The Safe-Keeper's Secret

by Sharon Shinn

  Fiona laughed a little ruefully. “Yes, of course, once they’re married Allison won’t be living with me any longer. I was too happy for her too soon! Now I don’t want her to marry after all.”

  Elminstra laughed too. “Well, I have plenty of grandchildren I can summon to come be your companions,” she said. “You need never be lonely as long as my daughters keep producing daughters of their own.”

  Fiona shrugged. “I am eighteen now, and I don’t think I need someone to guard me from solitude any longer,” she said.

  “I disagree! Eighteen and a small blond slip of a thing! Who entertains desperate characters every day! There is no chance I would allow you to live in that house alone.”

  Fiona waved a hand. “But we were talking about Allison and Ed! Do you actually have room on your property to build them a cottage?”

  “No, but my house is much larger than yours, and I’m getting old enough to feel it. I’ve been thinking about having one of my grandchildren move in with me to take over some of the care of the house and land. Allison and Ed could live with me, and then have the house after I’m gone.”

  “You won’t be gone for years and years and years, so don’t talk that way,” Fiona said, a little alarmed. “I have a better plan, I think. The land across the road from me belongs to Angeline—did you know that?”

  Elminstra squinted. “Now that you mention it, I do remember Damiana saying that once or twice.”

  “Their mother owned all the property, long before the road came through. My mother kept the house when my aunt moved to Lowford, but the rest of the land belongs to Angeline. She might be willing to sell it to Allison and Ed—or, if not, rent it to them and let them build on the property. It will do her no harm to have a little income.”

  “I must say, I like this idea very much,” Elminstra said. “And for you to have Allison and Ed live so close to you—I like that even better.”

  “So close I will not need a companion in the house with me,” Fiona said with a smile.

  “Ah, now that I did not agree to!” the old witch said, and they both laughed, and toasted each other with juice.

  That afternoon, Fiona made a white cake with white frosting and had it waiting when Allison came home from an outing with her betrothed.

  “You know! My grandmother told you!” Allison cried, and Fiona laughed and hugged her. “Oh, I’ve been so afraid to tell you, for I feel like I’m abandoning you and I would never do that—”

  “Allison, you are not abandoning me! Even if you and Ed packed up and moved to the other side of the country, I would not feel that way. You have been such a good friend to me for so long. I would not begrudge you the tiniest moment of happiness. How could you think that—”

  Allison sniffled. “But you’re all alone and I have so much.”

  Fiona smiled. “I have a great deal as well. Never think that I do not feel surrounded by love.”

  So they ate the white cake and talked about weddings and decided that between the two of them, they could make Allison’s dress. Though they might get Lacey’s help with any fancy trim. Fiona mentioned her scheme about renting them the land directly across from the cottage, and Allison nearly jumped out of her chair with delight.

  “And I’ll put in my own garden, and between us we’ll have every herb or healing plant in the whole kingdom, and people will travel from every city to buy from us,” Allison said.

  “We will be famous farther afield than this kingdom,” Fiona said loftily. “Next time Reed signs up to be a sailor, we’ll make him bring back marvelous cuttings from foreign lands. No one in three kingdoms will have gardens as fine as ours.”

  “Have you heard from Reed?” Allison asked.

  “Oh, he writes every few days.”

  There was a pause. “And has he met King Marcus?” Allison asked next.

  Fiona laughed. “Not yet. But knowing Reed, he might actually find a way.”

  “And what will happen then, do you think?”

  Fiona shook her head. “I cannot even guess.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Right before the weather turned cold, Angeline traveled to town. She quickly agreed to lease her land to Allison and Ed, and she warmly wished them well, but she had more serious matters on her mind.

  “Victoria Bayliss is very ill,” she said gravely. “Kate has been there every day with some new potion, but nothing she tries has had any effect. I know that you have some cuttings that come from no other garden, and I wondered if you might have something we could try. Robert is so sad. He sits by her bedside night and day.”

