“Not strangers,” she said calmly for the girl’s benefit. “A friend of this house for many seasons.” Her smile was quick to reassure as she said to Szori, “The Master is in the kitchens. Run and tell him we have guests tonight — his father’s Southern friend. Then be quick and make up the guest room.” Maryl paused, gently wiping the dust from the young face. “I’m afraid we shall need to spoil your fine work. This one journeys from a different climate and will need extra firewood tonight.”
Szori shrugged, pleased and shy that the woman had noticed her efforts. “The room will be ready, Min.”
“Tell Bowgyn first,” Maryl warned and at her hasty nod, let the girl go.
Thoughtfully Maryl turned to watch them then. Di’nay raised an arm in greeting and Maryl answered with the same. Slowly she went back to the well and drew up the water. This time little was spilled as she pulled the pail onto the stone rim, unhitching the bulky rope handle.
It had been so long that she had come to believe Di’nay would not return. She had understood that the Southerners were rotated regularly and that Di’nay’s tour of duty was soon to end. She should have known better, Maryl rebuked herself. Di’nay had always kept a promise, and on their last meeting one final visit had been pledged. One last safeguard, Maryl remembered guiltily. She had even been pregnant then, and still Di’nay had unquestioningly accepted that she could return if she needed to — no, if she had even merely wished to.
The clatter of wood-soled shoes caught her attention, and she glanced back to watch Szori dash up the stairs. The situation had not been without its difficulties. But she had learned much from Di’nay… much about patience, responsibilities… much about learning. For all her tavern-hardened years, there was so much she had not guessed at, and the mere polishing of her uneducated drawl would never have changed her as Di’nay had.
She moved forward slowly as the two led their horse around the corner of the split rail fencing. Maryl reluctantly admitted that whatever regrets — whatever the doubts, she had shared much… owed much to this — person.
Her mind still refused to be comfortable with Di’nay’s gender, but their odd friendship had made allowances for even that. Many allowances had passed between them, Maryl thought. And as she waited, watching the long, smooth strides devour the distance between them, a very real smile of welcome grew on her lips.
“Min Bowg.” Diana reached for the outstretched hands of her friend and bowed, left foot stretched back, in the most formal, most honorable of greetings.
“As Mistress here,” Maryl spoke just as formally… and sincerely, “I welcome you and yours to this place.”
“We are honored,” Diana tenderly released the soft hands. She had not changed, Diana thought, taking in the full, rounded body made fuller by the child. Seeing her now, Diana rejoiced for her. She was indeed blossoming under this Bowgyn’s attentions; the anticipation of their child was only giving her a humble way to boast of her good fortune. And no one, Diana believed fervently, could have worked harder and been more deserving of receiving a dream’s wish than this woman.
Diana turned to Elana. “This is Ona.” She gallantly suppressed a wince, but few slaves carried a full name. And Elana had staunchly announced that she would rather play that role and dodge the servants’ orders than their curiosity for new gossip.
“Welcome,” Maryl said, quickly stepping forward to grasp Elana’s hands when she appeared reluctant. “You’re newly acquainted with Di’nay, are you?”
Elana nodded deferentially. It was obvious that Maryl thought her a servant, and it was equally as blatant in her amarin that there was an acknowledged approval of the distance between their stations. But there were a great many conflicting amarin within this small circle. Elana glanced at Di’nay. She would gamble that this handsome Amazon was the root of the confusion.
“Ona has been with me for less than a monarc,” Diana’s smile was charming.
“I’ve acquired a new girl to help with the household too, although she’s a bit younger.” Then directing her words to Elana, she said, “But the two of you may find comfort in discovering you not so very different, being new in strange places.”
Elana was surprised at the sincerity of the woman’s thoughtful wish to ease any homesickness. She began to see why Di’nay hoped that life would treat this woman well, and again she wondered what had separated them. But as she watched Maryl, the answer became clear. This woman was ambivalent in her feelings towards the Amazon. Tenderness and compassion were certainly there, but no less so was a repulsion and hint of panic.
