Erhard shrugged. “Yes. Most of the kingdom’s wealth was acquired in my grandfather’s time and spent in my father’s. That is a rather long and involved story. Suffice it to say, we have few resources left. With Bredych’s help, I am trying, but villagers are slow to accept change and my attempts to improve their lifestyle have been met with resistance.”
Bredych helping to improve the villagers’ lives? She didn’t think so. Was the king deceived or a partner? “How so?”
“Last year, I asked them to select a localized place to leave their refuse.” Erhard shrugged. “Their mothers and grandmothers dumped chamber pots out the window or into the river, so they didn’t see anything wrong with it.”
Ilythra turned from the fields toward Erhard. That was an incredibly innovative idea for mainland Anatar. She’d suggested it once or twice herself, but to no avail. Bredych?
“Is something wrong?”
“No, of course not. It’s just...a very interesting idea.”
Erhard waved his hand. “I can’t take credit. Bredych instituted something like that within the castle, and I was merely trying to extend the improvement to my people.”
It was Bredych. Could she have been wrong about him? No. Everything in her rebelled at the thought. Once again she pictured Shandor, the small Zorcani boy, lying wasted and frail at the stone keeper’s hand. “Will you try again?”
Erhard gazed out toward the golden fields and the village hidden from view. “I don’t think it would do any good.”
Ilythra followed his gaze. A smear of purple smudged the blending of sky and land.
“Storm.” Erhard sniffed the air. “It’s only rain but if it’s heavy enough, I’ll have to postpone the hunt.”
Ilythra peered at the pale blue sky. “You read the skies like a Zorcani.”
“Is that an insult or a compliment?”
“I assure you, it’s a compliment.”
“Good. I love being complimented by a beautiful woman, even when I’m not sure why. Who are the Zorcani?”
“One of the free tribes in the Faisach. They dwell in the mountains and can read the weather like a letter.”
“That explains it. When you live in the mountains, you either learn to read the skies or die in a sudden storm.” He paused. “I’d like to hear more of these Zorcani. Perhaps you can tell me of them as we walk in the gardens.”
Ilythra followed Erhard down the stone stairs. Why did she keep forgetting what she’d come out here to ask the king? “Where is your advisor? I’ve heard much about him but—” A young man approached, bowed and handed Erhard a piece of parchment. The king turned toward her. “Excuse me for a moment.” He broke the seal, read the contents and lifted his gaze to Ilythra with regret on his features. “I’m sorry, something has come up that can’t be delayed. Can I postpone our walk until tomorrow?”
“Of course.”
Erhard hesitated. “If you like, feel free to explore them yourself as long as you’ll walk them again with me.”
“Thank you. Is everything all right?”
“Yes.” His face clouded. “Yes, it will be.” He turned to the young man. “Please show Lady Ilythra back to her chamber.” He grasped Ilythra’s hand in his and brought it to his mouth. His lips were soft against her skin. “Thank you for one of the most enjoyable mornings in my memory. I look forward to seeing you at dinner.”
Ilythra nodded and watched Erhard’s figure hurry down the stairway, surprised at the disappointment she felt at seeing him leave.
* * *
A fire blazed in the hearth of the great hall, its roar punctuated by the occasional hissing of intruding raindrops. Servants bustled about the almost-empty room as she crossed on her way to the stairs.
When Ilythra made it back to her room, Cassia was waiting. The woman bowed. “I’m to help you get ready for dinner.” Visions of flowing garments and light veils filled her mind. It had been a long time since someone had helped her get ready for dinner.
“No, thank you.” She waved at her leggings and tunic. “This is all I have with me. It will have to do.”
Cassia blinked. “Then allow me to do your hair?”
“To braid it?” She tucked several loose strands behind her ears. It did need to be rebraided, but the triviality of the action grated on her nerves. Where was Bredych? She wanted to get this over with. And what exactly are you going to get over? Meeting him? Asking him to please give you the stone? Running him through with your sword? The king certainly respected the stone keeper. Did he know Bredych was a stone keeper? Would he defend him? Throw her in a prison? Frustration put an edge to her voice. “Fine.” She sat in the chair.
