One Land, One Duke

by Emerson, Ru

  "Really, Birdy—"

  "Jen, do us all a favor, will you? I can handle this.” Silence. “I can always tell when you're really tired, girl; you forget that anyone else can take care of things."

  Jennifer managed a weak smile, spoiled it with a yawn. “Yeah, I do sometimes, don't I?"

  "Sometimes.” Robyn snorted. “Look, I'm fine. I can stick with poor little Ernie so he doesn't wake up in strange surroundings and panic. The boys can spell me if I start to do a fade and have to crash, fair enough? Besides, I really want to talk to the innkeep—Caro?” Jennifer nodded. “When she gets done feeding the crowd out front, we're going to compare notes."

  "God.” Jennifer stifled a yawn, rubbed her eyes. “If you're really sure—"

  "G'wan, shoo,” Robyn said good-naturedly. “Take Lialla with you before she disgraces us all, falling asleep in public. If we need either of you, you'll only be upstairs and down that hallway, after all."

  "Yeah. Guess you're right."

  "Go make sure the boyfriend's tucked in."

  "Oh. Really cute, Birdy."

  "Yeah, he sure is,” Robyn said with a wicked grin, deliberately misunderstanding. “Been meaning to tell you, you sure can pick them. How'd Lialla ever let something that yummy get away?” Jennifer made a face at her, staggered to her feet and went in search of Lialla. The sin-Duchess was still sitting at the now otherwise empty table, elbows propped on the cloth-covered surface, hands wrapped around an empty tea mug. She blinked as Jennifer touched her arm, simply nodded when the other woman suggested going upstairs, apparently too tired for once to argue.

  The room the three women were to share was small but had neat—whitewashed walls and scrubbed board floors, dark blue cloth curtains. There was a bench near the door, several pegs set in the wall above that. The remainder of the room was taken up by two wide beds. Lialla closed the door behind them, fingered the bolt momentarily, then shook her head. “No, better not. I remembered,” she mumbled. “Robyn."

  "Lock it,” Jennifer said. “We'll sleep better, and Birdy can knock if she wants in.” She threaded her way between the beds and briefly leaned out. The ground was some distance below—too far for anyone to simply jump up and catch the sill; the roof she remembered as quite steep and it overhung the window by at least a foot. There were no trees anywhere along this shaded side of the building, no built-in holds for a climber. The windows were small-paned and swung out from the center; someone had hooked them against dark shutters which had in turn been latched against the outer wall. A light, pleasant breeze lifted the hair from her forehead. Jennifer paused, hand on one of the windows; she glanced down once again and withdrew into the room. Lialla sat on the edge of one bed, blinking and rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Lialla, do you mind if I just pull this curtain across and leave the window as it is? The curtain won't keep out much of the daylight—"

  Lialla sighed, edged back onto the bed and drew her feet up so she was curled against the whitewashed wall. “Leave the window open; it's going to get warm later and I hate sleeping in a stuffy room. My eyelids will handle the daylight.” She let them close and drew a deep breath, letting it out as a long contented sigh. “Wonderful. A genuine bed. I don't think I much care for sleeping alongside the road; makes my bones ache."

  "Me, too. Why I stayed in the big city when I grew up, where camping out isn't something you have to do.” Jennifer sat on the edge of the other bed to untie her high-tops, shoved them off with her toes and tossed her leather jacket across her feet. It took a couple of minutes to get settled, to find a pillow in the stack of at least a dozen that wasn't too high. She came up onto one elbow. “Lialla?” she said softly. No answer. Jennifer sighed, lay back down and closed her eyes.

  The bedding smelled faintly of lemon. What a change from that inn in Sikkre, she thought happily. It was her last conscious thought for some time.

  * * * *

  She came awake when Robyn tapped on the door; it took her several moments to realize what the sound was and then to work out what to do about it. She padded across cool boards to slide the latch. Robyn edged into the room, pressed the door silently shut behind her and after a glance at the sleeping Lialla, kept her voice very low. “Sorry to drag you up, kiddo."

  "S'okay. Sorry it took so long—"

  "Don't worry about it, I knew you'd be asleep but I thought you'd want to know right away that Ernie's going to be all right. Figured while I was up here, I'd go ahead and shed this jacket; it's getting warm downstairs."

