“No, not usually.” Later, in private, Raine would tell Gertie about Chaz’s peculiar talents, but not now. “I hope you left me some breakfast. I’m hungry.”
“That’s the translocation.” Brefreton stamped the mud off his boots and looked around the huge barn. “It works up an appetite. Think you can dislocate back to the fast?”
“No,” Raine said. “I told you, it was an accident. I don’t know how I did it.”
“We’ll add it to your lessons, then,” Brefreton said. “Translocation is tricky. You don’t want to dislocate and find yourself underneath a mountain or floundering about in a lake.”
“Goodness, no,” Raine said, taken aback.
“Even if you could go back the way you came, I wouldn’t advise it,” Gertie said. “You’ll want to be fresh for the banquet tonight.”
“The banquet?” Raine groaned. “I forgot about the banquet.”
Gertie gave a raspy chuckle. “Left your brains in the tower when you translocated, did you? Going to be a huge turnout at the feast. Some of the noble families have arrived early, in anticipation of Trolach.”
“Yay,” Raine said.
Clegg stepped out of a stall and into the aisle. He glanced at Chaz and shuddered. “Thought you’d want to know, Blessed Mother,” he said, with a deferential cough. “I sent for a carriage, seeing as how the lady ain’t…um…altogether.”
“Thank you, Clegg. Raven is driving the carriage down himself.” Gertie’s long ears flicked at the clop of hooves outside. “That’ll be him, now.” She turned back to Raine. “Soon as we get back to your room, we’ll order a second breakfast.” She rubbed her hairy belly. “I wouldn’t mind another nibble, myself.”
Glory looked down her nose at the hulking troll. “Don’t you ever get full?”
“Don’t you ever shut up?” Gertie snapped back.
The resulting argument lasted all the way back to the fast.
* * * *
Late that afternoon at twilight, when the hills were robed in dusky blues and purples and the sea gleamed like beaten silver in the setting sun, there was a knock on the door of Tekla’s sitting room.
Drifa looked up from the pair of Raine’s stockings she was darning. “Who can that be?”
Raine, having enjoyed another hot bath upon her return from the stables, sat by the windows, dressed in a simple gown of lightweight gray wool. “Mauric, I would assume,” she said. “He volunteered to take first watch.”
Drifa clasped her hands to her bosom. “The lady in the tower. It’s so romantic. Like sumpin from one o’ them tales me gran used to tell me when I was little.”
“There’s nothing romantic about it,” Raine muttered, “unless you enjoy being smothered.”
“Milady?”
“Nothing. Answer the door, Drifa.”
“Yes, milady.”
Jumping to her feet, Drifa hurried to obey. She opened the door and curtsied. “You’ve visitors, milady,” she said to Raine. “I’ll be in the other room, if you need me.”
“Thank you, Drifa.”
Drifa cast the warrior on the landing an awestruck glance and scurried into the bedchamber.
“Ho, Rainey,” Mauric said, strolling into the sitting room with a handsome blond woman at his side. “I’ve brought m’ mother to see you.”
Raine set aside the parchment on translocation she’d been reading and rose from her chair. “I’m delighted to meet you, Lady Asta. Do come in.”
Two young ladies stepped into the room behind Mauric’s mother, a curvaceous beauty with pale hair, and a tall, slim girl with golden-brown braids, hazel eyes, and a lively, intelligent countenance.
“Allow me to introduce my sisters,” Mauric said, waving a negligent hand at the two damsels. “Lulu and Ty.”
“Mauric.” The silvery blonde gave Raine a shy smile. “Pay no heed to my brother, Lady Raine. I am called Luanna, and this is Tyra, my baby sister.”
“Who are you calling a baby?” Tyra said with a scowl. “You’re but a year older, Luanna.”
“Then stop acting like one.” Lady Asta glided farther into the room with a swish of her skirts and looked around. “I’ve never been to this part of the fast. It’s very old, is it not?”
“So I am told,” Raine said, “but the view is spectacular.” She directed the ladies to seats by the fire. “Would you care for refreshments?”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t eat a bite,” Luanna said in a breathless voice. “I’m too excited.”
