“That’s right good news,” he said as they settled in. “Means the duke isn’t keeping quiet about the betrothal, and at least the common folk here in the city expect good to come of it. I’ll go out in the morning and get some more boyish clothing for you, and see what else I can hear.”
“Capin, I—” Valia stopped, spreading her hands in a gesture of uncertainty. “You’re spending your own coin to take care of me, and . . .”
“Na, milady,” he replied awkwardly. “’Tis my job to care for you until we know whether you stay here or return to your parents.”
• • •
In the morning, while Capin went off to the shops, Valia returned to the stables to check on Tenna and the gelding. The horses had been well-tended the night before, so she brushed them until their coats gleamed. She wondered what the stable-lads thought: anyone staying here would not have too much coin, but their horses were of far superior quality to any others in the yard.
The grooming session was interrupted by Capin, who rushed into the stable carrying a wrapped bundle. “Mi—Val,” he said, catching himself and shortening her name to something passably masculine, “His Lordship is hiring this morning. If we hurry, we might get there in time.”
“I hadn’t thought we’d look for jobs right away,” Valia replied, pitching her voice low and fighting off a surge of panic. It’s too much, too soon. I don’t know if I can pull this off.
“Better to have something now than to inquire in a few days and only hear, ‘if you’d have come yesterday, I might have had something for you.’ If we need to, we can still leave.” He gestured impatiently, and Valia put the brushes and combs back in their rack on the wall and scurried to their room to change into the not-quite-livery he had found for her.
• • •
“Capin Jensdar and m’cousin, Val Shabony. I’m fully guard-trained, but the lad has only got a bit of sword-and-knife experience. We’re new to town, staying at the Blue Gryphon, and heard His Lordship was hiring.”
The man in charge looked the two of them over, then gestured to a nearby serving-lad.
“Gevin, take Capin to Guardsmaster Rawson.” He tilted his head back to Capin. “The guardsmaster will test your skills and training. If you meet his approval, he’ll offer you what position he thinks is best.
“As for Val,” he continued, “I’ll have the house steward do much the same for him.”
Capin followed the boy out of the servants’ entrance down toward the stables and guardhouse at the other end of the great courtyard, leaving Valia to wait with a handful of young men dressed in similar not-quite-livery. She kept to herself, trying to appear shy rather than nervous, hoping the steward’s interview wouldn’t expose her deception. She and Capin had created a simple history for her that wasn’t too far from the truth—somewhat genteel birth, family fallen on hard times, and an attempt to make a new start—but it would not stand up to intense scrutiny.
As it happened, she needn’t have worried. The house steward asked only the most basic questions, mostly about a footman’s duties. Having seen those duties from the other side of the table, and with her mother’s training in running a household, her answers satisfied, and midday found both of them in the Duke’s employ, with Valia waiting on the duke in person.
Duke Orrin was clearly unused to having a large household, so he was more free with his new staff than most nobles, even conversing with those far beneath him in rank. He took a liking to Valia—Val, as she was now known—and soon had her running errands all over town and reporting straight to him rather than to the house steward. The Duke himself was younger than she had anticipated, and handsome enough to meet the standards of most young ladies of the Fifty, but something about him made Valia uneasy. Not as though he was dangerous, but as though something didn’t match up about him.
It wasn’t until late in the day, when she noticed him standing near her while refilling his wine goblet, that the pieces fell into place. He was standing as close as a young suitor might at a dance or a fête—but to him, she was a young man herself. He’s—oh, what’s the word the Hawkbrothers use, shay’a’chern? Like Seb is—was.
Valia stifled a gasp as the sense of loss flooded over her anew. In the busyness of the day, she’d had no moment to think of Sebasten, to miss him, to mourn him. To keep the tears from springing to her eyes, she forced herself to concentrate on the Duke, handing him his glass without allowing their fingers to touch and stepping away to return the decanter to the sideboard.
