At any rate, Elissa was always keenly aware of her place…not that Auren ever let her forget it. I doubted it was malice on Auren’s part that led her to adopt such an arch tone whenever she addressed the other girl. After all, Auren had been raised to be waited on by slaves her entire life, and I supposed she knew no better. And Elissa, who had the sort of nature that always sought to please and not resist, meekly accepted whatever unreasonable demands Auren might make of her.
I, on the other hand, held a much more ambiguous place in the household. True, I was counted among the slaves, but I was free to make my way about the estate, always looking for those who might need my assistance and care. Very seldom was I asked to take on any duties other than those I would have had if I’d come here freely, doing the business of the Order. Indeed, Auren seemed somewhat in awe of me at times. My healing of her leg had cemented her goodwill from the beginning, but my saving of her father had placed me in some exalted category that very few other people occupied. And since Lord Shaine always treated me with respect as well, the other members of the household followed suit. Sometimes I felt more like an honored if captive guest than a true slave.
Knowing how unsure of herself Elissa was, I tempered my smile and replied gently, “Of course it is, Elissa. It is the custom. You should go and enjoy yourself.” I glanced about the hall, spying several young men who worked as household and field slaves clustered in an awkward group down near the fire. “Look, there’s Raifal, and Clem, and—I don’t know the name of the red-headed one. Go on over.”
She gave me a doubtful look, but as she was not one to argue, she did as I bade her and headed off in their direction. Her shyness would be short-lived, I hoped—after all, she worked with many of them every day as she ran errands for Auren and assisted with other duties as necessary.
I watched as Clem gave her a winning grin, followed by a rather doubtful but no less friendly smile from Raifal. The poor boy had been long in his recovery from Dorus’ depredations. No one spoke of what had befallen him, but in a household such as this, secrets were difficult to keep for very long. Everyone afforded the boy such extra care as they could manage, even as Raifal remained silent and withdrawn. I could only hope with time he would come to understand that not everyone was a predator.
Master Breen, the falconer, greeted me with a smile and a welcome goblet of warm spiced wine. “You’re looking well this evening, Mistress Merys,” he said. “Happy Midwinter.”
“And to you as well, Master Breen,” I replied, taking the goblet from him, grateful for his open warmth. He occupied a high position in the household, and I knew that our visitors would probably take their cues from him. Perhaps it was silly of me to fret over my reception, but I knew my own place in Lord Shaine’s home was quite irregular, and I had worried beforehand that young Lord Larol’s family and retainers might not see me in quite the same light as those who knew me well.
“And how does this compare to celebrations in your homeland?” he inquired, and again I was thankful for his easy manner. He was a vigorous, stocky man only an inch or so taller than I, with mid-brown hair and brown eyes. Indeed, I always thought of him as being brown all over, since he usually bore a deep tan from his time spent out of doors, and the leather doublet and heavy gloves he wore were invariably brown as well. Even this evening, when he had put on what passed in him for finery, the shade of his garments was a deep brown verging on black—the color of new-turned earth in spring.
“Quite similar,” I replied. “The greens and berries are a little different, of course. But we decorate the hall, and invite the servants to join us—for, as you know, slavery is not practiced in Farendon.”
“Of course,” he echoed, but he did not rise to the bait—not that I had expected him to. His manners were too good for that.
“It’s much the same wherever I’ve gone throughout the northern part of the continent,” I went on. “Although in Purth they have taken up the odd custom of bringing in some sort of evergreen tree—sometimes a fir, or a pine—and then hanging decorations made of painted parchment and tin on it. It tends to create quite a mess, but it does look festive.”
He raised a brown eyebrow. “Interesting. I’m not sure if I’d mention that one to Lady Auren—she’d be sure to want to try it, and then everyone would have more work than they do already.”
Laughing, I replied, “I hadn’t thought of that. I’ll make sure to keep it to myself, then.”
He nodded good-naturedly, the lines around his eyes crinkling a bit as he smiled.
And then his voice— “So are you keeping Merys all to yourself, Breen? I wanted to introduce her to my guests.”
Master Breen bowed. “I wouldn’t presume to keep her from you, my lord.”
I looked up to see Lord Shaine watching the two of us. His face betrayed nothing, but I was afraid I couldn’t say the same for myself. Heat rose in my cheeks even as I said, much more coolly than I felt, “Master Breen has been good enough to make an outsider feel welcome.”
“Outsider?” Lord Shaine echoed. “After you’ve been here an entire two months? Nonsense.”
Not knowing exactly how to reply to that, I merely lifted my shoulders, even as I noted how well Lord Shaine looked this evening. He had discarded the plain linen garments he usually wore in favor of a black wool doublet embroidered in warm shades of bronze and olive and taupe, and his shoulder-length hair had been pulled back into a neat club at the base of his neck.
Then I found my voice enough to say, “Outsider compared to those who have been here all their lives, my lord.”
“True enough.” His gaze shifted to Master Breen, and he went on, “If I may steal Merys away?”
“Of course, my lord.”
