Wine of the Gods 08: Dark Lady

by Pam Uphoff

  ***

  Liz changed clothes, filled up her wardrobe with ready-mades, and walked down the street to the laundry, toting a large basketful. She been rinsing the diapers in the privvy, as they came off the baby, but a good boiling was in order. And her cottons, and the lady's linens and wools . . . where was she from, that they had no cotton? Liz hadn't been to the public laundry here often. The Baron had a laundry of his own, but the principles were the same. Boil the diapers. Cold wash and hang the wools, gently, then the linens and cottons, with a lot of thumping and rubbing for the heavier cloth. Ironing.

  She sat and chatted, while other people did the work, for the lady's coin.

  Actually she mostly listened, because most of the young women seemed to have spent the morning oogling the troops.

  The officers were most admired. Two captains and six lieutenants. And the prince was most discussed.

  "They say he was badly hurt last year." Titters.

  "They say he caught a spear in the wrong spot and was gelded." One of the more earthy women said.

  "Oooo! Is that why they annulled the engagement to that Princess from Arbolia?"

  "Princess Augusta. Yep, although I figure that was a good thing anyway you look at it."

  "Not if they use that as an excuse to take offense and start a war over it."

  "If they want to start a war, they'll find an excuse, or create one." Liz put in.

  "How true." The lady running the diapers through the mangle nodded. "My man always says they have a war nearly every decade, and they'd be making up their minds which country was next, almost any time now. Of course, he's been saying that for years."

  "Well, gelded or not, I thought he was handsome, and the troops looked very good this morning." The blonde girl was dressed like a ladies maid, and Liz wondered if she ought to have bought a different type of clothes.

  "The Arbolians won't attack, we'd be too expensive a bite to chew. And even if they did, they'd hit the center, try for the capital right away, not bother with us out here in the west." The pretty brunette was slightly powdered with flour. A baker's daughter, or possibly a very young wife.

  A woman minding children of about two and five snickered. "Most likely the first we'd hear about would be a letter to the Mayor about the new address to send the taxes to."

  That brought a round of laughter, and a few more absurd suggestions about how and when they'd hear about the fall of their king. Liz thought of the bright officer this morning, and wondered if the king was much like the son.

  Finally, with everything ironed and folded, she made her way back to the tavern and the rooms at the back. The baby was awake, and the lady was speaking quietly to her. Liz put everything away quietly, and they walked out for an early dinner. The eight officers were eating as well. A working dinner of some sort, as they were tracing things on the table top and listening intently to the prince. The other captain looked a bit put out. She couldn't catch anything but random comments.

  " . . . try again tomorrow, Franklin, maybe you can . . . "

  " . . . shouldn't need to . . . "

  "They have nothing to go on but stupid rumors, the . . . "

  " . . . combine practice with a long sweep to the south next week . . . "

  "So, tell me, Liz, who is in charge of the militia's medical team. I was thinking perhaps I should speak to her?"

  Liz blinked at the lady. "Him. Doctor Easler always heads the emergency staff. Women just do the nursing."

  "Goodness," the lady blinked as if she was surprised. "Well, then perhaps I should speak to him?"

  The serving girl had heard them and shook her head. "He's mean. Best thing is to just show up and get your name on the list, so you get credit for participating. Without any patients to actually nurse, we don't do much of anything."

  "Hmm, how about showing up with a baby?" the lady asked.

  "Oh, you'll get sent right back, M'lady. The doctor doesn't much like hearing a baby crying."

  "Well, it'll still work better than archer or courier." The lady turned to the girl. "Now what was that I smelled baking earlier?"

  "Peach pie, M'lady, last of this years crop. Two pieces?"

  "I going to get fat, even feeding the baby."

  The lady looked over at Liz. "How about tomorrow we take a ride? You can see how Phantom moves."

  Liz could feel herself grinning. "Oh yes. I'd like that very much."

  "Does the tavern have a horse we could rent?"

