CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Mayet held the crimson cape up in the late morning sunlight that reached through the unshuttered window. The red silk brocade shimmered exquisitely, but the fine fabric was clearly not heavy enough to provide the warmth she would need. Fall was no season to be married. Lisana should have told that overblown fool, Kaer Sasson, that he would have to wait until spring. But her cousin claimed to be enamored with the brute. More like enamored with his property! Mayet dropped her arms. She well understood Lisana’s hurry. Holder Sasson was past his prime seasons. His first wife had passed on without leaving an heir. Lisana needed to bear a boy child of Sasson’s line as soon as possible.
The room was strewn with clothes and not one garment fit for a wedding. Mayet tossed the cape aside and picked up a long wool cloak. Pale fur trimmed the royal blue fabric. A golden clasp would make it more formal if worn with the right dress. Mayet tossed the cape over her shoulders. Lisana could have at least given her more time to prepare. It was too late to have a proper dress made. And who would keep an eye on Milos and that short-haired harlot while she was gone? She couldn’t possibly go without taking Tratine, and Milvari was less than useless. If only the invitation had come later, there would not have been time to make the trip at all. Family obligations indeed!
She flung the cloak onto the floor. It would take a half moon to reach Sasson Hold and the same for the return trip. The wedding celebration would take more than a fortnight. There was no telling what that so-called hunter would be up to while Mayet was gone for more than a moon. The witch was hunting all right. But not for wild game.
Mayet surveyed the mound of clothing on the bed. She reached beneath the pile and pulled out a silver gown encrusted with tiny pearls. She held the glittering garment before her and eyed herself in the mirror. It wasn’t meant for travel, but if she must leave, she would make certain Milos knew what he would be missing.
She called for her maid. When the young girl entered the room, Mayet pointed at the pile of dresses slung over her traveling trunk. “See that these are packed and loaded on the wagon. And have Brilissa send up that kitchen girl to dress my hair.” She pushed her long locks back over her shoulders.
“Alyn will be busy with the midday meal, m’lady,” the girl said quietly.
“She’ll be busy dressing my hair,” Mayet growled. “There are enough people in that kitchen to feed two holds. Go and tell Brilissa she’s to send the girl up now.”
The young woman curtsied and left the room.
The very idea of a servant telling her that another servant would be too busy to wait upon her was infuriating! “This is what comes of making the lower classes believe they are better than their station,” she said through clenched teeth.
She stared at her reflection and relaxed, trying to smooth the lines of her face, and her eyes brightened. Lisana’s wedding might be worth the trip, after all. This might be the opportunity she needed to reach even higher. Some of the richest lands lay just north of Sasson Hold. With the last of the harvesting done, who knew what other unattached holders might attend? She pulled off her dressing gown, tossing it aside. “There are better holders than you, Milos Tem. And I deserve better!” She stepped into the pearl-decorated dress. As she yanked it up over her hips she heard a loud ripping sound.
Her foot had caught the hem of the underskirt and torn it away from the bodice. She stomped her feet, shaking the dress down to the floor. Pulling her legs out of the glittering fabric, she stepped back and heaved a kick at the ridiculous gown. Pearls scattered across the floor and Mayet threw herself into a chair. As she did, the pile of satins and silks beneath her shifted and sent her sliding to the floor with a thud. She sat unmoving, momentarily stunned, surrounded by shimmering fabrics. Reaching behind her, she gave the offending chair an angry shove. It leaned back, teetering for a moment before crashing to the floor. Mayet scowled at it. There was no satisfaction to be had in bullying the furniture.
The constraints of Mayet’s world wrapped around her like a mailed fist. Without Kamar, she had nothing. As the past holder’s widow, she had no real standing. She and her children were allowed to remain in Tem Hold only by the good will of its current holder. And now, by allowing the peasants to have a say in the governance of the hold, Milos was making changes that would remove even that small bit of security.
She aimed another kick at the dresses by her feet and a constricting knot rose from her chest and into her throat. There was a knock at the door and she choked back the sob that ached for release.
