Hedda turned to Raine with a brittle smile. “It’s settled, then. You and Carr will be the best of friends, I know it.” She slid Raven a venomous glance. “The gograh is a young woman, Reaven. No doubt she will enjoy being around someone her own age, for a change. How old will you be your next name day…three hundred?”
“Two-hundred and ninety-nine.”
“There, you see? We must let these younglings have their fun.”
“As you say.” Raven drained his glass and excused himself.
“My, my,” Hedda said, watching him depart. “Was it something I said?”
Annoyed by the queen’s clumsy attempts at matchmaking, Raine had avoided Carr, at first. She liked the young roark well enough, but the secrets she’d learned in the mirror weighed heavily on her. Carr was not the rowan’s son, and the knowledge made her squirm. But Carr’s amiable manner soon won her over. He wasn’t the least proud or haughty, like his mother, and he admired her friends.
“Stop,” Raine said one day, laughing at Carr’s glowing description of Mauric. “Mauric is no paragon, and so he would tell you.”
“Oh, I know,” Carr had said. “He’s a bit of a rogue. A dash with the ladies and always ready for a rumpus. That’s why I like him.”
“And Raven?” Raine had teased. “Do you like him as well?”
“Like him?” Carr said. “That ain’t the half of it. My brother’s a legend, Gograh.”
“Call me Raine, please.”
“Very well, Raine,” Carr said with a friendly smile. “You’ll not find a better fighter anywhere than Raven. Pluck to the backbone. Did you know he once defeated a troop of Torgs singlehanded?” His gray eyes shone. “The filth crossed the strait aboard a Torgali pirate ship and slipped ashore in longboats. Raven was returning from patrol and caught them on the beach. Taught them a lesson, by Tro. Blood in the sand, all that was left of ʼem.”
“What about the scandal?” Raine blurted without thinking. She blushed. “Forgive me. That was stupid.”
“No, I’m glad you asked,” Carr said, his expression fierce. “Most people treat me with kid gloves, like I ain’t got a brain, but you can’t grow up in the fast without hearing things.” He squared his shoulders. “I asked Mother, and she says the rumors aren’t true. Besides, she adores m’ father.”
Raine cringed, recalling the unhappy exchange between the rowan and his bride she’d overheard in the mirror. “Your parents have been married…what?” she murmured. “Twenty something years?”
“Seventy-five,” Carr said.
“Seventy-five? But the queen—”
“I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not true,” Carr said. “The Koreks are in Finn’s direct line, which means they are long-lived and don’t age. The Lindars are the same. Mauric’s grandmother lived to be I don’t know how old without a gray hair in her head, and his mother, Lady Asta, didn’t marry until the age of fifty, but no one accuses them of being witches.”
“Your mother is a Korek?”
“Aye, her father and Lord Malryn’s were brothers.” Carr scowled. “People can be vile. Not only do they besmirch my mother, but they’re positively vicious to Raven. Ignorant and small-minded, that’s what they are, the clatterans. Raven can’t help that he’s not full-blooded Finlar. I think his elvish blood makes him a better warrior. What’s more, that stuff about him and my mother is rubbish, and so I shall tell anyone who says me nay.”
“Will you be attending the ale fest, milady?” Drifa asked, recalling Raine from her thoughts.
“Yes, the roark is taking me shopping. I still have presents to buy.”
“Which roark would that be, the dark or the fair?” Drifa teased.
“Carr.” Rising from the bed, Raine shoved her feet into a pair of slippers. “And you needn’t give me that cat in the cream pot smile. Carr and I are friends.”
“The other ladies are jealous,” Drifa said, “or so their dressers say.”
“Jealous of what?”
“You, milady. There’s many a fine lady at court who fancies herself the next lady of Sea Watch. And I’m sure you’ve seen them making calf eyes at that handsome devil Raven. They see you, so friendly with both roarks and the earl, and it fills them with spite.”
