“Yes, Granddam, and got a very funny feeling.”
Ysa was gingerly handling each tooth in turn. “The same ‘funny’ feeling for all of them? Or different?”
“Different, I think. My fingers tingled. With some of the little teeth, the tingling reached up to my elbow. With others, it was just my fingertips.”
“This is a mystery indeed,” Ysa commented. “I will have to consult my books to see if I can learn anything about this artifact. Do you see the little gems?”
“I didn’t look closely enough to see gems,” Elin said.
“Well, each tooth is strung on silver wire, and there is a tiny gem between it and the place where it is fastened onto the chain.” She picked up the bracelet by its ends and held it where the light from the fire shone on it. “You have to hold it just right to glimpse them.”
“Now I do see!” Elin exclaimed. “Red, yellow, blue, green, orange. Another red, deeper in hue. And clear gems, with no color to them.”
“Those mark the three teeth that are from a human—or something close to a human. I suspect they once belonged to a wizard’s offspring, or perhaps the children of three wizards. I will know more once I have looked through my books, and perhaps found someone to help me perform a Ritual of Asking.”
“Oh, how exciting!” Elin exclaimed. “May I be there when you do it?”
The Duchess Ysa gazed at her granddaughter. “Yes,” she said finally. “Yes, if it is possible I think you should be. After all, you were the one to find the bracelet, and you had the wit to bring it to me, the only person who could fathom what it is and why it was made.” She folded the bracelet in the kerchief again and tucked it into her own reticule. “But you must be patient. Ancient knowledge—and I suspect this is very ancient indeed—is sometimes difficult to ferret out. I will be long hours with my books. You must find other ways to entertain yourself.”
“Needlework,” Elin said with a small grimace of distaste. “Mother insisted that I bring it with me. At least she didn’t make me bring Karina, the lady who was teaching me.”
“Karina. She is new, isn’t she?”
“Yes,” Elin said, happy to be relating gossip. “She replaced Lady Dinna, who was, well, lavish with her favors. Rumor has it that she occupied Uncle Einaar’s bed for a while.”
“No! Really? That must have outraged Ashen when she found out.”
“Oh, I think Mother never did—or if so, she kept it to herself. She knew about Dinna’s liaison with Braute, one of her House Troops, but it was when Dinna was found out in the stable with one of the house jarls that she was summarily dismissed from service.”
“Well, I did know a little of Dinna’s escapades back when I lived in Cyornas Castle. In fact, I found them amusing. But Ashen was right to dismiss her. A little flirtation is just to be expected, but Dinna carried matters entirely too far.”
“It’s said she went to live with Blåmann, the jarl she had been discovered with—they didn’t have on any clothes—and now lives at Baron Håkon’s country estate at Erlend as a part of his household. She took a child, rumored to have been fathered by Blåmann, with her. She is not permitted to come to Cyornasberg and the Baron’s town house. Mother’s orders.”
“Well, well, what does go on when one does not adequately supervise one’s people—not that I am criticizing Ashen. She never had to exert her power and control when she was growing up, the way you are learning to do, my dear, and so one cannot expect her to have done any better. And some ladies are very good at subterfuge.”
Elin took the message Granddam Ysa was sending her. “I will always keep an eye on Hanna and Kandice, though I believe Mother would have been very careful to select ladies of good character for me.”
“Of course,” Ysa said. “Of course.”
If Elin had expected life to be more exciting in Iselin than it had been at the Cyornas Castle, she was doomed to disappointment. There was a difference between the short stay she had had earlier, when she had come to coax Granddam Ysa back to Cyornasberg for Earl Royance’s and Countess Mjaurita’s wedding and this extended sojourn—possibly permanent—in Iselin.
If there was a difference between here and there it was that here was much more sedate. Cyornas Castle was always astir with activity, paid performers coming and going, keeping all amused. Except for Ysa’s female fool, Tinka-Lillfot, such entertainments were rare as both the duchy and its manor were very much off the main routes. And, of course, it was winter when sensible folk stayed indoors. People amused themselves as best they could.
