They are also a large people. Their faces are uniformly round, their hair in shades from flax to chestnut. The men are heavyset, the women buxom. Many are obese, but the food is excellent and plentiful, so I suppose that is to be expected.
We retired to a bedroom that was plush even by the standards of Nimbus Castle. Once we closed the door, the music below stopped. If they expected to hear the bedsprings squeaking, they were disappointed. It was Peto's turn to be exhausted, and we slept soundly.
Shadow Castle stood on a rise in the center of the largest city I'd ever seen. The city is called Sanguine because it was the site of a number of bloody battles as the early settlers defended their land from an invading force. The battles took place so long ago that none can recall what happened to the enemy, only that they were defeated and afterward the castle was begun.
Like Nimbus, it was built in sections and named later because of the shadow the structure threw over the buildings below it. Its towers are high, giving a view of the farms and forest that reached nearly to the Kislova border, making me understand all too well why father had intended to attack at night.
Peto had sent word ahead that we would prefer to ride in silently, so only a few of the citizens lined the road leading up to the castle. Once inside, servants grabbed my bags and carted them up the stairs. Peto and I followed.
The outer courtyard looked similar enough to my own, but the inside of the castle was radically different. I already mentioned its elegance. I'll try to describe it.
The entry hall, unlike that of Nimbus, which is huge but no more than twelve feet tall, soared up six levels. The floors were polished marble and a double marble stairway curved to the second floor. Smaller staircases climbed from either side of the main one, linking the second level with the upper floors. Open hallways decorated with carved wooden rails led to the living quarters. I followed Peto up to the third level. As I paused outside the door, I saw an old woman, richly dressed, glare at me from the floor below.
"My mother," Peto whispered; he showed me inside.
Perhaps the greatest torment to Peto would be to send him home to her, but then what we are used to can hardly be called torture.
Our rooms were everything the hallway had led me to expect. Crystal lamps threw patterns through the rooms. In winter a marble fireplace would give warmth. Now the hearth was cold and the velvet drapes were pulled back, the windows tied open to let in the air. Peto led me outside to a balcony that overlooked the town, the river and the gently rolling lands beyond it.
As I stood admiring the view, someone knocked at the door. "Come in," Peto called. A thin older man with gray hair and bright blue eyes entered. From the way Peto ran to him, kissing his cheek and hugging him tightly, I was certain the man must be a relative. "This is Gidden, my valet," Peto said.
I had not kissed Greta since I was old enough to walk, nor had I wanted to! If this democratic affection marked the attitude of Sundell lords, I wondered how they'd managed to rule for so long. Nonetheless, Gidden was thoroughly polite as he took me through an adjoining door into my private dressing room.
Most of the gowns I had brought from Kislova were already arranged along one wall, and a pair of maids were unpacking the rest. Gidden introduced me to them. One of them, Sagra, would be my personal maid while I resided here. She looked quite a bit like the other, blond and well nourished, but was a full head taller than anyone I had met. Fates be thanked for that, otherwise I could never tell her apart from the rest.
As she bowed, I noted how she stared at me. When the men left us so that I could bathe and dress, the girl became nervous, so much so that her hands shook as she unfolded the rest of my gowns.
"Is something wrong?" I asked.
She seemed to be looking at my hands. I felt her quivers of uneasiness deep in my core and immediately became thankful she, and not her more sedate companion, had been chosen to attend me. The distress was paltry compared to others I had experienced, but intense enough to give some satisfaction.
"No," she whispered. "It's only that…"
"That whatr I said sharply. She flinched. Delicious.
"That you're so tiny… and so very beautiful."
I laughed. I'd never considered that I would seem exotic to them.
"Would you like to bathe first or rest?" Sagra asked.
"Bathe," I said, thinking the longest ritual should be done first. In Nimbus, a half-dozen servants were required to fill my tub quickly enough that my water would not be tepid when I stepped into it. Sagra, however, opened the doors to the bathing closet and showed me the most marvelous feature of Shadow Castle. Mounted in the door above the tub were a pair of metal pipes. A metal rod hung between them. She used it to hit each of the pipes. Moments later, water began to flow from them-one pipe letting out hot, the other cold.