I gave Master Breen a brief curtsey and followed Lord Shaine across the hall to the spot where Lord Larol and his family stood. As we crossed the floor, I could feel the eyes of the company upon us. Perhaps they wondered why Lord Shaine would show such honor to one of his slaves. For myself, I merely lifted my chin a little higher, determined not to reveal any discomfort or unease in being so singled out.
We stopped in front of the family group. I could see where young Lord Larol had gotten his close-set eyes and slightly pinched nose, as they were echoed in his mother’s face. But at least his features were redeemed by the pleasant expression he wore. I could not say the same of her.
Lord Shaine seemed to disregard her stare of disapproval as he said, “My lords, my ladies—this is Mistress Merys, who healed Auren’s leg and treated my own knife wound.”
I swept a deep curtsey; my early training had not yet deserted me. Possibly not expecting a gesture of respect worthy of court, Lady Yvaine lifted her eyebrows.
Lord Marten at least looked somewhat impressed. “Mistress—Merys, is it? I see you have done much for which we have cause to be grateful.”
“Oh, yes,” agreed Larol, who took Auren’s hand once more and gave it a small squeeze. She flashed a quick smile up at him, her cheeks coloring a bit.
“I’m only glad that I was able to assist them, my lord,” I replied, my tones so demure that I saw a look of amusement flit across Lord Shaine’s face before he schooled his features once more into impassivity.
“Merys, as you can see, is quite modest,” he offered. “But we were very lucky to have one with her training amongst us.”
“What kind of training?” Larol’s younger sister Alcia put in, looking briefly surprised at her own audacity in asking such a question.
“I’m a member of the Order of the Golden Palm,” I replied. “In my homeland of Farendon, it’s a place which trains people in the medical arts and then has them travel the country, always helping those in need. Some prefer not to travel, and stay in the main Order house in Lystare, performing research and serving as instructors. It was while conducting such research that one of our members discovered an inoculation against smallpox, not ten years ago.”
“An in—a what?” Auren asked, clearly surprised.
“You get a shot in your arm,” I explained. “I could show you the mark, but I have too many sleeves in the way.” Both Lord Shaine and Lord Marten chuckled, although Lady Yvaine still looked displeased. “At any rate, once you’ve had an inoculation, you don’t have to worry about getting smallpox.”
“Impressive,” Lord Shaine said. “Could you do that for the people on the estate?”
“Not at this time, unfortunately. I was not carrying the vaccine with me when I was taken, and only those back in Lystare who are skilled in such matters are able to produce more.”
“A pity,” he said, then shook his head. “It is this sort of thing which frustrates me. That such learning exists, and yet we here in Seldd are unable to take part in it.”
A few pithy comments on his country’s isolationism and barbaric dependence on slavery rose to my lips, but I knew better than to utter them. Lord Shaine, I felt, was a man better than the country which had raised him, and it was only natural that he should strain against the limitations it placed on him and those he cared for.
Instead, I only gave a philosophical shrug and said, “Perhaps one day—”
Alcia’s eyes were shining. Perhaps this was the first time she had ever encountered a woman who had an identity apart from mother, sister, wife...or slave. I obviously fascinated her, for she asked, “Does it hurt? The inoc—inoculation?” She struggled with the unfamiliar word and then looked quite pleased with herself for finally getting it out.
“A bit, yes,” I admitted. “And it does leave a small scar—but nothing like what getting the actual pox could do.” Despite myself, I gave a small shiver. I had seen villages ravaged by the pox in Purth and the remoter areas of Farendon. Although the Order had done its best to make sure the vaccine got out to everyone, in some cases places were simply too remote—or superstitious fear kept others from receiving the healing gift. And when it came, the pox left scarring, injury, and death in its wake.
“It seems you have quite the treasure here, Lord Shaine,” said Lady Yvaine, although her sour tone belied the implied praise of her words. “I can see now why Lord Arnad wanted her so badly.”
Once more my cheeks flamed with color, and I had to clench my hands within the heavy velvet of my skirts to prevent myself from throwing a retort back at her. I knew her words had been calculated to wound. For whatever reason, she had decided I was an enemy...or a threat.
Lord Marten had the good grace to shoot a look of annoyance at his wife, while their daughter’s eyes opened even wider, and poor Larol suddenly seemed very interested in the toes of his boots. Auren’s dark brows drew together, but Lord Shaine forestalled the outburst by saying, with far more equanimity than I could have mustered,
“Indeed, Lady Yvaine. I believe the gods smiled the day she was brought to us.”
Fairly caught, it was all Lady Yvaine could do to muster a sickly smile. I could tell she wanted to lash back out at Lord Shaine, but causing a scene with her son’s future father-in-law—at a Midwinter gathering, no less—would doubtless cause a rift that might take years to heal.
“In fact,” he went on, blue eyes pensive, as if he had no idea how irritated Lady Yvaine actually was, “I have often thought that perhaps it would be best to free her.”
That comment made me turn abruptly to look up at him. He seemed serious, as far as I could tell. Surely he wouldn’t play such a cruel joke upon me. But why on earth would he make such a statement in front of Lord Marten and Lady Yvaine?