Perhaps this was another of Granddam Ysa’s lessons. Surely she had had to endure worse during her lifetime, but she still put a good face on it. So Elin prepared herself to find the best in the situation that, after all, she had chosen.
Ysa forbade her to go out hunting as the men did, though once or twice she went hawking with Baron Gustav, the Council head, and Barons Caspar and Isak and their followers.
The hawking was interesting, or would have been if the hawk Gustav allowed her to fly liked her. It was always bateing, as if impatient to get away from her, and would not stay in place until game was flushed.
“Delion was trained to catch prey on the ground,” Gustav told her. “Show her some conies and then watch her in action.”
“Conies?” Elin said. “That’s boring. I like it when your hawk takes a bird in midair.”
“It took a long time to train Albia properly. Forgive me, Your Highness, but she requires a practiced handler. Delion does not. Just let her go her ways.” Despite his burly appearance, Gustav demonstrated a gentle touch with the bird.
Elin soon decided that she did not care for hawking. She preferred to stay inside. There was always embroidery and other needlework in the daytime and it was a way to pass the time, if tediously. At least her cheeks stayed warm and her fingers did not develop chilblains. As at Cyornas Castle, at Iselin even the high-born ladies contributed to clothing the members of the household and did not scorn to stitch a shirt or mend an elbow. In the evening, after an entertainment there were the usual games.
The men played King’s Soldiers, of course, but Elin preferred the game of Tables. The opponents rolled dice to determine the movement of counters over the game board. She also liked Merrils, because that took more thought. Sometimes, with Ysa’s permission, she gambled small coins on the outcome of games and frequently won.
Granddam Ysa seldom participated in such activities. She kept much to her rooms, studying.
To Elin’s surprise, there was no real Fane at Iselin, as there was at Cyornas. There was but a single, high-vaulted chamber set aside for spiritual matters, presided over by an elderly priest named Mattis. It was small, compared to what she had heard about Fanes elsewhere, such as the magnificent structure at Rendelsham Castle, but every detail was perfect. Once a week she had gone to the Fane at Cyornas Castle and confided her activities to Esander the Good. Not all, of course, for though he had a reputation for keeping secrets, there were some she did not care to mention.
Out of habit, she visited the beautiful room at Iselin weekly but was even less inclined to confide in Mattis than she had been with Esander. She never saw Granddam Ysa there, and occasionally wondered if she ever entered.
The primary bright point to ease Elin’s boredom was the novelty that the Duchess had installed at her little Court, Tinka-Lillfot, who provided the bulk of the entertainment in the evenings.
She stood perhaps waist high and the twinkling grace and agility of her movements almost disguised how her body and limbs were half the size of a full-grown woman’s. It pleased Ysa to dress Tinka-Lillfot—nobody ever used less than her full name when speaking of or to her—in miniature versions of her own gowns, and Lady Gertrude was tasked with the duty of informing the fool of Ysa’s choice of gown for that day.
Elin never tired of Tinka-Lillfot’s antics. She had a remarkable gift for mimicry and telling funny stories. Alfonse was fond of her, and Tinka-Lillfot had trained him to do any number of am
using tricks.
There was no such Court fool at Cyornas Castle, for there was no real need for it. Throughout the year the castle was frequently visited by all sorts of entertainers—troupes of mimes and players, acrobats and tumblers. The troupes would visit, stay for a week or so, and then move on.
By far the best of the acrobats were the troupes of little people like Tinka-Lillfot, only most of them not perfectly formed as she was. They seemed to have no bones in their small bodies, rolling themselves up into balls at will and dancing upon ropes strung between posts.
Elin didn’t know where they originated. There were no such deformed children among the Nordorners. Perhaps, she thought without much interest, they gave them to the troupe masters as they traveled through the countryside.
Tinka-Lillfot was, therefore, the first of such Elin had ever encountered on a sustained basis. She found herself looking forward to seeing what new japery the little woman had created for an evening’s entertainment.
