by D. L. Carter
The warm water appeared to restore her. After a few moments, she blinked and covered her breasts.
“Look away,” she commanded. “Get out. You may bathe when I am done.”
“But, Halidan, you are too weak to be left alone.”
“Then turn your back. I have no wish to indulge you in any way this morning.”
Eioth bowed, an odd maneuver when naked and up to his waist in water, and turned his back.
“You will have to talk to me so I know you are well,” he said as he began bathing himself.
There was silence except for the splash of water while Halidan washed her hair; then she spoke. “Last night. Did you say it or was I dreaming? We saw the High King's crown!”
Eioth chuckled. “I wondered if you would remember. Yes, that is what we saw.”
“But, but I'm sure I have taught in history class that the crown was stolen out of the Synod hall the night the High King died.”
“Not when he died, but when he took ill. My father told me that there was so much confusion in the hall when the High King collapsed that he could well believe that some opportunist seized the crown and simply carried it out of the hall under his clothing. The loss of the crown was not noticed for several days, not until the High King finally succumbed to the plague. Everyone who was known to be in the chamber that day, and a few who were merely suspected of being there, were questioned and searched. My father ranted on and on years later that if he'd been in charge of the search he would have gone through every House in the Empire seeking it.”
“And magical searches were unsuccessful? That is surprising considering the ease with which the spell you did last night found it.”
“I can only assume no one used that spell.” Eioth's hands moved over his chest as he stared thoughtfully into the distance. “This branch of magic is little known and other scrying spells have their weaknesses.”
Halidan ducked beneath the water to rinse herself, wishing as she watched the soap float away that ridding herself of the magic in her skin was as easy. When she emerged she climbed from the pool and since she could not balance without aid, submitted to Eioth's drying her while she clung to the wall for support.
“Why was your father so disturbed by the loss?” she asked, as much to distract herself from the abrasive scrape of the towel over her skin as from the scent of Eioth's clean wet hair as he knelt beside her drying her legs and feet.
“Can you not guess? My father considered himself the logical choice as High King. He believed to the moment of his death that had the crown been found he would have been acclaimed King that very day.”
“You do not think so?” She accepted a robe and wrapped it about her body. At Eioth's request, she found uncontaminated clothing for him to wear, then permitted him to aid her down the corridor to her room where he waited while she dressed.
“Oh, he would have served well enough in the role I suppose. However, as there is not a single member of the Synod who does not half believe they should be High King, they will not vote for another to take what they each see as their rightful place.”
“So, what will you do now you know where the crown is? Will you seek the throne yourself?”
“Me?” Eioth laughed. “I have three enemies in the Synod who would rather see the world end than give me the throne. No. I wanted to know where it was since there is one member of the Synod this year who hinted that he had found the crown. I wanted to be certain that he had not and that I could confidently prove that anything he presented was a forgery. Should he be foolish enough to arrive with a crown I shall point out the true one's hiding place and reveal him as the lying deceiver that he is. Until then, it may stay where it is.”
Halidan grunted and refused to take his arm, preferring instead to rest her hand on the wall as they left Eioth's wing and entered the main house.
“What disturbs your peace, Halidan?”
She cast a glare in his direction. “It is clear enough that last night was a waste of time. You damaged me, hurt me and all for nothing.”
“Not for nothing. I know a way to prevent someone who should never rule from claiming the throne. Since there is no contender who can unite the Synod the crown may stay where it is. It was never stolen, but remains within Synod Hall just as it should.”
Halidan sniffed and continued walking with Eioth at her side. His hand kept reaching for hers offering what support she might need, but she refused him. As they reached the main staircase down to the main hall, Eioth decided his pride would not aid him at this time. He halted, drawing Halidan into an alcove.
“Halidan,” he said in a low voice, hoping that all his sincerity could be seen in his eyes. “I assure you, I am in agony not knowing how to mend things with you. Tell me, what should I do?”
“Suffer,” she shot back.
“I am suffering.”
She leaned against the wall, studying him through narrowed eyes. “Do it harder,” she stepped past him and walked to the top of the stairs.
In the hall below, she saw Tribel emerge through the servants’ door. This time Halidan pushed Eioth back into the alcove.
“Were you speaking the truth yesterday?” she demanded. “Are you going to publicly declare me to be your Lady or is it to be some private agreement between us?”
Eioth's eyebrows rose to his hairline. “You think I would lie to you? By no means, Halidan, I was completely sincere. You will be the Lady of my House, I swear it. There shall be no other.”
“Mortal, though I am?”
“I care not about your mortality. You are my chosen Lady. The matter is settled.”
Halidan glanced over her shoulder and down to where Tribel waited.
“I am too tired to accompany you to Swift Breezes,” she said. “And far too tired to beat you as you well deserve . . .”
“You may do so when you have recovered your strength. I shall even provide the stick.”
Halidan regarded him with deep suspicion. “Why are you being so consolatory?”
Eioth’s face remained solemn. “Dear Halidan, it’s true, you haven’t the strength yet to punish me as I deserve. I will not protest whatever punishment you decree.”