Raine sighed. Life at the fast had not been what she’d expected. She was an outsider. She knew next to nothing about Finlaran customs, the intricacies of protocol at court, or the hierarchy among the various families. To add to her misery, the young women who waited on Hedda loathed her. That bevy of Finlaran beauties made no effort to hide their disdain, snubbing Raine and making snide comments when she was within earshot.
“Who does she think she is, demanding sanctuary from the rowan?” Trilfa, a plump young blonde had said in a loud whisper one day as Raine entered the queen’s salon. “She’s a nobody and an upstart. Skinny as a rail and her hair is horrid. So thick and curly and dark.” She patted her fair tresses. “I think blond hair is much prettier, don’t you?”
“Much prettier,” Lylla, another blonde had agreed. “What’s more, she has none of the finer graces. She can’t dance or play the lute, and she has no needlecraft. And have you noticed the way she talks to men? Mother says she’s too bold and coming, by half.”
Felka, a thin blonde with a high forehead and a petulant mouth, sniffed. “She’s no more Hara’s twin than I. Mark my word, she’s some prick cast of Glonoff’s, sent to spy on us.”
“Felka, you say the most shocking things,” Maude, a buxom damsel with buttery yellow tresses had giggled. “Do you really think the Lady Raine is the Dark Wizard’s by-blow?”
Felka shrugged. “I don’t doubt it for an instant. She’s coarse. I, for one, mean to have nothing to do with her.”
Lylla worried her bottom lip. “If Lady Raine is the Dark Wizard’s daughter, she could have powers.”
“Pish posh,” said Felka. “If she’s a wizard, I’ll eat my slippers.” Felka noticed Raine with an artful start. “Lady Raine. I didn’t see you standing there.”
Mumbling an excuse, Raine had fled, her cheeks burning with humiliation. She’d avoided the salon and Hedda’s ladies-in-waiting thereafter.
“You will pay them no mind,” Drifa said, recalling Raine to the present once more. “You’re better than the lot of them, as anyone with eyes can see.” She patted the chair by the hearth. “Have a seat, milady, and let me dress your hair.”
“Just wad it up in a bun,” Raine said, suddenly impatient to get away from the castle. “I’m in a hurry.”
“No, milady, that I won’t do,” Drifa said. “What would people say if I let you go out with spots on your dress, or your hair a haystack? The rowaness would turn me out, and so she should. Say what you will about her, she’s neat as a pin.”
“All right,” Raine said, taking a seat. “But be quick about it.”
Drifa worked the comb through Raine’s unruly curls. “Which dress will you wear today?”
“The cherry wool, I think,” Raine said. “Tell me about the games. What are they like?”
“Anyone, man or woman, can take part.” Drifa’s deft fingers moved through Raine’s hair, working their magic. “The Kronlings, too, of course.”
“What about the remnants?”
“That lot?” Drifa made a noise. “Some o’ them participate in the games, but they don’t sit in the stands, where they ain’t welcome. Waste of skin and bones, remnants, if you ask me.”
“That’s unkind, Drifa.”
“It’s the truth, milady. What use has the world for rock trolls and stone fairies and such? Nasty, vile creatures.”
There was a knock on the sitting room door.
“That must be Carr,” Raine said, springing out of the chair. “I must hurry and dress.”
“Hold, milady,” Drifa said, hurrying after Raine. “Let me help you into your dress, or you’ll m
uss your hair.”
Raine nodded impatiently and allowed the maid to slip the gown over her head and button her up, then shoved her stockinged feet into the worn boots she’d gotten in Gambollia. She was taking no chances with the magical boots today. Picking up her cloak, she hurried into the other room and opened the tower door.
Carr smiled at her from the landing and bowed. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” Raine dimpled at him. “Thank you for taking me to the festival, roark.”
“ʼTis my pleasure, milady.”
She followed him down the stairs. He opened the tower door to step into the hall and paused, teetering on the bottom step.
“Beg pardon, Lady Tyra,” he said, addressing the young woman waiting for them in the corridor. “I didn’t know you were there.”
“Obviously,” Tyra said, “unless you meant to knock me on my croup.”
“You shouldn’t say such things. ʼTisn’t ladylike”
“Really?” Tyra gave him a sweet smile. “Thank you for the instruction, Sir Sour Jake. Next time, I’ll say arse.”