  Jennifer rubbed her eyes. “Thanks, glad you told me. Is the healer still down there?"

  "Nope, checked the kid out, did his leg, left some foul-smelling ooze to rub into it the next couple days—hard to believe anything that smells that gruesome would heal anything—and then he split, I guess he and Caro don't get on."

  "Oh. I'd kind of hoped I'd be able to watch what he did."

  "Just as well you didn't come down; he was pretty snotty about Wielders. Some kind of professional jealousy, I guess; doesn't think anybody but a certified healer should be allowed to fix things.” Robyn cast up her eyes. “You'd probably have smacked him one. I was ready to half a dozen times before we got rid of him. Anyway, that's a minor hassle; main thing is, kid'll be back on his feet in about a week."

  "Great. Must be good goo. What time's it?"

  "Which one of us wears a watch, kiddo?” But when Jennifer fumbled with her shirt cuff to expose the watch face, Robyn clapped her own hand over the fingers and shook her head. “Doesn't matter, does it? It isn't time for you to be on your feet yet. Lock the door behind me and grab another hour or so."

  "Mmm. Take you up on that. You and the innkeep getting along okay?"

  "Terrific."

  "Tell her the room is lovely and the pillows smell wonderful.” Robyn nodded, dumped her jacket on the corner of Lialla's bed—the sin-Duchess hadn't even stirred—and went back out. Jennifer shoved the bolt across and fell back onto the bed. It was warm enough in the room that she no longer needed the leather jacket for cold toes: She shoved it aside with her feet, pulled her legs up so she could tug the socks off. A light breeze flared the curtain, spilling light into the room, but no sun. North facing? she wondered. North or west, anyway. Probably meant the guys’ room faced south, like Caro's private room—or east—which meant they were probably roasting in there. Too bad. She settled her shoulders and fell asleep once more.

  It was noticeably warmer when she woke the second time, and now when wind puffed the curtains, a band of sun lay across the floor. Lialla still slept. Jennifer slipped bare feet into her high-tops, gave her scalp a vigorous massage with her fingertips to fluff up curl, and straightened her shirt. I must look like hell, she thought. Tough. She debated waking Lialla, at least so she could relock the door, finally decided against it. The woman needed the sleep, and surely no one was going to be wandering the hall looking for rooms to walk into.

  The common room was deserted, except for a skinny, blonde-braided girl of perhaps twelve or thirteen who was scrubbing one of the table tops. She glanced up as Jennifer came down the stairs, eyed the outlander jeans and shoes with evident interest, dropped her rag back in the bucket and came across the room. “My mother said to go on through to the kitchen. I'll take you."

  "Thanks. I'm Jennifer, by the way. Or Jen, if that's easier."

  "Jennifer. My mother had a sister named that, when she was an outlander. That was before we were born, of course. She named me Vanessa but everyone calls me Niss."

  "Niss. I'm glad to meet you.” The girl smiled rather shyly, held the swinging door to let Jennifer through and went back to her scrubbing.

  The kitchen was cool now, a breeze blowing through the lower half of an open door that faced south and out a wide pair of windows on the east side. A pool of sun lay across the floor at the base of the half-door, but was not enough to heat the room. Robyn sat on a thickly cushioned, low sofa watching the innkeep scrubbing vegetables. She waved a hand as Jennifer came in, and Caro stopped
her work long enough to turn and cast her a warm smile.

  "The boy was awake a little while ago,” she said as Jennifer went over to check him. The rough board sling around Enardi's leg had been removed and replaced with a set of dark gray padded reinforcements that ran the length of his leg and others that went around to hold them in place. “Menij gave me a box of powders for him, though; they're to keep him sleeping as much as possible while the healing works."

  "Wish they'd had something like this Menij back home,” Robyn said. “Remember when I broke my arm and had to wear a cast for what seemed like forever? Caro says this takes maybe a week, depending on how thick the bone and how major the break."

