by Amy Keeley
“Oh, of course,” Lily said. “We’ll go with you.”
And so, far from being alone, Krysilla found herself with a small crowd as she approached one of the Felldesh servants, dressed in a fine coat of dark blue and a light blue vest that marked him as married. “I wish to thank Lady Felldesh for her invitation,” she said.
“Lady Felldesh extends warm wishes for your family,” he replied.
“Would you please tell her,” she said, not about to be brushed aside with warm wishes, “that...that the baker’s wife, Krysilla Gillasin, wishes to thank her for her invitation?”
Surrounded by women, all looking at him with expectant eyes, the servant smiled coldly and bowed, then walked down the enormous room to a narrow door that was built to blend into the wall. Around her, the women began to gasp and giggle. “I didn’t know you knew her,” one said.
“She doesn’t,” Lily said with a smile. “She’s very polite, that’s all.”
Krysilla tried to return it, but she wasn’t sure what to do. Should she wait for the servant to return? Should she mingle or chat or see where Lejer might be so that she could avoid him?
Before she could decide, the servant was making his way back to them. He bowed once more. “Her ladyship is most glad to hear you have arrived, Goodwife Gillasin. She asks that you join her during the musical interlude tonight.”
It’s just as Parlay said, she thought and yet that made her more nervous than before. “I would be most honored.”
He bowed a third time and left to convey the message.
Around her, the women were amazed. How did you manage that? some said. She’s a wonderful lady, said others. But Lily looked concerned. She announced she and Krysilla were going to get some tea, then quickly maneuvered her away.
“How do you know Lady Felldesh?” she asked as they walked.
“My husband fills orders for the Felldesh house sometimes.”
“Most of the time,” Lily murmured. “Your husband must make very good bread indeed to get all the orders he gets from the Felldesh house.”
“He’s a master baker.” Krysilla didn’t understand why her friend seemed so worried so quickly. “More than the Felldesh house eats what he makes.”
Whatever concern Lily felt disappeared in her full-hearted smile. “Yes. He is a very good baker. A master. And I’m glad for you.” Still, remnants of her earlier concern lingered in her eyes.
They got tea and wandered the periphery of the room until they saw Lily’s husband. For the rest of the evening, they went where he went, spoke with whoever he spoke with. It took some effort, but Krysilla remembered how Lejer had described her and decided she would not be that woman tonight. Tonight, she would mingle and discuss whatever others wished to discuss, no matter how tired she felt or how often she wondered when the musicians would come out to play. She could hear the sound of instruments playing bits and pieces of things, much in the same way Parlay did before his performance.
And all the while, she kept an eye out for Lord Parlay. If he is a lord, she couldn’t help thinking.
Last night, she had been so sure she knew his place in society. Now, after thinking a bit more, she’d begun to doubt. Would the king trust a man who spoke so easily of Ornic sins as if they were no sin? Or did he hide it well? Not to mention his ability with a fiddle, done without magic.
The more she learned about him, the more she realized she knew nothing about him.
She felt a hand touch her shoulder and turned. Behind her stood a woman with sparkling makeup and dressed finer than any of the women she’d seen so far. Her dress was only somewhat more delicate than the one Parlay had shown Krysilla earlier, but that was hardly a denigration. And it clung to her trim figure, making her appear unearthly, like a Blessed One from a story. The sleeve’s material was so fine, it floated as the woman lifted one graceful hand in greeting. The feel of magic, only a little, wrapped around her. “Krysilla Gillasin, wife of Lejer Gillasin,” the woman said with a smile too warm to be sincere. And yet, she didn’t seem naturally cold. She’s looking for something from me, Krysilla couldn’t help thinking. Four servants in their dark-blue coats stood just close enough to be called and yet far enough away that they didn’t appear overtly ready to assist her.
Krysilla smiled in return. Of course. “Lady Felldesh.” Taking the lady’s hand, she bent her forehead to it and curtsied.
“The music is about to begin. I had hoped you would join my husband and I at the front?”
