“I see,” he said again. Another pause, and his next question was rather strange: “Why is it that you have no brothers, my lady?”
“My lord?”
“Ah.” He actually seemed embarrassed. “My lady, I must tell you, there is a rumor at court that … ah, how should I say this? The rumor is that your father’s grief at your mother’s death was so great, it was like a sickness, and because of this sickness, your father is unable to … to father more children.”
This was exactly what Nan had told Tabitha years ago, after her father’s second annulment. “That’s true, my lord. My father loved my mother. He told me that she helped him with many problems. People think that love is a sickness, and that it makes people do things that are not wise. But I think that love is beautiful.” She was proud of this declaration. It sounded both poetic and mature. Surely the Telgards would want a wife for their prince who would love him and be devoted to him, as her mother had loved and been devoted to her father.
“Love is beautiful, my lady,” the ambassador agreed solemnly. “It’s a shame that the whole world does not honor it as you and I do.”
“Yes, my lord, a shame.”
He smiled warmly and said, “My lady, I must compliment you again on your command of our language. Is it true that you have only been receiving instruction for the past few weeks?”
“A little longer, my lord,” she said modestly.
“You are as quick with languages as the magi are. Are you also left-handed?”
“Yes, my lord.” She knew her table manners would not have shown this, since Nan had taught her too well. “My father also is.”
“Are there magi in your family?”
“Not for a long time, my lord. My cousin, on my mother’s side, I heard that she is magi, but that comes from her father’s side of her family.” She had never actually met Isabelle, her mother’s namesake. Years ago, when she had first learned that Isabelle was magi, she had asked her father if she could be fostered in Betaul, but her father had told her no.
“I am curious about why your father does not have a magi healer. Surely a great lord such as he could afford to keep one.”
“My father does not like magi very much, my lord.”
“I gathered that he has no sympathy for the rogues, but you say he does not like magi at all?”
She hesitated, unsure if she should have said this. King Roupert’s son, Prince Motthias, was a magus, and her words could be taken wrong if the ambassador ever revealed them. But what else could she have said? Why else would her father not keep a magi healer on his household staff?
“My lady?” the ambassador prompted.
“My lord, magi have power. Not just magic power. People do what they say. My father said there should be only one …” Authority, what was the Telgard word for authority? “Only one in charge.”
The ambassador frowned in puzzlement. “I am afraid I don’t quite understand, my lady.”
Tabitha abandoned that line of argument. She did not quite understand it herself, and there were other reasons that Nan had told her. “My father said that magi can’t be loyal to a lord when they are already loyal to the sorcerer. His father, my grandfather, was …” Betrayed … “A magus told his secrets. A magus that was a messenger.”
“Truly?” He seemed very surprised. “That’s terrible, my lady. But I must add that I now find your father’s dislike of rogue magi to be odd. Why would he not employ a magus who has specifically rejected the authority of the sorcerers?”
“I do not know, my lord.” There was another reason she could offer. “But I do know that the magi healers did not save my mother when I was born.”
The ambassador shook his head. “That’s truly a shame, my lady. Who, then, sets the little spells on the keep?”
Little spells? She realized that he meant the maintenance charms that many well-to-do people had on their homes to try to prevent pests and deterioration, and to keep clocks and such running. “No one, my lord. My father would rather pay more servants to do that work than a magus.”
The ambassador nodded thoughtfully, but he did not seem to be agreeing with her father’s point of view. Tabitha considered adding the fact that Nan had told her that when she was a baby, she screamed if any magi came near. But she decided against it, since she had questions of her own that she hoped he would answer. “Are there magi in Telgardia’s royal family, my lord?”
“None in living memory. The Carhlaans have never been rich in magic, so it’s good that they are rich in other ways.”
It would not be seemly to act too impressed at the idea of royal riches, so Tabitha just smiled and nodded. The ambassador went on: “But your family is quite another matter. The Betauls have given Thendalia three of its eight sorcerers!”
