there was thick soup, rich with butter and cream, to banish the sweetness and soothe her sore throat.
“That’s better, isn’t it?” Stevann slid more pillows behind her head and shoulders so Kayli could look around her. ”How do you feel?”
“Tired.” It was a weary sigh. “My throat aches. And my vitals.”
“I’m not surprised.” Stevann laid his hand against her forehead, nodded, then felt the beat of her heart. “We thought we’d lost you, lady. You were poisoned with arrabia”
Poisoned! The word brought only a dull surprise through her weariness. But what else could it have been? No disease could have struck so quickly. Arrabia, though—that was a Sarkondish poison, often fatal.
“You’re made of strong stuff, lady,” Stevann said more soberly. “But you can thank your midwife in part for your life. I didn’t know that mesinica root was used in Bregond to treat arrabia poisoning.”
“It wasn’t me, Brother Stevann,” Endra said forthrightly. “I’ve had no experience with poisons. You can thank Seba instead. Kayli, child, you’ve never seen the like. No doubt the border healing temples have seen Sarkondish poisons, and Seba learned of it there. The child was describing a plant I didn’t know, so I took her to those books from Lady Ynea, and she found it in a minute. We had riders combing the hedgerows by lantern light. Fortunately we found some.”
Kayli turned to Randon.
“Was anyone else poisoned?” she rasped.
Randon shook his head.
“Only you. I’ve racked my brain trying to remember what you ate, what I ate. But by the
time I thought to send someone down to the kitchen, all the plates and cups were emptied and washed. There was some wine left in the pitcher we’d both drunk from, but we gave it to one of the dogs and it suffered no harm. All I can think is that the poison was put directly into your cup or plate. Stevann says arrabia is a slow poison—it could have been anytime during the meal.”
He hesitated, glancing at Stevann.
“I’ve already had the kitchen and serving staff questioned under truth spell, although I had to bring in a mage to do it—Stevann needed all his power for you. None of the staff were involved. Our guests—” A look of such pain crossed Randon’s face that Kayli squeezed his fingers as hard as she could. “I don’t know how any of them could have had the opportunity to do it. I don’t think any of them were ever alone with the food.” His voice was heavy. “And I don’t have enough evidence to justify questioning them under truth spell.”
“No!” Kayli started upright, then grimaced and fell back weakly, the strength running out of her like water from a leaky cup. “No,” she said as firmly as she could. “You must not. Promise me you will not do that.” Unless Randon believed there was a wholesale conspiracy among the heads of the guilds, and surely he could not believe that, even at worst some of their guests must be wholly innocent. If Randon antagonized them, he would lose the only powerful support he had. Surely he must understand that.
“Shhh.” Randon smoothed her forehead. “Don’t worry yourself. I’ll do nothing for now, if that’s what you want. I promise. But you must rest.”
Kayli was too weak and tired to do anything but obey, glad when Stevann and Endra left her and Randon alone. Randon stretched out on the bed beside her, sliding his fingers very gently along her arm as if he was afraid to touch her.
“It’s strange,” he murmured. “Until I thought I’d lose you, I didn’t really realize how I’d come to—to value you. And now you may be the only one I can trust.”
His words troubled Kayli profoundly, but she was too tired to answer, she could only smile at him as the last embers of her strength burned down into darkness.
The next day Kayli was a little stronger, the pain in her vitals less, and Endra sternly banished Randon from the room.
“She’ll mend in her own time and no sooner,” the midwife said firmly. “Meanwhile you look worse than your lady, and you’ve neglected your duties. And I would most respectfully suggest a bath and clean clothing, High Lord, before you sit in audience today. I’ll make certain nobody disturbs your lady’s rest, and not a drop or morsel will cross her lips but what Brother Stevann and I have approved. Now go.”
When Randon reluctantly allowed himself to be shooed out the door, Endra brought in Anida and Devra, and two other Bregondish women whom Kayli did not recognize. “This is Silva, and this is Minda,” Endra said, indicating the two new maids. “Your mother sent them with the caravan that arrived a few days ago. Between the five of us, doubtless we can manage to get you into a tub to soak.”
“Days?” Kayli’s voice was still a harsh croak, but surprise and dismay lent it strength. “How long?”
“Four days.” Endra slid her arm under Kayli’s shoulders and muscled her upright. “No, lady, just lie quiet and let us take care of you.” Almost magically the woman whisked Kayli out of bed and into blessedly hot water.
“Yes, it’s been four days,” Endra continued, motioning the other maids to change the bed linens while she gently washed the sweat from Kayli’s skin. “The caravan arrived the day after. It’s still here, too; Brother Santee wouldn’t leave until he could take word back that you were going to be all right. Let’s see, what else? Your mother and father sent the girls, as I mentioned, and a groom for your horses, and all sorts of gifts and trade goods. There’s boxes for you, too, from your parents and from the temple. But all that will wait until you’re stronger.” Thunder crashed and Endra set her hands on her hips, pursing her lips with annoyance. “Storming again. Bregondish don’t call this ‘wetlands’ for naught. Three days already of rain and noise, and no sign of it stopping, either. A good thing it wasn’t pouring down the night you were poisoned, else nobody could’ve found that root.”