Pushing herself up from the floor, she snatched up her dressing gown, wrapping herself in its silken folds. She might be only a woman, but she was still a noble woman. By the time Alyn entered the room Mayet had regained her composure.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
As Kira stepped through the door, the heat of the kitchen wrapped itself about her and pushed aside the clinging predawn chill.
Brilissa sat alone at the wide board, sipping a steaming cup of spiced tea. “What are you doing here so early?” the jovial cook asked, as she dribbled honey into her cup.
“I could ask the same,” Kira responded warmly, inhaling the scent of boiling porridge and fresh clipped herbs. She liked this woman who ran her kitchen so efficiently. And she liked the cordial feel of the kitchen with its pungent aromas so strong she could taste the savory scents floating in the air. “I’d have thought that one of your apprentices could build up the fires and start the morning’s work."
“Oh, by the wheel, they certainly could,” Brilissa said. “But then when would I find a moment’s quiet?” She pushed the pot toward Kira. “Tea?”
“No, thank you,” Kira said. “I can’t stay. I only came to see what scraps I might have.”
“Scraps indeed!” Brilissa placed her hands on her chest, feigning horror. “Not from my kitchen. But provisions you may have.” She smiled and pushed herself out of her chair, stretching.
“I would hate to bother the head cook with such a request.” Kira nodded in respect.
Brilissa laughed. “Who better?” She put a finger beside her nose and winked. “The head cook always knows where the best stores are kept.”
Kira left the kitchen with a much larger bundle of food than she had intended.
* * *
Trad snorted, his breath steaming in the crisp morning air. The big stallion’s leg had healed rapidly and he was no longer content to remain in the stable when Kira went out to hunt. He was filled with nervous energy and needed more exercise than the short walks around the hold had provided. Kira had barely been able to keep him from running off at a gallop when they’d ridden out in the early haze of dawn.
Kira shivered in the worn cloak Harl had found for her. Luckily, the morning’s hunt had gone well. Along with the brace of fat hares they had caught, Vaith and Kelmir had brought down a fine buck, which was now slung across Trad’s back. Once more, Kira bowed her head to offer thanks to the animals that gave their lives so others on the wheel might live. She considered heading back to the hold, but it was still early and the more game she could bring in before the snows came, the better provisioned the hold would be through winter. Along with tutoring his niece and nephew, Holder Tem had hired her to help keep the hold supplied with meat. Kira intended to fulfill both bargains.
Mist rose from the fields, covering the forest path in a gauzy fog. Kira walked ahead. It wouldn’t do for Trad to trip and re-injure himself. The path narrowed as it meandered though the woods. A small crackle of twigs off to the left told Kira where Kelmir prowled. Vaith flitted from tree to tree, suddenly swooping low over the path ahead of her, his eyes glowing and his thoughts filled with hunger.
“I suppose it’s about time,” Kira said, opening her pouch. The smell of meat and bread reminded her that they had set off that morning without eating.
Kira settled herself on the gnarled roots of an ancient oak and unrolled the heavy cloth Brilissa had given her. It was filled with sliced meat, dark bread and fragran
t cheese. The cook had also given her several large apples. Kira pulled off a large chunk of bread and ate it with a thick slice of meat. The cheese was tangy and she nibbled at it between bites of apple, feeding the cores to Trad.
When she finished her meal, Kira leaned back for a moment. Kelmir snoozed nearby, lying in the dappled sunshine that filtered through the trees. Vaith sat a short distance away, eyeing the remaining meat. She tossed a scrap of meat high into the air and he streaked from his perch, catching it before it began to fall. He landed on another branch and ripped the meat apart, stuffing pieces into his mouth.
“Slow down, you little glutton.” Vaith eyed her, a piece of meat dangling from his pointy teeth, and Kira laughed. “All right, finish it so we can get back to work,” she said, rolling the rest of the food in the cloth.