“Yes, my lord. Sorceress Elinore, Sorcerer Ian, and Sorcerer Donatienn.”
“Conquerors all,” he nodded. “The Betaul sorcerers gained more land for Thendalia than even the Jasinthes did.”
“Yes, my lord.” Did he want the names of the Jasinthes too? “Sorceress Catherine, Sorceress Guendilar, and Sorceress Iseult.”
He smiled a little and made a prompting gesture. “And who is left?”
“Sorcerer Marlon and Sorcerer Natayl, both of the royal house.” When the ambassador smiled, she asked, “My lord, will you tell me of Sorcerer Natayl?” Surely the ambassador knew this legendary man, or had at least met him. “My father says he is stern.”
“My lady, he is a man of—” The ambassador’s next few words were not familiar to her, but he was almost rolling his eyes as he spoke.
“I see, my lord.”
“He can, of course, do wondrous things.”
“Can he truly change into a bird?” Her father had never witnessed it, and of all the things sorcerers were said to do, Tabitha thought this was the most incredible.
“Indeed he can.” He smiled at Tabitha’s wide-eyed reaction. “But you, my lady, you were born just after the Sorcerers’ Star came, is that correct?”
“Yes, my lord. But I have no magic.”
“You sound so certain, my lady. How do you know?”
This was somewhat embarrassing. “When I was young, my friends and I tried to light candles with our minds. It was very …” She did not know the Telgard word for “childish”, so she settled on, “… young.”
“Children dream, my lady. It may be as silly as love, but it’s also beautiful.”
“Yes, my lord.” It was nice that the ambassador had a sentimental side. “I will like having children and talking of their dreams with them.”
“I am sure you will be a wonderful mother, my lady,” he said with a smile. “And, speaking of that, I am sure you are wondering what sort of boy our prince is, and what sort of father he might become.”
Yes! Finally! “I am sure that he is as kind as you are, my lord.”
“You are kind, my lady.” He inclined his head. “Unfortunately, most of my knowledge is secondhand. I only return to Telgardia every few years, and when I was last there, he and his brother were being fostered with their mother’s brother. So it has been nearly a decade since I last saw him.”
Tabitha tried to hide her disappointment. “Yes, my lord.”
“At the time, he was a strong, healthy child, bright and active, and the reports I have received from Chrenste since then indicate the same.”
“Yes, my lord.” Is he handsome? What does he look like? At least she could now tell Beatris that he probably was not … how had she put it? Cross-eyed and too fat to sit a horse.
“And the same can also be said of his younger brother.” The ambassador was watching her carefully now. Tabitha’s father had told her that the Telgards might suggest the alliance be made with the younger prince instead of the older. She did not like that idea, but this was not the time or place, and she was not the person, to talk about it.
“I am glad that the royal family has good health,” she said instead.
Fortunately the ambassador did
not press the subject. “Your father claims that you yourself have never been sick, my lady,” he said. “It seems too good to be true.”
“It’s true, my lord. Sicknesses always pass me.” It meant that she would never be a wan and bedridden wife, and that her children would be strong.
“Remarkable. Again, like the magi. Are you sure you have no magic, my lady?”
“I am sure, my lord.”
“I have heard that the Khenroxan crown prince is a magus.”
The Khenroxans again. Why was he so worried about them? “I am sure that they are proud of him, my lord.”
“Yes.” He briefly glanced across the room to Lord Daniel and Baron Louard, then stood and came around the table to offer his hand to her. “My lady, thank you so much for agreeing to speak with me. I believe I have kept you long enough tonight.”
Relieved that the interrogation was over, and pleased that she had done well, Tabitha quickly took his hand and stood up. She did not wince at the pain her shoes caused her feet. “I enjoyed talking together, my lord.”
“As did I, my lady. I look forward to speaking with you more in the days to come.”
“Yes, my lord.”
He bowed over her hand, then passed it with a nod to Lord Daniel, who had appeared at her side. Then he gave Tabitha a strange smile. “Such a pretty child,” he said in Thendalian. Then he turned and went to the council chamber.