There would be no refusing her. Krysilla thanked her for the invitation and asked if her friends might join as well. And Lady Felldesh allowed it. Thrilled she could at least give Lily a chance to be so close to someone she obviously admired (her eyes hadn’t left Lady Felldesh since she’d seen her), Krysilla decided that if everything went wrong tonight, at least she’d been able to give back some of what she’d been given.
They made their way out of the entrance hall and into the ballroom. Two long rows of chairs, five wide, with a large aisle down the center, filled the room. Light from chandeliers with hundreds of small King’s Lights filtered through crystals and gemstones of various colors, filling the room with colors of all kinds. The colors bounced off mirrors that lined the walls and made it appear as if an infinite number of people had entered the room. Krysilla frowned before she could stop herself. The doors and windows were covered with scrolled and painted woodwork and trimmed in gold in designs that were far too intricate to be easily cleaned. She had always been told the nobles were the icons of Tothsin beliefs, especially regarding thrift and self-control, and yet here was proof she’d been told a lie.
It’s only the surface, she told herself.
Lady Felldesh raised her hands, and clapped.
The walls split along the sides and the mirrors and wooden facade moved away to reveal polished marble. “From the Ornic days,” Lady Felldesh murmured, just low enough for Krysilla to hear, and Krysilla alone.
Before long, the entire room had become, except for the windows, one enormous room of nothing but marble. Only the ceiling remained in it’s painted state.
Once finished, the rest of the room erupted into a deafening round of applause. Is this what it’s like? she couldn’t help wondering as she followed Lady Felldesh to her seat. Never to worry, never to feel concern about your own life? Able to rearrange your world as easily as a person turns on a King’s Light?
Lord Felldesh stood waiting for them as they approached and, for once, Krysilla got a glimpse of what the Disciples talked about in their sermons at the beginning of each New Moon. He seemed like a tree firmly planted, his dark hair slicked back into immobility, his eyes coolly surveying and judging all around him. Those who hold the power of all magics, she could almost hear a Disciple intoning, must have control of themselves at all times and under all circumstances. Because men are weak, only a few, bred to this control, may be able to use this power.
In front of the long rows of seats stretched what was probably a stage, as most of it was set into the wall far enough that it seemed to form it’s own oddly-shaped room. Unlike the stages Lily had described on the way to the manor, made of wood and shaped like a box, the ceiling and wall were one and shaped like a ribbed cavern. The many seats within it were tiered, and just as Lady Felldesh reached the front, there was a sound as if a large group had stood up. Some of the chairs moved, and Krysilla remembered what Parlay (lord or not) had said about the spell.
And then she remembered that he had a lovely voice. One he’d kept hidden.
A door opened to the side of the balcony and the sound of boots thumped along what must be a wooden floor, though Krysilla couldn’t see it from where she stood. The footsteps continued until they reached the center front of the stage.
“Lord and Lady Felldesh welcome you,” three voices, two male and one female, said. The sound seemed to be all around her, an echo that lingered. “You who are invited are those who have given much to the support of your village. In appreciation, the Felldesh ma
nor also welcomes, for your pleasure and delight, Zhiv Mikailsin, the King’s own minstrel.”
There was an excited murmur behind her and Krysilla waited on the edge of her seat, though for a different reason than those around her. Parlay didn’t act like a lord, and he had a lovely voice.
Lady Felldesh leaned close and whispered, “I asked for him especially after hearing him sing at the King’s palace. I asked and the King granted it.”
Krysilla’s breath caught, and she tried to act calm. Thankfully, Lady Felldesh beamed. Let her think it’s because I’m impressed, Krysilla decided. But it made too much sense. After all, if the King wanted to know what a noble was doing, and if that nobleman’s wife requested his minstrel...there was no way to be sure, she reminded herself. Parlay could still be a lord or even a lowly fiddler. She’d know when she heard him.
The musicians began to play, soft and low, but with a gently urgency that kept her attention. And then, Zhiv began to sing.
Whatever hopes she’d had of figuring him out by his voice ended with that first note. As he began to sing of a world he’d dreamed, a world so perfect it couldn’t exist, he sang with a voice that didn’t seem human at all. The spell on the music added too many layers, and the sound, though pure and clear, had a quality that blended so perfectly with the instruments behind it that it was as if one of them had been given speech by a Blessed One.
