by J F Rivkin
“And fetch Nyctasia at once,” Mesthelde ordered. “It’s her they’ve come to see, not us, you may be sure. They’ve heard that we have a Rhaicime among us. Well, she’ll have to meet them sooner or later. Tell her she must be civil, for our sakes. She’ll be in the nursery still, at this hour. And take off those boots before you set foot in the house, Frondescine ar’n Edonaris.”
Nyctasia was reading a history lesson to Tsebrene, Melorin and Hespiara, who were rarely called anything but Bean, ’Lorin and Sparrow, respectively.
“… all the way to Azhes and the Westernmost Isles,” ’Deisha heard. “And that’s why folk from the west like me and folk from the east like you, all speak the Eswraine tongue, and you and I can understand each other-most of the time.”
“But not the Liruvathid,” said ’Deisha, from the doorway.
Nyctasia smiled at her. “That’s right. The Eswraine never settled the Inner Lands because they met with fierce warlike tribes there who drove them away. So they traveled through the north, around the mountains, and that’s when they came to the valley. They called the mountain range The Spine because it seemed to them like the backbone of the world. And from here, some of their great-grandchildren went farther west until they found the coast. And what else did they find?”
“Azhes and the Westernmost Isles!” ’Lorin recited. “You didn’t know that,
’Deisha.”
“I didn’t have such a good teacher,” said ’Deisha. “But lessons are over for today. Nyc, I must carry you off to meet some of our neighbors.”
“In a moment, love. And so the peoples of the Empire speak different languages from ours, and don’t even understand each other very well. They’re not children of the Eswraine, as we are. And that,” she concluded, “is why we always call people from Eswrin avina, which means ‘mother,’ or vaysh, which means ‘father.’ even if they’re quite small like you little minnows.”
Her pupils thought it extremely funny that grown people should call children father or mother, and Nyctasia left them giggling together, with a promise to tell them more stories on the morrow.
Explaining as they went, ’Deisha hurried to her own rooms, dragging Nyctasia along with her. Mesthelde had already ordered hot water sent up for her. ’Deisha tossed her filthy clothes on the floor and began to scrub herself vigorously with a bath brush. When she’d dismissed the maid, she told Nyctasia, “And the worst of it is, they say Lord Marrekind is with her-Lorr didn’t kill him after all. Vahn, what a shame!”
“But it’s good news for Lorr, surely.”
“Not at all. He must have fought with Marrekind and left him for dead. That’s as serious as killing him, under the law. The law for slaves is not much different from the law for animals, Nyc. A dog that turns on its owner shall be put to death.”
Before Nyctasia could reply, Mesthelde strode in to see that ’Deisha was making herself presentable. She wore a long russet gown with trimming of fox-fur at the sleeves and hem, and her hair was bound up neatly beneath a fine kerchief of gold lace. Around her neck was the heavy gold chain that signified her title.
She had even left off the great ring of keys she always wore at her belt.
Nyctasia had never seen her in anything but plain, serviceable homespun, usually covered by a capacious apron. “How handsome you look. Lady Mesthelde,” she ventured.
But her finery did nothing to sweeten Mesthelde’s temper. “Lady Moonshine and Folly,” she snapped. “Nothing but a lot of bothersome rubbish. ’Deisha, wear your green silk. What have you that’s decent for Nyctasia to wear?”
“Any number of things. Aunt, don’t fret yourself. I’ve fine clothes enough for a dozen. They never wear out,” she explained to Nyctasia, “because I never wear them. Nyc, do take that gown with the silver stitching and the pearls on the sleeves-I’ve never dared put it on, but it might have been made for you.”
Mesthelde approved the choice, but Nyctasia demurred. “It’s lovely. I’d gladly wear it for a family celebration, but for this occasion I’ll do as I am.” She was dressed in plain woolen leggings and a simple tunic, both of dull brown.
They were of good quality, but hardly elegant.
“You can’t be presented to the Saetarrin looking like that!” Mesthelde protested.
“You’ll find that I can,” said Nyctasia calmly. “Are they in their best?”