  "Yes, well, you wouldn't have wanted Menij,” Caro said flatly. She scrubbed rather violently at a thick tuber that might have been sweet potato or yam and tossed it in the pot. Water splashed the table and she swept it onto the floor with the side of her hand. “He's a right old bastard, Menij, so set in his ways he might well be made of granite."

  "Ernie will be all right, won't he?” Jennifer asked rather anxiously. “If we need to employ another healer—"

  "You wouldn't find another this side of central Podhru; this is unfortunately the old man's territory. He did a good job on the boy; you can't fault him when the healing's a straightforward matter.” She sighed. “It's a personal thing, as you'll have no doubt guessed: My eldest son sickened not long after we bought this inn—years now. Menij was difficult about the curing of him; he claimed Richard had been dabbling in some sort of magic that was restricted, but he never did come right out and say as much, and I was new enough to Rhadaz I didn't realize how serious it was. Rather as though he were—oh, where I'm from, as if Richard were colored and trying to pass for white. Or as if he'd been falsely accused of that, but of course how do you prove it, and in the meantime the damage has been done. The pity of it was, of course, that Richard had no interest in any kind of magic, Rhadazi or other, but by the time I realized what Menij was doing, how serious he was about his feelings—the man was utterly scandalized—it was too late for anyone else to help my son, and he died."

  "Good Lord,” Jennifer said. “How awful for you."

  "Well, it was. Never mind that, it's past. I use city healers now rather than Menij, whenever I can; find a way to transport the younger children and myself or send them in to Podhru with Colin—he's my next eldest, nearly grown now.” She shook herself, tossed the last vegetables in the pot and massaged the back of her neck. “There. There'll be a roast for tonight, and the soup is shellfish. It used to be quite an experience, trying to cook English here, and at first there were complaints, I had to bring in someone who could feed the locals so they'd not take their business elsewhere."

  "I'd think it would be pretty difficult,” Robyn said, “finding supplies. Spices and so on."

  "Well, it's fairly basic cookery that I do, of course."

  The top half of the dutch door opened and Chris came in, closely followed by Edrith. “Whoa, it smells really good out there. When's dinner?"

  Caro laughed and shook her head. “Hours yet. But there's bread and cold meat from yesterday in the larder, for sandwiches. Wait and I'll get it."

  "I can get it,” Robyn said as she got to her feet. “I'm not being much use, and that's my hollow leg, after all.” She jerked a thumb in Chris's direction.

  "Larder's dug out under the floor—see the ring just below the window?"

  "I got it,” Chris said and pulled up the trap door. Robyn snagged hold of his sleeve before he could descend the steps into barely blue-lit darkness. “You stay up here, kid."

  "What, you don't trust me? I won't fall—"

  "You falling is the least of my worries. Trusting you around food, though—"

  "To your right as you reach the floor,” Caro called out. “Shelf is at about shoulder level; it's all together in a large basket."

  "Pound it.” Robyn's voice came up faintly from below. She shivered as she came back into the kitchen. “Brrr! Chilly down there!"

  "It stays a constant ten centigrade; certainly feels cold after afternoon temperatures in this room."

  "Too bad there aren't refrigerators,” Chris said, and sighed. “Or Cokes, or—"

  "I understand there are ice houses farther north,” Caro said. “You know how that's done, of course: ice blocks cut up in winter, buried underground or under straw in thick-walled stone houses? Just as efficient."

  "Yeah,” Chris said gloomily. “Nothing good to keep cold, though.” He held up a hand. “Please don't tell me you get used to it, okay?"

  "I wouldn't dream of it. You can't think how badly I still miss ice cream, even after all these years."

  "Well, you could make that, couldn't you?” Chris demanded. “I mean, a hand-crank ice cream maker—isn't that kind of like a cream churn or something? And you pack it around with salt and stuff, it's not like you'd need electricity or a freezer, you'd just have to eat it all right away."

  Caro shook her head and laughed. “Well, I suppose I could! If I knew how one went together. It's quite frustrating, you know: So many things that just—aren't."

  "Tell me,” Chris muttered feelingly.

  The older woman indicated the tub of vegetables. “Why don't you and—Eddie, isn't it?—why don't you two run these out to the outside kitchen and hang them from the heavy chain over the fire, while I put a pair of sandwiches together?"

