“A little help would be nice,” she said to her companion as she grabbed another goat by the scruff of the neck.
Sven-August grabbed two of the smaller goats, positioning himself so that he, Lena, and the goats they held were between the ones that were still loose and the surviving evergreens. Lena hoped she could get the situation under control, but then a servant opened the gate behind her, and the goats charged through the opening. It turned out that when a person was holding two determined goats, she went where the goats went.
Judging from the conditions in the back courtyard, the household was in the process of taking down the decorations. It was eight days after the Midwinter Festival, and the most recent snowfall had been pushed to the sides of the streets, even in the back alleys of the district where the highborn and the wealthy lived. After all, deliveries still had to be made. Still, the courtyard was wet and slippery, and goats were generally more sure-footed than humans. It quickly became a battle: goats against humans, with the evergreens as the prize—and there were a lot of evergreens.
The door to the house opened, and then quickly closed behind its owner. Lena looked up at him, unhappily aware that her boots were scuffed and dirty, her habit was wet to her knees, and that she and Sven-August looked . . . Well, it was a good thing his mother wasn’t there to see him. Lady Efanya would not be happy.
The man in front of her was a senior Guildmaster, but at least he didn’t look terribly upset. In fact, as he scanned the courtyard, he looked . . . was that amusement?
“Good day to you, Guildmaster Jurgen,” Lena said politely. “I hope that you had a joyous Midwinter.”
The Guildmaster’s mouth twitched. “I did indeed, thank you.” He didn’t address her by name, which meant he was pretending not to recognize her. Lena was grateful for the feigned oversight, and more than willing to be treated as nothing more than a simple Novice. “And I am willing to share my joy with the beasts of the Temple,” he continued, “but I would prefer to do so in a more restrained fashion.”
“Well,” Lena said. “If each piece of evergreen not currently attached to a goat could be moved out of reach, and sight, and smell if possible . . .”
“Do as she says,” the Guildmaster ordered, and the servants began stuffing the evergreens into a small brick building. It took a while, and more evergreens fell to the goats, but eventually the edibles were gone, and Lena was able to get the animals to listen to what she said and actually obey her. Sven-August chivied them back into the alleyway, while Lena apologized to the Guildmaster and his servants. He still looked amused, but then, he hadn’t been knocked flat by a goat.
“Tell your Prior I will have the rest of the greenery bundled up and brought to the Temple,” he said. “I can be certain that it will be enjoyed there as much as it was here during the festivities.”
“Possibly more,” Lena muttered.
The Guildmaster looked around the courtyard. “All of you go to the kitchens and get some hot ale, and dry clothing if you need it. I don’t want anyone sickening from this.” Suddenly the servants looked much less annoyed.
Lena thanked everyone again, and retreated to the alley. The goats had taken down the rest of the wreaths and garlands on the back wall, but she decided not to worry about that now.
“At least we can tell the Prior that we followed his wishes about tiring the goats out,” Sven-August said cheerfully as they headed back to the Temple. “I’m just glad that didn’t turn into a brawl with the Guildmaster’s servants.”
Lena wondered how Sven-August defined “brawl.” Did it have to include edged weapons to count? At least now the goats were inclined to listen to the goat-walking song she Mindspoke into their heads. Normally that was all they needed to stay with her, but they were extremely fond of evergreens. Lena kept a wary eye on them as they headed back to the Temple.
Sven-August sighed. “I’m tired. It feels as if we walked halfway across Haven.”
Lena shrugged. “We did, but we’re almost home now. I think the goats have more stamina than you do,” she added teasingly. Sven-August was the little brother she had never had.
He contemplated the goats, who were now frolicking ahead of them toward the temple gate—and their main food supply. “I think you’re right.”
The goats entered the temple courtyard, and that was when the screaming started. Lena took off at a dead run, leaving Sven-August to catch up. She could feel the Peace of the God descend on her as she ran through the gate, but it was having no noticeable effect on the richly-dressed couple standing next to the Prior. The woman was screaming, and the man was trying to draw away from the goats, an expression somewhere between disgust and disdain on his face.
There was also a boy, their son, judging from his appearance. Lena guessed he was about fifteen, which would make him slightly younger than she was, and slightly older than Sven-August. His dark hair was untidy—probably because the baby goat he was holding was nibbling at it—but he was kneeling in the courtyard holding the kid in his lap and looking delighted. Fortunately for him, the Prior was strict about keeping the front courtyard clear and dry, so he wasn’t kneeling in either mud or slush.
After one quick glance at him, Lena directed her attention to persuading the goats that the dangling trim on his mother’s dress was not edible, and that there would be food for them in their barn if they went there instead. :Tell Maia I said to feed you,: she told the lead goat. She wished she could tell Maia directly, but even though both of them had Animal Mindspeech, unfortunately it didn’t give them Mindspeech with each other.
The kid scrambled off the boy’s lap and took off with the other goats. The boy looked after them. “Who’s Maia?” he asked, apparently talking to the departing goats.
Lena answered, because she knew the goats weren’t going to. “She’s one of the Novices. She’s lived here for years, and she’s very good with animals.”