  "No but there's a livery on Preston street by the north gate." Liz bit her lip. Most of the horses there were past their prime.

  "Good we'll go there and get a spare mount."

  Chapter Four

  Wednesday, February 18th, 3493 AD

  Jeramtown, Arrival

  The big stallion was eager to get out, but behaved like a perfect gentleman while the lady rode him with the baby in her arms.

  At the livery she asked both about horses to rent and to buy, and happily looked over his entire stable. Mr. Preston, third in the line of Prestons to own the stables, was horribly distracted, his head turning constantly to look at Phantom.

  He had some decent horses, although most were past their best working years. Liz petted them and held the baby, and watched the lady. A proper horse trader, that one. In the end she bought a sixteen year old mare for four stud fees, and tack for a fifth. Moxie was a nice old girl, wise and calm. Smart. A damn good horse, actually, even with a touch of arthritis in her hocks. She didn't mind crying babies at all, and Liz finally got to ride Phantom. It was like going to a horseman's paradise. His trot had just enough spring to post if you wanted to. His canter was smooth, his gallop smoother, and a flat out run didn't seem to touch the ground. He jumped everything she asked, fences wood or stone, the creek. She jumped him over a cow just because it was there.

  The lady just laughed, watching on a relaxed Moxie. "Think you can manage courier's duties on him?"

  "Oh my word. He's even better to ride than to look at. Oh my word."

  They wandered back when they got hungry, and Liz sponged the horses down even though even Phantom had barely sweated. They cleaned up and had a late lunch, then strolled out to buy some wine.

  "You never know when you'll need it." The lady bit her lip and eyed Liz. "Is there magic in this world, Liz?"

  "No M'lady, although some people think so. The superstitious ones say the king has magic, and the Arbolians say they have gods. Actual living ones, walking around, not God, who is different. And the Marchessaus, they say they ride the wind, instead of horses."

  "Hmm, so it's not all gone, then."

  Liz eyed her, askance, but however unusual, the lady didn't seem uncanny.

  ***

  December watched the young officers with amusement, that evening. They all kept sneaking looks their way. The other captain finally broke the ice.

  "We noticed that black horse out, today."

  Liz beamed. "Wasn't he spectacular!" She lit up like a witch girl on the Solstice.

  What?

  The girl's reddish brown hair gleamed, even braided and pinned so tightly around her head. "I'd never have thought a horse that size had that much speed in him."

  Her enthusiasm drew all the other officers.

  "I assume you'll be riding courier next week?" Captain Alpha smiled.

  Odd name. It stirred, not direct memories, but something like it the Wolf had said . . . Who? Who is "the Wolf?"

  "Oh yes, I do every year. I grew up on horseback." Liz tossed her head like a horse.

  The enthusiastic young men chatted about their favorite horses, races, long journeys, tall tales about their hardest journeys. Only Quail waking and fussy pulled the group apart, the young officers to their beds for their early rising, and December and Liz back to their rooms to avoid some of the other patrons, who appeared a bit drunk and not at all shy. The soldiers were all in the old rooms above the common room, and the women nearly alone down the new ell. When two patrons egged each other into followin
g, she nudged their sodden brains just a bit and they bumped each other and commenced an argument that lasted until the women's doors were locked behind them. The magic felt funny, numb, or like trying to do delicate needle work wearing thick mittens. Rather like her fingers and toes. She snorted at the thought of frostbit magic. Actually, everything seemed to be getting in without any problem, or even conscious thought. Perhaps she'd better think about how to keep things out. A physical shield was just . . . she held her hand out to the side, formed a small shield, tapped it on the ground. Yes, no problem. A mental shield was twist of mind . . . she flinched back from pain . . .

  I can't save you! I haven't any more to give! Memories of the screams of the injured and dying . . .

  Went away.

  Her head pounded.

  Perhaps an indoor privy was not so bad. She closed herself in the little closet and bathed her face in cold water. Practiced deep breathing, and decided she wasn't going to be sick.