I hid my amazement lest she think me a barbarian. In truth I felt like one.
"Do you have a favorite scent for the water?"
I directed her to the bottle of perfume I had blended for the night I swore allegiance to Peto. A few drops were potent enough on the skin. As soon as I'd sat down in the delightfully warm water, I had her pour more than enough into the water to assure that I would be the brightest star in the night's gathering.
The scent had an effect on her as well. She stared at me, her agitation increasing.
"What is it?" I asked, not surprised to feel the sudden sharp pleasure of fear coming from her.
"I don't know. I feel so strange." Sagra gripped the side of the tub, unable to stop staring at me. If she had a suspicious nature, she might have been wondering if I'd performed some sorcery on her. I doubt it. She seemed far too embarrassed.
The water was getting deep. "How do we stop it?" I asked.
She shook her head to clear it, then beat on the cold pipe. It stopped. I let the hot run a bit longer, then had her stop it as well. As I leaned back, letting Sagra dry and brush my hair, I began to understand why Peto had been so homesick. One could easily become attached to these luxuries.
Exhausted, I fell asleep in the warm water. Occasionally, dimly, I felt Sagra's hand brush against my foot as she let out a bit of the water, heard her beat on the pipe to send more hot.
I had not brought everything I owned to Sundell, but I did bring the best. I admit that I deliberately chose to take the dresses Peto had ordered for my sister.
That night, I wore the blue-and-gold one, not just because he would think of Marishka when he saw me in it, but also because they were Kislova's colors. It was right that I should wear them tonight. Besides, this was the finest gown I owned.
But nothing could prepare me for the wealth and fashion displayed in Shadow Castle's ballroom that evening. By Kislovan standards, my gown was exquisitely designed and sewn, trimmed in the most delicate hand-crocheted lace. Here it could not compete with the colors and fabrics-and gems! — that decked the bodies of the Sundell women.
One of the women wore a diaphanous gown of pale blue silk that seemed to change color when viewed from different angles. Another had a low-cut bodice and flowing skirts edged with peacock feathers.
I could go on, but to do so would make me sound too much like Marishka. In truth, I did not feel awed by the beauty, only angry that I had not been warned what to expect. My status as Peto's bride made me the center of attention. I danced, sat, dined, and spoke as regally as possible. I think I would have made a good impression even without my perfume. With it on, everyone fawned over me.
Everyone, that is, but Peto's mother. The few words she spoke to me in public were barely civil. When I requested a few moments with her privately, she declined and made it seem as if my request to clear the air was a display of despicable manners.
"You could have warned me what to expect," I said to Peto that night in our rooms. I hid my fury under a sorrowful facade. "I looked tattered. I felt slighted."
"You looked beautiful. As for my mother, she had a bride all picked for me. When the girl and I met one another, we discover
ed we had nothing in common save a mutual dislike for arranged marriages. Mother's been sulking ever since. You could be ruler from the mountains to the sea, and she would still ignore you."
"I can't live with her," I said, hoping to plant the seeds for an excuse to go home as soon as possible.
"She'll come around. Give her time." won't be here long enough for that. I've already made sure of it.
"She'll come around faster if I'm properly dressed."
"Send for the seamstresses in the morning," he replied. When he kissed me, I responded, then requested time to bathe and change. I asked Sagra to leave as well.
As soon as she had gone, I unlocked my jewel box and pulled from it a tiny vial filled with the amber-colored liquid that I'd gotten from Rilca at Argentine. I want no child, at least not until the time is right.
Arcus, captain of the Sundell guards in the border forest, had been keeping a close eye on the Kislovan men for the last few days. One of their guards had been spending a great deal of time traveling between the shadows of the woods and the guardhouse.