  “Most of what I have you can find in Kate’s gardens as well, but I have one or two herbs that might be unfamiliar to her,” Fiona said. “Is it lung trouble? Stomach disease? Is there any pain? If nothing else, I probably have a tonic or two that will let her rest in comfort.”

  “It is lung trouble, stomach trouble, pain—it is everything,” Angeline said. “I am very afraid she will die.”

  “Well, I’m sorry for it,” Fiona said, though she was not really sorry. She had never been able to bring herself to care too much for the helpless, clinging Victoria. “Is Jillian still keeping their house?”

  Angeline nodded, smiling a little. “Such a quiet and generous girl. Victoria has treated her like a daughter, and everyone who meets her simply loves her. I don’t know—” Angeline shook her head. “If Victoria dies, Jillian cannot continue living in Robert’s house, of course. But there are many places she could go in Lowford. Kate would take her in, as would I, and there are friends of Robert’s who could use a good worker.”

  “She mustn’t come back here,” Fiona said.

  Angeline shook her head. “No, I don’t think she ever will.”

  Winter crept in one night and laid its pale hand over the world while they were sleeping. They woke to a glittering scene of frost and thoughts of Wintermoon.

  Letters from Isadora, Reed, and Thomas promised that they would arrive in time for the holiday. “Listen to this,” Fiona said to Allison, amused, as she skimmed through a missive from the Dream-Maker. “Megan has found a patron! A rich older woman who needs a companion to accompany her to court! Isadora says the older woman is vain and pompous but somehow related to the king—a cousin, perhaps?—and that Megan is beside herself with rapture.” Fiona looked up, smiling. “So Isadora has made Megan’s dream come true, it seems.”

  “Do you think she’ll ever be back to marry Cal Seston?” Allison asked.

  Fiona laughed. “The minute she left this town for Wodenderry was the last time Cal was ever going to see that girl.”

  “I can’t help but be pleased by that,” Allison said. “Cal was always a nasty boy.”

  “And I think she was only going to marry him because their fathers wanted to join the land,” Fiona said.

  “But didn’t her father just marry that girl? The one practically Megan’s age?”

  Fiona nodded. “And wouldn’t you think she’d be producing children of her own soon enough? She’ll probably be just as glad if the wedding’s called off.”

  Allison laughed and spread her hands. “See? Everything always works out for the best.”

  The weather grew bitterly cold and the first snowfall came weeks before Wintermoon. While the weather was so bad, construction halted on the cottage being built across the road. Nonetheless, Fiona and Allison went over every day to take a look, strolling through the exposed bones of the house, the ribs of the internal rooms, the templed fingers of the beamed ceiling. This would be the main room, this the kitchen, this a bedroom. Out back, where a layer of snow now covered the wild weeds and knotted undergrowth, would be the garden, half vegetables and half herbs. If there was time for roses, they would be planted at the gate.

  “And I’ll give you some truelove,” Fiona said, “so you’ll have everything you want.”

  Fiona had most everything she wanted when, two days after the snow sifted down, Reed arrived. He jumped from the back of a stranger’s cart, flipp
ed the man a coin and called a out a word of thanks, and rushed up the walk to where Fiona stood waiting.

  “I wasn’t expecting you for another week!” she exclaimed, hugging as much of his big frame as she was able. “How are you? Where’s Isadora? Why did you come back early?”

  “Homesick,” he said. “I wanted to be with you.”

  “Come in. You must be freezing. I’ll make you some tea.”

  He followed her into the house. “Where’s Allison?”

  “Down at Elminstra’s. Did you see the house when you pulled up? It’s going to be charming. We’ll walk over and inspect it once you’ve warmed up.”

  “It’ll be strange having neighbors so close,” he remarked, sprawling in one of the kitchen chairs.

  “But neighbors I’ll be happy to have,” she said.

  She served hot tea and leftover tarts, and he ate as enthusiastically as if he hadn’t stopped for lunch on the road, which he’d already admitted he had. She watched him covertly, to see if there were signs of strain or exhaustion on his face, but he seemed, as always, happy and at ease.