Ignoring Carr’s sputtering, Raine stepped into the hall. “Good morning, Tyra. You are most welcome to join us, but I should warn you. Your reputation may suffer.” Raine made a face. “I fear I’m not popular with the queen’s ladies.”
“Piffle,” Tyra said, fastening a blue cloak that matched her dress about her shoulders. “Much I care about those hateful cats.”
“Then I hope you will join us.” Raine turned to Carr. “Roark, do you mind?”
Carr bowed. “I shall do my best not to be a…er…Sour Jake, whatever that is.”
“It’s a fruit, silly,” Tyra said. “It’s yellow and it makes your mouth pucker up.”
“Oh,” said Carr. “You mean a lemon.”
Tyra shrugged. “Call it what you like.” She looked around. “Where are the rest of the guards?”
“I am the lady’s escort,” Carr said.
“Going out alone?” Tyra said. “Is that wise?”
Carr flushed. “My mother suggested the outing. What’s more, Raven often takes Raine about the city alone.”
“Yes, but he’s Raven,” Tyra pointed out. “But don’t worry,” she added kindly, “I’ll be with you, in case of trouble.”
“Thank you,” Carr said. “I feel ever so much safer now. What do you plan to do in the event of an attack, hit them with your reticule?”
“No, silly. I have a knife in my boot, and I carry a short sword.” She pulled back her cloak, showing them the blade at her waist. “See?”
“Gods,” said Carr. “Would that your sister had come instead of you.”
“Much good Lulu would do you. She’s useless in a fight.” Tyra gave him a hard look. “I hope you don’t plan to dip too heavily in the ale barrel today. I’ve money on you in the race tomorrow.” She turned to Raine. “Are you aware that the roark has entered the Hammer and Munch?”
“No, it sounds horrible,” Raine said. “What is it?”
“It’s a race run on an enclosed track with rock bears and ogres armed with clubs,” Tyra said.
Taking Raine’s arm, she drew her down the dimly lit corridor. Chatting comfortably, they made their way through the castle to the front hall, where they found Chaz.
“Hullo, Rainey,” Chaz said when he saw them. “I’ve been waiting forever. What took you so long?”
“Drifa insisted on plaiting my hair.”
“I knew it,” Chaz said. “As though anyone cares about your hair.” Stepping over to the huge doors, he flung one of them open. “Let’s go. We’re missing the fun.”
Raine followed him onto the landing. The bailey was clear of snow, but the wind off the sea was bitterly cold. Rowan Fast looked down on the city from the top of the mountain. The city was abuzz, overflowing with people, drinking and shopping in the tents and booths that crammed the narrow, winding streets. Flags and banners flapped atop the colorful yurts, proclaiming the various merchants and their wares, some from as far away as Sethlar and Esmalla.
“It’s wonderful,” Tyra said, her voice breathy with excitement.
Carr gave her a curious look. “Is this your first festival?”
Tyra colored. “You needn’t sound so superior. Luanna and I didn’t grow up at court, like you.”
“Ah, the beauteous Luanna.” Carr kissed his fingertips. “She is exquisite.”
“Careful,” Tyra said. “My mother would be thrilled if you and Lulu made a match.”
“A match?” Carr looked startled. “I did not mean—that is…I’m not—”
Raine took Carr by the arm. “Stop it, Tyra. You’re frightening the poor man.”
“I don’t see why,” Tyra said with a shrug. “Everyone knows Lulu is here to find a husband.”
Carr ran his finger under the collar of his velvet tunic. “Aye, but a man likes to think he has some say in the matter. Foolishness, of course. Still, we must be allowed our illusions.”
“Look.” Raine pointed to a wagon drawn by two eight-legged oxen coming through the gates. “We’ve a ride.”
The wagon clattered across the bailey and Raine recognized the driver, a man with white hair, a weather-beaten face, and arms like a stevedore.
“Ho, Griss,” Chaz shouted to the wagoner. “Can you give us a ride into the city?”
“Have you coin?”
