The Baker's Wife--complete

by Amy Keeley

  Parlay laughed. “You can touch it if you like. You won’t ruin it.”

  Setting the heavy box down, she tentatively reached out. When she finally managed to bring her fingers to touch the sheer outerdress, she let them trail, in wonder at the smoothness and perfection of the material. “This is the dress of a noblewoman. Not me.”

  “And what are you?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” In love with the dress, she said, “You must be one of the Blessed Ones.”

  “Am I?”

  She looked up at him, at the calculation in his eyes and his obvious dislike of the title, and her smile faded. She sighed. “Thank you, but—”

  “If you don’t need it, I’ll put it back. I’m glad you were able to find one.”

  “And just about everything else.” Krysilla recounted her conversation with Lily, though she didn’t mention why her friend was willing to do this. All that mattered was that she was now able to meet him at the Felldesh manor.

  He listened to this new information carefully. When she was done, he said, “Then, all I have to give you is one item. And that must wait until you’re inside.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Jewelry. But not just any kind. You’ll see.” Grinning like a hunter with a bagged prize nearby, he said, “Now, here’s what must happen once you arrive at the extravaganza, and what will likely happen. You’ll arrive with your friend and her husband. They will escort you inside where you will sit next to them, if you don’t take time to thank Lady Felldesh for her invitation. She’ll be in her sitting room, preparing for the evening and entertaining a small coterie of friends, some of whom will remain during the performance.”

  “Shouldn’t I let her prepare?”

  “No. You must greet her personally. If a servant attempts to keep you away, give the servant your name and your husband’s name. This is very important.”

  “Why?”

  He hesitated and Krysilla knew there was more he wasn’t telling her. “I know my husband has contacts in the manor.”

  “His name is very well-known to her. And she likes him. In fact, she likes him enough that, since this is your first time in her presence, she is likely to sit you next to her while she listens.”

  Krysilla nearly dug her heels in at that. Bad enough she’d be going to the manor among all the fine people. Now, she’d be sitting in a borrowed gown next to a noblewoman.

  Her face must have showed her panic. Parlay smiled reassuringly. “I doubt she’ll put you close enough for the rest of the room to inspect. She’ll likely seat you on the same row, along with your husband, if he decides to step outside her room. His loss if he doesn’t. It’s a grand place to be, since it’s in the front where the magic will have full power.”

  “Oh.” Maybe she would have a clear view of Parlay. “But Lily says the musicians are invisible when they play.”

  “Yes, but you’ll see the door that opens when we leave. After we’re finished, we all exit the room. The guests retire to the sitting rooms, or leave. And those who are special guests of Lady Felldesh will accompany her to her private room.”

  “Including me.”

  Parlay reclined on the ground in front of the stones. “After a time in her presence, you’ll start to feel bored with the mindless chatter.”

  “Or perhaps the room will become too hot, with all those people in it,” Krysilla added, seeing where he was going.

  His smile grew, and his eyes sparkled. “Of course, you can’t stay in a hot room. You’ll faint. So, you’ll excuse yourself, saying you need some fresh air.”

  “And I’ll take the musicians’ exit.”

  “Which will lead down a narrow hall to a series of rooms. Not every minstrel can read, so you’ll look for the picture of a fiddle.”

  She thought of the inscriptions and wondered. “Can you read?”

  “I have the feeling that would start a very long conversation between us and we don’t have that kind of time.” Though she knew she would enjoy it, and he looked like he might, as well. “Once you’ve found the door with the fiddle, knock and it will open.” He sat up and spread his arms wide. “Fiddle players fill the room, and you ask, in a meek, quiet voice, if they know where the great Zhiv Mikailsin can be found. You are an enormous fan and want to meet him. Of course, you will look lovely and willing and, after appreciating your beauty for a moment, someone will tell you the exact room where he is staying. No one tries to take away a possible conquest from Zhiv. I will meet you outside that door and we will continue from there.”

  That seemed a little thin. “No other plans?”

  “None that I feel willing to share at this time.”

  Krysilla looked down at the box of locks, thinking over what he’d told her. She didn’t like being kept in the dark when it came to such a crucial point, but also knew she didn’t have much of a choice. “So, how am I to practice?”

  “Practice here,” he shrugged. Getting up, he dusted himself off. “No one comes near this place except me. Ornic beliefs and history and all that. They probably think swirling darkness swallows up anyone who touches the stone.”

  Krysilla only gave a weak laugh at hearing the exact childhood story she grew up with. “So, it’s safe?”

  “As safe a place as exists in this world. Come by, practice a few hours. I promise not to bother you.”

  Krysilla looked at the sun and nodded. She had time. Not much, but she did have time. Sitting down with the book and her locks, she began to study. Parlay took a small book and a pen out of his bag and, still standing, began to write.

  It didn’t take long before she was lost in a world of pins, keygestures, and combinations. All too soon, she realized the meadow had begun to darken. Her stomach tied in knots. Lejer might be home and waiting for dinner. No. He’d told her he’d be late tonight. But that was no guarantee. She put the locks back in the box and put the book on top of that before carrying it over to Parlay. Apparently, he had become lost in whatever he had been doing, as well. He now sat once more on the ground and looked up at her in surprise. When she handed the box over, he didn’t put it back, setting it next to him on the ground instead. “See you tomorrow?” he said, not looking up from his book.