“I may not have known you long, High Lord, but I believe it is not in your nature to be so . . . humble.”
“Not humble, penitent. In this case, Halidan, I am the as-yet unredeemed criminal. I know what I have done. There is no actual law I have broken, yet I am determined. You shall set the punishment and I shall accept it in the hope that one day I might redeem myself in your eyes.”
Halidan regarded him calmly, her arms folded tight across her chest. “And if I do not?”
“I think you shall. I shall hope, at least.”
“And that stick? I may choose the size and weight?”
Eioth suppressed a smile. Instead he caught her hand and lifted it to his lips. “I remember the first time I saw you. You threw money at that wagoner and just the same look was in your eye as now.” He kissed her fingers, again. “I admired it then and admire it more now.”
Halidan snatched her hand away. “You are the strangest man.”
“I admit it. May I ask why the fire of battle is in your eyes?”
She sniffed and folded her arms into her sleeves. “Everyone knows that when a new Lady takes custody of a House all manner of changes take place.” She cast a sidelong glance toward Eioth. “Such changes do not shame the House, since it is only to be expected a new Lady arranges her new home to her own satisfaction. I realize that I am not your wife, but see no reason why I should not be permitted to have this authority.”
It took a moment for Eioth to understand. When it finally dawned, he pressed his hand to his heart, then started to laugh.
“Oh, yes, of course the authority is yours. You have it with my blessings and thanks. Oh, what a perfect solution. An honorable solution to the problem of Tribel. I must try to think of an adequate reward.” He paused seeing a shadow pass across Halidan's face and his laughter
died. “If it were in my power I should remove the spell in an instant, believe me. I would undo last night’s pain . . .”
She waved her hand vaguely in his direction. “Do not imagine my forgiveness will be easily obtained, High Lord, or that I am doing this for you. If I must live in this House, then I do not want to have to search my bed for poisonous spiders or worry about acid in my bathwater. I will deal with Tribel because it must be done.” She stared at the floor for a moment. “I wish it were otherwise. After what was done to my father . . . I don't want to treat anyone as he was.”
“This is not the same. I trust to your compassion and wisdom. Tribel may have whatever monies he needs for his retirement. Be generous as befits your nature,” Eioth bowed. “Do as you wish. I had intended to meet with Mitash this morning. Do you require me to postpone and stay to support you? You are still weak and I would rather you were not harmed.”
“No. Only make the announcement and leave me to it.”
“Very well.” He bowed and held his arm out to her. When she hesitated he gave a shrug. “You must give the appearance of being my devoted Lady. No one shall know of our quarrel. For now, take my arm. Shall your first act as my Lady be demanding Tribel serve you breakfast?”
“No. I do not trust him that far.”
“Then I shall find Cris or one of your other guards and have him accompany me and send him back with food and tea. Do you like sweet or savory pastries?”
“Both,” she said as her stomach growled.
Her hand on his sleeve, they descended the stairs. Tribel started and glared when he saw them. Halidan worried when she saw his skin go grey, but hardened her heart. Tribel's rule comes to an end today. He might remind her of her father on the last day of his life, but her father never poisoned someone's bath soap. Some compassion was due his age, but acceptance of his insanity? No.
“Tribel,” said Eioth. “Summon the House staff to the main hall.”
“The Ceremony of Departure?” For a moment Tribel appeared delighted.
“No. Elements, no! Merely some instructions.” Eioth took Halidan's hand in his.
Tribel's lips tightened at the sight, but he turned and sent a servant running with a flick of his fingers.
The full indoor staff of the House arrived and arranged themselves by rank along the sides of the wall and up the main staircase. Tribel waited in the center of the hall, flanked by male servants whose function Halidan could not discern, although she suspected they would be commanded to carry her from the House the instant the High Lord's back was turned. As weak as she was, she knew she would not provide much resistance. Perhaps she should send for her guard. But, no, if she did she would make herself appear weaker. What manner of woman needed a sword to control a Household?
Eioth escorted Halidan to stand before the crowd.
“This is Halidan tor Ephram. Some of you were here when she arrived. At the time I introduced her as my librarian. Now I wish you to know I have chosen her to be the Lady of my House. You will obey her commands in all things as if they come from my own lips . . .”
“She is mortal!” interrupted Tribel. “Lord Renthi forbade the presence of mortals in his House.”
“Lord Renthi is dead!” said Eioth. “Halidan is my Lady. There will be no other. Know this. Learn this. If I hear of any disrespect being offered to her, I shall respond severely. Halidan, I have duties elsewhere today. Please see to the House as pleases you until I return. I place it all within your hands.”
He kissed the palm of her hand and started toward the door. Tribel shrieked and ran after him reaching out to catch Eioth's sleeve and withdrawing his hand instantly when Eioth stopped and snarled at him. Despite that, Tribel followed on Eioth's heels, his voice raised in shrill complaint.