Kelmir raised his head and stood, slowly stretching out his front legs and arching his back. He padded off along the path in the direction they had been heading. Vaith watched the big cat, turning his head while he stuffed the last morsel into his mouth before taking to the air. He swooped down low, soaring close by Kelmir’s head before winging up the path. Kelmir gave a small growl and leaped after him.
By late morning, the hunters were tired. Trad had begun to sag under the weight of the game he carried. Kira turned back toward the hold satisfied that they had gathered enough meat for one day. If their hunting remained productive, she would easily be able to request a warmer cloak and additional bedding before the winter season.
She offered the fattest of the hares to Kelmir and he took it in his great maw. “Here you are, Kel,” she said. “We’ve had a good day.” She turned to Vaith. “I want you to come with me, little one. There’s someone I want you to meet. You can eat along the way.” She held up the rolled bundle containing their remaining provisions and patted the pommel of Trad’s saddle.
Vaith landed gracefully on the leather perch and watched expectantly as Kira unrolled the cloth and tore off a piece of meat. He took the morsel from her and ate it as they headed back to Tem Hold. She talked along the way, telling Vaith about Tratine and Milvari. She sent him mind-pictures of them, showing him how Milvari had finally awakened to Kira’s teaching, while Tratine remained distant. She tried to show Vaith her hope that Tratine would be as interested in wyverns as Milvari had been about plants.
Vaith finished eating, then licked his claws till they glistened, his long black tongue snaking between his toes. He sat tall on his perch, gleaming in the midday sun, when they reached the main gate. Kira called out for Harl as she passed the stable. She stopped Trad beside the kitchen door and began unloading the morning’s catch.
Harl jogged over and reached up to help, then stopped, mouth agape. “Is that a . . . wyvern?” he asked, staring at Vaith.
Kira smiled at Harl’s wide-eyed excitement. She liked this young man. He made her feel welcome and at ease, and his reaction to Vaith was exactly the one she hoped to get from Tratine. “Vaith,” she said, “this is Harl. Harl would like to know if you’re a wyvern.”
Vaith turned his head toward the boy and stared at him. Kira chuckled. “Harl, this is Vaith. He is a longtime companion of mine and an excellent hunter.”
Harl stood still. “I’ve seen them from a distance, but never so close.”
“You could come closer.”
“Won’t he fly off?”
Trad blew impatiently, staring back over his shoulder at them. “Not unless he has a reason to,” Kira replied, untying the rope that held the remaining game on Trad’s back. “Here, help me with this. Trad needs to rest.” She patted the horse’s rump and he shook his head, whipping his mane with eagerness. “You can help get this game into the kitchen while I see to Trad. Vaith will still be here when we’re done with our work.”
Harl helped Kira lift the deer and hang it on the dressing hook beside the kitchen door. As they unloaded the smaller game, he kept watch on the bright winged creature before him, as if he thought Vaith would disappear if he looked away too long. “When you’re done here,” she told Harl, “see what scraps of meat Brilissa will part with for our guest.”
“Really? Do you think he’ll let me feed him?”
“I don’t think he’d let me stop you,” Kira said, smiling. Trad headed toward the stable and Kira followed. “Now hurry up. Sooner done is sooner on,” she called over her shoulder. Her smile wavered. She was quoting Heresta again. A breath of cool air ruffled her hair. “You’ll always be with me, old raven,” she whispered to the wind.
Vaith perched on a railing while Trad was rubbed, brushed, blanketed and fed. Harl hadn’t come into the stable by the time Kira finished, so she took Vaith and went in search of him. She peeked in the door of the kitchen and saw him talking with one of the cooks. Harl grinned and waved when he saw her and Kira returned his wave. She started to step inside to see about getting a plate of food, but remembered Vaith and ducked back out. It wouldn’t do to have Brilissa see her bringing an animal into the kitchen.
She was about to send Vaith off to perch nearby when Harl came tumbling out of the kitchen door. “Hunter!” he called. “The midday meal will be delayed.” He eyed her and an impish grin spread across his face.
“I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me why,” she responded.