  “Of course.” She walked away, confused with his sudden lack of attention toward her. But that’s good, she told herself. I’m married, and must keep my distance. Still, she paused at the edge of the forest to take in the sight of Parlay one last time, surrounded by the locks, the book, and, behind him, the Ornic stones, all bathed in the light of the setting sun. It seemed such a natural sight, that she didn’t turn away until he looked up, probably to see why she was still there.

  Hurrying home, she told herself she would be glad when this was over and Parlay no longer had a place in her life. And yet, she couldn’t help remembering that last image of him, and wondering what he wrote in that little book.

  ***

  The day Krysilla first practiced in the meadow had been Old 4 in the Rain Moon. She didn’t mean to make a note of it. The next day, while washing the dishes, she came across the mug Parlay had used. And for the first time she realized the import of what had happened.

  Already she had begun to slacken in the bakery. She took care of what needed to be done, but she no longer hurried to go above and beyond the call of duty. She no longer raced to the front to take care of a customer. And she felt like singing as she did her chores through the house. Windows that hadn’t been opened in ages were shoved wide to let out the dust.

  Lejer didn’t comment. He had come home after she went to bed and, the next morning, stayed just long enough to eat a late breakfast. It wasn’t unpleasant. But there was a chill between them now that hadn’t existed before.

  And Krysilla was surprised to learn that she didn’t care as much as she had expected. That’s because I’m a terrible wife, she told herself as she stared at the cup Parlay had used. Taking it downstairs, she put it among the other dishes soaking in the tub. What does it say about me, sh
e thought, staring at the cup, that I’m happier when I’m disobedient?

  She straightened the kitchen and washed the dishes, leaving the cup for last. Lingering over it, she remembered how it had felt to work forbidden magic, magic, she reminded herself, that had once been perfectly legal for her to use. Only her marriage changed that.

  Turning it over to expose the bottom, her finger traced out yesterday’s date, in a spell similar to the one she used to mark the bread. She had no idea if it would work or not.

  Parlay was a shadow, gone when the darkness came. But this, she decided, this magic is part of me and it’s mine. I must always remember this.

  The spell lingered, then disappeared. Krysilla’s lips thinned and she tried again, this time thinking in terms of etching, not darkening. Slowly, the glaze of the ceramic dulled, forming the words “Old 4, Rain.” Proud of the spell she had invented, she dried it and wrapped it in a cloth before putting it back down among the herbs.

  The house seemed filled with sunshine. For the first time in years, she felt sorry to leave it. But deliveries wouldn’t wait, and there was Parlay with her book at the end. Everything seemed filled with life and hope, which made little sense considering her awful circumstances.

  If Parlay noticed her improved mood, he didn’t show it. He smiled at her just as often as before, and was just as engrossed in his writing while she practiced. Few words passed between them beyond greetings. Now and then, she would feel him watching her and let the thought blow away. If she was going to do this under pressure, she had to get far beyond the point of caring if he was watching her or not. And it was better for the both of them anyway.

  And then it was Old 6, the day before New Moon and the start of the Flower Moon.

  Krysilla was sure she would scream by the time it had finished. Though a chill still lingered between them, Lejer apparently felt it would be bad for business if he didn’t begin to appear more often in the bakery. For the first time since he’d taught her how to use the ovens, Lejer handled the baking. And she was glad of it. Most got their bread the day before New Moon, as a courtesy to the bakers so they could enjoy the day as well, including Lord and Lady Felldesh. Lejer took that order to himself as well, leaving Krysilla to handle the regular customers. Glad he was willing to take over some of the work again, she offered more than once to help with the Felldesh order. Some of the chill returned each time, when he told her no. But he was helping. So, she went back to the next order or the next customer with a pleased smile.

  Life was good.

  It was after dinner, when the sun was high and bright, that Lily came through the front door. “Oh, good,” she said, breathless. “I thought I might have missed you.” In her hands, she had a package wrapped in cloth and tied with a string. Krysilla could tell from the way she carefully held it what it might be.

  Hoping she could sneak away, she said, “Lejer, I’ll be upstairs with Lily.”

  He glared at her from over the top of a cake for the Felldesh extravaganza. “Why?”

  “It’s a dress I made for the baby and me,” Lily lied far too smoothly. “A matching set. Would you like to see it?”

  Lejer shook his head and went back to concentrating on icing the cake. With a grin, Lily raced up the stairs, Krysilla close behind. Once they were both inside the Sun Room, she began to quickly unwrap the package. “I thought you might want to hide it in a room you rarely use,” she whispered.

  “I would have never guessed this of you.” Krysilla felt like laughing.

  “Oh, this side of me is encouraged by my husband, trust me. He enjoys the idea that he never knows what I’m going to do next.”

  “So long as the house doesn’t fall apart and the children are safe,” Krysilla added and got a knowing wink from Lily.

