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Echo in Amethyst

Page 24

by Sharon Shinn


  I reveled in my newfound freedom. Of course, I was confined to Elyssa’s suite of rooms, but I could move around at will and think my own thoughts and not be afraid of catching her attention or sparking her anger. In many ways, it was the most carefree stretch of my existence.

  Elyssa did bring us with her when the whole family set out on a short expedition a couple of weeks after Deryk’s visit. Before we left the house, Trima—who had resumed her role as Elyssa’s maid—dressed us all in prim, high-necked frocks and arranged our hair in the simplest of styles.

  “Goddess have mercy on my soul, Trima, could I possibly look dowdier?” Elyssa exclaimed, surveying herself in the mirror.

  “It’s Counting Day, which means you want the goddess to notice you,” Trima said firmly. “Do you want her to notice you appearing pious and demure, or looking vain and showy?”

  “If I didn’t go to the temple, my echoes would disappear tomorrow,” Elyssa said.

  “And that’s what you want?”

  Elyssa was silent a moment. “Sometimes.”

  “If I were you, I wouldn’t be too eager to do away with my echoes until both the princes were safely married to other women,” Trima advised. “After that— Well, drown them in the river, if you like. But I think you’d be sorry.”

  “I wouldn’t,” Elyssa said. “I don’t like them. They’re always watching me. Listening.”

  Trima motioned for Elyssa to stand up, and we all came to our feet. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “Now go on downstairs. You’re almost late.”

  Sure enough, Hodia and Bentam were already in the hallway, both dressed soberly enough to be attending a funeral. “Good,” Bentam said, heading out the front door without another word.

  We followed, catching our breath at the chill of the blustery, overcast day. Bentam and his echoes took possession of a small curricle that he drove himself, while the women piled into a large carriage with multiple benches. Hodia shared a seat with one of her echoes, but Elyssa made sure all three of hers were crowded together on the bench behind her.

  The drive was accomplished mostly in silence, but fortunately it was less than an hour to the nearest little town that boasted a temple to the triple goddess. Trying not to be too obvious about it, I leaned forward to gaze out the window as we traveled slowly through the streets. I must have been there many times—if for no other reason than to observe more than twenty Counting Days in the past. Surely that steeple looked familiar, and that small bakery? I must have seen that fountain a dozen or so times. I could almost remember it.

  When we finally stopped and disembarked, I studied the front entrance of the temple. It was much smaller and plainer than the one we had visited in Camarria, boasting only a single door set with a triple-paned window. It was far less grand inside as well, with ten or twelve rows of wooden benches set on a plain flagstone floor. In the front of the sanctuary were half-size statues of the goddess in her accustomed poses, and a rough wooden table holding twenty or so lit votives. A few embroidered wall hangings softened the dreary gray of the stone walls, but otherwise it was not a particularly comfortable or welcoming space.

  Maybe twenty people were already scattered through the pews, if you counted both echoes and nobles, and two priestesses moved among them offering benedictions. Hodia marched right up to the front of the sanctuary and the others followed, though I was fairly certain both Bentam and Elyssa would have preferred to sit in the back. Hodia, her echoes, Bentam, and Elyssa took seats in the very first row; Bentam’s and Elyssa’s echoes sat behind them.

  I had to tamp down a lively curiosity as I waited for whatever was supposed to happen next. Would the goddess herself manifest, come floating down the aisle in some spectral form, silently chanting the nobles’ names and counting the numbers of their echoes? Or did the priestesses keep records that they updated every year, checking off the names of their visitors and comparing their list to some vast national register?

  Or was this a pointless ritual, a traditional observance that had no power and made no difference? Did the goddess really know that all of Elyssa’s echoes were still alive, still more or less whole, and did she really care?

  And if she did know, and if she did care, what did she make of me?