The woman’s gaze slid toward me for a moment, as if she wanted to gauge my reaction to Lord Shaine’s words before replying. “I don’t see how it would be in your best interests to free someone who has proven herself so valuable,” she retorted.
“Of course, it would not,” he replied, imperturbable. “But it would certainly be in her best interests, would it not?” And with that parting shot he offered me his arm, and I could do nothing but take it and follow after him as he led me away from the spiteful Lady Yvaine and the rest of the startled and bemused little group.
A moment passed before I was able to find my voice. Only after he paused with me near the hearth did I manage to say, “Did you really mean that?”
“I did.” He took a sip of his own wine, but I noticed he watched me closely even as he did so.
“But—but why?” I faltered. Of all the things I had expected to come to pass this evening, being offered a chance at freedom surely was the last.
“Because the value of my daughter’s life—and my own, I suppose—is far greater than the trifling amount I paid for you. Because the more I thought on it, the more wrong it seemed. And because—” He paused, and his eyes were unreadable. “Because you wish it.”
That I had, for so long it seemed there had never been a day when I didn’t think on how I could achieve that goal. Lately, though, ambivalence had begun to creep in. I hated being chattel, of course, hated the thought that I could not have any say in the decisions which would affect my life. But suddenly it had become very difficult to envision a life that did not include staying on at Lord Shaine’s estate. Staying close to him, even though I hated to admit it, even to myself.
I hoped the blazing fire could excuse the flush I felt in my cheeks. I, who had never lacked for words, who always had been ready with an easy answer or calming words for my patients even in the worst times of crisis, could suddenly think of nothing to say. Instead of facing him, I looked out into the crowd and watched as a laughing Auren took Larol by the hand and led him to the dance set that had begun to form in the center of the hall. The group of musicians, who were situated off to one side just past the hearth, launched into a lively tune, and soon the floor was filled as more came to join them in this, the central part of the festivities.
Lord Shaine’s sharp eyes missed very little—if anything—but he remained silent as I stood there for a long moment, searching for the words that had abandoned me. But when the silence grew too awful, he said gently, “Of course, even if I freed you this night—which I have a mind to do—it would not be safe for you to leave until the spring thaw. I could only ask you to stay as an honored guest until then.”
A flood of relief washed over me. It was not necessary, then, to utter words that might shame me, or at the very least make things horribly awkward between us. I could reclaim myself, and still have time to understand where things might go next. I still had no true idea whether his solicitousness grew from a general respect for me, or from a more personal regard.
“My deepest thanks, my lord,” I said. “That sounds so inadequate, doesn’t it?” And I managed a shaky laugh.
“I understand,” he said, smiling a bit. “But now, if you would oblige me?” And he offered me his hand.
For a moment I just stared at him blankly, and then I realized he wanted me to enter the dance with him. Even though my heart pounded and my mouth felt suddenly dry, I knew I could not refuse. So I laid my hand in his and allowed him to lead me out to join the rest of the revelers.
From there the evening seemed to pass in a blur. We danced, not just that once, but several times, to the point where Master Breen good-naturedly chided Lord Shaine about keeping me all to himself. After that I took a turn with Breen, and with Ourrel, and even with young Raifal, who proved himself to be light of foot but unable to meet my eyes. Later on I saw him talking with Elissa and was heartened to think that perhaps his diffidence was confined only to my presence. I knew the dreadful secret he carried, but of course I hadn’t spoken of it to anyone else. Very likely other members of the household knew, but I was the only one to whom he had made a direct confession, and perhaps he could pretend to himself that I was the only one who possessed the whole truth of what had happened between him and Dorus.
Everywhere was light and merriment and music, the faces of people who had put aside their cares at least for this one night. And my heart felt lighter than any of theirs, for Lord Shaine had told me that I was to be free.
At length I paused to catch my breath after
a particularly romping piece known as “Gray Mare.” I was dizzy enough already, so I decided to satisfy my thirst with a drink of well water and not more spiced wine. As I stood by the refreshment table, fanning myself with one hand and taking frequent sips from my goblet with the other, Lord Shaine approached me again. We had passed one another in the last dance set, and he seemed to be just as exhausted by it as I. Along the edge of his forehead his hair clung damply to his brow, and I could see the shine of sweat on his skin.
“Was I imagining things, or did the musicians keep speeding up the tempo of that last one?”
“Not your imagination, my lord,” I replied with a laugh. “Lady Auren’s idea, I’m afraid. Perhaps at fourteen I wouldn’t have had as much difficulty with it, but—”
“It’s even worse at forty,” he said with a grin. “My daughter does seem to delight in setting up mischief. I had hoped that young Larol would have the handling of her, but I’m afraid it’s already apparent who’ll run things in that pairing!”
By his expression I could see he wanted to look rueful but wasn’t succeeding very well. I knew just how proud he was of his pretty, high-spirited daughter.
Then he stepped into the center of the room, goblet held high. “Gentles!” he called out. “The blessings of this house upon all of you. Happy Midwinter!” He lifted his goblet and drank, and everyone followed suit. I began to regret the lack of wine in my goblet, but he certainly hadn’t given me enough warning to get something more appropriate to drink.
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