  “Now, let’s see how this looks.” And she took out from the cloth wrapping an exquisite, burgundy-colored dress, with white trim. It wasn’t as fine as the dress Parlay would have given her, but she liked it just as well. She ran her fingers over the soft weave and realized it had a white underdress.

  “It’s a little out of fashion,” Lily said with a frown. “But I think the color will work well for you.” Holding it up to Krysilla’s front, Lily smiled. “Yes. That will do. Do you want to try it on?”

  “Will you have to adjust it?”

  “No, it laces up the side. I just thought you—”

  “Krysilla!” Lejer called from the foot of the stairs. “Customer!”

  “I swear, I don’t know how he managed so well without you,” Lily said, in her first sign of anything less than respect for Krysilla’s husband.

  Taking the dress and wrapping it back up, Krysilla shoved it under the bed. “Coming!” To Lily, she said, “I hate putting it there but—”

  “It’ll dust off just fine.”

  “Krysilla!”

  She opened the door. “I’ll be right there!”

  “You women and your ooing and ahing over babies,” he grumbled.

  She remembered wanting and all those nights she would have given anything for a child and hated him again. A hand touched her shoulder and she turned to see Lily looking at her with more compassion than she’d received in years. Looking in the direction of the stairs, Lily said, steel in her voice, “We’ll come by to pick you up after Lejer’s gone. Just leave a white piece of paper in the door and one of my husband’s men will get us.”

  Now Krysilla did laugh. Clamping her hand over her mouth, she barely managed to recover her self-control before she began to sob. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Not at all.”

  By the time they went downstairs, Lejer, with a fierce glare, told them he had taken care of the customer himself. “I’m sure he felt properly honored,” Lily said, “having spoken with the owner himself.”

  Lejer only snorted, though Krysilla couldn’t help noticing a faint smile as he bent over the cake once more.

  You do that so easily, she thought. I wish I could handle him as well as that.

  Once Lily was gone, Krysilla announced she was going out to do the deliveries. I have a dress now, she thought, as she did her rounds. That thought made her nervous. What if Lejer found it while she was out?

  No, he never went into the Sun Room except for that one time after Parlay played. It was rare for him to stay in the house at all. Felldesh orders were one of the few exceptions, and who could blame him there? If she loved the bakery at all, she would be at home with him.

  Once she’d finished, a new thought increased her nervousness: what if he was still home when she brought the cart back? He’d want to know why she was out so late if it wasn’t for deliveries.

  She thought over her options and decided to bring the empty cart with her. It meant going down the main road, but she could always say she had decided to take a walk in the fine weather. It would eventually get back to Lejer, but by then Parlay would be long gone and things would have calmed down between them. Her husband and herself.

  She left the cart in a small clearing off the road and walked deeper into the forest. Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow, everything will go back to the way it was. It’ll be better, because I’ll know more locking spells and maybe I can use them around the house without Lejer noticing. He was gone often enough it might work.

  Unless he really did begin spending more time in the bakery and this wasn’t a rare event.

  With all these thoughts swirling in her head, she approached the clearing. The feel of magic touched the tip of her nose and she stopped, wary. And helpless. She’d never been taught to recognize spells outside the ones she used. How could she hope to discover who cast this one?

  It could be a Dog, she thought. She doubted Parlay would have sent them, but perhaps Parlay ran from them himself?

  If it’s a Dog, then he already knows I’m here. She stepped through, fully expecting to be arrested the moment she crossed the barrier.

  Instead, she heard the echoes of a note sung by a man. Then, silence.

  Unsure
whether to move forward or back, she felt the spell she’d walked through, disappear. “Goodwife?” Parlay called out.

  It must be him, she thought. “I’m here.”

  “You’re late. I thought you weren’t going to come at all.”

  She stepped into the meadow. Stretched across one of the stone slabs, Parlay had his hands above his head and eyes closed, as if he were still trying to nap.

  She thought of Parlay singing Lovely Lisbet when he was sick. But he played fiddle. “Were you practicing?”

  “Of course,” he grinned, eyes still closed. He stretched and sat up. “It’s an excellent way of calming myself down.”

  There wasn’t a fiddle anywhere in sight. “I didn’t think you’d be nervous.”

  He gestured to the space beside the stones where the box of locks and the book sat. “Last day for practice. Tomorrow I have to send these back.” From his bag, he pulled out the book he’d been writing in for the past few days.

  It’s not as bad when he ducks me, she thought, picking up the box. He’s not my husband. There’s no point in caring whether he sings or plays fiddle. She settled down with the locks, sorting them according to type and difficulty. If I had to live with him, she continued thinking, then I might feel hurt. Her lips thinned. She did feel hurt. Tomorrow night she would put into practice things she’d tried to keep hidden for years. Under threat of blackmail, yes, but she could have refused. She could have run away. Instead, here she was surrounded by locks and about to open a book of locksmithing spells.

  “What will happen if I fail?” she asked. If this was the last time she’d practice, it would also be the last time she would have a chance to talk to him. She didn’t care what they talked about, as long as they talked.

  Without looking at her, he got up and backed away from the stones. “Lord Felldesh will execute you in the village square.”