“It’s all very well for peasant children to live here,” the woman sniffed. Now that the goats were gone, she had calmed down. “But I’m not at all convinced that this is the right place for our son.”
“What ‘peasant children’?” Sven-August said angrily. “Lena’s highborn. She’d be living in the Palace if she hadn’t persuaded the king to let her live here.”
“Sven-August,” Lena pointed out, “we’re wearing Novice robes, we’re wet, and we smell like goats. Nobody looking at us would have any reason to believe we’re not as common-born as Maia.”
“Anyone who thinks less of Maia because of her birth is an idiot—”
Lena grabbed him by a scrawny wrist. Good thing he hasn’t hit a growth spurt yet. “Let’s go help Maia with the goats,” she said dragging him after her.
• • •
They were still with the goats when the Prior found them. “I’m sorry,” Lena said before he could open his mouth. “We were in the wrong place at the wrong time, weren’t we?”
“It wasn’t your fault,” the Prior assured her. “They arrived much earlier than I expected them.”
“Oh.” Sven-August looked dismayed. “That’s why you wanted the goats tired and out of sight. Are they important?” he added in a small voice.
“All of us are important in the god’s sight,” the Prior said firmly, “and we don’t know yet how this will play out.”
“We want the boy, though, don’t we?” Lena asked. “We can always use another person with Animal Mindspeech.”
The Prior looked at her with interest. “I thought he might have it, but I wasn’t sure. Are you?”
Lena nodded. “He asked who Maia was before anyone said her name out loud. I told the goats to have Maia feed them, and the kid scrambled out of his lap, thinking :Maia! Food!: just before he asked who Maia was—and then the conversation went rapidly downhill.”
“It certainly did,” the Prior said with a sigh. “Sven-August, while your defense of Lena
and Maia was admirable in its way, you might want to wait a bit before you speak next time.” He waited for the young man to nod before continuing. “All right, we are going to try something else. Lena, have you seen much of that family at court?”
Sven-August’s gulp was audible. “They’re highborn?” he asked.
“I think they’re minor nobility.” Lena tried to reassure him. “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen them, but we’ve never been formally introduced.”
The Prior nodded. “Sven-August, why don’t you go wash up for supper? You’ll be eating with the Brothers, as usual.”
He waited until the boy had left before turning to Lena. “I want both you and Maia to dress as if you were dining at court and come to my parlor. You can be formally introduced to Lord and Lady Melander, and we can decide if we would do better to assure them that their son is not crazy, or to let them continue to think that he is.”
“Why do they think he’s crazy?”
“Because he talks to animals.”
“I talk to animals.”
“You don’t do it openly, where people who don’t understand Animal Mindspeech can hear you. Go and get ready, please. Tell Maia that she’s your chaperone, and both of you should keep quiet as much as possible and follow my lead—as soon as I decide what that will be.”
“Yes, Father.” Lena hurried off to find Maia and their good clothes. Maia still had the black dress she’d worn to court when Lena had first met her; she almost never wore it, so it was still in perfectly good shape, and the style was a simple one that didn’t become dated. Lena wasn’t certain what she had that she could wear, but if the Prior wanted her to do this, she’d find something.
• • •
With help from Maia, Lena managed to find a dress suitable for dinner at court and totally unsuitable to wear any place in the Temple other than the Prior’s rooms. Well, it wouldn’t actually be ruined in the chapel, which was where both girls changed normal shoes for “proper” slippers, which were useless for anything except a clean, indoor environment. Fortunately there was a short hallway leading from the chapel to the Prior’s office.
The Prior seated them in his parlor as if he were making the setting for a play—which Lena suspected he actually was—with her in a centrally placed comfortable armchair and Maia in a straight chair placed at Lena’s right shoulder.
“Father Prior,” Lena said, “I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier about our encounter with Guildmaster Jurgen while we were out.”
“Do I want to know?” the Prior asked warily.
“The Guildmaster said to tell you that he’s sending his remaining evergreens here so that the goats can enjoy them as much as everyone enjoyed them at his house during the Midwinter parties.”
“Remaining evergreens?” the Prior said. “I don’t believe I need any more details, thank you. Now,” he continued, “when our guests arrive, do not stand up. Remember that you outrank them.”
“Lena may,” Maia protested, “but I don’t.”
“They won’t pay any attention to you,” Lena and the Prior said in unison.
“You’re sort of the human equivalent to a guard dog for me,” Lena added. “That’s basically what a chaperone is.”
“I’d be insulted if I didn’t know how much you like dogs,” Maia shot back.
The Prior sighed. “Don’t be insulted by anything that happens, Maia. We know enough to value you. They’re just ignorant highborn, with very little idea of reality.”
• • •
“Lady Magdalena,” the Prior said with a respectful nod as he escorted his guests into his parlor. “I don’t believe that proper introductions were made earlier. May I present Lord and Lady Melander and their son Arvid?”
As Lena inclined her head in acknowledgement, he continued. “Lord and Lady Melander, I don’t believe you’ve met the Lady Magdalena Lindholm.” He ignored their shocked gasps.