“No, but, my dear Nyctasia, little as we may esteem these people, we must stay in their good graces. We can’t afford to give them offense-”
Nyctasia had never before contradicted Mesthelde, but the usages of etiquette were something she understood far better than any of her kinsfolk here in Vale.
“They’ll not take it amiss, I promise you. On the contrary, they’d think the less of me if I showed them more honor than they show you. As a Rhaicime, I’m their superior in rank, and they won’t be satisfied unless I behave accordingly.
It is, as you so justly observe, great rubbish, but they’ll expect it of me.”
“Well, perhaps you know best,” said Mesthelde doubtfully, “We’d not ask you to receive them, if it could be helped, but they’ll take it as a slight if you don’t. I’ve already had to apologize that my mother’s not well enough to welcome them herself-as if I’d let her be bothered with them. You will be amiable to them, though, won’t you?”
“Ah, no, not amiable-gracious,” Nyctasia said with a knowing smile. She went to the door, pausing to say, “I’ll be down directly. I believe I do have a few preparations to make. Don’t worry, I want to meet them very much indeed-especially Lord Marrekind.”
’Deisha curtsied stiffly. “Lady Avareth, Lord Marrekind,” she said, “you honor our house.” In her green silk kirtle, with lace at her wrists and breast, and slippers of gold kid on her feet, ’Deisha looked perfectly exquisite, and felt like a perfect fool. Dainty gloves of spiderweb tracery might hide her work-hardened hands, but she knew that fine raiment could not make her a lady in the eyes of the Saetarrin, and she hated to take part in such a masquerade. They were sneering at her, she was certain. The dogs, sensing her mistrust of the visitors, regarded them balefully, hackles raised.
Lady Avareth inclined her head slightly in greeting. She considered ’Deisha an insolent chit who had dared to decline an alliance with the House of Saetarrin, and who ought to be put in her place. But if it were true that a foreign Rhaicime had settled among the Edonaris, then perhaps it was as well that no marriage-accord had been made with a mere Jhaice…
Much to ’Deisha’s disgust, Lord Marrekind was more attentive to her. When he bent to kiss her hand, she saw a large, dark swelling over one eye that looked like a recent injury. A blow that could raise a bruise like that, she thought, could easily knock a man senseless.
“Mistress Frondescine, what a pleasure to see you again,” he was saying. “We ought to meet more often, neighbors as we are. If, as rumor has it, your distinguished kinswoman from the coast resembles you closely, she must be beautiful indeed.”
“You flatter me, my lord,” said ’Deisha, politely withdrawing her hand. “My lady cousin is far more comely than I. But you shall judge that for yourself. She will be with us directly.”
“We shall be honored.”
“The Lady Nyctasia is eager to make your acquaintance,” Mesthelde assured them.
“Pray sit by the fire. May I offer you wine?” If Nyctasia kept them waiting much longer, she thought grimly, she’d go fetch her herself and drag her downstairs by the ear, if need be.
A servant had set a tray of silver goblets on the table, and Diastor himself had brought a dusty jar of a very old vintage from the cellars. When he cut the seal, an inviting, heady fragrance filled the air for a moment.
“The wines of this household are surely a Manifestation of Temptation,” said Nyctasia, from the doorway. “Good day to all.”
’Deisha saw at once that Nyctasia had been right to refuse the gown of silver and pearl. Her plain attire was clearly the best complement for the rich gold
chain of office she wore, crown-like, around her head-as was traditional only for those of the highest rank. She smiled, bowed to the company, and advanced into the room, all with an air of stateliness and queenly dignity that no fine raiment could possibly have improved. Even Mesthelde was spellbound.
To one who could command such presence, ’Deisha realized, splendid garments were not only unnecessary, but even excessive. Then, recalling herself to her duty, she recovered her wits sufficiently to say, “Lady Avareth, Lord Marrekind, allow me to present our newfound kinswoman, the Lady Nyctasia Selescq Rhaicime brenn Rhostshyl ar’n Edonaris.”
“Oh, well done, milady sister,” Raphe murmured in her ear. “You’ve been practicing.”
’Deisha stifled a laugh. “A commoner like you doesn’t understand these things,” she whispered. Raphe pinched her.