  December finally walked back out. Explored the saddlebags and pulled out a warm robe. Quail woke, so she fed the hungry baby, and burped her and rocked her. Hummed a snatch of song.

  Liz came back in from the privvy, clean and refreshed, with a thin cotton shift swirling around her calves.

  "Apart from your baronet, everyone here seems very nice. Perhaps I should buy a house."

  "Perhaps you should buy a horse farm."

  "Now there's a good thought. Who do you talk to find out about farms that might be for sale? The Exchange, again?"

  "I think the baron owns all the land, every one holds from him."

  "Hmm, no private land owners?"

  "Well, Jeramtown is a Crown Charter Town, so everything inside the walls is different. That's why the baron's home is actually outside the walls. I think he's making a statement of disapproval over the town not being his."

  "Umm. I see. Or at least I can take a good guess. There's always that tendency in some people to want to own and control things. And people."

  Chapter Five

  Thursday, February 19, 3493 AD

  Jeramtown, Arrival

  The next day an invitation from the baroness to dine with them the following day arrived at the tavern. Addressed solely to Lady Quicksilver.

  "I suspect taking a maid along is expected." She frowned at the missive.

  "And arriving in a coach," Liz fretted.

  "Mister Preston had several carriages for rent. Can you drive as well as you ride, Liz?"

  "Well, no, but still very well."

  "And babies and dinner engagements?"

  "Babies don't exist. I could try and find a wet nurse, or take her in the carriage, and feed her with a bap if she wakes. She's spending a lot more time awake, these days."

  "She's getting older. At least we haven't hit the teething stage yet." December frowned at a flash of memory. A fussy baby, a man holding his hands out for him. Tall, brown hair and beard, dark eyes. She looked at the baby, still baby fuzz on her head, the slatey blue of all babies' eyes was darkening but still blue. No telling if she was the child of that barely remembered man.

  "Well, if showing up with a female companion driver is insufficient, they will just have to be shocked." December shrugged the question away. "Which dress?"

  "The black with the embroidered panels." Liz was firm. "And you need some dainty slippers to go with it. Those riding boots won't do."

  ***

  Liz had to admit that she had never owned a pair of shoes like High Born Ladies wore with their dresses. And the shops didn't keep such things on hand, except as examples. A cobbler agreed to stitch up something from some thin black leather, and have it done by evening. The lady seemed glad to escape, but still insisted on stops to look at cosmetics and perfume.

  Liz took Quail away, as the lady wished to be alone for awhile. When she returned, she was scandalized to find the lady sitting cross-legged on the floor, her thin shift rucked up around her thighs.

  "What do you think?" She held out a teardrop shaped crystal pendant on a gold wire, and placed it around her neck. Two smaller pendants were on wires cleverly twisted into spring clamps that would hold them on her ears.

  They were different, but attractive.

  Liz spent the next morning collecting the shoes from the cobbler, and arranging the coach from the livery.

  And finally helping the lady dress.

  December had to practice walking in the shoes, with their elegant high heels. "Hopefully I'll only sprain an ankle, not break my neck. Whoever heard of shoes you could fall off of?"

  Her short curly hair, light brown, almost blonde, was combed severely back from her face, and she rose now to sit at the table with her cosmetics. A little powder, a little pencil on the eye brows, and touch of charcoal around her deep blue eyes, a touch of color to cheeks and lips.

  Liz sighed. December was not classically beautiful, but she was going to catch a lot of attention tonight.