When questioned, the man said he felt sick and needed to use the trench toilets they'd dug there.
Nonetheless, Arcus remained suspicious. The Kislovan men were whispering together, plotting against him, probably in league with the outlaws. As for the last, they were out there in the woods, just waiting for a moment of weakness before attacking.
He doubled the number of guards at night, but the Kislovan plotting continued. Little wonder, he thought, now that Peto was gone, taking with him the last of the Obours. He didn't blame the baron-the woman was such a pretty little thing-but now there was no one to rule these people. It wouldn't be long before open rebellion began.
Tempers flared suddenly: a Kislovan had to be pulled off a Sundell soldier after he'd been accused of cheating at cards; a pilgrim taking a trip to see Sagesse at Tygelt had been beaten by the Kislovan guards; and a thousand trifling tiffs.
When Arcus tried to consider what had changed the tempers in this place, all he could focus on was the duplicity of the Kislovan men. They were angry and jealous of the Sundell men who had defeated them. The Kislovans should have died in the battle. Now they would have to die before they turned on him. He stayed awake, drinking wine while the others not on duty slept. Outside, he could hear the guards. Of the three on duty, two were Kislovan. They whispered to one another. More plots. Too many.
He unsheathed his dagger, hid it under his cloak, and went outside. "I thought I heard someone moving in the brush," he said.
"We'll go and look," the Sundell soldier said.
"No. I'll do it." He pointed to the Kislovan who'd been spending so much time in the forest and asked him to follow.
Just out of sight of the guardhouse, he crouched down and examined the dust. "Look what I found."
"I don't know how you can see a thing in this light," the soldier grumbled, but crouched beside him. As he did, Arcus stabbed upward with the knife, catching him in the throat. The man fell without a sound. Arcus pulled out the man's knife, nicked his own arm with it and pressed it into the dead man's hand.
Rushing back to the guardhouse with blood falling from his arm and the bloody knife in his hand, he advanced on the remaining Kislovan guard. "Your partner attacked me," he said.
The young man, a recent recruit called Lajo, shook his head and backed toward the guardhouse door. "Stop him before he warns the others," Arcus said.
The Sundell guard moved quickly, blocking the man's retreat.
The soldier halted. "I didn't do anything," Lajo said, then saw the knife Arcus held, the blood staining it almost to the hilt, glinting in the pale moonlight. "I didn't," he repeated and fled down the road, his boots raising a cloud of dust as he ran.
Lajo ran as far as he was able, then stopped to catch his breath and listen for pursuers. He heard nothing but the sounds of frogs and insects, the wind rustling through the trees. Keeping to the shadows of the trees, constantly alert for someone seeking him, he slowly made his way back down the road.
The guardhouse door was open. A flickering light inside illuminated the smoke pouring from it. As he moved closer, he saw that the walls and ceiling were on fire. Bodies lay on the ground outside the door; more were just inside it. Some were still alive when he reached the door, but the captain was killing them quickly, stabbing down, oblivious to the flames moving around him.
As Lajo stood, bathed in the smoky light, Arcus looked up at him. With a bellow of rage, he bolted forward. Lajo fled again as the walls and ceiling fell in. He ran, hearing the captain's terrified screams.
Lajo made the trip to Nimbus Castle in record time, then refused to speak to anyone but Lord Jorani personally. He had such fear of Sundell uniforms that Jorani asked Shaul to wear a Kislovan cloak before they questioned Lajo.
An hour later, after they'd listened to his tale of the captain's madness and the slaughter at the guardhouse, they sent out a second group of men to verify his story. Most of the bodies were badly burned. Jorani examined them, but could find no clue as to why they had killed one another.
"It's the isolation," Shaul suggested. "We should rotate the duty more often."
"A good idea," Jorani agreed, "but I think it's time for Baron Peto to cut short his honeymoon."
Five Sundell guards rode to the border. One continued on with a message for Peto. The rest followed JoranFs odd orders and set up a new camp a few hundred yards from the old one.