  “So! Tell me about the royal city,” she said. “How was Isadora doing? Did you meet the king?”

  “Isadora—oh, there’s a story there—Isadora’s just fine. No, I never met the king, but I saw him more than once.”

  “How did you manage that?”

  “Oh, well, every time he left the palace he would ride out in an entourage. The streets would be lined with people, common folk just waiting for a glimpse of royalty. There would be the king, guards in a ring all around him, riding his black horse and sitting as straight as you please, gazing directly before him.”

  “And what did you think of him?”

  Reed considered. “Well, of course, it’s hard to tell much just from watching a man ride by on horseback. But I thought he seemed very stern. He never smiled. Sometimes he would wave, or toss a few coins, particularly to the children. But he did not look like a warm man. He did not look like someone who had experienced much affection.”

  “He’s dark, people say.”

  Reed nodded. “Oh yes, the blackest of hair, though it’s starting to go gray now. He keeps it cropped fairly short and he wears a small silver crown when he goes out. Very elegant. But he—” Reed shrugged.

  Fiona stirred her tea. “Did you think he looked like you?”

  “No!” he burst out. “That’s what I was going to say! He doesn’t look at all like me! Not just the color of his hair, but the shape of his mouth and the slope of his nose—all of it was wrong. None of it was familiar. Fiona, I don’t think he is my father after all.”

  She lifted her cup and sipped the hot liquid. “And what do you think of that?” she said neutrally.

  He spread his hands upon the table. “I don’t know what to think! My whole life people have said—but I don’t think it’s true! So then, well, it’s even more confusing. My father could have been anyone. Anyone! It makes me feel very strange. Untethered, almost.” He shook his head. “But I wasn’t really disappointed. I mean, I didn’t look at him and think, ‘Oh, I wish I belonged to that man.’ I was just as glad I didn’t. I just wished—well, it would be good to know whom I did belong to.”

  “You belong to me,” she said, “and Angeline and Thomas and Elminstra and all of us. As you always have. Nothing has changed.”

  “Yes,” he said. “Though it seems to have changed a little bit. I can’t exactly explain.”

  Fiona took another swallow. “So! Did you see Princess Lirabel? What was she like?”

  Reed sat forward, excited enough to forget his own mysteries. “I almost met the princess,” he said. “It was the most amazing thing.”

  “No! What happened?”

  “I had gone to visit Isadora—she rented a little suite very close to the palace, and it was much nicer than mine, so I would go by every few days to have tea with her. And she would tell me stories of this rich lady and that great lord who would come by her rooms in stealth and open their hearts to her. ‘Can you believe that people as grand as these have such dreams?’ she said to me once.”

  “Well, and what sort of dreams?”

  “Oh, there were the ones you might expect—the woman who would beg to bear a son for her husband, the man who would ask for wealth. But sometimes—well, Isadora told me that one woman said all she wanted was to go live in the country, as far from the palace as possible. Another one sat there and cried, wishing her mother would love her. I mean, it might have been anybody from Tambleham or Thrush Hollow sitting there. The things they wanted so badly were sometimes the most simple things.”

  “And how did you meet the princess?”

  “I was there having tea with Isadora, and we heard this commotion on the steps. And Isadora said, ‘Oh my goodness, that’s someone come here to ramble on about a dream. Would you mind hiding in the other room? This shouldn’t take long.’ So I stepped into her bedroom, but I kept the door open a tiny bit because I—well, I wanted to see some of these grand folks for myself.”

  Fiona grinned. “I’d have done the same thing.”

  “And who came through the door but three guards in palace livery, and this young woman dressed in so much velvet and gold that I thought she could not be real. The guards said nothing, but the woman minced over to Isadora and said in this very haughty voice, ‘My lady is wishful of a few moments of your time, if you could see her now.’ And I didn’t know who ‘my lady’ was, but Isadora did, for I could see her hands trembling a little. ‘Yes, yes, I will see the princess any time she likes,’ Isadora said. And I thought, ‘The princess!’ And the next moment Lirabel came through the door.”