I was right, Lena thought. They saw Novice robes and a trip of goats and thought, “she can’t possibly be anyone important.”
Conversation during the meal was subdued, and Arvid was as silent as Maia. Probably thinks anyone who outranks his parents is scary, Lena thought ruefully. Unfortunately, just as the meal was ending, he spoke, although presumably not to anyone at the table.
“There are lots of mice at our house,” he said helpfully.
Lena listened just in time to hear the thanks of a barn owl as it took off into the night. Apparently Arvid had included directions. She looked at her lap and bit her lower lip to keep from laughing.
“Arvid!” Lady Melander was both furious and mortified. “I can’t imagine why he says these things,” she said to the rest of them. “I assure you that we do not have mice!”
Her husband may believe that, Lena thought, but nobody else at this table does.
“But the owls are hungry!” Arvid protested. “And—”
“Maia,” the Prior interrupted him. “Please take Arvid to the chapel. He can compose himself there.”
Maia rose silently to her feet. Arvid, after a glance at his parents’ red faces, quickly followed her out of the room.
“Please don’t be embarrassed,” Lena said into the ensuing silence. “I lived in my parents’ house as a child, and there are always mice—at least in the outbuildings—no matter how good your staff is.” She decided this was not the time to explain just how small a space a mouse could fit through. “He didn’t actually say that there were mice indoors, and an owl would only be interested in the ones outdoors anyway.”
“He just—says things like that,” Lady Melander winced. “And during dinner . . . Prior, I am so—”
“Don’t worry about it,” the Prior said cheerfully. “Conversations at mealtimes here tend to be much more earthy, especially when we don’t have highborn guests.”
Lena smiled. “He’s young,” she pointed out, “and he’s a boy. We’re used to that here—remember the boy this morning who came in with me and the trip of goats?”
Lord Melander looked puzzled. “Trip of goats?”
The Prior chuckled. “It’s a game here: trying to find the most outlandish collective names for animals. We acquired a storytelling of crows with Maia, Lena had a charm of finches when she first came here, and she brought a leash of greyhounds back from one of her annual visits to her late parents’ friends, Sven-August came with a bellowing of bullfinches . . .”
“At least I didn’t bring home the wake of vultures from my last visit,” Lena pointed out, “and the Temple already had the goats.” She smiled at Lord Melander. “I think they’re called a trip of goats because they tend to crowd you until you trip over at least one of them.”
Lady Melander looked consideringly at the Prior. “So you feel confident that you could deal with our son’s . . . peculiarities . . . here?”
The Prior smiled benignly. “I assure you, we have coped with worse. Would you like us to foster him here? We have several youngsters his age, so we have regular schooling for them—in fact, they get the same education as the children of the highborn who live at the Palace.”
“I don’t know,” Lord Melander said doubtfully. “He is my heir . . .”
“And he’ll still be your heir,” Lena reassured him. “I’m still my parents’ heir and the King’s ward, and Sven-August is the only child in his family as well. It’s nice to have each other for company, and I promise you”—she smiled at him—“that our lessons do include civilized conduct, as well as how to behave at court. It’s not at all uncommon for a child to be fostered; that’s how we learn about people outside our families. That’s very useful for anyone who is going to be spending time at court.”
“You can tell people he likes animals or not, as you choose,” the Prior said, “and you can say that his being fostered here is an act of charity, a gift of his time and talents to the Temple.”
&nbs
p; Lady Melander looked as if she would be delighted to leave Arvid there when she went home that night. Lord Melander still looked doubtful.
“We’re not prisoners here,” Lena pointed out. “You can visit him here, and he can visit you.” Lady Melander winced, apparently at the thought of having Arvid visit—I guess the bit about the mice really bothered her—but Lord Melander looked as if that was what he needed to make his decision.
“I’ll talk to him,” he said, “and if he agrees, we’ll send him to you in a few days. He can’t be more trouble than your trip of goats.”
• • •
Lena suspected that Lady Melander had done the packing, because Arvid moved into the Temple the next day. He slept most of the time for the first two days he was there. Lena remembered that she had done the same—it was a common reaction for someone coming from a stressful home to a Temple filled with the Peace of the God.
Once he could stay awake, Arvid fit in very well with both the people and the animals. Lena and the goats were his favorites, although Sven-August teased her about being equal to a goat. Lena, of course, was not the kind of person who got upset about being likened to a trip of goats. In fact, as she watched Arvid playing happily with the goats, she thought they had done well to get him. This was clearly where he belonged.
The Ones She Couldn’t Save
Louisa Swann
Riann never imagined playing a simpleton would someday come back to bite her in the backside. Then again, she’d never thought the day would come when she’d need someone to actually listen to her.
Not an easy task when everyone in this Vkandis-forsaken village thought she had as much sense as a headless chicken.
Which was precisely what she’d always wanted them to think. If the villagers of Brinlevale, a remote village in the farthest corner of eastern Karse, believed she was simple, that she didn’t know much more than a six-year-old child in spite of the fact she was almost fourteen, they would never suspect she had dreams.
Tempest Page 22