“You have but one horse. Your fine chestnut has not come to harm, I trust?”
“No, he’s doing quite well. I believe he was contentedly munching in the clover patch last I saw,” Diana said tersely as Maryl stepped back to the well to retrieve the heavy bucket. It would have been socially insulting her hostess to help. “We were riding new mounts this time, and unfortunately, others thought them much too handsome of stock and confiscated them. As for this poor soul, we found her wandering with only a tattered bridle. I thought it best to bring her in for the Dracoon. There is undoubtedly a family somewhere that is wondering about her rider.”
“Thieves took you, Di’nay?!” Maryl looked shocked. She had seen Di’nay wield a sword and was not so easily convinced.
“It was at night,” Diana returned slowly, distinctly. She knew the words that would silence the matter. “My attention was elsewhere, Maryl.”
“May I take this, Min?” Elana asked, deftly sliding the bucket’s handle from the already loosened fingers. With measured control she bent Maryl’s amarin so it seemed she was merely redeeming herself for an inattention to duty. Maryl was not in the least offended at what would have been assertiveness from another servant. Elana had not missed the sudden wincing spasms in Maryl’s lower back.
“Put the pail by the door for now.” Maryl pointed absently. “I’m grieved to hear you lost your animals. I know you chose them well.”
“At least it was not Kaing.”
“Yes, thank the Mother for small favors.”
“There you are!” Bowgyn appeared in the wooden door frame. The leather-bound parchment and quill were still in his hand. “I could not believe it when Szori descended with a tale of the Southerner arriving on foot!”
“Szori?”
“Our new girl.”
“Ah — ” Diana grinned as Bowgyn awkwardly, book under arm, extended his palms to meet her greeting. “There are many such tales of horse thieves, I fear. So, tell me, are there any decent animal traders presently about?”
He snorted derisively. “Nattersu is always around.”
“But not always so decent.”
“Naturally, he is a horse trader.” They laughed together. Then Bowgyn asked seriously, “Do you need them today? Or are you staying a time this visit?”
“I cannot stay long,” Diana answered truthfully, “although this will be the last time I’m to see you, my friends.”
“You’re going South then?” Bowgyn inquired and unconsciously settled his arm around Maryl’s shoulders as she moved nearer to him.
“Yes, it seems after this tour of the countryside I am to be replaced.”
“Oh, but…,” Maryl glanced over her shoulder at the woman near the kitchen door, “…what of your girl, Di’nay?”
“Much is undecided. It is likely she will need to stay behind.”
Impulsively Maryl clutched her husband’s tunic, asking and offering in the same breath, “We may always find a place for her, Di’nay, if you’d need. Someone of your house is known to be dependable….”
Surprised, Bowgyn turned away from his wife’s pleading, and said, “Certainly. There’d be room for her.”
Somewhat startled, Elana watched the couple closely. From the young man’s amarin, it was obvious that the idea was a little unsettling. They were not so affluent that feeding another mouth was easily done.
“Thank you, I’ll keep it in mind.” Diana
smiled, then abruptly changed the subject. “I do need to see about those horses, Bowgyn. Would you have time to do some bartering with me? I also have some financial arrangements for you. Maryl here has vested interests that have unexpectedly produced some good fortune.”
“Investments?” Bowgyn looked questioningly at his wife.
“I’d forgotten.” Maryl shrugged weakly.
“Actually, I don’t think I ever mentioned the thing after the start.” Diana grinned sheepishly. “For some time it appeared the sea merchant had absconded with the lot, and I tried to forget the whole muddle. But I’ve received word that his ships were run aground and his goods re-routed by caravan. Apparently his profits were still most handsome.”
“But I don’t understand,” he said, looking as confused as ever. “What does Maryl have to do with a sea merchant?”