All this changed, however, the night Tinka-Lillfot, accompanied by Alfonse, minced into the Hall wearing a duplicate of Elin’s gown. Alfonse wore his own costume—a ruffled collar, a set of vaguely feline ears, and a long tail that dragged behind him.
“Come, my brave warkat!” Tinka-Lillfot cried. “You must protect me. You must save me. I think I saw a fierce coney lurking in a bush and I’ve lost my hawk. Oh! Oh!”
She drew her skirts around herself, peering here and there, and put the back of one hand to her forehead as she pretended to feel faint. “Whatever have I done, to find myself abandoned here in the outlands instead of the center of all eyes in my grand home! And beset on all sides by conies! However shall I endure!”
The men and women seated at dinner in Ysa’s Hall laughed heartily. Elin was forced to laugh along with them though she seethed inside. Oh, to have the power to blast the little creature into cinders! At the least, she most urgently wanted to throw Tinka-Lillfot into the nearest dungeon and destroy the key.
Then, at the fool’s signal, the musicians struck up a tune and Tinka-Lillfot began to sing and dance—a song that mercifully did not refer to Elin at all—while Alfonse twirled in time to the music. The crisis had passed.
Though Elin thought she had successfully hidden her surge of anger from those seated in the Hall, she found Granddam Ysa regarding her through narrowed eyes.
“When the meal is finished, you will come with me so that we may speak in private,” she said.
It was not a request.
“Yes, Granddam,” Elin said meekly. She managed to smile.
When at last the wretched supper had ended and the two were alone in the inner chamber of the Duchess’s apartment, Ysa poured warmed wine into a goblet and handed it to her granddaughter.
“Here,” she said. “Its stronger than you’re used to, but I think you need this. I intend to speak plainly with you and it may be the first of several shocks. This was the first time you’ve been openly laughed at, isn’t it?”
“I—I’ve never been laughed at,” Elin replied, a little defensively. She took a generous swallow from the goblet and tried not to cough. She had never before tasted neat wine. “Well, my brother Bjaudin would laugh at me but that doesn’t count. Not ordinary people.”
“Be that as it may. You’ve had your first brush with it and you might as well begin getting used to it. You showed that you were angered and upset. You must never do that. Laugh along, and the people will love you.”
“Yes, Granddam.”
“However, that was not why I called you in here—not the entire reason, that is.” Ysa opened a small box on the table between the two chairs they occupied and took out the bracelet made of teeth. “I find that this is an even stranger—and yes, even more powerful—article than I first thought. To fathom its real purpose, I must return to Cyornas Castle and there consult with Zazar.”
“Return to Cyornas Castle!” Elin echoed, dismayed. “Why, I only just got here!”
“I did not say that we would be returning. I will go alone. You may stay here in warmth and comfort.” Ysa put the bracelet into her reticule.
“But you said—you promised—I should be present when you performed—What was it? A Ritual of Asking.”
“I promised nothing. I said ‘if possible.’ It is not. I need Zazar. She knows the ritual. Further, she has contact with certain Powers. Well, I do, too, a little, and so do you—or did you know that?”
“Is that why the bracelet made my fingers tingle?”
“Yes. But your abilities are far from developed. Not yet.”
“Wh-when do you leave?” Elin was having a bit of trouble grasping this unexpected news. She finished the wine unsteadily.
Ysa refilled the goblet with the usual weak wine and berry mixture that was so popular among Nordorners. “As soon as my ladies can pack. My priest, Mattis, says all the signs point to a few days’ respite from the snow, and I plan to use them for travel.”
“And when will you return?”
“That I do not know.”
“But—but Granddam, what of our plans? I mean, what of the Fridians, and the Aslaugors, and—”
“We are in the dead of winter. The seeds I have sown will not begin to sprout until the season has passed. And, if need be, there is still time to turn any . . . difficulties aside.”
Elin opened her mouth to protest, and Ysa silenced her with a look.
“Yes, turned aside for another time if the situation requires it. I thought I had been teaching you, but you seem determined not to learn.” Abruptly, she seemed to change the subject. “Did you speak with the Aslaugor Marshal, Patin, as I told you to do?”