Cassia brushed Ilythra’s long hair until it gleamed and pulled it back into a simple braid. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had brushed her hair. It was surprisingly relaxing.
“Thank you.” Ilythra smiled at the young woman.
Cassia nodded and opened the door. “I’ll show you the way to the main hall.”
“Thank you. What’s that scent?”
Cassia froze. “What scent?”
“That lovely scent on the sheets. Can you smell it?”
“I’ve never slept in your bed, milady.”
Cassia’s tone held that slightly sarcastic lilt that was becoming familiar. She ignored it. “You can’t smell it?”
“We fold the linen with a few herbs, that’s all.”
“Which herbs?”
“I don’t know. Ask Konrad. He’s in charge of such things.”
Ilythra turned. “Konrad?”
“Yes. When the old queen died, Konrad took over all her tasks. He manages the entire household, including all the staff and kitchen.”
As Ilythra followed Cassia down the hall, the scent of cooked meat increased. Would Bredych be here? Through Teann, she could sense the steady song of Crioch, but it hadn’t changed in intensity.
Erhard rose to his feet, a smile on his face. “Ilythra. Welcome. I’m afraid we will have limited company for dinner. The rain has kept most guests away.” His eyes twinkled. “That and I’ve sent word that our hunt will be postponed.” He reached for her hand and kissed it.
She glanced around the room. Three men stood near the king—one of them Konrad. A few more lingered near the fire. Limited company was fine with her.
“The hunt is our favorite pastime.” Erhard led her to a long table. His hand warmed her skin through her shirt. “Even in the dead of winter, you can usually find some kind of game in the forest.”
Ilythra frowned. She didn’t enjoy hunting for sport. It seemed an unnecessary waste of time and energy. Probably why nobles enjoyed it so much; they had an excess of both.
Erhard motioned for a young man standing near the table to step forward. “May I introduce my son? Aclan, heir to the throne.”
“My pleasure, Your Highness.” She bowed her head a fraction.
Aclan took her hand and made a show of kissing it. “The pleasure is mine. I’ve heard much about you.” As blond as his father, the boy stood only a fraction shorter, his skin fair but with the slight mottling of recent adolescence. His eyes were the same shape, if a darker hue than Erhard’s. The prince glanced from Ilythra to his father with expectation, as though he wished to be reviewed for his performance.
Erhard didn’t meet his son’s gaze but waved toward another man standing near the table. “Rothit, the captain of the castle guard.”
Ilythra turned to a dark man with a scar down one cheek. He wore a tunic and loose leggings, plainer than the king’s or Aclan’s. Ilythra nodded, noticing the sheath slung low on his hip was empty of its knife. If even the captain of the guard went without a weapon in the castle, why had she not been asked to surrender hers?
Erhard finished introducing Ilythra to the guests at the table while the
servants brought in the first course. She noted a few women sitting at the far end of the table, but Erhard had placed her next to him. The women shot glances full of speculation, disdain or a mixture of the two in her direction. They wore loose, flowing gowns with low necklines and impractical wide sleeves. Their hair, swept up off their necks, gleamed with jewels or crystals. Ilythra hid a smile when one woman asked a servant to tie a leather thong just below her elbow to keep the fabric of the sleeve from dragging in her meal. It would be the next season’s fashion trend. Ilythra sipped the ale, wondering what the woman’s reaction would be if she told her that nomadic women of the Faisach had worn their sleeves bound in such a way for generations.
Even with Erhard’s limited company, dinner was a noisy affair. Large dogs lounged by the fire and seemed to take turns begging for scraps from the table. Erhard threw an entire half-eaten haunch to a large dog and her puppies. More servants bustled around the room, stoking the fire and keeping mugs of ale full. Laughter echoed off the rafters and walls.