“She had nothing to do with it,” Diana assured him, sensing his discomfort that his wife might have been involved in any sort of risky venture. She removed her pack and stretched. “The small pittance — aside from her dowry — that her uncle left in my care was part of my investment in the man’s tradings. I had sent it South for my family’s bargaining, and as I said, for a while I assumed it had soured. It has been a most pleasant discovery to find otherwise.”
Elana found it puzzling; she was very aware of the fact that Di’nay had concocted the entire story.
“Our good fortune is scarce believed!” Bowgyn hugged his bemused wife close before turning to the bakery. “Come in now. Let me put these away and we’ll see to the horses. I can’t spare the entire afternoon for you, but I can certainly walk you over. I must tell you what we’ve been bargaining… I’ll be right with you….” His exuberant voice was carried off into the kitchens.
Diana paused beside Elana as Maryl stepped near. “Settle us in with the Min and then see the bay ’cross city to the Dracoon.”
Elana nodded quickly, eyes downcast and very aware of Maryl’s scrutiny.
“Min — ” Diana bowed as Maryl forced a smile. Reluctantly, she joined Bowgyn.
The low-set ceiling and the dark finished wood reminded Elana of the Old Mistress’ room. For a fleeting moment she wondered if Di’nay would not hit her head on the beams, but the uncomfortable amarin of her hostess demanded her attention.
“Szori…,” Maryl drew the girl away from laying out the quilted bedding, “…go see to the tables. We’ve both been away too long.”
Obediently the girl nodded, but she couldn’t help casting a half-curious, half-fearful glance back at the newcomer.
Maryl followed Szori’s look to Elana’s inquiring expression. Mistaking Elana’s query for misunderstanding, Maryl elaborated, “We run a public kitchen next to our bakery. The fare is plain, little competition for the Inn’s commons ’cross city, but we do well enough. We’re not open for eventide, just breakfast and mid-day.”
Elana nodded, setting down her pack beside Di’nay’s at the foot of the bed. Vaguely she wondered what Maryl was waiting to say. The woman was finding it decidedly difficult to begin, and cautiously Elana said, “Min Di’nay told me of — ”
“Tad!” Maryl cried out the term for a male’s address with strangled panic. Abruptly she caught herself. She took in some air and managed more calmly, “Here he is known as Tad Di’nay. You will remember this.”
It was a plea, an almost desperate plea. Elana nodded mutely. But knowing of the woman’s fear did not explain its origins. Again Elana wondered if the Sight made things clearer or if it just showed the depths of the muddle.
“The habit, in general, is a good one to cultivate,” Maryl explained lamely. “One never knows if you’re truly alone. What… what else has Di’nay spoken of?”
This woman was ashamed Elana knew then, and wearily, she bowed her head. “I’ve been told to speak of nothing, Min.”
Maryl accepted the reassurance, but had a feeling that things were out of sorts. There was something too complacent about this Ona. Di’nay was not an owner of servants as Maryl herself knew only too well. If this one had come to Di’nay, it had been for a very good reason. And Di’nay would never have been content to simply remove her from an abusive clan. No, the Southerner would have begun with first names and proceeded from there. Yet the woman before her, by every appearance, was a slave — and a meek one at that. Unless this was assertive compared to where she had been? Maryl shuddered at the image of a place that could have produced such emptiness. Determinedly she straightened her aching back. The worst was done, the best thing for it was to address the present.
“I expect you’re tired after the journey,” Maryl began briskly. “If you like, when you return from your errand you may use the bath hall. It is perfectly safe,” she added hurriedly, remembering well how fearful a concern that could be. “The door bolts… and our two kitchen men are respectable. If you’d like, Szori could join you. The men know her and her tongue’s quick enough with them for all her youth.”
“Thank you, Min. I can manage fine alone.”
So mild, Maryl’s brow wrinkled. She must talk to Di’nay. The irony of that, she thought, then said, “You’re welcomed to foods in the kitchen too. The bath hall is just the other side of the kitchen. The ovens warm the waters some. It’s quite pleasant. Mind you,” she teased slightly, “no sleeping down there. You’ll end up drowning.” Absolutely no response. Maryl felt her concern rise; the girl must have been very severely abused before Di’nay’s care.