  “What did she look like?”

  “Well, her face was very heavily veiled at first. ‘Go, all of you,’ she said, and her lady-in-waiting protested, but eventually the lot of them cleared out and closed the door behind them. Isadora seemed a little nervous, but not as nervous as I would have been, and she offered the princess some tea and asked if she wanted to sit down, and pretty soon they were both sitting at Isadora’s little table. And the princess pulled her veil back to drink but I didn’t get a very good look at her face. I didn’t think she looked that much like the king—her mouth was the same, and her coloring, but her face was rounder. And sweeter, if you know what I mean. Her eyes seemed very serious, like she spent all her time thinking.”

  “And why had she come to see Isadora? I suppose she had a dream to ask about. How strange, that a princess could not just command everything her heart might desire.”

  “Which is exactly what I thought! Until she began talking, that is. At first she didn’t say anything, just sat there drinking her tea and looking grave. And then she looked up at Isadora and said, ‘All I want is for my father to accept me as his heir. All I want is for my father to look at me and realize I am his daughter, the legitimate child of his body, the one who will rule after him. Why am I not good enough for him? Is it because I am a woman or because I am me? Long ago I stopped wanting him to love me. Now I just want him to publicly acknowledge that I will inherit his throne. Can you make this happen?’”

  “Oh, poor Isadora,” Fiona murmured.

  “I know! Because what happens if you don’t grant the wishes of royalty? Do they have your head cut off?”

  “What did Isadora say?”

  “She was very good. She was very calm. She said, ‘Princess, the magic that is in me chooses what it will perform. Sometimes it grants the wishes of beggars in the street; sometimes it involves itself with the dreams of the gentry. I cannot predict it and I cannot control it. I would grant this wish for you if I could. But I can guarantee nothing.’

  “And the princess pulled her veil back on and stood up. ‘Then no one can help me,’ she said. She was out the door almost before Isadora had had time to scramble to her feet. I saw her lady-in-waiting come over and take her hand, and then the door shut, and I heard their footsteps on the stairs.”

  “Did you come out and have more t
ea with Isadora?”

  “Tea! She had collapsed in her chair and we both felt faint. I poured us each a glass of brandy. It was the middle of the day, mind you, but we didn’t care. ‘I think it’s time for me to be leaving Wodenderry soon,’ Isadora finally said. ‘I don’t think I can endure too many more interviews like that one.’”

  Fiona rested her chin on her fist. “I do feel sorry for the princess, though,” she said. “Can you imagine? To have lived the way she has for—how old is she now, twenty-eight? To have lived all that time waiting for your fate to be decided. Will I be queen someday? Or will my father keep trying to sire sons who will inherit in my place? And you know all that uncertainty must have affected how everyone at the palace has treated her all these years. Some people would have cultivated her, hoping that she would be named heir and that she would then remember their attentions. Others would have shunned her, not wanting the king to think they showed her any favor. Think how bitter and calculating she must be by now.”

  Reed was staring at her. “Why, Fiona. I didn’t know you had such interest in court politics.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “None, really. I just—I am intrigued by the fate of this one woman. I wonder what it would have been like to be her. I wonder what it would be like to know her. She cannot have very many friends.”

  He laughed. “Then perhaps it is time for you to travel to Wodenderry and see if she needs her own Safe-Keeper! She must have many secrets she would like to share with someone she can trust.”

  She toasted him with her teacup. “Ah, now there is a good thought,” she joked. “I am sure the princess and I would have much in common.”

  They talked for the next hour or so about the other sights Reed had seen in the royal city. He had taken a job with one of Robert’s merchant friends and rented a room over a bookstore in a quiet part of town. In his little free time, he had explored many of the city’s streets and alleys. Fiona listened with interest to his descriptions of paupers and lords, shopkeepers and traders, houses and mansions, and taverns and cathedrals.