Pretty child? What does that mean? Tabitha stared after him. A moment ago she had been sure that she had impressed him, but now she had no idea. He had said “pretty” like it meant “stupid”. What had she said wrong? Had she mistranslated something?
“My lady,” Lord Daniel prompted, and Tabitha looked at him. He was smiling, as if nothing at all was wrong. Maybe too much like nothing was wrong. “The hour is late. Allow me to escort you to your chambers.”
She yanked her hand away from him. “I know the way.” What had she said wrong? What had she done wrong? She sneaked a look at Baron Louard as she stalked past him toward the door, but his lean face was bland and told her nothing.
Lise opened the door for Tabitha, closed it behind her, and shadowed her down the stairs to the kitchen. Her feet hurt so much, but she was also so hungry. She needed something to settle her stomach before she went to bed, something plain. Brown bread, and maybe a cup of milk. Her steps quickened down the stairs, and Lise hurried to keep up.
She heard laughter from the kitchen before she got there, and she turned the corner to see the heavy door propped open and all her friends gathered around one of Cook’s worktables. In the pool of yellow light from the hanging lamp, Tabitha saw Pamela holding the little dog that the ambassador had given her, and Jenevive feeding something to it. All the open boxes on the worktable were hers, her gifts from the ambassador, but her friends were eating the cheese and sausages from them, and fat old Cook was just standing there smiling at it all.
“What are you doing?” Tabitha cried. “Where is Sister Tilde?”
The dog yipped, and all the girls turned wide, stupid eyes at her. Marjorie, who had been reaching for one of the boxes, yanked her hand back.
“Giving Brownie a snack,” Pamela said in a small voice, clutching the dog close.
“Brownie? You named my dog Brownie? Who said you could name my dog? Who said you could feed him? Who said you could eat all my food? Cook! Why are these boxes open?”
Cook immediately bowed her grey head and dipped a quick curtsey, wringing her hands in her apron. “So sorry, m’lady, very sorry. The young ladies didn’t think you’d mind. I didn’t either, m’lady, since I know very well that you don’t care much for cheese or sausage. Most everything else is still packed up in the special pantry. I swear, m’lady. Please don’t be angry.”
“Pack up the rest of this right now!” As Cook started pulling the boxes and lids across the worktable, Tabitha glared at her friends. “I suppose the seamstresses are already making you gowns from the fabric he gave me too!”
“Oh, calm down,” Beatris snapped. “Cook is right, you hate cheese and you have never even tried a sausage. You were not going to eat any of it.”
“The ambassador gave those gifts to me,” Tabitha said icily.
“I told you,” Jenevive mumbled, her cheeks redder than usual.
“The gifts were for the household,” Beatris said, “not just for you. At least the food was. Have you ever heard of sharing?”
“Have you ever heard of asking?” She could not believe their nerve!
“Stop, stop,” Pamela cut in before Beatris could retort. “It was my idea, Tabitha. I am sorry, very sorry. Honestly. And we did not touch the candy, not any of it.” She came around the worktable and held out the whining puppy. “Here. I just had to call him something. I know Brownie is a silly name. We will call him whatever you want to call him. Here.”
Tabitha was not about to let the dog ruin her clothes. “Take him back upstairs. All of you go back upstairs. Lise! Make sure the ambassador’s other gifts are all in my bedchamber and that no one has touched them.”
“Yes, m’lady.”
The girls filed past her, only Beatris defiantly meeting her eyes. When they were gone, Tabitha realized that her fists were clenched so hard her fingernails were biting into her palms.
Why were people so horrible? Her father laughing at her, the ambassador testing her, her friends taking her gifts, the servants too stupid to stop them. Her gown was stiff and itchy and her shoes hurt her feet. All she wanted was to sit down, eat something, and recover from the evening’s trial. She just wanted a little peace and quiet, to figure out what had gone wrong. Was that so much to ask?
