"Well! Open it, my pet, open it!"
Castandra did not need to be told twice. She lifted the lid of the chest and gasped.
"Lowinn! It's exquisite!" She held the dark blue gown before her and looked in the standing mirror. Her eyes took on the sapphire shade of the gown, with just a hint of their natural grey. "Oh dear."
"What troubles you?" asked Everfast. "Is it the color? I was told it would be all the rage this season."
"No. It's just… It's a bit, well…"
"Ah. The neckline. My dear, you're a lovely young woman, not some shriveled old biddy that has to hide her wrinkled skin. Besides, your usual matronly necklines would make it hard to display the other trinket that I have brought you. Come now, you've missed the other box."
There was indeed another box, rectangular and silver with an elaborate catch. She removed its contents carefully; silver combs encrusted with blue sapphires, a pair of earrings, and a heavy silver necklace, all glittering with the costly jewels.
"You spoil her, Lowinn," said Caldan flatly.
"Nonsense. A lovely lady should have lovely things. Now, give me a grateful kiss, Castandra, and put them on. I'm sure the seamstresses know your size by now."
Still cradling the dress, Castandra gracefully bent her six-foot frame and pressed her lips to the duke's withered cheek.
"Haste! Haste!" he said. His chuckling followed Castandra to her rooms.
Miska and Tacha oohed and ahhed over the dress, its daring neckline and what it did for their mistress's tall, elegant figure. They gasped when they saw the contents of the silver box, and a small coin had to be tossed to settle the argument over who would fasten the clasp of the heavy necklace.
Castandra surveyed the result of their ministrations in the mirror of her room. The dress did fit, which was no surprise; Duke Everfast had given her many dresses and other gifts throughout his long friendship with her father. The gown was striking, the latest style and the finest materials, but she felt uneasy. Her shoulders, throat and too much of her chest were bared, and far too white and thin. The necklace pressed heavily on her collarbone and the tiny ribs above her breasts, whose meager proportions had been enhanced by Tacha and Miska's expert lacing of her corset. Certain she must look ridiculous in such bold attire, Castandra lingered, but when at last she left her room, even her father raised an appreciative eyebrow.
Lowinn insisted on being her escort for the ceremony. He took her arm and waddled between the girl and her father: a plump child's pony between two long-legged hunters.
o0o
Elzin breathed a silent prayer that she might remember all Shelvann's instructions. Now, with the hungry eyes of the guests upon her, she would have no chance to ask any questions, and no one to ask them of if she did. She was alone; Shelvann had taken suddenly ill, and Elzin had left her behind with two maidservants to attend her.
All rose as she, with measured tread, traversed the aisle, her bare neck bowed as Shelvann had advised. Three years had passed since the last occasion Elzin had worn her hair tightly pinned: the burial of her mother. The memory settled on her features a sobriety so foreign that past lovers shifted nervously, worried that the Chosen might remember and take exception for former liberties.
Elzin never noticed. Carefully, she mounted the steps, fearful of appearing as clumsy as she felt. At last atop the dais, she lifted her head and turned to face the Queen.
Her Majesty smiled. Nothing could have troubled Elzin more. What could the Queen find so pleasant about this? For a moment, the blonde wondered if somehow the regent had discovered her secret. Unconsciously, she pressed a protective hand to her middle.
Beside the Queen stood Mother Kanzal, her seamed face etched with all the fury that she had expected of the Queen. Elzin had discredited a sacred tenet of the Faithful, and in the act of being Chosen might have destroyed the very institution of the Keep. Resentfully, the brunette passed to the Queen a thin silver band that brought a sudden quiet over the whispering crowd. Elzin knelt before the throne. The Queen deliberately placed the band with its small downward point in the center of the blonde's forehead, and just as deliberately said for all to hear, "The Saireflute is the most sacred mystery of our land, and its caprices are unfathomable. Therefore, I permit you, Elzin, to begin your life of service to the Flute."
Elzin rose. She had not expected a cordial welcome, but neither had she anticipated a public bid for gratitude. Well, Her Massiveness had better look elsewhere for that!
"I thank the Saireflute, then," she said.