  The coach and four horses was well enough turned out, and the horses not so old that they didn't look good. This was the coach that many young couples hired for their weddings, to pick up honored guests and then for the trip from Church to home or hall. Quail was fed and burped, and bedded down in the coach, and Liz, in the lady's riding suit of fine wool, drove the four chestnuts through the east gate of the Town, and almost immediately tuned into the baron's Gates and pulled to halt under the portico. She set the brake, hopped down, and opened the carriage door to hand down the lady. When she turned, both the captains were there to take over escort duties. The Prince caught her eye and winked. She narrowly avoided winking back, and drove the horses over behind the barn, where she'd seen visitors' carriages waiting so many times before. She set the brake, and the horses settled down to wait patiently. She also wondered how many mares Phantom was going to cover this evening. Preston had been so innocent about suggesting she ride him down when she picked up the coach, and leave him until she returned. The lady had been amused. "Stealing stud services is a long honored tradition where I come from," she'd said, and then gotten that puzzled look again.

  The lady herself was a puzzle. 'Quicksilver' was embroidered on quite a few of the baby's things. But not a single Quail. And there were no words at all in the lady's other embroidered items.

  She'd only known the lady for four days. She could be from anywhere. The faint accent she'd heard the first day had already disappeared. Liz hoped the lady remembered, and hoped that what the lady remembered wasn't so awful that she regretted the memories.

  She kept her eyes open and alert, hoping Roger had no idea she was here, wishing some of her siblings would come round with tea the way she had occasionally.

  And wondering what was going on at dinner.

  ***

  "This Kingdom of the West, I haven't found anyone who has heard of it." Captain Alpha studied the elegant woman beside him.

  "Yes," she frowned uncertainly. "I'm afraid I cannot enlighten you. My memories . . . something happened, people screaming and dying all over. I fled with my daughter, and I am not altogether sure how I got here."

  He could feel her distress, but also her reticence. She remembers more than she says.

  "I quite distinctly recall a Kingdom of the West, but I suppose it could be a kingdom somewhere in the west. The poor horse was coated with dried salt from sweating, exhausted. We found a stream, and rested, and wandered around for a few weeks and finally followed the smell of wood smoke until it led us to your north gate."

  Unfortunately the doctor overheard that, and turned to join the conversation. "My dear lady, clearly you have suffered a traumatic experience. Your weak female mind is unable to deal with it, and has broken under the strain."

  She blinked in astonishment. "Traumatic damage, possibly, yet I wouldn't think it was because of my femaleness."

  "Doctor Easler, may I present Lady December Quicksilver."

  "My dear, what a pleasure to meet you. And I assure you, the female mind is a feeble and easily damaged organ. Education
for women should be banned, much too great a danger."

  Kurt could feel her combined astonishment, contempt, and puzzlement.

  She frowned at the man. "We shall always disagree on the matter, sir, so why don't we dismiss the subject. Tell me about education in general, here. Where did you go to become a doctor?"

  "Well, my Dark and Mysterious Lady, I traveled to The University in Lundun. It is a grand and inspiring place, although you would no doubt find it overwhelming."

  "Which country is it in?" She was amused, but under it, thinking about something else.

  "Arbolia, my dear a huge empire to the south of us, that some people think will eventually engulf the World."

  "Arbolia? Is that were they think they have living gods walking the streets?"

  That is something she wants to know about, with a sick twist of apprehension in with the hopefulness.

  The doctor laughed. "They talk about it, but I never saw any person who actually claimed to be a god. Mind you, I heard that in Paree they are very strange, and they say there are hideously ugly mutants with magical powers down in the catacombs."

  The lady thought that over, and wrinkled her nose. "Really?" She turned to look at the other people present.

  Kurt offered her his elbow, "Have you met the baron and Baroness?"

  "No, I have not had that pleasure," she smiled as she walked up to them.

  "Baron Christian Weigh, Baroness Heidi Weigh, may I present Lady December Quicksilver."

  "Lady December, my pleasure." The Baron took her hand, and the baroness gave her a fishy once over.

  "Baron, Baroness, thank you for inviting me tonight," she looked them straight in the eye with the faintest inclination of her head.

  "Ah, and our son, Roger," the baron boomed.

  "Baronet, a pleasure."

  "Still have that slut working for you, I hear." Roger must have started hitting the bottle at lunch, and not stopped since.

  "You misjudge her." She shrugged indifferently.