Halidan fisted her hands and planted them on her hips as she watched him leave. After that display, it was likely the servants would regard their arrangement as a love match or some such nonsense. Humiliating thought though it was that the servants would be speculating about their relationship, Halidan raised her chin and stiffened her spine. Pride was never to be rejected as a source of strength, especially when she had no other. She gathered it and smiled at the ranked servants as Tribel's voice faded out of the House and down onto the forecourt. She did have something she wanted to do. An act that would establish her as the authority in this House at the same time acting as a blow struck against the long dead Renthi!
“I'm going to need the strongest of the servants to come with me right now, and a contingent of the maids – about ten – as well. The rest of you return to your usual duties. I shall speak to you later.” Halidan pointed to those she wanted to accompany her, then walked through the ranks of servants up the stairs heading toward the High Lord's private wing.
When none of the servants moved to follow her, she stopped, turned, and regarded their stunned faces. “Please keep in mind that the High Lord has placed me in authority over the House. Anyone who objects to that fact may gather their personal papers, present them to Mitash, collect their pay, and leave. Today.”
Her heart clenched at that thought. After being dismissed summarily from her last employment, she knew what a shock that could be, but she could not permit this House to continue as it had. The House manager poisoning food? The servants disrespecting and ignoring the High Lord without fear of repercussions? No more. She would be stern if it were required.
There was another shriek from the front of the house followed by a deep roar that everyone gathered recognized as High Lord Eioth's voice.
“Do not judge me by the High Lord,” continued Halidan. “He may make empty threats, but I . . . I will carry them out. Anyone who refuses a legitimate order will find themselves dismissed and I shall see to it that the reason recorded on your papers is that you refused an order given to you directly by the High Lord. Believe me, I do know exactly what that will mean for you and I would much rather that it was not necessary. If you will obey the High Lord, then you may stay. If not . . .” She waited for that to sink into their minds before adding. “Do you imagine it will be easy to obtain employment with that reputation?”
The staff suddenly found the decision easy to make. They turned as one and thundered up the stairs. Halidan trailed slowly along behind them. At the door leading into Eioth's private wing, Halidan dismissed those servants she did not need and led a group made up of the strongest appearing males and ten females down to Eioth's hated bedchamber.
It was obvious that none of the selected servants had ever entered this room. They stared open mouthed at the huge stone sigil suspended above the narrow bed by its fragile seeming chains, the heavy iron candelabra, dark embroidered fabrics, and the rest of the room's intimidating decorations with matching expressions of awe and horror.
“This room,” declared Halidan, “is to be completely emptied. Everything, and I do mean every last item, is to be taken from this room and disposed of.”
“Where?” asked one of the maids.
“I don't care,” began Halidan, then considered perhaps there might be something Eioth might like to keep, although she couldn't imagine what. “Find a storage chamber. Mitash can aid you if some of this must be stored outside the house.”
“Who is this Mitash?” muttered one.
Before Halidan could answer one of the male servants climbed onto the bed and examined the stone sigil.
“We will need help with this,” he said. “It is fully thick and solid stone. Stonemasons, ladders, rope, and tackle. This will not come down easily.”
“Send for them immediately.” Halidan beckoned one of the maids to her. “If we need more strength, I know where we can find it. Run to where the guards are barracked or practicing, whatever they do at this hour. Bring a contingent here.”
The maid nodded and ran off.
“We may as well start with the small items,” said Halidan.
“What do we take?”
“All of it. Rugs, curtains, bed, bedding. All of it must be gone.”
“No,” came a familiar shriek from the doorway.
Tribel had arrived.
“You cannot remove anything from this chamber,” he cried. “Everything was selected and placed here at the command of High Lord Renthi.”
“As High Lord Eioth reminded you just a few moments ago,” said Halidan calmly, “High Lord Renthi is dead. He can no longer be expected to have a valid opinion on the subject of furniture.”
Tribel paled. “How dare you? How dare you speak his name? You should not be under his roof. You should not be fouling the air of this building with your mortality.”
Halidan shrugged. It was cruel, but it had to be said. “It seems to me, him being dead, he has demonstrated more mortality than I.”
The scream that emanated from Tribel sounded like steam escaping from a kettle. He seized a small chair and raised it over his head. The maids shrieked and Halidan backed away, seeking a weapon of her own. She’d left her book brace in Eioth's room that morning with yesterday’s clothing, fool that she was. Before Tribel could strike, four men in the livery of Eioth's guard charged into the room.
“Take her. Take her,” screamed Tribel. “Drown her. Burn her. Get her out of this house.”
“Touch her and regret it,” said a new voice in calm tones.
Halidan was relieved to see Cris and Nittel enter behind the other guards. Cris's hand was already on his sword hilt. Tribel lowered the chair and tried to gather his dignity, which was hard to do with spittle running down the side of his chin.
“She is mortal. By High Lord Renthi's command. No mortals may enter this House.”
“High Lord Renthi is dead,” repeated Halidan. “By High Lord Eioth's command I am the Lady of his House. The current and living High Lord of this demesne has granted permission for me to live under this roof.”