“You are?” Raine said, smiling at the young woman’s enthusiasm. “Excited about what?”
Luanna perched on the edge of a chair, her eyes aglow. “The banquet. It’s going to be a beastly crush.”
“And that’s a good thing?”
“Yes.” Luanna clasped her hands to her bosom. “There are going to be harps and lutes, and lovely dresses and sweetmeats…and I don’t know what all.”
“Which brings me to the reason for our call.” Taking a seat, Lady Asta folded her hands in her lap. “Mauric informs me you arrived at the Citadel with no servants of your own?”
It was clear from Lady Asta’s tone that she found such a circumstance unfathomable.
“Yes, ma’am.” Raine took the chair next to her. “I left home in rather a hurry.”
“In that case, I will send Luanna’s dresser to assist you.”
“Oh, yes,” Luanna said, her hand going to her intricately twisted locks. “Rosalee does wonders with a curling tong.”
“Tro, Lulu.” Tyra flopped into a chair beside her sister. “Just because you enjoy being pinched and pulled for hours on end don’t mean everyone does. Besides, take a gander at Lady Raine’s hair. Loads of curl a’ready.”
“Don’t swear, Tyra,” Lady Asta said, “and pray refrain from saying ‘gander’ and ‘a’ready.’ It’s vulgar.”
“Hoo, Mam, don’t be a grumble prick.”
Lady Asta stiffened. “A…what did you call me?”
“A grumble prick. It means a scold,” Mauric said with a chuckle. “Tyra, have you, by chance, made the acquaintance of a certain frost giant?”
“Yes, this morning while I was hunting,” Tyra said. “He was with the rowan and Gertie.” She turned to her mother. “You must meet him, mother. His name is Tiny, and he is the drollest thing.”
“Tiny?” Lady Asta arched her brows at her son. “Ric, is that not the frost giant who saved your life?”
“One and the same. Plucked me out of a swarm of eaters, or there’d be nothing left of me.”
“Then Tyra has the right of it, and I must make his acquaintance.” She glanced at her youngest. “That does not mean, however, that you should pattern your speech after him. Grumble prick, indeed.”
“Gawn,” said Tyra.
“Hoyden,” Mauric said with an affectionate chuckle.
Lady Asta sighed and turned to Raine. “You see what I must endure? Bramble loots, the pair of them.”
“Bramble loots?” Raine said on a gurgle of laughter.
“Hedge bandits.” Mauric’s eyes danced. “My lady mother accuses me and my sister of being robbers. Apparently, she thinks us thoroughly disreputable.”
“And so you are, going from scrape to scrape,” Lady Asta said. “Every gray hair in my head, I owe the two of you.”
“But, Mother,” Tyra protested, “you don’t have any gray hair.”
“Hush, child.” Lady Asta turned to Raine. “My dear, have you a suitable gown for this evening? If not, you are welcome to wear something of Luanna’s.”
“Oh, yes, please,” Luanna said with sweet eagerness. “I have heaps of things.”
“Thank you,” Raine said, “but I purchased a wardrobe in Gambollia, and the queen has provided me with a maid. I’m sure Drifa will make me respectable. She takes her duties seriously.” She smiled at Luan
na. “Mauric tells me you were recently presented at court?”
“Yes, at Trovis Tide.” Luanna’s face lit up. “I wore the most beautiful dress—Esmallan silk worked with silver thread and seed pearls, and the cleverest little slippers to match.” She shot her brother a glance. “Mauric was supposed to escort me in the lead-out, but he wasn’t here, so Carr stepped in.”
“And a fine thing, too.” Mauric grinned. “You danced on the roark’s arm, instead of…what was it you called me?” He snapped his fingers. “An unfeeling oaf. That was it.”
Luanna giggled. “I was angry, because you dismissed my dancing master. Poor Master Arpel. You gave him such a fright.” She lifted her head. “Now I’m older and more seasoned, I realize he was a toady.”
“Yes, it’s a miracle you can walk without a cane, considering your advanced years.”
“You tease, but, truly, Ric, I wish you’d been there,” Luanna said. “It was splendid.”
