“Master,” my mother said. Even though he turned towards her, he was still creeping towards the door. “Master, we have not yet had the opportunity to discuss this together.”
“I won’t change my mind,” I said calmly. I wasn’t angry with her, but the sooner this was over the better and she was delaying it unnecessarily.
“Perhaps not,” she said, “but you should consider it carefully, from all angles, before making a final decision.”
The Steward paused, hand on the doorknob. His eyes flicked, lizard-like, from mother to me and back again. “That is wise, perhaps. After all, you are...” Again the eyes dropped briefly, before returning to my face. “You would suit the Kellon perfectly. I have some other business here. If I stay another night at the inn, and return tomorrow morning, perhaps?”
Mother smiled and nodded her assent.
“Here,” he said, rummaging through the many pockets of his coat and pressing a crumpled paper into my hand. “These are the standard terms you’d be offered. You can read, I assume? Well, tomorrow then.”
Finally the Steward left. Mother followed him into the hall to show him out, voices murmuring.
“I’d have said your hair was strawberry blonde, myself, not red,” Father whispered, making me smile.
When Mother returned, she looked me up and down, her face expressionless. “I have the children to attend to. We will discuss this further this evening.” She swept out, and I followed her back to the teaching room.
~~~~~
It was not Mother’s way to sulk, so her manner was perfectly affable to me all afternoon, and through evening board. She sat at the middle of the table, supervising the distribution of the pie so that the servants got their fair share and the two boys took no more than they were due, gently reminding the servants of the proper time to bring the side dishes through from the kitchen, all the while holding a detailed conversation with Father across the table regarding his taxes.
Afterwards, she efficiently dispatched everyone to their evening chores and, with no more than a lift of one eyebrow to Father and myself, led us through to the parlour.
She settled herself in her chair. “Now, Kyra, let us talk sensibly. You are an adult now, there is no need to be coy. If the idea of sex bothers you...”
“It’s not that.”
“I know he’s not young, but he’s well enough for his age and...”
“It’s not that at all, Mother. I don’t want to risk having a child.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a woman having children,” she said sharply.
“No, of course not, I didn’t mean . . . In the future, maybe, but not yet. It would stop me going to the scribery. Did you read the terms? I’d be tied for years. It’s bad enough having to wait till I’m sixteen. Most scribes start training at thirteen, you know.”
She sighed, for we’d talked about this many times before. Her voice was pitying. “Child, you do realise it’s just a dream, don’t you? You’d have to save all that money, then pass an admission test. Even if you manage that, you’d struggle to meet the standard. A village teaching room can’t possibly prepare you for a scribery. You might manage one year and become a common scribe, and that would be useful to the village, but a law scribe? Five years? You’re aiming for the sun.”
I let her run on. I’d heard it all before.
She sniffed. “What sort of life is that for a village girl anyway, going off to Ardamurkan and mixing with the nobility and pretending to be so grand? That sort of ambition never ends well. The village is good enough for the rest of us. You’d be able to take over the teaching room after me, you know; a reasonable income for life and a useful service for the village. What more could you want? Being the Kellon’s drusse wouldn’t affect that at all. I don’t see why you have to be so inflexible.”
Poor Mother. She would never understand how constricting the village was to me, how much I longed to escape. It choked the life out of me. I didn’t want to warm the Kellon’s bed or provide him with a squalling brat who just might eventually be Kellon or Kellona after its father. Instead, I wanted to advise him on points of law, to prepare treaties and contracts, to scribe spellpages for him and call on the power of magic. I shivered with anticipation every time I thought of it. Maybe I’d never be a law scribe – I wasn’t stupid, I knew it was unlikely – but I desperately wanted to learn at least the basic spells. The very thought of it thrilled me, and there was no magic in the village.
“If pregnancy is the only issue...” Mother said, and paused. “The Kellon... it is very unlikely.... There are rumours....”
It was so unlike her to speak disjointedly that I was silent, waiting for her to compose herself. She fastidiously smoothed away an imaginary crease in her skirts, focused on her hands as if she didn’t want to look me in the eye. “There are rumours he can’t father a child.”
“But he already has several children!”
“Oh, the two eldest, the Kellonor and Bai-Kellonor... well, they must be his, of course. But the drusse children... there are three of those, and all from the same village, did you know that? And quite recent. But... I heard that they arranged to be pregnant before they became drusse.”
“What! You mean – they cheated?”
She clucked impatiently. “Is it cheating to give a great man exactly what he wants? And the women got what they wanted too – a secure home, a child...”
“And no man underfoot,” Father said, smiling.
I was too shocked to get the joke. “So the Kellon raises three children that aren’t his. Is that what he wants? And you surely aren’t suggesting I get pregnant by someone else?”
“No, of course not, Kyra. Really, you do take the wrong idea, sometimes. It means you don’t have to worry about becoming pregnant, that’s all. You could be his drusse, take the status marks and the money and the gowns, and still go off to the scribery at sixteen, if you insist on it. Don’t you see?”
Was it possible? The money would be useful, and the gowns – I never wore gowns if I could help it, but then I’d never had pretty ones. “Do you know this? Can you guarantee it?”
“Kyra, you’re not listening. I told you that I heard it said, that’s all. But three of them, all from the same village, and none elsewhere. It can’t be a coincidence, can it?”
“Almost anything can be a coincidence,” I said sharply, and saw Father’s eyes twinkling in appreciation. I’d learned my letters in Mother’s teaching room, but Father’s patient explanations had taught me about numbers and the possibilities of events. “But this is just gossip. I can hardly depend on it.”
Mother’s face settled into its usual dour expression mingled with disappointment. She was often disappointed in me.
~~~~~
The Steward came again the next morning, and asked if I’d reconsidered. In the politest way possible I told him no, as Mother struggled to hide her dissatisfaction.
“Ah, well, never mind,” the Steward said kindly. “Maybe next year, eh?”
Mother’s face lifted at once, and I almost groaned. A whole year of her not-quite-nagging was a dispiriting thought. She probably thought it would be a struggle to save up enough money, so I would have to give up my dream of becoming a scribe. Despite the temptation of silks and silver, though, I wouldn’t change my mind. I had convinced myself of a different destiny and was prepared to do whatever it took to follow it. I was fourteen, and I knew everything and nothing.
The Steward was out of the door and halfway down the path before he turned. “Ha! Almost forgot. The list arrived for the mage healings at the gathering. Here – you will notify everyone, I take it?”
“Of course,” Mother said, a hint of disdain in her voice, taking the folded paper from his hand. She knew her duty as the village teacher, one of the few who could read and write well. All official messages passed through her.
She saw the Steward away with the proper politenesses, waiting until his horse was out of sight down the lane before closing the door. Only
then did she unfold the paper with trembling fingers.
Her face lit up. She looked so different when she smiled, almost pretty.
“Truly?” Father asked.
“Truly. The little one has been chosen at last!”
“Well, that’s good news,” I said, brightly.
At once the sour face was back. “It almost makes up for your stubbornness, Kyra. Run down the lane to tell your sister. And don’t come back until evening board. You’ve made my head ache, I swear.
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The Dragon's Egg Page 33