“Aye.”
“Then you have a ride.” Griss pulled up to the steps. “Get in.”
“Hello, again,” Raine said, going down the steps. “What happened to your carriage?”
“That belongs to the royal stable,” Griss said. “This wagon is mine. The rowan don’t begrudge a man a little clink when there’s money to be made at the festival.”
Chaz climbed up beside Griss, and Carr helped Raine and Tyra into the wagon. The roark spread a blanket over their laps and leapt lightly up beside them.
“Where to?” Griss asked.
“The market,” Raine said. “I’ve shopping to do.”
“Have a care, milady,” Griss said in a doleful voice. “The city’s full o’ foreigners, what with the festival.”
“Shads?” Carr leaned forward eagerly.
“Wouldn’t be surprised.” Griss clucked his tongue and the oxen lumbered across the courtyard. “I’ve seen a few I reckon could be Shads, though none so bold as to wear the red and black inside the Citadel. Still, I’d keep a sharp look out.”
They rumbled out the gates and down the curving mountain road. On the seat ahead of them, Chaz was engaged in an animated conversation with the wagoner about his oxen.
“How’s your dragon?” Carr asked as they passed the old mews.
“Growing by leaps and bounds,” Raine said, adding in a low voice, “Like Chaz. You’ve noticed the change in him?”
Chaz had grown, too. The gangly boy was gone. He was broad shouldered now and nearly six feet tall. Though Raine found the change in him disquieting, there was nothing she could do about it.
Like the things I’ve seen in Tekla’s Mirror, she thought with a queasy feeling. More than once, she’d tried to tell Gertie and Bree about the mirror; each time, her tongue would freeze, and the words wouldn’t come. Though the mirror was gone, she was still in its sway.
“Aye,” Carr said. “Everyone has remarked on it.”
“I caught Lord Korek’s son bullying Chaz a few days back,” Tyra said. “He and some of the other lads were throwing rocks at Chaz and calling him a freak.” She smiled humorlessly. “I put a stop to it.”
“Thank you,” Raine said, dismayed. “Chaz didn’t tell me.”
“He wouldn’t,” Tyra said. “Don’t worry. Mauric is keeping an eye on him.”
“Where is Mauric?” Raine asked. “I haven’t seen him in days.”
Tyra made a face. “Mooning afte
r Seratha. She gives him the shoulder, and it drives him to distraction.” She chuckled. “A slice of humble pie will do him good.”
“Raven and Tiny took Flame into the mountains a week ago to teach him to hunt,” Raine said. “They return today, I think.”
Tyra sighed. “I wish I could have gone with them. I’d dearly love to see a dragon hunt.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Carr said. “Raven can’t take a girl into the Far Hold. It’s too dangerous.”
“Bollocks,” Tyra said, flushing. “Maybe it’s the fashion at court for ladies to swoon and act helpless, but where I come from, a woman knows how to hunt and handle a blade.”
“What time do the games start tomorrow?” Raine asked quickly to avert a row.
“Noon,” Carr said. “Have you seen the playing fields?”
“No, I haven’t been outside the city,” Raine said. “Have you?”
“Tro, yes,” Carr said. “Been down there every day. Competing, you know. M’ father’s down it up brown this year. The three fields are enclosed by tiers of wooden seats. There are boxes for the royal guests, of course. It’s going to be grand.”
“I hope the doors are big enough,” Tyra muttered. “I wouldn’t want your head to get stuck going through.”
Raine smothered a giggle.
“What?” Carr said. “Did I miss something?”
“Nothing you would understand,” Tyra said. “Girl talk, you know.”
Carr leaned forward in the seat to address Tyra. “If I’ve offended you, milady, I sincerely apologize.”
“Think nothing of it, m’ lord,” Tyra said. “I’m accustomed to being dismissed.”
“Whist,” said Carr, and gave up.
Griss guided the wagon down the mountain and into the city proper. The narrow lanes were crowded and thick with smoke and the scents of roasting meat, spices, fried fish, and hot dough.
“I’m hungry,” Chaz announced.
A Muddle of Magic Page 26