First lessons

by Lina J. Potter

  The girl worked quickly. Lily noticed that her fingers were thin and bore the marks of pinpricks and that her arms were skin and bone.

  This Marion woman must be a real skinflint. If I had a whip, I’d crack it!

  “Now, we can talk about the style.”

  What Lily wanted was a plain wrap skirt that she could take in easily as she lost weight. Above it, she wanted a long vest that she could wear over a white blouse. She couldn’t care less that she was going against local fashions. Earton wasn’t exactly a social whirlwind. Her other desire was for a cape that would also go over a blouse and could be taken in as necessary. If this first order went well, she would talk to the dressmaker about underwear and perhaps other types of clothes. Lily had a lot of ideas.

  But as soon as she described the skirt she had in mind, the dressmaker gasped. “My Lady!”

  “What is it?”

  “We don’t make clothes like that!”

  “So, you can start now.” Lily couldn’t understand why the woman was so upset. Who cares about what everyone else is wearing?

  “My Lady, it would be shameful for me to make something like that…”

  “Then, have one of your girls do it.”

  The sarcasm went over Marion’s head. “The whole town will laugh at me. I sew clothes for very highly placed ladies.”

  “Is a Countess not highly placed enough for you?”

  “Let me show you some of the season’s best dresses.”

  Lily opened her eyes wide. “Marion, will you take my order or not? If not, I will buy the cloth from you and do it myself. If you will do it, then I want the finished goods in two days!”

  “I’ll do it,” Marion hissed.

  “And your price?”

  “Six silver coins.”

  Lily wrinkled her nose. “Two. And even that’s too high.”

  “But My Lady, what about the cost of the cloth and the workmanship?”

  The velvet was very nice, but the price was close to what Lily was paying each Virman guard for a month’s work. She wouldn’t be fooled.

  “I’m not asking you to make a fancy ball gown. Just do as I instructed you—a skirt and a vest.”

  She said nothing about a blouse. Marion had made such a negative impression on her that she wouldn’t risk giving her any new ideas. She actually liked Helke. He wasn’t particularly friendly, but he had a lively mind. The dressmaker, on the other hand…

  “I will do as you wish, My Lady.” The look on the dead fish’s face was clear enough; if she had her way, she would chase Lily from her shop with a dirty broom…all because she wanted a type of skirt that had not been seen in those parts. Lily wondered sadly how many mistakes she made every day. This dressmaker was just the first person to react openly. She feared that everyone else was just being polite and drawing their own conclusions.

  How long will it be before I start to attract attention from more important people who won’t be put off by my title? It was a frightening thought.

  She was comforted by the thought that she hadn’t yet heard of anyone being burned at the stake here.

  ***

  Lily was in a bad mood when she got back to the inn. The Virmans sensed that she was upset and made themselves scarce. When she walked in, the innkeeper saw her and came over. “My Lady, your injured man has woken up.”

  Lily nodded and went to check on him. The man was staring blankly out the window next to his bed. Lily noticed that his eyes were big and black.

  “Are you Lilian Earton?”

  “Countess Lilian Elizabeth Mariella Earton,” she announced and threw back his blanket without asking permission.

  The patient’s apathy instantly disappeared. “What are you doing?”

  “I personally set your broken bone and stitched up your side. I don’t see any reason why I can’t examine the results of my work. Are you afraid that I am interested in you as a man?” Lily knew she shouldn’t have said it, but she couldn’t help herself.

  The man’s eyes sparkled with fire. “My Lady…”

  “Good. Your wound looks clean, and your leg is fine. Can you stay in bed for several weeks?”

  “What for?”

  “To regain your health.”

  “My Lady, I know that my leg was broken. Even if I walk again, I will have a limp. Do you know the customs of my people?”

  “Yes. You kill or drive away anyone with a disability.”

  “You should have left me there in the street.”

  “Maybe so. But you will not be an invalid.”

  “There are no miracles in this life, My Lady.”

  “But there are.” Lily spoke slowly. “A broken leg is not that difficult to treat. You simply straighten the bone and put a brace on it. If you’re careful to keep it stretched out—and that is why I had them tie your foot to the end of the bed—then in twenty or thirty days, it will be good as new.”

  “You mean it will be just like the other leg?”

  “Yes. As long as you don’t disturb it. The wound on your side poses no threat at all. I washed it and stitched it up. You will be fine. Is there anyone who can care for you at home?”

  “My wives. And my servants.”

  Lily nodded. “Then I will explain to you and to them what needs to be done. I promise—you will be just fine.”

  “But how do you know that?”

  “Consider it knowledge from heaven. The saints were capable of healing by just laying their hands on people. I am not holy enough for that, but I can sew up wounds with a needle and thread. Now, it’s up to you. If you stay in bed like I told you, you won’t have a limp. How old are you?”

  “Forty-six.”

  “Can I ask you what your name is?”

  The man bit his lip. “I beg your forgiveness, My Lady. I have been impolite. My name is Ali Akhmet din Tahirjian. I come from a long line of caravan route guards.”