  Maybe the goddess noticed, maybe she didn’t. There was no sign either way. The ten of us sat there in silence for perhaps thirty minutes, though Elyssa shifted impatiently on her bench and Bentam never stopped drumming his fingers against his thighs. When a priestess came over to offer them benedictions, Elyssa was on her feet before either her aunt or her father had reacted. I was sure she didn’t care about the ritual so much as the fact that it signaled the end of her vigil. She bowed her head so the priestess could touch her face, her chest, her lips, and she didn’t even protest when the woman leaned across the bench to repeat the same gestures on the echoes and me. Within a few moments, Hodia and Bentam had also been blessed, and we were all back outside in the chilly gray air.

  Did you see me? I silently asked the goddess as we climbed into the carriage. Did you count me? Do you know anything about me at all?

  It was a couple of weeks after Counting Day when Trima came to Elyssa’s suite in the middle of the night. I woke up as soon as the outer door opened, and I heard the maid knock on the inner door to Elyssa’s bedroom.

  “My lady,” Trima said through a yawn. “The housekeeper woke me. There’s a visitor waiting in your father’s study.”

  It had been a late night, and I heard Elyssa give a low groan before she forced herself out of bed. She had fought too hard to be included in her father’s councils to let a little exhaustion hold her back now. “Then help me get ready,” she said.

  Soon enough, Trima had the four of us brushed and dressed, though we all looked dazed from lack of sleep. We pattered downstairs and through the darkened corridors to Bentam’s study, where the lord was already in low-voiced conversation with a single man dressed all in black.

  The man looked up and Elyssa fought to hold back a gasp. It was Marco Ross.

  “Good, you’re finally awake,” Bentam greeted her. “Sit down. He has news.”

  Elyssa recovered quickly and offered Marco a cool nod. His face was so impassive he might never have seen her before in his life—although he had had the advantage of knowing she was about to step into the room. Elyssa had had no warning at all.

  “Haven’t I met you before?” she asked as she took a seat nearby. The echoes, as always, arrayed themselves in the shadows. “It might have been two years ago, when you were doing some work for my father.”

  “That’s right,” Marco replied. “I’m pleased to see you again.”

  “No need to be talking over old times,” Bentam growled. “Listen to what he has to say.”

  Marco turned to face Bentam, seeming to ignore Elyssa completely. She kept her eyes on his profile and listened without moving. Marco said, “As you know, the king has been negotiating in secret with some of the lords of the western provinces.”

  Bentam nodded. “Norbert came through here a month ago, on his way to Orenza. I liked what he had to say.”

  Marco nodded. “A lot of the lords did. Generally speaking, there’s been an easing of tensions. No more fighting. At least in Alberta and Empara.”

  “So Orenza’s the sticking point. As always,” Bentam said.

  “The governor is the sticking point,” Marco said deliberately. “The other nobles of Orenza are interested in the king’s deal. Harold is offering merchants a chance to use the ports in Banch Harbor without paying taxes for a year. Some of them have suffered heavy losses with recent shipping disasters, and this gives them a chance to recover more quickly than they expected.”

  “Even those of us who haven’t suffered losses are pleased at the chance to make significant gains,” Bentam said. “I’ve argued in favor of the negotiation.”

  “Will the Orenza nobles be able to persuade the governor?” Elyssa asked.

  Marco barely glanced at her. “They
have—for now. But I am not convinced Lord Garvin will stay appeased for long.”

  Bentam leaned back in his chair. “Ah. You think there may be a schism in Orenza. Garvin going rogue and mounting his own forces, despite what the nobles across the western provinces agree to.”

  Marco nodded. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  “And if Orenza stirs up trouble, the whole deal may be scotched—for all the western provinces.”

  “Exactly,” Marco said.

  Bentam brooded for a moment. “Garvin is proving to be something of a liability,” he said at last.

  “You’re not the first noble to say so,” Marco replied.

  “And yet he has been a strong ally up to this point. A leader, in fact.”

  Marco nodded and said nothing. I was straining not to sit up in my chair, aghast. Was I correctly interpreting their roundabout speech? Were some members of this uneasy group of rebels considering eliminating the governor so he could not interfere with negotiations? I had known they were cold-blooded enough to plot the assassination of a prince, but could they be ruthless enough to turn on one of their own? I thought even Elyssa felt a chill run down her spine as she contemplated the plotters.