One of Cook’s helpers, a little boy too dirty to be working in any kitchen, got Tabitha a slice of bread and a pat of butter. When Cook returned from repacking Tabitha’s boxes, Tabitha had her go back and find the little bag of sugared almonds. They were too sweet for her liking, but she ate every single one anyway.
Summer was gone now, but it had never really come. Outside the wide reading room windows, it was the latest and coldest of a parade of wet days that constituted the longest, most anxious, altogether worst months of Tabitha’s life. She had been inside all day every day, and she was starved for the sun. They had not gone on a single outing to any of the little lakes, not even any picnics on the lawns. No diversions at all. Very soon, the calendar would agree with the weather, and it would be autumn, and the year would rot away like the wheat in the fields.
She bent her head over her book again so that the other girls would not notice what she had been doing. Ever since Beatris’s snide comment about how much Tabitha suddenly seemed to enjoy the view of the harbor, Pamela and Jenevive could not hold back giggles when they saw her looking out a window. Only Marjorie never laughed at her, but her silent sympathy was annoying too.
No. I should not think that way. She was very grateful that Marjorie had been allowed to stay when Baron Louard had gone back home, even over the baron’s protests that he would miss her too much. Marjorie was a true friend, not an imposed one, and Tabitha would keep her here as long as she could.
Mistress Evonne rose from her seat at the head of the table, and all the girls looked up, but she shook her big head and gestured that they should keep to their books. She read Tabitha’s paper as she paced heavily across the room, which she often did to relieve the constant pain in her leg. It seemed strange to Tabitha that walking around could ease leg pain. She had asked Beatris about it, since Beatris had started studying with the healers this summer, but Beatris’s explanation of Mistress Evonne’s condition had not made any more sense than most of her explanations did.
She is smarter than I am. Tabitha knew that, she had always known that, but it bothered her more now than it once had. The ambassador had called her a “pretty child”.
There was a knock at the reading room door, and Mistress Evonne opened it. “Oh, good morning, Aime.”
“Good morning, mistress. Is Lady Tabitha available?”
&nbs
p; “Of course.”
Aime stepped inside and curtseyed. “M’lady, your father the duke requires your presence in the great hall.”
The new governess. She was supposed to arrive any day now, and end the succession of holy sisters who had been playing the part. Apparently the day had come. That was the only thing it could be, the only thing important enough for her father to interrupt her lessons and his morning courts. Of course it was not any news from Telgardia. Tabitha closed her book and left the reading room without a backward glance at the others.
The guardsman led the way with his dog. Like all her father’s guard dogs, this one was very large and very well trained, and it always ignored her, just like she wanted. She wished she had done what she had intended to do in the first place and given her new puppy to the kennel masters to train. But all her friends had pleaded with her to keep Brownie upstairs with them, and because she had felt bad about yelling at them, she had agreed. But the puppy was too small and too stupid to know that she did not want his fur and slobber all over her.
Maybe the new governess was allergic to dogs, and Brownie would have to go to the kennels now. That was worth a hope. But Tabitha would probably have to bring the puppy with her when she went to Telgardia. She would have to coo at him and give him treats and pretend to adore him. But, as she had told herself many times before, I can do it if I can become a princess.
Princess Tabitha. Tabitha de Betaul de Carhlaan. It always sounded so nice in her head. Except the Telgard appellation for noble ladies was “ven”, so it might be Tabitha de Betaul ven Carhlaan. That did not sound as nice. Telgardian was not as lyrical as Thendalian. But it did not really matter. “Princess Tabitha” sounded good in any language.
The castle’s inner bailey was more crowded than usual, full of peasants, priests, and merchants. It was as if the Earthsday morning courts had already finished, and when she followed Aime and the guardsman into the torch-lit great hall, she found it nearly empty. Only her father, sealing documents, and one scribe, setting the documents into stacks, still sat at the center of the long table at the hall’s far end. Behind his chair, his two new favorite dogs were gnawing and tugging on bones together. Courts obviously were finished, but why so early? Had her father cleared the hall just to talk to her? There was obviously no new governess here.
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