“It was boring,” Tyra said. “When I come out, I don’t want a fancy dress or stupid slippers. I’d liefer have an elvish bow.”
Mauric regarded his youngest sister with amusement. “Still longing to use Master Arpel’s bum for target practice?”
“No, but I’d like to put an arrow in the scoundrels who attacked Lady Raine at the gate.”
“So fierce.” Reaching out, Mauric tugged one of Tyra’s braids. “You shall have your bow.”
“Don’t encourage her, Mauric.” Lady Asta rose gracefully from her chair. “Lady Raine, if you’ve need of us, send word. We are at your disposal. Come, girls. Time to dress for the banquet.”
Mauric escorted his mother and Luanna from the tower. Tyra, however, lingered.
“Is it true you have a dragon, Lady Raine?” she asked, almost shyly.
“Yes,” Raine said. “His name is Flame. Would you like to meet him?”
“Would I?” Tyra’s eyes shone. “Yes. Oh, yes!”
“Then I shall take you to the stables and introduce you, on one condition. You must call me Raine.”
“I’d like that.” Tyra gave Raine a crooked smile. “Tiny was right about you, Raine. You’re a prime ʼun.”
She slipped out, closing the door behind her.
Chapter 13
A Troll of Means
Drifa held up another dress. “What about this one, milady? It was at the bottom of the pack. The blue will go nicely with your eyes, and there are slippers to match.”
“It’s a pretty color,” Raine said, considering the gown, “but it has no shape and it’s hopelessly creased.”
“Aye, but an hour in the steam baths should remedy that.” Drifa gave the dress a vigorous shake, and the deep wrinkles in the cloth disappeared. “Would you look at that? The creases have fallen out.”
“Yes. Too bad it’s a sack.”
Drifa pursed her lips in thought. “I could cinch it in at the waist, or do something with a sash, or maybe a bit of silver chain.”
“It’s a bag. The bed drapes would be more flattering.”
“Try it on, at least, milady.”
“Oh, very well.”
Raine dropped her robe and held up her arms. Drifa tossed a silk shift over her head, followed by the gown. The shapeless garment swirled around her body, then abruptly molded to her like a second skin.
Drifa jumped back with a hiss of surprise. “Merciful gods, magic?”
“That would be my guess.” Raine ran her hands over the folds of the gown. “The tailor in Gambollia who made my wardrobe was an adept.”
“A sewing wizard?”
“Yup. Unfortunately, Abbah and I didn’t see eye to eye.”
“Why not, milady?”
“Breeches.” Raine made a rueful face. “Abbah disapproved. He called me a vipata, whatever that means.”
“It’s Esmallan, milady. It means ‘woman of strife.’”
“Does it, now?” Raine propped her hands on her hips. “That unctuous little worm. Makes me wish I had blown up his shop.”
“Milady?”
“Nothing. Where did you learn to speak Esmallan?”
“I don’t,” Drifa said. “Picked up a few words, here and there, on account o’ there are Esmallan merchants in the city, and the queen has a maid from Wartooh.” Easing closer, she peered at Raine’s gown. “The fabric is very fine. I’ve never seen the like.”
Raine looked down at the cleavage on display. “It’s too tight. I’m stuffed in this thing like a sausage.”
“Oh, no, you look lovely. If only you could see yourself.” Drifa looked around the chamber. “Kron’s apron, there’s no mirror in this heap of a tower.”
“I…um…found a hand mirror,” Raine volunteered, strangely hesitant to share Tekla’s mirror with anyone else. “But it’s not very big.”
“A hand mirror is of no use,” Drifa said. “Don’t move, milady. I’ll be back in a trice.”
The maid rushed out, leaving Raine standing in the middle of the room. Minutes ticked by, and Raine grew bored. She paced up and down the chamber. She was nervous about the banquet and the king’s coming announcement, and she felt strange and uncomfortable in the fancy gown. Her day dresses were simple woolen garments designed for comfort and warmth; nothing like this brocade and velvet creation. The gown had a full skirt, and the train kept getting tangled around her legs. She did not want to fall flat on her face in the Great Hall. Talk about making an entrance.