  "Gotta deal,” Chris said. “You're all right, you know?"

  Enardi woke an hour or so later. Robyn gave him a drink of cool water, assured him his father's wagon was intact and the mule in good health, that no one was angry at him for having fallen and delayed them, then prepared one of the sleeping powders. The Bezanti fell asleep again almost at once without having been very awake to begin with. Jennifer went up to check on Lialla; someone had taken her a bucket of cool washing water and cloths and also a tray with herb tea and thin cookies. The sin-Duchess looked pale and drawn still but awake enough to come downstairs. Jennifer led her along the passage in the other direction from the way they'd ascended earlier in the day and pointed. “Down and to the right; you have to go outside along the edge of the herb garden. In the first door you find, that's the innkeep's private living quarters. She thought it might be better for us to use this way, stay out of the common room and out of sight."

  "I think I'd prefer that,” Lialla said. She rubbed a hand over her eyes. “Aletto—?"

  "Came out of the fellows’ room just as I was on my way to wake you up; I sent him that way a few minutes ago. There should be a regular hot dinner shortly."

  "Good. I can't think how I worked up an appetite just sleeping, but food sounds good at the moment."

  "Smells good, too—at least,” Jennifer qualified, “it does to us. It's English—outlander—but very plain. Meat and potatoes kind of stuff."

  "I can eat just about anything,” Lialla assured her. She started down the hall, turned back, a finger against her lips. “I forgot Enardi."

  "He's fine. Still sleeping."

  "Poor boy.” Lialla sighed. “I worried about him from the first. I—he's simply not going to be able to go any farther with us, Jen, even if he heals in time. But what if he insists? What are we going to do about him? Or what if Chris insists on him staying with us?"

  "Chris won't, trust me. I don't think Enardi will insist either, not after last night. If you get a chance, say something to Aletto, why don't you? See if he can't come up with an idea; he's pretty good at that. Enardi tried, after all, poor kid. Really, we owe it to him to let him off the hook without shaming him."

  Lialla nodded. “He's going to feel that anyway; there has to be a way to make it a little easier on him. I'll think about it, too.” She laughed faintly. “Odd. I'd thought, when we started, that neither of us would be able to manage this. Me or Aletto, I mean. It was—we had to try, simply had to get out of there, but we didn't dare think beyond just escaping Duke's Fort, really. And then, Carolan, and Aletto getting hurt. I just did
what I had to do, I didn't think there was anything special or difficult about that, not at the time. Now I wonder how we ever managed, whether I'd have the nerve to attempt that escape again, knowing what I know now about life outside the Fort.” She paused to consider this, shook her head. “Don't think I'm trying to say we're better than Enardi, or braver, or more clever. We had reasons for what we did, life-and-death reasons—not just going along for the company and the adventure of it, like he did. It's rather surprising, though, to realize we're both tougher than either of us thought we were."

  "I keep telling you, Lialla, don't sell yourself short,” Jennifer said mildly. “But you yourself told me back at the beginning that you were strong-minded."

  "Stubborn would have been a truer word for it,” Lialla replied with an abashed grin.

  Jennifer laughed. “Men are strong leaders, women pushy and arrogant."

  "What?"

  "Bad back-home joke. Nobody laughs there, either. Nobody female—female with a brain—anyway. Go on down, why don't you? I want to get my socks so I can rinse them out, I won't be long.” Lialla nodded, disappeared down the narrow back stair. Jennifer heard the door close behind her moments later. She went back to their room, hesitated with her hand on the knob, finally let go of it and went across the hall to tap on the opposite door.

  It opened the least cautious bit. “Who?” She wouldn't have recognized the voice; it was a harsh whisper.

  "Dahven?” she asked in a very low voice. He stepped back into the room, taking the door with him. She went in, closing it behind her.

  "Just being cautious,” he said. “Chris was up a short while ago, said the innkeep's eldest son is a bit too curious about us for his tastes."

  "I imagine that's all it is. His mother's English, after all—outlander like us but from the eastern continent instead of the western."

  "Oh.” He considered that momentarily, finally shrugged. “One day you must draw me a map. I fear we Rhadazi are not any too knowledgeable of what the rest of our world looks like."