  “Well, it is a situation to watch closely,” Bentam said.

  “And there’s another thing,” Marco added.

  “Tell me.”

  “Six weeks ago, there was another attempt on Cormac’s life.”

  Bentam sat up straight and Elyssa almost jumped from her chair. “I have heard nothing of this!” Bentam exclaimed.

  Marco nodded. “It has been kept very quiet. In fact, there are some who believe it is only a rumor, but my source is certain.”

  “Who made the attempt?”

  Marco spoke deliberately. “He is believed to be a low noble from Alberta.”

  At this, both Bentam and Elyssa gasped. “Identify him,” Bentam demanded.

  “A man named Leffert.”

  Bentam frowned. “Not someone I know. Are you sure he was an Alberta man?”

  “Not sure at all,” Marco admitted. “There is some thought that he was using a false name, so he might have been claiming a false heritage as well. You can imagine that the inquisitor is looking into the situation with the utmost care.”

  “Does anyone know who hired him?” Bentam asked.

  Elyssa spoke up. “The governor of Orenza, perhaps?” she suggested. “If he is angry that all the other nobles are negotiating with the king—”

  Marco glanced at her briefly. “Some people have suggested that,” he agreed, “though Garvin has adamantly denied it.”

  “Then who?” Bentam said. “Some madman with no agenda who simply hates the king? Or—”

  “Or some new player that none of the rest of us know,” Marco finished up.

  Bentam leaned back in his chair again, frowning heavily. “I dislike factions,” he said. “Unless we all act together, we will never wield any power. If we sign a deal with the king, but some lunatic kills Cormac anyway, Harold will instantly negate the contract! We need to present a united front.”

  “Difficult to do,” Marco said, “when there are so many people involved and they want different things.”

  I wondered if that was Marco’s way to subtly remind Elyssa that he was one of the rebels who preferred to cut ties with Camarria completely. He would not be enthusiastic about any plan that kept the peace while maintaining the divisions between the lords and the lower classes. A treaty that enriched the nobles brought no benefits to him.

  “There are enough of us who want enough of the same things,” Bentam said gruffly. “We must work together.”

  Marco bowed his head as if in acquiescence. “Then we will succeed.”

  Bentam stirred in his chair. “Thank you for the report. Where do you go next?”

  “Pandrea.”

  “I would not have thought we had allies there,” Bentam commented.

  Marco smiled. “Not allies, precisely. Friends. Sources of information.”

  Bentam grunted. “Well, I won’t keep you. But you’re welcome to stay a day or two if you need a break from your travels.”

  “I would be grateful for the rest.”

  Bentam looked at Elyssa for almost the first time since this colloquy had begun. “My daughter will see that you are given a room.”

  Elyssa came to her feet without even glancing at Marco. “The housekeeper is awake and already taking care of it,” she said, making a general curtsey to them both. “I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.”

  And she left without a look back.

  Through a combination of excitement, anger, longing, and something that felt like dread, Elyssa barely slept the rest of that night, so the echoes tossed and turned along with her. She was awake early, but didn’t rise from bed until Trima arrived at her usual hour to dress us all for the day.

  “You look tired,” Trima commented as she added touches of rouge to Elyssa’s pale face.

  “How kind of you to say so,” Elyssa snapped.

  Trima shrugged. “If your sleep is more important to you than your relationship with your father, tell him you no longer want to be woken up in the middle of the night.”

  “My relationship with my father is of practically no value,” Elyssa said, still sharply. “But what I learn from these late-night visits—that matters to me.”

  “Then stop complaining.”

  Unexpectedly, Elyssa laughed. “Well, I’ll try.”

  Trima patted the last curl in place. “And smile more. You’re such a pretty girl.”

  Elyssa stood up. “And a hungry one. Time for breakfast.”

  Only Hodia was in the dining room when Elyssa arrived there, and they made only the most desultory conversation while Elyssa ate a brief meal.