Ilythra answered a few questions from the men about her life and even promised the captain of the guard she’d test her skills against his. She went through the motions of eating but didn’t taste anything. Her senses stretched, nerves taut, she expected Bredych to appear at any moment. He didn’t.
Though those surrounding her ate with gusto, Ilythra pushed the food around on her plate. How long would Bredych make her wait before showing himself? Perhaps he planned to lay low until she left. Was he a coward? She fought a wave of frustration. Although the morning spent with Erhard had been a pleasant surprise, she wasn’t here for social reasons. She felt like she was on the edge of a seat at a play, waiting for the villain to make his entrance. Where is he?
Zeynel’s voice echoed in her mind. “Each of the stones and the stone bearers leave echoes behind, resonances. If one has the eyes to see and the ears to hear, you can sense an after-trail, like the impression lightning leaves on the eyes even after it’s gone.”
She’d followed the stone’s trail and still felt its presence. He was close. Why was he avoiding her? What game did he play?
Unease tinged her thoughts. She took another sip of ale to wash away her doubts. According to Erhard, dinner was the social event of the day. The meal, served shortly after the sun had reached its zenith, was often followed by a hunt or, less often, a contest of wits, strength or arms. He’d hinted that the women often took to the solarium in the afternoons to sew, but that particular activity held no interest for Ilythra. She’d much rather join the men outside. After sunset and in the morning, servants would bring a small meal to her room, but the only community gathering was dinner, which meant she was unlikely to see Bredych today.
She sighed. How to draw him out? The better question: Why was he hiding in the first place? Perhaps tomorrow, she’d find out.
Chapter Sixteen
Heavy winds pounded against the thick windowpanes in Ilythra’s chamber. She stood in a faint pool of light on the dark wooden floor, her chest heaving, sweat dripping down to the small of her back as she lowered her practice sword and breathed deep. She’d never been in a room large enough to practice her swordsmanship. On impulse, Ilythra leaned into the window bench, reached out and traced the concentric circles in one small glass pane, leaving a clear trail on the misted glass until it looked like a target. Trapped air had formed bubbles throughout the square. At a dimple on the center of the glass, she paused to stare toward the world outside, hazy and indistinct, except for the sound of wind and rain.
Cold radiated from the barrier between her and the storm. Ilythra sighed, her breath fogging the pane. “Better in here than out there.” But somewhere out there, she’d find Bredych. Cassia had bustled into the room earlier with bread and ale to break her fast and remind her that dinner would be at midday. She smiled at the memory. Cassia was either forgetful or thought she was. She’d repeated the mantra every day since Ilythra’s arrival.
Ilythra sighed. It had been raining since her second morning in Greton. Raining was an understatement. Sheets of water poured from the skies. As unobtrusively as possible, she’d asked questions of the servants, the king and even the groomsman and learned the servants and groomsman feared Bredych, whereas the king adored him. And now, on the seventh day, she had yet to see sunshine. Or Bredych.
Erhard had done his best to keep her entertained. He’d shown her the atrium with its stained-glass windows depicting scenes out of Greton’s history, taken her strolling down long corridors showcasing Erhard’s ancestors, to the stables, the practice ring where his warriors honed their skills and the shops where glassblowers worked. She’d watched in fascination how they spun the glass windowpanes or blew the beautiful vases and bottles.
Regardless of the weather, Ilythra had made a point of checking on Tashi daily. Desert-born, the mare was skittish because of the rain, but in good hands. Bosky, the head groomsman, had the right combination of good sense, firmness and genuine affection to handle horses. Save wanting some exercise, the horse was suffering the rain better than Ilythra.
Where in the deadlands was he? When she mediated, she could sense Crioch’s steady presence. She’d tried to flush him out, but it hadn’t worked.
She glanced to the murky gray light, wondering when she’d see the sun. It had to be hiding somewhere. But it’s not the absence of the sun that has you on edge. She rolled her shoulders. Her frustration grew with every passing day.