Kayli said nothing, letting Endra’s talk wash over her in a flood more soothing than the hot water. A package from the temple—that must be from Brisi. And a groom—the facts seemed to slip through her mind like water through her fingers; she couldn’t seem to grasp them. But one thought pushed its way to the forefront.
“Seba,” Kayli said, suddenly strengthened by the memory. “Endra, I must speak with her.”
Endra set her hands on her hips and raised both eyebrows.
“Now? All right, but we’ll get you out of the tub first. Minda, fetch the child, will you? And while you’re out, tell the cook we’re ready for the soup.”
Kayli was dried, comfortably wrapped in a clean robe, and settled snugly into her bed when Seba crept into the room, carrying a tray. “Priestess, I have soup and tea,” she said timidly. “The lady midwife asked me to bring it.”
“Soup? Tea?” Kayli sighed as she lifted the covers from the bowl and cup. “It seems I am fasting again.” She tasted the soup and grimaced; once again the thick broth was overly rich with cream and butter and eggs.
“Arrabia burns from within,” Seba murmured. “It will take time for the flesh burned from your throat and vitals to heal. The enriched broth is soothing as well as nourishing. Please drink, Priestess, I beg you.”
“I am no priestess,” Kayli said, but she swallowed the thick soup, sip by tiny sip, until it was gone. Soon she wished she’d saved a little for last, for the tea was so thick and sweet with honey that she could barely swallow it. She choked the last of it down, however, and by that time Seba had poured blessedly cold, clear water for her.
When she had finished, Kayli patted the edge of the bed at her side and, when Seba hesitated, gazed at her sternly. Reluctantly Seba sat down, and Kayli took the small, callused hand in her own.
“Your knowledge and quick action saved my life,” she said. “For that I am in your debt. No—” She held up her hand to silence Seba’s protest. “You have saved the daughter of the High Lord of Bregond, and the High Lady of Agrond as well, and you have earned the gratitude of two countries.
“Soon the caravan will depart for Bregond,” Kayli continued. “You should return to Bregond with it Brother Santee, and the letter I will send, will tell my parents of the service you have rendered me. My parents could reward you with a herd of your own, if that is what you wish, or lands and a permanent home near their castle.”
Seba’s face fell.
“You are sending me away?” she murmured, stricken.
Kayli sighed.
“Little one, listen to me. My position here is not secure. Any reward I grant you could be taken away if I am set aside, and you might once more find yourself alone in a strange country. You deserve better than I can offer you here.”
Seba would not raise her eyes from the floor.
“I can’t go back, Pri—mistress. I could have the best herd of horses in the land and nobody would buy from me. I could have the largest house and nobody would sit at my table.”
Kayli sighed. She wanted to argue, but could not. A Sarkondish captive was dead in the eyes of kin and country, to be mourned, yes, and avenged if possible. A living captive was a traitor to betray her people, a hostage to cripple and bleed them, a suffering victim to haunt their dreams. No. The captives were dead, honorably and cleanly by their own hand, as was their right—and their duty.
And if not, they would come to wish they were.
No, Seba was right. It was monstrously unfair, as unfair as the raid which had left a child alone and enslaved in a foreign country. But there was nothing to do but hope that the alliance of Agrond and Bregond would finally drive Sarkond back beyond the borders forever.
“Please, mistress, don’t send me away,” Seba whispered, her fingers clutching desperately at the blankets.
“No,
Seba. I will not send you away.” She could, she supposed, give the child money, lands, a house here in Agrond. But she had no assurance that such gifts would be honored if Kayli were set aside as High Lady—and likely, too, that the citizens of Agrond might turn on the poor child in such a case. And Seba had been a slave for many years; although Kayli was disappointed that Seba would rather remain in service to her than take the risks of freedom, it was understandable. Perhaps it was best that the girl stay with her, at least for now, where Kayli could protect her. Later, when she’d borne Randon’s child and secured her own future, when Seba’s broken spirit had grown strong again, there could be other rewards.
“No, child, you may stay if that is truly what you want.”
The naked relief in Seba’s expression troubled Kayli, but she only squeezed the small, hard fingers and said nothing.
“I’ll serve you well, mistress, I swear,” Seba breathed. “But for now you should rest again.”
The child was gone as quietly as she’d come, whisking the dishes with her. Kayli lay back, banishing the numerous worries that pressed for her attention, and let herself drift into sleep, hoping that Randon would be there when she woke.
When she opened her eyes, however, she was surprised and a little alarmed to see Terralt’s silhouette, not Randon’s, in the dim light of the fire. Kayli started to push herself upright, her head swimming, when she spotted Endra hovering at the open door, glancing from her to Terralt as if undecided whether to stay as chaperon or send for the guards to haul the visitor away. Kayli waved Endra over and let the midwife push more pillows behind her; then Endra withdrew as far as the window, where she pulled up a chair and pointedly sat down.
Terralt chuckled and stepped to the bedside.
“Your maid doubtless believes I poisoned you, and I’ve come to finish the job.” he said. “Can you reassure her?”
“I have no idea,” Kayli rasped, trying to discern his expression in the dim light. “Can I?”