If he thinks to play those games with me, I’ve had more experience dealing with flirting men than anyone in Llyrida, she mused. But why is he marrying a woman, then? Does he need to sire an heir himself? Or is it just to keep up appearances, with his lady taking discreet male lovers as well as he?
Thoughts like these kept her mind occupied until his Lordship retired. She was able to maintain a prudent distance without revealing that she knew the duke was trying not to do so, but it was an exhausting dance of subterfuge on top of her other deceptions. She was glad to be released from service for the day, although she had been surprised to find that she mostly enjoyed the activity of employment. Before she left the estate to return to the Blue Gryphon, she had only a moment to speak with Capin in the guard-house. Surrounded by other guardsmen, she dared not say much, just letting him know that the Great House wasn’t ready to fit all of the new staff in the servants’ quarters and she had been given leave to stay at the inn.
• • •
The next day, anticipation hummed in the air throughout the Great House. The steward expected that the ‘fine lady of the Fifty’ would be arriving that day, and there was also a rumor of an unexpected visitor: a Herald-Envoy from Valdemar. It was astonishing to Valia—and to everyone else—that a Herald in peace-time had traveled this far south, all the way through Rethwellan.
Early in the day, as he had the day before, the duke sent Valia to a jeweler not far from the northern gate to enquire if the welcome-gift he had ordered for his to-be-betrothed was completed.
“Lad, the gem merchant isn’t back yet from Kata’shin’a’in, the only spot where he can get those cat’s-eye gems in the color and size his lordship wants. He planned to be back two-three days ago, but with the spring rains as heavy as they’ve been—” the jeweler shrugged, “—small wonder he’s delayed. I’ve offered his lordship smaller stones, or different colors, but he’s refused every time.”
Valia returned the message to the Duke, resuming the careful dance of avoidance until a flurry of activity at the estate’s gatehouse summoned the duke and some of his household to the front receiving porch of the Great House.
The faint, delicate chime of silver bridle-bells drew all eyes to the Herald-Envoy and her Companion, and Valia was hard-pressed not to gape openly, as were so many of the other servitors—and even the handful of other nobles that were hanging about the duke to see what they could. The Companion was unearthly in its—no, his—beauty, glowing in the midday sun. Valia felt the eyes of both the Herald and the Companion drift over the assembled crowd.
Weren’t they supposed to be able to read minds? If so, surely they could tell that she was no boy. Don’t you dare give me away, she “thought” at the two of them. The Herald made no response, but the Companion’s brilliant blue eyes rested on hers for a moment, and she felt her mind spinning at the intensity of his gaze.
:I wouldn’t dream of it.: Astounded, she “heard” the voice inside her head, a rich male tone that sounded both surprised and amused.
“Herald-Envoy Ardra, at your service, Duke Orrin,” the Herald announced, dismounting and dropping a brief bow to the Duke. She straightened and stepped forward as the duke came down the stairs to take her hand.
“Gods, where am I going to put her? The best guest rooms are reserved for the Lady Valia, and we’ve heard no word yet of her approach.” The house steward’s anxious muttering caught Valia’s ears, and she tur
ned to the older man, ignoring the diplomatic exchanges in the courtyard in front of them.
“Give the Lady Herald those rooms anyway. I’d lay odds no lady of the Fifty travels without a retinue so large it takes three times as long to travel any distance. For a day or two, until more rooms are in order, you’ll not be needing them for the Duke’s betrothed.” Especially not as the Duke’s betrothed is already staying at the Blue Gryphon, she added silently. We’ll just ignore the fact that this lady of the Fifty had to be forced into taking any retinue at all.
The house steward cast her a look grateful for the suggestion and hurried back into the house to give the orders while she returned her attention to the duke and the Herald-Envoy, stifling her grief and regret over the fate of those who had accompanied her.
“No, my Lord, I didn’t see signs of a traveling noble as I came down from the north, but Feste and I didn’t keep to the main road. There was a landslide a few days ago, I think, and a portion of the road got washed into the ravine.”