Stifling a yawn, Ilythra moved away from the window. What’s wrong with me? She felt exhausted, yet she’d slept soundly every night. I hope this wears off before the afternoon rematch I promised Rothit. Maybe sparring would energize her. Rothit was unfamiliar with Shi’ia but was a decent swordsman the same. Sparring with him had been both good exercise and a way to pass the time without going crazy. It also made her miss Mohan. Don’t think about him. Today, she’d promised to teach a few of his more promising warriors a move or two.
Putting her practice sword away, she decided she’d teach them a few of Mohan’s techniques, as Shi’ia couldn’t be learned in a day, a week or even a month. And how long will I be here waiting?
She stood and moved back toward the window. “Who knows? If it rains much longer, we’ll have to build a boat. Perhaps I’ll get lucky and share one with Bredych.” The thought brought a small smile to her mouth.
After a last look for the shy sun, she paced the confines of her room, feeling a strange combination of pent-up energy and weariness—a condition that her morning exercises or her visit with Tashi hadn’t relieved.
Where was Bredych? If he didn’t show up soon, she’d...she’d... That was exactly it. What would she do? She paused in her pacing. He’s toying with me. She tried to put herself in his shoes and found it was almost impossible. He was a mystery. Perhaps Erhard was right and Bredych simply had business elsewhere. What business was more important than meeting a keeper? Was he afraid? Her stomach rumbled—a reminder of having skipped breakfast. It was almost time for dinner.
Ilythra removed her shirt to splash water on her face and the back of her neck then rubbed down with a cloth, her skin glowing pink under the light of the fire. Then, she neared her tunic folded over one of the chairs and smoothed the leather with her hand. The women at court had eyed the garments with obvious disdain, but to her they were precious. They reminded her of a friendly blacksmith and his equally wonderful wife in a village far, far away. Ilythra slipped the rough woven shirt over her head, laced it, donned the tunic and glanced down at her outfit as if seeing it for the first time. What people thought about her mode of dress had never been high on her priority list. She wasn’t about to change now.
She reached for the knife she usually wore on her hip under her tunic and was about to slip it into place when Rothit’s empty scabbard flashed in her mind. “Why would the guard not be armed?” Ilythra mumbled and strapped on the weapon. Something here just wasn
’t right.
* * *
A drone of chatter filled the crowded hall. Even with the rain, every day since the news of her arrival reached the nobles, the dining room had been filled to capacity. But despite their curiosity, very few made it a point to speak with her. She glanced down the table, amused to see a few people abruptly look away. Apparently, Greton didn’t receive a lot of visitors.
Another day, no Bredych. Nothing had changed in the winds of Teann. Crioch was neither farther away nor closer. She was wasting her time here waiting for him.
Ilythra moved the meat on her platter with a fork. She’d been starving in her room, but now her appetite had fled. Was she coming down with something? Despite an increasingly queasy stomach, she nibbled a few vegetables for appearance sake and half listened to the drone of conversation and the crackle of the fire, enjoying the subtle scent of Erhard’s cologne. When the sounds around her changed, Ilythra sharpened her focus and realized that dinner was almost over. She vaguely remembered responding to a few a questions but not a meal’s worth, especially the prolonged social event called dinner by the nobles of Greton.
She had the distinct feeling that time had passed without her knowledge. Definitely coming down with something.
“Do you play Crist?”
Ilythra blinked and turned to Erhard. “Excuse me?”
He smiled, a single dimple forming on one cheek. “You were far away.”
How had she never noticed the dimple before? “Just a little tired, that’s all.”
“It would be interesting to know what goes on behind those gray eyes.” Erhard stood and nodded to the guests, who rose and then bowed before beginning to filter out of the room.
Ilythra pushed away her plate in relief and stood. More and more, she didn’t know herself. “Nothing that would interest you, I’m sure.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. In fact, I think I’ve been insulted.” Erhard punctuated his statement with a blinding smile that crinkled the corners of eyes and brought out the dimple again. “I had asked if you play Crist.”
Shawna Thomas Page 17