From the Diary of Baroness Ilsabet
I toured Shadow Castle from top to bottom. I've talked to the laborers who put in the baths and arranged to have them go to Nimbus and make changes there. I visited the merchants' shops and ordered crystal lamps and silverplate. Nimbus Castle will be as beautiful as Shadow, I'll see to it.
I've spent the rest of my time in the library. I have never seen so many books. It's almost as if the hundreds of volumes hold all the wisdom of the world. I think often of Jorani as I study the volumes on philosophy, government and botany, and wish he were here to share them with me.
This also seems to be the one place in the castle where Peto's mother is loathe to go, though I see her far too often elsewhere.
Yesterday, she confessed that the dusty volumes make her sneeze, and the bright light of the eastern windows gives her a headache. Her eyes aren't healthy, so I suspect that reading itself pains her. And she is viciously frank. She said that her main concern about me is that I might be too slender in the hips to bear children. I assured her that my mother was just as narrow and had three with no difficulty.
"And were your siblings as tiny as you?" she asked.
described them both as tall and strong, my brother a giant like my father. I believe she guessed I was lying, but did not say so. If I were planning on staying for any length of time, I'd have to think of some way of dealing with her. Instead, I bite my tongue and think that it will not be long before I'm home again.
We had this conversation while the seamstresses were doing the final fittings for my new gowns. I would have been content with two, but Peto's mother, whom I've come to call Widow Casse, ordered six, each more ornate than the last, and demanded that they be done as quickly as possible. I've never worried about my clothing before, but if I am to rule Kislova, I should dress like a ruler. I admit I found the procedure of holding bolts of cloth to my face interesting. I picked two fabrics-one a deep burgundy satin, the other a perfect shade of silver. With the fabric draped across my body I feel like an ice princess, cold and beautiful.
This morning, Peto brought me a gift, a pair of crystal earrings and a single crystal snowflake on a silver chain. "I thought how beautiful it would look against the silver cloth," he said after I'd opened it.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him as Marishka would have done. But I could not help thinking that by winning my love he flatters himself. Ah, he is in for such an awakening.
I'd just put the jewelry away when we were interrupted by a pounding on the door. In a palace
where servants were unflinchingly polite, the urgency of the sound made Peto wary.
As soon as he unlocked the door, I could see that the news wasn't good. We went downstairs and met the guard who had come from Nimbus Castle.
"Jorani is right," I said after the man had detailed the unrest the killing had caused. "One of us must be there. I have to go."
Peto nodded. I could see how much he wanted to go back with me, but Sundell custom made that impossible. He had to remain in Sundell for the funeral of his fallen soldiers. I sat with him for the next few hours, holding his hand, feeling his rage and pain.
My gowns were finished by nightfall. I put on the silver one and the crystal jewelry and went into the bedroom I shared with my husband. As I walked toward the bed, I saw my reflection in a full-length mirror. The moonlight had turned my hair to silver and the gown seemed to flow like water over my body. I had never felt so cold, or so beautiful as I turned to Peto and held out my arms.
NINETEEN
Jorani could never understand madness, yet now it seemed to be all around him. Word of the killings at the border guardhouse rolled like a deadly tidal wave through the castle, then Pirie, then all of Kislova. The fact that six of the dead were from Sun-dell was ignored. The fact that the Kislovan soldiers had been new recruits and one had fought for the rebels before the invasion seemed to be all that anyone considered. Suddenly, Baron Peto was not a savior but a tyrant, more hated than Janosk, who had at least been one of their own.
Nobles of various Kislovan estates were waiting for Ilsabet at Nimbus Castle. She wore the silver gown, the crystal jewelry, the matching silver shoes. When she stepped from the carriage, pale hair in delicate ringlets over her back, Lord Ruven took her hand and escorted her into the great hall, past the assembly, to the seat of honor her father had once occupied.
Jorani waited beside it, and as she climbed the stairs, he thought how right it was that Janosk's most able child should finally sit in his place.
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