Valia felt the blood drain from her face, a sick dread mingled with grief roiling her stomach. Please don’t mention the carriage, please don’t mention the carriage, please don’t mention the carriage—
The Herald paused, her brown eyes darting over to her Companion’s astonishing blue ones, then continued. “You’ll need to send a land crew out to re-cut the road higher up the slope, maybe build something to shore it up. It’s a good thing that almost no one is traveling the roads this time of year—between the weather and the spring planting, most everyone is staying close to home. Even when we were on the main roads in Rethwellan, Feste and I saw few other travelers.”
Clear relief lit the Duke’s face. “Surely, that must be what delays my to-be-betrothed. I will send men out this afternoon to assess the damage and plan the repairs.”
Polite conversation and compliments duly exchanged, the house steward led the Lady Herald to her guest suite, while her Companion was taken to the open paddock where he could graze or seek shelter under the lean-to roof as he chose. As the Herald-Envoy departed, she sent a subtle inquiring glance in Valia’s direction, which she pretended not to observe. A slight smile quirked the Herald’s lips, and she gave her Companion a look before entering the Great House.
• • •
Later that day, just before shops would close, the duke again sent Valia to the jeweler.
“Look, lad, the gem merchant didn’t come in today!” she snapped. “A quartermark since the last time you were here wouldn’t be enough time for me to set the gems even if he had. Off with you now, and don’t pester me three times tomorrow!” She all but pushed a baffled Valia out of the shop, closing the door in her face. She could count the bolts as the jeweler loudly shot them home behind her.
“I only stopped the one other time, first thing this morning,” she whispered to the solid doorposts, then turned and made her confused way back to the Great House to find the Duke.
• • •
The house steward seemed surprised to see her when she came to him, but he gestured toward the Duke’s inner courtyard garden when she asked where his Lordship might be found.
The courtyard garden was a carefully tended retreat of a few paths circling through trees and shrubs groomed to conceal one path from the next. Now that dusk was falling, the pages had lit torches throughout, casting a soft glow while the night-blooming flowers filled the air with their heady scent and gentle gittern music from the minstrel’s corner teased the ear.
Rounding one corner, Valia spotted the duke in an embrace with a blond young man in dark clothing that seemed vaguely familiar.
Her first thought was relief that she would no longer have to keep up the dance of avoidance, and she backed away, intending to make some noise farther down the path to give the couple a moment to disengage. Before she lost sight of them, though, the pair turned so she could see more of the other’s features, and all thought of discretion vanished.
“Seb!” she shrieked, and the two sprang apart, the young man turning to stare at her, the same stunned disbelief she felt written across his face.
“Lia?” he responded in wonder, then opened his arms and she flung herself into them, sobs of relief shaking her body. Sebasten’s own tears dampened her hair, and he held her as though afraid she would vanish. It was long minutes before the two of them recovered some semblance of coherence and straightened, smiling at each other through misty eyes, hands clasped.
The Duke stood awkwardly nearby, his gaze going from one to the other in confusion. “Val—Lia?” Sudden comprehension dawned. “I think that this is going to be a long night,” he said at last, and gestured to a path that led to a pair of benches beneath a gently drooping willow tree. “I have many questions, and even the answers I see already are . . . complicated.”
The siblings followed him, sharing a single bench while the duke sat opposite them.
“So,” he continued, “you must be my betrothed, the Lady Valia, who somehow survived the landslide your brother told me of.” He tilted his head at Valia, who nodded. “But why did you come in disguise and take employment in my household?”
“The landslide buried the carriage and all the guards but Capin, who was riding with me a little farther up the mountain,” she replied. “Seb and another guard had gone ahead to make sure the road hadn’t been too washed out for the carriage to pass. When the second landslide came, I felt it as though I was falling into it myself, even though we were further away. I believed it meant that Seb and Rall were trapped in the rockfall, and so we came to Llyrida.” Her voice trembled at the memory.