Raine practiced walking and turning in the gown. She was getting the hang of it when Drifa returned. A short, muscular young man accompanied her, carrying a large object swaddled in thick cloth.
“Lean it up against the wall, Lek.” Drifa pointed. “Careful. Don’t break it. You’ll let the demons out. They’ll snatch you up like a fat, juicy rabbit and suck the flesh from your bones.”
The servant shot her a startled glance, set down his burden, and bolted.
“Drifa,” Raine said, laughing. “You frightened the poor man. Suck the bones from his flesh, indeed. Where did you hear such a thing?”
“Me mam,” Drifa said. “She wouldn’t allow a mirror in the house, for love nor money, but there are dozens of them in the fast. For the fine ladies, you know.” She whipped the covering from the mirror, revealing an ornate frame. “A bit dusty,” she said, taking a swipe at the silvered glass. “I noticed it the other day when I went into the storeroom after candles.”
Raine moved toward the mirror, but Drifa stopped her. “Not yet, milady,” the maid said. “Let me do something with your hair, first.”
Raine sat down and allowed Drifa to brush and arrange her hair.
“There.” Drifa coaxed a curl into place. “Now have a look.”
Raine rose from the chair with a rustle of skirts and went to the mirror. The blue velvet dress was beautiful, with a deep, square neckline, tight sleeves that ended in a bell shape, and a fitted bodice that accentuated her narrow waist. The full skirt was split at the front to reveal a brocade underdress.
Raine gazed silently at the young woman in the mirror with the shining black curls and rosy cheeks. Until she’d come to Tandara, Raine had been bedridden, the victim of chronic illness. Twenty-five years of suffering had left their mark—the old Raine had been haggard and gaunt, but no more. The woman in the reflection was the picture of health. Though it was not the first time Raine had seen evidence of her recovery, she still found it hard to grasp.
“Milady?” Drifa said. “Are you not pleased?”
“Yes, but I’m not accustomed to such finery.” Raine turned away from the glass. “I feel like a hen in peacock feathers. And I’m not used to these”—she waved a hand over her bosom—“being on display.”
“Oh, milady, you are a caution,” Drifa said with a gurgle of amusement.
There was a knock on the door. “Ho, pet,” Gertie boomed from the adjoining chamb
er. “You dressed yet?”
Raine’s continued protests that she neither wanted nor needed a babysitter had fallen on deaf ears, and Raven, Mauric, Bree, and Gertie had agreed to take turns standing watch outside her door. Gertie had been on duty since midafternoon.
“Pet?” Gertie called again. “The banquet’s started.”
Raine swallowed a groan. The banquet…a room full of strangers staring at her, whispering. Conjecturing…
Squaring her shoulders, she strode from the bedroom.
Gertie looked up when Raine entered. “Kron’s hammer, gal. You’re like to start a war in that dress.”
“I thought I already had.”
Gertie chuckled. “Nah, you just hurried it along.”
Drifa came quietly in and sank into a deep curtsy. “Blessed Mother.” Rising, she turned to Raine. “With your permission, milady, the servants are having a feast in the kitchens.”
“Go and have a good time. That’s an order.”
Drifa bobbed another curtsy. “Yes, ma’am, and thankee.”
The maid slipped out of the tower, leaving Raine alone with the troll.
“Ready, pet?” Gertie asked.
Raine twisted her fingers together. “No. I’d much rather stay in my room.”
“You started down this road when you asked for sanctuary.”
“I know.”
“Think how odd it would look if the rowan announced he’d granted you sanctuary, but you were nowhere to be seen. What do you imagine folks would think?”
“That I was the rowan’s prisoner, I suppose.”
“Exactly. Mark my words, Glonoff would find a way to use it against Gorne,” Gertie said. “Besides, you don’t want to miss the expression on Joresh’s face when Gorne makes his announcement. It’s going to be rich.”
“Do you think the ambassador will be terribly angry?”
“More than likely, he’ll soil himself,” Gertie said. “Glonoff has no patience for failure, and he’s expecting Joresh to deliver you. If Joresh has the sense the gods gave a goose, he’ll take the first ship south and not look back.” Her eerie yellow gaze moved over Raine. “That gown is a stunner, but it needs something.”
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