“Well, if you must know,” he said with a playful air. “The household is busy with travel preparations. The present Lady of the Hold and her retinue will be leaving on the morn,” he went on. “She will be accompanied by her son, the heir apparent, and they shall not return for more than a full moon’s time.”
“Oh,” Kira said.
“What’s wrong, Hunter? I thought you’d be pleased at having one less student.”
“Nothing is wrong,” Kira said, but she couldn’t keep the disappointment from her voice. She’d been so sure she could win over Tratine by introducing him to Vaith.
Harl glanced around. “There are some who are quite happy at the prospect of a moon’s turn without the company of certain persons,” he confided.
His humor was contagious, but Kira gave him an innocent look. “Are there?” she asked.
Harl laughed. Kira knew she should admonish him for his behavior, but couldn’t keep herself from laughing with him. She coaxed Vaith onto her wrist and held out her arm. “Harl, how would you like to take Vaith out for a flight?”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Milvari tarried, waiting for everyone to finish the evening meal. She nibbled nervously at her food, glancing now and then in the direction of her uncle’s library. Each night for the past week she’d sat here, trying to feel brave and waiting for a chance to slip into the hallway unseen. The hall that led from the main room to the library was filled with shadows, a few flickering candles providing the only illumination. Unlike the great room, which was hung with bright oil lamps, the hallway sconces held heavy wax candles. Tonight, as on most nights, only every third candle was lit and thick shadows danced in doorways and beneath the furnishings that lined the walls. Milvari had often lurked in those shadows and knew intimately where the gloom lay heaviest and could obscure even the largest of mice.
As the hall began to empty, she helped clear away the plates and cups from the table. Her mother wouldn’t like it if she knew Milvari was doing kitchen work, but as usual no one in the room took notice. With Tratine gone, Milvari didn’t have to fear her brother’s tattling, and none of the cooking staff had ever told her mother about the times that Brilissa allowed her to help in the kitchen.
Everyone else in the household took little notice of her. Only Brilissa seemed to see her. Most of the time, Milvari sat alone in the corner of the kitchen, out of the way. But sometimes Brilissa would hand her a bowl of something to stir, or a container of flour and a sifter. Neither she nor Brilissa would speak. Milvari would simply set to work. When she finished the task, she would drift back into her quiet corner.
Milvari loved the kitchen. It brought back hazy memories of her father. Winter mornings when he rose early, she�
��d followed him down the cold hall to the cozy room filled with the scent of baking bread and simmering porridge. He would fix them both tea and hot bread with butter and jam, and then carry her back to bed where he would tuck her in before leaving on his errands. Milvari shuddered. It had been later on just such a morning that the men had brought her father back to the hold, wounded and bloody. Her mother hadn’t let her go to him. The healer tried for days, but none could stay the turning of the wheel. Their morning meal together had been his last.
A log crackled in the grate and she glanced toward the hearth. A few people tarried by the fire, talking in quiet voices. Nearby, several children played a game of Spokes. They laughed and chatted as they took turns dropping slender colored sticks into a circle outlined with string on the floor. She set her stack of plates on the end of one long table and watched in fascination as the children vied to see who could complete the best pattern in one throw. Milvari had played the game as a young child, but always alone, or with her brother, never with any other children. Her mother had always kept her and Tratine apart from the other children, telling them, Lords and Ladies shouldn’t mix with the lower classes. Delighted laughter erupted as one young girl completed an almost perfect star in one toss. Emptiness raked its claws through her. She longed to sit beside them and play.
She turned away abruptly, remembering her purpose. She hoped that tonight she’d be able to steal into her uncle’s library and search the shelves for more books on plants and animals. She thought of asking the hunter, but each time she’d tried, she’d choked on the words. Since that first time, their lessons had gone back to the way they’d been, reading, writing and sums. They hadn’t gone out to the fields again. Milvari knew her mother had had something to do with it. She had berated Milvari at length after Tratine had recounted their lesson out by the stream. Uncle Milos was always so distant and unapproachable. She couldn’t possibly ask him. Besides, he might say no. Or worse, tell her mother she had asked
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