  “I believe there’s a guest in the house, but I haven’t seen him,” Hodia said as Elyssa stood to go.

  “Oh?” Elyssa said carelessly. “Do I know him?”

  Hodia frowned. “I wouldn’t think so. One of your father’s less savory connections.”

  Elyssa laughed. “So I don’t have to be nice to him if I encounter him.”

  “In fact, you should take every precaution to make sure you do not encounter him.”

  “That’s what I’ll do.”

  Then Elyssa fetched a cloak and headed out a side door and practically ran to the gazebo on the far edge of the property.

  Marco was there waiting, and she flung herself into his arms without the slightest restraint. He crushed her against his body, dropping hungry kisses all over her face. She clung to him, breathless, trying to speak, but all she managed were a few disconnected words. “So afraid … so worried … thought you were dead.” His low replies were barely more audible, apologies and reassurances and promises to never be so careless again.

  The echoes and I simply stood a few yards from the gazebo, dumb and gaping. The minute we had passed out of sight of the back windows of the mansion, Elyssa had released us, and we had only followed her because we were so accustomed to traveling in her wake. But I remembered her last encounter with Marco in this very place, and I knew she was even less likely to want us as witnesses today. The painted white trellises were still heavily covered with vines, but winter had stripped away everything but a few dead leaves, so the meeting spot was not nearly as private as it had been last spring. Surely Elyssa would realize that.

  I grabbed the echoes and pulled them to a bench we had passed about twenty yards away. It commanded a view of the gardens and—more important—faced away from the gazebo. Then, moving in a low crouch and taking cover behind bare trees and desiccated shrubs, I snuck back toward the trysting spot. I wasn’t keen to watch Elyssa and Marco escalate their passionate embraces, but I wanted to learn whatever Marco knew about the situation at court.

  When I was close enough, I lay down in the dead grass and listened intently.

  “But I didn’t know,” Elyssa was saying, sounding perilously close to tears.

  “Bu
t how could I get word to you?” he demanded. “Surely your aunt and your father watch your mail.”

  “Hodia does, but— You could send a note to Trima. My maid.”

  “Who is paid by your father and no doubt reporting back to him.”

  “No, no, she would do anything for me. She is the only one in the whole household I trust.”

  “Maybe,” he said. “If the news is urgent enough.”

  Elyssa’s voice dropped to a caressing murmur. “What will always be urgent is news about you showing up at my father’s house.”

  He laughed. “I didn’t realize he would call you down in the middle of the night! My best hope was that I would get a glimpse of you this morning and maybe find a chance to talk in private.”

  “But you will be gone so soon,” she whispered. “It might be months before I see you again. I can’t bear it.”

  “I should be back through Alberta in about ten days,” he said. “The governor is having a party to celebrate his daughter Sorrell getting engaged to a lord from Thelleron.”

  “I thought Lord Vincent was loyal to the crown.”

  “He is—but some of his guests are not.”

  Now Elyssa’s voice took on a more speculative tone. “There might be some way I can attend this event. Sorrell doesn’t like me—because she only has two echoes and I have three—but I think I can make her invite me anyway.”

  “Well, I will be there,” he said. “If you really think you can manage to attend—in a household where no one will be paying much attention to you—”

  My guess was that he took this moment to draw her tightly against him, for I felt an increased pressure across my entire body. Suddenly, I found it difficult to breathe. Suddenly, I didn’t want to be anywhere near Elyssa, catching the backlash of her emotions and sensations.

  I crawled toward the bench to sit with the echoes, focusing my mind on blocking out everything that Elyssa was thinking and feeling. I was only partially successful. For the next thirty minutes, while I doggedly stared at the dreary winter landscape, my body randomly ran with heat or reacted with a sensuous bliss to the touch of a hand or a mouth. This was nothing like the sweaty, undignified coupling Elyssa had engaged in with Lord Roland; this was something I imagined could be quite pleasurable if a person had an interest in participating in vicarious desire.

 

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