Elin started guiltily. An excuse rose to her lips but she instinctively knew this was not the time for it. “No, Granddam, I did not. I forgot.”
“Of course you forgot. You were too busy enjoying all the attention being danced upon you by two handsome young men. Well, I did not forget. As a result, I know the situation between Patin and his mother Öydis. I know also of how matters lie between the Aslaugors and the Fridians and with the Lowlanders. You do not.”
“I am sorry, Granddam. I will try to do better.”
“Very well, then, listen for once and pay heed, for you are to have your first opportunity at governance.”
Elin’s heart was beating rapidly while Ysa outlined what was expected of her.
As Gertrude, Ingrid, and Grisella would be accompanying the Duchess, she was assigning two noblewomen to Elin—Lady Brithania, wife of Baron Gustav and Lady Rebecka, wife of Baron Caspar. They would, of course, keep a record of any improprieties Elin might commit, and then report to the Duchess upon her return.
Elin was to leave the management of the manor house to Harald and Ania; they were in charge of the household staff and quite competent to carry on in Ysa’s absence. Further, they would resent it if a child such as Elin tried to meddle. She might ride out when the men went hunting, if she were inclined to do so and they inclined to allow it, but otherwise she would remain safe, indoors.
Elin was to continue visiting the Fane room and must be certain to be seen doing so. She would do well to begin taking the priest, Mattis, into her confidence.
If disputes arose, she was not to try to settle them by herself, but was to bring them before the Council. Baron Gustav was entirely competent to give advice that Elin would be wise to heed. He and the other barons, Caspar and Isak, had lived in Iselin all their lives; there were few doings that they did not know of.
“But Granddam,” Elin said, when these and other instructions had been laid before her, “what shall I actually do?”
“Watch and learn, Granddaughter. And practice for the time when you receive Iselin as an inheritance upon my death—which, I assure you, is yet very distant.”
Elin almost dropped her goblet. “But—but—”
“How did I know? The same way I know how you have long thought of me as just an old woman, well past her prime, and someone to be used when it suited you.” T
he Duchess arose from her chair and pulled herself up to her full height, the stoop to her shoulders vanquished for the moment. “Never, ever underestimate me, child. It amused me to watch you try to maneuver me—for a while. I am amused no longer. Now, you will become my pupil in truth or, be assured, I will cast you away without a second thought. I am still powerful enough both personally and politically to do great things, never doubt that. Together we can accomplish even greater deeds, even to creating civil unrest that will topple a kingdom and set father against son until the only one left with a claim to rule the country is a daughter. But”—Ysa swooped unexpectedly and grasped Elin’s face in one hand, forcing her to look the older woman in the eye—“only if that one is loyal to me and only me.”
Elin felt as if she had been stripped bare; her heart sank within her. All her secret thoughts and ambitions—what she had thought were her secrets—were plain to Ysa, and apparently, had always been. She had seriously underestimated the woman she had thought to use to her own advantage. And, gazing into Ysa’s eyes, she realized how close she had come not only to being cast aside but perhaps even finding Ysa her enemy.
A cold shudder went through her. She had thoughtlessly come much too close to the ruination of all her ambitions. Bad enough that Ysa was displeased with her; much worse would be to have her enmity replace what love or affection she currently had for the Princess.
“I swear, Granddam,” Elin said. “I most heartily swear to be your most loyal pupil in word, thought, and deed, from this moment hence.”
“Good.” Ysa released Elin from her grasp. “Now you may call the Court ladies in so they may learn of your new status.”
Thirteen
The twisted strands of the frozen flame surrounding Zazar gradually began to thaw and move again. A hand reached through the flame and Zazar grasped it. A couple of steps, and she had emerged into a small mud-walled room lined with wooden shelves crammed with blankets and other goods, carefully placed to be safely out of the flames. She found herself staring face to face with a person who could only be Steinvor Askepott.
The Knight of the Red Beard Page 17