“You may use the indoor steps.” She pointed to the half-open door leading to the rest of the house. “Through there, left, and its the steps at the very end that go to the bath hall. The narrow ones. The main staircase in front of that will take you to the kitchen.”
“Yes, Min.”
Maryl’s dark eyes passed uncertainly over her again. By the Mother’s Hand, how was Di’nay tolerating her? Di’nay — who despised servitude of any kind — what was she doing with this woman?! Her stomach tightened, remembering her fleeting glimpses of Di’nay and that Southern friend, Liest. Something akin to revulsion but uncomfortably close to jealousy made Maryl feel ill. Her eyes turned to the sprawling bed as she remembered Di’nay’s earlier comment about the horse thieves catching them by surprise. But Di’nay would not have if… would she?
Gingerly Maryl crossed the room. She placed a tentative hand on the young woman’s shoulder. She could have sworn the girl had ducked her head even more. “I have no power over the doings outside of this house, Ona. But if you’d like, you may sleep with Szori while here. It can be arranged.”
“No thank you, Min.”
“There’d be no repercussions, I promise you.” Maryl dropped her hand, already knowing the obligatory response. “I know Di’nay well. It would not be a problem.”
“Thank you, Min.” Elana’s stomach trembled at the thought of the precious time this woman had wasted with Di’nay, and her voice slipped from its submissive echo. “I would choose to stay, Min.”
The inflection was not lost on Maryl and she retreated respectfully. Whatever her reasons, the girl would remain. It was not so very long ago, she reminded herself, that she would have offered such loyalty too.
“Very well.” Maryl turned for the doorway. “Should you or Tad Di’nay require anything, simply ask Szori. I’ll leave you to your errand now — ”
“Thank you, Min.” Elana was careful of her tone again.
For the briefest of moments, Maryl paused at the door, then with a sigh she shook her maternal instincts aside. What was done, was done. There were other things to be attended.
† † †
Chapter Thirteen
Diana stretched reluctantly and rubbed her blurry eyes. The bed beside her was still vacant, she noticed — with regret? She frowned faintly and stared at the feather pillow almost accusingly. Why shouldn’t the girl choose to nap elsewhere? Maryl had probably arranged for her to share Szori’s room. After all, there was nothing in her pack that Elana couldn’t have easily borrowed.
&nbs
p; The thought was not mollifying. She pushed the heavy quilt aside and snatched her new tunic from the stool. It was not Elana’s absence, Diana told herself as she dressed quickly, but the hour. Darkfall had come and gone. Eventide was finished in most houses, and it was time for her to join the rabble ’cross city at the commons. No, she told herself sternly and laced up the boot, it wasn’t Elana’s absence; it was just that she hated to be rushed.
A gust of wind rattled through the open shutter slats and almost hid the faint scuff of the door bolt. Diana glanced at the entering figure. Stubbornly she refused to acknowledge Elana and picked up her other boot.
Disconcerted, Elana slipped the hood back from her head and shut the door. Whatever softened rapport they had struck during their day’s travel had obviously been bedded with the day’s sun. Dear Mother, would a spoiled child have been any more irascible? Repressing a sigh, she went to stoke up the fire.
“I was worried,” Diana muttered, finally, without turning.
“I beg your patience, it was not my intention.”
“I had expected to find you somewhere about when I returned from the horse trader’s — or at least soon to come?”
Elana’s stomach tightened at the intensity of the sullen assault of Di’nay’s amarin. “I would have.” She moistened her dry lips and knelt beside the fire to prod it with a stick. “Maryl broke water and I was ordered to fetch the mid-wife — ”
“Ordered!?” Diana stood abruptly, forgetting her own childishness. “By who?”
“Bowgyn.” Elana glanced up with a growing tenderness.
“You are not his to order!”
Shadows of Aggar (Amazons of Aggar) Page 16