“The second slide happened just in front of us, and we barely escaped being caught up in it. But Rall and I were sure that you had been in the carriage,” Sebasten interrupted, his hand on hers tightening in comfort. “We spent all yesterday and most of today at the ravine, trying to climb down, but it was so steep and unstable we had to give up.”
Valia smiled at him, tears of mingled joy and relief glistening in her eyes, then continued her recounting. “Capin and I didn’t know how—” she paused, choosing her next words carefully, “—safe I would be with only a single guard. So he suggested I disguise myself as a boy. Then we found out that your lordship was expanding your household and decided it was the best way to see things first hand. The rest of my story your Lordship knows.”
“And since you and your brother look almost alike enough to be twins, everyone treated him as your disguised self when he arrived.” The Duke looked over at Sebasten. “Small wonder you were so confused when I told you to pour me a drink the moment you walked in!”
Sebasten nodded. “After Rall and I left the ravine, I came immediately to seek you out to share the terrible news. Rall stayed with our horses, and when I asked at a shop near the gates where the duke might be found, the owner gave me a message to pass on about some jewelry.” He smiled in apology. “Which I of course forgot until this moment—she doesn’t have it finished yet.”
“Oh, that explains why the jeweler was so sharp with me!” Valia exclaimed, then subsided into silence while her brother went on.
“Not knowing what else to do, I found my way to your estate, and the guards and the steward just waved me into this courtyard, and—” Sebasten flushed red. “Well, the rest you know.”
The Duke smiled slightly, looking from one to the other. “Which is how we got to this place. But how do we go forward?”
Sudden inspiration struck Valia. Building up a picture of the Companion in her mind, she “thought” at him, :Feste?:
The voice in her mind was at once startled and appraising. : . . . Ye-es?:
:Can you ask the Lady Herald to come to the inner courtyard garden?: She felt a sense of assent without words, and turned her attention back to her brother and the Duke, who were discussing the landslide and the work needed to restore the road.
“I have an idea, but I don’t
know if the Herald-Envoy will be willing to help,” she finally said, when she heard a subtle scrape of shoes in the gravel on the nearby path.
“I have a suspicion that I am here specifically to help,” the Herald’s voice preceded her as she rounded the corner of the path and smiled at the two startled men.
“I don’t know what you know of the Heralds and their Gifts,” she said, “but one of mine is a strange kind of Foresight that sometimes sends me traveling far out of my way, without knowing why until a problem arises for which I happen to be the solution. And my Feste suggests that this young lady might be the, er, problem this time.”
She sat on the bench beside the Duke, who briefly introduced the siblings and sketched out the facts before them. She turned to Valia. “Although you were intended to do so, I take it that you no longer wish to wed his Lordship?”
The Duke and Sebasten blinked at the Herald’s insight, but Valia nodded. “No one would force me to, but there would be a significant loss of dignity for my family if I did not, and they were looking forward to alliance with his Lordship. We are not directly in line to inherit the wealth of our House, so this is a way to maintain our family’s status.” She looked at the duke and smiled. “It is not that I have taken a dislike to you personally, my Lord, but—” her eyes flicked to her brother, “I would wish for a true pairing.”
The Herald had followed the quick movement of Valia’s eyes, reading the expressions on all three faces, and she nodded in understanding. Then her brow furrowed, and she turned to the Duke. “Were you needing to wed for the purpose of siring an heir, my Lord?”
The Duke sighed and shook his head. “Mostly to secure an inheritance from a distant cousin, who left it to me with the stipulation that I must be wed before I was thirty. Which is two moons from now.”
“What will happen if you do not?”
“The estate in question will be given to the Sisters of Hebra.”
Valia giggled at the Duke’s pained expression, and the Herald gave her a perplexed look. “Hebra is a noted goddess of families in this area,” she explained to the Envoy, “and the Sisters of Hebra often expound upon the many virtues and benefits of the married state and fertility within the married condition. It is a very pointed bequest.”
Pathways Page 4