They watched in awe while Nyctasia indulgently accepted the formal obeisances of the Saetarrin, as if this were a duty that she willingly performed for their benefit. Greymantle growled softly as Lord Marrekind approached her, and Nyctasia laughed, not in the least discomposed.
“Why, lie down and be still, you mannerless cur,” she said lightly. “These are friends of the house.” Her tone might have deceived a person, but certainly not a dog. Greymantle obeyed, but continued to watch the guests suspiciously.
When Lord Marrekind knelt before her, Nyctasia took his hand and seemed to study it for a moment, a faint frown creasing her brow. But then she bade him rise, with a smile of the utmost benevolence.
“Permit me,” she said to Mesthelde, and poured out the wine, handing the guests their goblets herself, to do them honor. “You must not think it an insult that I refuse to drink with you. I am a healer, and so a most strict Vahnite. Even these excellent wines which bear my family name are forbidden by the Discipline, I fear. It is the price one must pay to serve the Indwelling Spirit-and to master it.”
“Your servant, my lady,” said Lord Marrekind, raising his goblet to her before he drank.
Her eyes met his and again she frowned. “Forgive my impertinence, sir, but you suffer, do you not, from sleeplessness, and a throbbing pain of the temples, at times? Perhaps nosebleed?”
He stared. “And did the Indwelling Spirit tell you that?”
“The signs are plain to any healer-the beat of blood in your hand, your ruddy complexion, and the blood-web in your eyes-”
“Of what are these the signs?” he demanded, anxious.
“But surely your physicians have warned you?”
“I have little faith in physicians’ ways. Lady Nyctasia. Pray let me hear your judgment of my state.”
Nyctasia laughed. “Perhaps you are wise to distrust the skills of leeches. I believe they harm as often as they heal. Indeed, though you will think I boast, our court physicians often came to me for advice on such matters. It seems that scholarship may be as valuable as experience. You are surely afflicted with tempestuous blood-what is commonly called the Surge. It is often found in those of powerful will, but is more dangerous to some than to others. You should eat little meat, sir, and be bled often, especially in the winter months. If you allow me, I shall send to your physicians a copy of the pertinent texts from the writings of the great Iostyn Vahr.”
“I should be very grateful, my lady.” That the Saetarrin did not keep a retinue of personal physicians was something he had no intention of admitting in the present company.
Nyctasia was in fact quite aware of this already, but her words would serve to remind him of the difference in their stations. “I shall also take the liberty,” she continued, “of sending you a certain preparation, a specific against the seizure known as The Red Veil. You may never need it perhaps, but if you should be stricken suddenly with a pain that dims your sight, and casts a red mist over all you see, lose no time but drink it at once. Such a wound”-she gestured at his bruised brow-“could be dangerous for one who suffers from tempestuous blood.
It might bring The Red Veil upon you at any time. The color of the flesh is unwholesome, and… well, it is best to be prepared.”
By now Lord Marrekind was thoroughly alarmed. He finished his wine and gladly allowed Nyctasia to pour him another. “You are most kind, Lady Nyctasia. I shall certainly heed your counsel. If I may ever in any wise be of service to you…”
Nyctasia dismissed his thanks with a smile and a graceful wave of her hand. “It is a sacred duty, sir, to put such knowledge to use. But it is my passion as well, I do confess. I cannot see an illness or an injury without desiring to know its history, and to direct its treatment.” She regarded his face again, and said slowly, “A blow, I believe, raised that bruise, and not a fall. Am I correct?”
At this, Lady Avareth came forward to claim Nyctasia’s attention. “Entirely correct, my lady. And it was that very matter which brought us here today-or rather, provided us with a pretext for coming here to make Your Ladyship’s acquaintance.”
Nyctasia admired the skillful way in which Lady Avareth disguised the truth as a flattering lie, it was a ruse she had often employed herself.
“My son was attacked by one of our own bondservants,” Lady Avareth continued,
“who has so far escaped capture. We came to inquire whether he’d been seen by anyone of this household.”
“No one’s told me about it if he has,” said Mesthelde, with perfect truthfulness. She looked questioningly at the others.
Diastor shook his head. “We’ll ask among our people, of course, but I doubt that we’ll learn much. Still, if the man’s dangerous, folk should be warned to be on their guard.”