  Lily thought back to her reading. She didn’t remember anything about a caravan route. She wondered if its location was kept secret. The fact that he was a caravan route guard didn’t tell her anything. Does that mean he is the equivalent of a customs agent? She decided not to ask.

  Instead, she stood up and gave her best imitation of a bow. “It is an honor for me to make your acquaintance. I’m sorry it had to happen this way. Now get some sleep.”

  “I doubt that I will sleep. My leg hurts.”

  “Do you drink alcohol?”

  “Our faith does not allow it.”

  Lily sighed. Pain medication… But where to find it? That’s easy. I just need to find the right kind of poppy seeds, plant them and wait a year. Easy as pie.

  “Could you think of alcohol as medicine in this particular case? It can be a sleep remedy.”

  The man winced. “Our healers tell us to use a strong weed for those purposes, but I have none with me.”

  Lily’s ears pricked up. “Where could I find other people from your country?”

  “On the ship.”

  Lily wondered if this was a job for the Virmans. “What is the name of the ship?”

  “The Golden Wave. If you give me a pen and ink…”

  Lily called for a servant. A young woman came running in and gave a low bow. She was soon sent to find a pen, ink, and some wax to seal the letter. There was no paper to be had, but the innkeeper gave up a piece of parchment. He also loaned the patient a pen. Lily brought out her inkwell. Ali Akhmet studied it in surprise.

  “What an interesting item.”

  “It’s a non-spill inkwell.”

  “What did you say?”

  Instead of a reply, Lily knocked the inkwell onto his blanket. Ali Akhmet lunged for it. There wasn’t a drop of ink on his bed. He shook his head. “Wonderful. This would be a useful thing to have on the ship.”

  “There is a jeweler here in town named Helke Leitz who makes them,” Lily said, sensing an opportunity to advertise. “The idea was mine, and he makes them. Soon, he will have some very interesting new quill pens…”
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  Ali Akhmet wrote a quick note, folded it and handed it to Lily. She melted some wax and sealed the letter with it. Ali Akhmet pressed one of his rings to the wax. Then he lay back against his pillow looking weak.

  “My assistant’s name is Alim Omar din Rashaya.”

  Lily took the letter and went to find the Virmans. “I need you to take this letter to Alim Omar din Rashaya on the Golden Wave and wait for his response.” One of the Virmans nodded and left to perform the task. Lily went back upstairs to check her patient’s pulse and take his temperature. Since she had no thermometer, she pressed her lips to his forehead. “You will have a rough time of it for a couple of days. I cleaned your wound as best I could, but infection is hard to avoid.”

  “I know you did everything you could, My Lady, and I am grateful.”

  “The best way to thank me is to get better quickly,” Lily said. She sent up a silent word of love and gratitude to her mother, whose life as an army medic had involved backbreaking labor without much backup. Whenever a soldier was injured at a remote base or during training in the taiga, Aliya’s mother had relied on her own skills and the tools at hand. By the time she was ten years old, Aliya was helping her mother set broken bones. Tatiana saw that her daughter had a firm hand and a good eye, so she let her jump right in. By the time Aliya started medical school, she had enough experience to qualify as a paramedic. All that experience is coming in handy now! But I won’t let another day go by without ordering the instruments I need from a blacksmith.

  Lily knew her surgical instruments backwards and forwards. As a girl, she had played with scalpels, forceps, wound retractors, clamps and tongue depressors the way other children played with cars and blocks. She knew they wouldn’t be hard to make, for a price.

  She looked out the window. It was getting dark. She had eaten breakfast at dawn and skipped lunch. Food was a necessity. Her patient would need sustenance, too.

  “I’ll bring you some broth. Do you have any restrictions on what you eat?”

  “We do not eat the meat of pigs because they are unclean animals. Anything else is fine.”

  “Then I’ll get you some chicken broth.”

  She would make sure Ali Akhmet took in plenty of liquids. That would help him heal faster and might even keep his fever down a bit. “I want to repeat my promise: if you follow my orders and keep off that leg, you’ll walk just like you always have. Your leg may ache when it rains, but otherwise, you’ll be good as new.”

  “Rain in the desert is a blessing.”

  Lily nodded and left his room. I’d give anything for some painkillers right now! I guess I’ll just have to plant opium poppies. I wonder if they have laws about that here.

  ***

  “What could possibly go wrong there?”

  Jerrison, the Earl of Earton, looked up at the Prince. Richard had finished the preparations for his journey two days ago. Now, he had come to hide out at his cousin’s house from the busybodies at court. He was lying on the bed and eating a bowl of nuts as he watched Jess scratch out a letter to his estate Comptroller.

  “I have no idea. But Etor has always sent me regular reports once every thirty or forty days. It’s been almost sixty days now, and not a word from him. That concerns me.”

  “What is it that worries you? The estate or your wife?”

  “The baby.”

  “That’s right. She’s with a child.”

  “I hope to finally have an heir.”

  “She isn’t due for a while yet, is she?”

  “True. But I still worry.”

  “Write a letter if you want, but you won’t hear back for a long time.”

  Now the earl was concerned—not for his wife, but for his unborn child, his heir. He turned to the prince. “How long do you think this trip will take?”

  “Eight moons at the very least.”