Awkwardly, she removed the Flute from its bolstered stand. 'But I don't know how to play it,' she had told Shelvann.
'No matter,' the girl had answered with a smile. 'Your fingers will know how once the Saireflute has accepted you.'
Elzin took the Flute with trembling hands and moved it to her lips. By all the gods, Shelvann had better be right!
The first shrill squeaks from the Saireflute made her shoulders bunch. Telriss preserve me! she thought. The Flute's amended its mistake! Her head began to spin -- her mind to crowd –- and then --
o0o
Ecstatically, Elzin played with the experience of over eight hundred years, far better than any musician ever born. But the young commoner, now Saire, brought the playing something new, as had every woman before her, for its song soared wilder and less disciplined, but strangely sweeter than before.
Tiny cracks forked across the pale marble of the dais, and from the center of the fracture's radius, a tentative green shoot nosed up. It rose, raised its head, and uncurled a pair of leaves -- then another pair, and another. Soon green stem grew to silver trunk. Branch after burnished branch spread and tangled, covered in buds that opened to leaves of greyish-green. On every twig and branch, a multitude of pods erupted. Each fist-sized calyx squirmed and wriggled, bobbing madly on its slender stalk until, all at once, the pods burst asunder and hundreds of emerald hummingbirds exploded from their prisons into air. Tumbling and darting, they danced about the tree, its branches now laden with giant, crimson flowers. Impossibly, the watchers felt a breeze rise from the beating of the hummers' tiny wings, and the scent of the flowers washed over them like a wave. To some, it brought the sweet smell of spring, tender, green and earnest; to others, a sultry summer attar, warm, full and ripe; to many, it carried ocean winds, salt to the tongue and cool on the cheek. But to two, it gave the spicy tang of mastwood, freshened by an evening rain, and Caldan and his daughter reached for one another's hands.
Abruptly, tree and birds and music vanished. Flushed with exuberance, Elzin panted as if she had run ten miles. The crowd, by custom, bowed to her in return for her gift.
o0o
It was as if she had spent her life lost in featureless twilight, but today for the first time she had seen the risen sun. All things had been transformed by that light; she knew for the first time weight and dimension and colors--true colors--real ones, not shadows. Oh, only a glimpse, just the swiftest sideways glance. To was ecstasy and horror, a bright and awful beauty that had almost been too much to bear. That might have been, had she seen it full on.
Quivering with rapture, she stared down at her own hands, at the gleaming Flute within their easy grasp. Had she really played already? The people bowed, just as she had once bowed, to thank the Saire and Saireflute for their gift. What gift had the Flute given this, her audience? Not what it had given her; they were too composed to have seen that other. Maybe for her what they saw would always be a mystery, but she had no regrets. For within her, deep in, she felt the seed of that dread and lovely light. A connection. And a need.
Reverently, she placed the Saireflute in its scarlet velvet case and cradled it to her bosom like a child. She knew now no one else must touch it.
"Mine," she whispered.
Nobles craned their necks to hear her words. Unnerved by their attention, an avalanche of doubt rolled down upon her head. Who was she, anyway? Just a miller's daughter--and they were waiting for her next mistake.
/> "Great Lady."
It was Count Val Torska. He bowed to her again.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I--I don't know what to do."
"Have no fear; the Playing often disorients a new Saire. Will you leave the dais?"
"Yes. Please. I want to go."
"First, then, acknowledge the Queen. No, no," he said as she started to curtsey. "With a nod; the Saire lowers before no one. Excellent. And now, your arm, if it pleases you."
It pleased her, all right. She had started to feel not just unsure, but unsteady.
The crowd parted before the count and his dogs; she traversed the whole hall without mishap. The rapid clack of her well-soled shoes marked the tempo of her urgency. Soon they left the dull murmur of the throng behind.
"Gently, Saire Elzin," he said then. His hand on her arm slowed her desperate pace. "If your audience had meant to pelt you with offal, you would have worn it by now."
She laughed at herself and slowed down even further.
"It's just too much. I guess I'm a little nervous." She grinned. "Um, where are we going?"