“Dangerous he may be, but hardly a man-and I daresay he never will be one,” said Lord Marrekind. “He’s little more than a boy, but he’s given trouble before. I should have had him hamstrung the last time he ran off.”
Nyctasia looked startled. “What, a fair-haired youth? ’Deisha, do you suppose it was that young thief we found in the stables, on the night the storm began?”
“I-I don’t know, he might have been,” ’Deisha said in consternation. She did not have Nyctasia’s experience at lying, and was not aware that a half-truth was usually more effective than an evasion or an outright lie. Or even an outright truth.
“That must have been the boy Lorr,” Lord Marrekind exclaimed. “He fled just a few days before the storm struck. You say you found him?”
“Oh yes, we found him, and lost him, almost at once,” Nyctasia said thoughtfully. “He ran out into the snow, deliberately, as soon as he was discovered. I thought the poor wretch must be mad. If only I’d known…” She sighed. “We searched the yard, but he’d already vanished. I couldn’t understand it at the time, but of course I see now that he didn’t wish to be rescued. He preferred to perish in the storm than to return to servitude.”
“To death, rather,” said ’Deisha grimly. “For raising his hand to his master.”
She did not suppose that Nyctasia had forgotten this, but she was beginning to guess at her cousin’s game.
“My dear, I’m sure you do not mean to insult our guests,” Nyctasia reproached her, “but you have sadly misunderstood their intentions, unless I much mistake.
Gentlefolk do not avenge themselves on their inferiors.” She sounded shocked at the very suggestion that the Saetarrin might take such savage measures. “The laws of your cruel country may allow an atrocity of that sort, but surely they do not demand it?” she asked, turning to Lord Marrekind.
“By no means, Your Ladyship,” he said hastily. “But I beg to assure you that the youth is not deserving of Your Ladyship’s concern, nor of such mercy as the law allows. I myself am witness to that.”
Nyctasia smiled. “As the Principles of the philosophers tell us, ‘Mercy dealt to the deserving is not mercy, but merely justice,’” she said sweetly. She had often had occasion to reflect that the greatest gift of Vahnite philosophy was its power to answer almost any argument.
Having silenced her audience with these lofty sentiments, Nyctasia continued,
“But I fear he is beyond our mercy or our vengeance now. He can hardly have survived the storm.” She opened her hand in a Vahnite gesture of resignation. “I feel in some wise responsible… If he should somehow be found alive, perhaps, sir, as you hold yourself in my debt, you will be so kind as to let me know your decision?”
She had left Lord Marrekind no choice, and he knew it. He bowed and said, “Upon my honor, his fate shall rest entirely in Your Ladyship’s hands.” Behind his back, ’Deisha winked at her.
“You have greatly relieved my mind, Lord Marrekind,” Nyctasia said warmly.
“Though it may well be that the lad who concerns me is not, after all, the one you seek. I had only a glimpse of him, but he hardly looked strong enough to overcome a grown man.”
“He’s strong enough to wield a large stone-and I confess that he took me by surprise. I knew he was wayward and disobedient, but I’d no idea what a vicious little beast he was.”
“Yet, as a Maritimer, I cannot condemn him. We say on the coast that if you make beasts of people, you must not expect them to behave better than beasts. We prefer to be served by free folk who know their own worth.”
In as cold a tone as she could bring herself to use to a Rhaicime, Lady Avareth asked, “And are the peasants on your estates any better off than slaves?”
“Those on my estates are,” Nyctasia said evenly. “But you are quite right, of course-on many manors the laborers are mistreated, and have little recourse to justice. Unfortunately, there are those everywhere who disregard the law with impunity.” Nothing in her face or voice was accusing, but the force of her remark was not lost on anyone present.
The Saetarrin soon took their leave, much to the relief of their hosts. Nyctasia accepted an invitation to hunt with them in the spring, and reassured Lord Marrekind that she would soon send the promised medicine. Until they were shown from the hall, she remained as flawlessly, formally polite as when she’d entered. Her manner was one of perfect courtesy mixed with condescension such as the Edonaris had never before seen her display. Her treatment of the Saetarrin had made entirely clear to ’Deisha and her aunt the vast difference between