  “That means I won’t be home when my son is born.”

  “Or daughter. It may take six tries before you get a son.”

  “Bite your tongue.”

  “You can always try again,” Richard mocked him lightly. “You knew what you were getting into.”

  Jess narrowed his eyes. He wrote a few more words and then spread some sand on the page to soak up the excess ink.

  “You think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”

  “Always have. Write to your Comptroller. Have him write your father if the child is born before you get back. My uncle can name it.”

  “That’s a good idea.” Jess added a few words to the end of the letter. “I will speak to my uncle about it this evening.” He looked up at Richard, “Try not to take too long when you pick your bride.”

  “Quite the opposite. I’ll have to spend the rest of my life with her, so I intend to make the right choice. You know me. I’ll always have someone on the side, but I’d like to find a wife I can love. Like my father and Jessie.”

  Jess nodded. “You’re right.”

  “You should take a closer look at that doll of yours. See what she’s really made of…”

  Jess shrugged and placed the letter in a thick envelope. He would have a man carry the letter to Earton and wait there for Etor’s response before bringing it to him. At that point, he would already be in Wellster. It was a slow means of communication, but he had no choice.

  ***

  An hour later, Lily had forgotten all about her drug problems, as even getting her hands on a plain bowl of chicken broth was proving to be a challenge. It took all her patience to explain to the cook that she didn’t need to add wine, cream, or a saddle-bag full of spices to the broth. All Lily wanted was for her to boil a chicken and salt the broth a little. Spices were too expensive for daily use, and Lily doubted the cook knew how to use them with restraint.

  After raising her voice and cursing a few times to get what she wanted, Lily reflected that she was getting used to a style of conversation that she called ‘I’m the boss, you’re the idiot’. She wondered if it was the social rules of her new world that forced her into the role of slave-driver.

  At least they don’t have actual slavery here. According to what I’ve read, peasants can leave their lords as long as they pay their taxes and have a place to go. So why haven’t all my peasants left? It must be the taxes. They could never afford to pay off Etor. It also occurred to her that Earton was far enough from everywhere else to make the idea of leaving sound difficult. Most of the peasants probably thought that their best plan was to wait around and see if things got better.

  Things will never get better unless you put in the effort. After all, the only thing that falls from heaven is bird poop.

  In the end, feeding the broth to her patient was much less trouble than getting the broth had been. Ali Akhmet obediently ate a piece of chicken, drank the broth, and even thanked her for it, adding a couple of compliments about her beauty. Lily snorted. She wondered if all Khangans were appreciative of blondes with sizeable glutes.

  The real trouble started when the patient’s family and friends arrived. A crowd of six women in bright saris and robes burst into the room. They circled the bed and began making so much noise that Lily’s first instinct was to kick them out, but she waited to see how Ali Akhmet reacted. They were followed by several Khangans in colorful robes and three Virmans. She supposed Leif had sent them in to keep an eye on her.

  The women were shouting over each other and gesturing with bracelet-covered arms. They smelled of Oriental spices, horses, and sweat. Lily edged toward the window to get some fresh air and saw a heavy copper tray lying on the window sill. She picked it up.

  Bam!

  The sound of the tray hitting the window sill was like thunder. For an instant, everyone stopped talking and turned toward the source of the noise.

  “All you women out! Men, help them find the door. Ali Akhmet is recovering and needs his rest.”

  The Virmans began elbowing people away from the bed. The women were about to start up again, but Lily banged the tray again, this time
even louder.

  “Silence. Everyone out!”

  All six women and two of the men—obviously Ali Akhmet’s bodyguards—were shown out of the room. Lily took a deep breath and looked at her patient. “You aren’t strong enough for that kind of crowd yet. I can give you ten minutes to talk with your family, but no more. And not all of them at once. Ten minutes. I’ll be right back.”

  As soon as she left the room, the women mobbed her with questions in a language she didn’t understand. It was too much. “Silence!” The mob became more subdued, but they still wanted something from her. Lily looked around for a solution. One of Ali Akhmet’s bodyguards stepped forward. “Of the wives, only Leisha knows some of your language. Let me interpret for you. Speak, My Lady.”

  Lily sighed. “Tell them that nothing is seriously wrong with their lord. He just had a run-in with a bull.”

  The bodyguard gave a long speech in Khangan, and the women gasped in unison.

  “Be quiet! I told you that nothing is seriously wrong with him. He had a cut on his side and a broken leg. If you take care of him, in about fifty days, he’ll be running races like a young man.”

  The women still looked upset. That was understandable. If Ali Akhmet was rejected by their society because of his injuries, his wives probably wouldn’t fare too well. Lily wondered what, exactly, would happen to them in that case. They were handsome women, full-figured, with dark hair and eyes. They wore their hair in a mass of tiny braids, each one ending in a gold ring, precious stone, or tiny bell. Their wrists and ankles were covered with bracelets that jangled when they moved. Taken together, they were overwhelming, but Lily had to admit that they were beautiful.

  “My Lady, how did our lord end up here?” asked the oldest of the young women, who looked to be twenty-five or thirty. Her lips were painted a deep red, and the palms of her hands were a strange color.