"You were so swift in your progress, I had not thought to ask."
"You mean, you don't know?"
"It was originally my happy task to show you to your apartments."
"And they're…?"
"Back the way we came, Great Lady."
"Shells," she muttered, then stopped. "Oh, well. At least they picked you to show me to my apartments. Gold would be giving me a side tour of the dungeons by now."
She extended a friendly hand to pat the dogs, but they slipped away like smoke before her touch. "Oh. I guess I’m too bold for their taste." she said, then realized just how bold she had been. Her escort was a lord councilor, by Telriss's grace, and here she was, gossiping as familiarly as if he were the bootmaker's apprentice.
"I'm sorry --"
"No, I am." he said, mistaking her meaning. "Go on; they will stand for you now." The coursers sat expectantly as he stopped. At his command they assumed such expressions of canine chagrin that her words blew away in a gust of laughter.
She could not resist. Soft and fine as baby's hair, as delicious to the touch as the pelt of a mink, the brace's coats slid through her fingers, slicker than satin. She bent closer. A warm, comforting scent rose to greet her, some sweet and foreign spice like cinnamon or cloves. Balancing the Flute’s case upon her knees, she freed both hands to roam as the councilor spoke.
"Why does Duke Gold trouble you?"
"I come from Linden Mill," she explained. "It's in his province. I suppose he thinks other privileges come with a title, besides the usual robbery noble folk like to call taxes." She flushed. "Of course, My Lord, I don't mean all lords. I don't mean you! I mean -- that is – well… Oh, what's the use? Elzmere's right. My mouth runs faster than my sense. I don't belong here. I'll never--,” Elzin put both hands on her ample hips, “Why, you're laughing!"
"Why shouldn’t I?" he asked.
"You're not angry?"
"Angry? Great Lady, I am delighted. So few people here speak their minds, I began to doubt they possessed them."
"Really? You know, I think I could -- oh, Telriss, where is my head? Shelvann!"
"Shelvann?"
"Yes, my good friend. Or my advisor, more like it. She took ill this morning. I want to check in on her, to tell her how well things went. I'd like her to come with us, if she's feeling better. That is, if she may, I mean, if it would be no great inconvenience to My Lord."
"I would be delighted to escort you wherever you wish, Great Lady. However, you must not address me as 'My Lord'. You are Saire now, and none may claim to be your lord. My name is Caldan, or if you wish to be more formal, Count Val Torska."
"Everything's so new to me." She took her hands reluctantly from the soft fur of the hounds and tucked the Saireflute's case into the crook of her elbow. "Thank you -- Caldan."
The lord councilor offered her an encouraging smile and his arm, and they turned their steps to the Keep.
Elzin tapped at the Shelvann’s door and was ushered swiftly in. The count and his two hounds waited in the corridor, but in minutes Elzin returned, troubled and bewildered.
"A Royal Physician is with her, My -- I mean -- Caldan. I don't understand. He said he thought that Shelvann had been poisoned. Why would anyone want to poison a failed Candidate? She's only a girl. She couldn't have any enemies. Her face, it's so pale, and the doctor says," she swallowed hard, "he says that she might die."
"Poisoned…" A quick motion of his hand, and the dogs stood muzzle outward to watch down either hall.
He turned back to her, dark eyes gone soft with pity.
"Saire Elzin," he said softly, "you are right; no one would poison a mere child. Did you dine together, this morning?"
"Yes, but I," Elzin stammered and her eyes grew wide, "I was so nervous I c-couldn't…"
"You are in grave danger. Whoever did this was bold and very desperate. Poison is a chancy business; such ventures often run afoul, as you can see. Are you certain you ate nothing?"
"Nothing," Elzin said sadly. As she spoke, a memory from the ceremony nagged at her -- the Queen and her malignant smile. Could it be that Her Majesty had not expected her handmaid to long survive as Saire?
Elzin blanched at the idea of confronting the regent with such an accusation. Saire or not, she would not likely survive the encounter. The Queen's own husband had died of a mysterious disorder rumored to be a slow-acting poison. Though his death had been fifteen years ago, Her Majesty was still sensitive to even the slightest hint of a suspicion that he might have died by her hand so that she could regain the throne. Only scores of executions had quelled the first rumors.
'I will be there if you need help,' the count had told her. No one could need it more! She needed someone now to tell her what to do, and suddenly she had no one else. Her brother had disappeared. Her father had disowned her. Her friends had become her servants, with whom she dared not speak candidly for fear the castle gossip would find its way to the Queen's vigilant spies. And now poor Shelvann, who might have given her historical solutions to the problems she faced, might be beyond help herself.
The new Saire put a hand to her protesting stomach.
"You are ill," he said, and took her arm. "You must let me escort you to your apartments. I will call my own physician, someone we can trust."
"No!" She didn't want a doctor to see her, to guess at her condition. "I mean thank you, but I'm fine. I'm just upset. Poor Shelvann."
Without warning he pulled Elzin to him. Before she could protest he murmured softly, "We have company. You are weeping.
"Listen to me," he breathed. "You must make no accusations; such would place you in only greater peril, and you are unprepared. You may have been the assassin's target, and if so, the killer may try to strike again. But, strange as it sounds, Shelvann may have been the intended target. There are some here ruthless enough to take the life of an innocent girl simply as a warning that another should know her place.
"Where your place will be, Great Lady, is for you to say and not some other. But I caution you to wait. Let time establish you and gain you strength. Let them build their cage to hold a rabbit, and only later let them find the lioness within."
His nearness comforted her. He was so tall that her forehead only reached his chest. This close, she smelled the warm and spicy fragrance of him, familiar and somehow reassuring, a holiday kitchen smell. Unbidden, a vision leaped from heart to mind -- her mother, face flushed with stove heat and vigorous kneading, her welcoming arms covered to the elbows in flour. Elzin pressed her face against his chest, swallowing past her thickened throat. "Will you help me?" she asked.
"I will do all that I can, but we must be extremely discreet. You have much to learn, Saire Elzin, and you must be a quick study. Your life depends on it."
He pushed her gently from him and pretended to wipe non-existent tears from her eyes. Beyond his hand she saw a blur of brown and white. The "company" tha
t the count had warned her of: a passing laundress, her arms full of folded bedsheets, her steps slower than a busy washerwoman's should be. For the first time Elzin noticed that Val Torska's hounds had returned to sit alertly at his feet.
"There now," he said aloud, "I am certain that the physician will do his best for your friend. Meanwhile, your apartments are ready for your inspection."
Was it her imagination, or had the councilor's explanation caused the laundress to pick up her gait? Was that the price of her new position, that she must dread every meal and each footfall in the hallways?
Again, the count took her arm, and they returned without speaking to the gray stone corridors of the castle proper. To each person that she passed, Elzin gave a hopeful smile. But each smile met only with tightened lips and fearful gazes that glanced off her own, until at last Elzin's smile faltered, then failed her, and she shuffled forlornly through the corridors as if the Flute had turned her feet to lead.
Abandoned, again. A week ago these halls had teemed with confidants and lovers; now, she could not even gain their eyes -- how much less their affection? Her common friends had become as remote as the nobility whose ranks she had breached. She wanted to belong again, to either group, to any group that would have her.
Even her brother had deserted her, gone without a trace and leaving her to the not-so-tender mercies of the Queen. And before that, her father, who buried his love with her mother and gave her nothing after but hard words and hard blows and finally, a harder silence.
She clung to Caldan's arm. His offer of help seemed welcome now as a house of stone in a gale. And who else did she have?
The highlander escorted her through an elaborately carved wooden portal and into a short antechamber, where he politely but firmly released her arm.
"All that lies on the other side is yours, Great Lady. Pass through and see."
He gestured to where a pair of towering, hardwood doors reared to the ceiling at the far end of the antechamber. The goddess Telriss extended her hand on one side in bas relief; on the other, a smiling child reached. Joining them across the doors was a flute fashioned of a single rod of silver. When girl and goddess parted, Elzin knew already Telriss alone would hold the flute. She clutched her case tightly and stepped forward.
The Night Holds the Moon Page 4