And yet, she was captivated by it. Around her, the swirls in the marble seemed to lift themselves off the rock, forming into the fantastical sights Zhiv had seen in his dream: people who threw away their weapons, families living in peace, rulers who never took more than they gave to those who served them. She could feel her heart swelling with pride as she recognized all the Tothsin ideals come to life around her.
Before she knew it, the song had ended, with hope that the dream would become reality someday.
Each song touched her just as fully, whether it was about the longing of a couple whose parents disapproved the match, or the pain a joyful song about the pleasures of happy family life caused in her heart. And song after song produced images of the story, or, in the case of a simple song about the beauty of a windy day, the image of wind blowing through the branches of a tree. She could almost feel the touch of the breeze herself.
And then, came a song that sounded familiar, though Krysilla hadn’t heard it since her childhood.
She looked to Lily to see if she remembered, but Lily was looking at the stage as if she could see every musician on it. Krysilla turned to Lady Felldesh and saw her looking at the stage with the same intense stare.
Afraid she would appear rude if she looked behind to see if the rest of the party was staring at the stage, she listened as the music built, then seemed to wait. When Zhiv sang the first line, she remembered the name of the song.
The Girl with the Blue Sash. No one sang that song anymore. It supposedly encouraged disorder. She’d never thought so. It was just a silly, little tune about a boy who never tells the girl he wants his true feelings for her. She remembered it as a lighthearted, playful song, the kind you sing to remember not to let opportunities pass by.
But the way Zhiv sang it, it didn’t seem as lighthearted as before. Though every joke was still in place, and the crowd laughed where they should, it felt bittersweet to Krysilla.
Why this song? she wondered. She could almost feel the tension in the room as the song built up to its climax, with the now old man finally getting the courage to tell her how he felt and still feels. She, of course, tells him she’s too old, but, as a final gesture, gives him her blue sash from her previous marriage. That part had always made her giggle as a child. Why give him a reminder of what he didn’t have? Now, she began to wonder if it was so that he could imagine that all those years she wore it for him.
But only because of the images the marble formed, of the sad girl watching the boy who couldn’t share her heart.
She closed her eyes, feeling that there was something else, something hidden inside the song itself. With a shiver, she felt the same connection begin that had happened with Parlay and his fiddle.
Concentrating, she focused on Zhiv’s voice, feeling through the layers and effects of the spell for his true voice. Feeling a tap on her arm, she turned to see Lily glaring at her with wide eyes. Confused, she stopped.
The song was winding up anyway.
When the last note had died away, the audience clapped their approval. But not Krysilla.
Maybe, she thought, staring at the stage, all truly good musicians are able to touch others and I just haven’t heard enough good music. But there was something about the quality of the performance, that, even though they were different instruments and different styles, made her think of Parlay.
Or perhaps you truly have fallen for him, a wicked voice inside whispered.
She felt the blue sash winding around the dress Lily had let her borrow and suppressed a bitter smile. Even if I had, like the girl in the song, there’s nothing I can do about it. Not without consequences I’d rather not face.
“Thank you,” the announcers said, their voices filling the emptiness of the hall. “Thank you for attending, and we wish you well as you journey home. Peace to you all, from the Felldesh manor.”
Lady Felldesh stood and so did the rest of the audience. And the musicians, Krysilla realized, hearing them walk across the stage. The side door opened once again and Krysilla made a note of it before Lady Felldesh touched her on the arm.
“Would you care to join me in my room?”
“I’d be delighted. Thank you.”
It took her only a few steps before she realized Lily wasn’t following. If Lily were jealous at all, she didn’t show it. With a wave and a smile, she made it clear she expected Krysilla to enjoy the honor and that she would be going elsewhere with her husband. Still,...“Wait. May my friends join us?”
Lady Felldesh sent a servant, who informed them that Lily and her husband wished to get back to their children. “That’s too bad,” Lady Felldesh said, though Krysilla once more felt as if Lady Felldesh were looking for something in Krysilla when she said it. “Come then.”
The private room of Lady Felldesh had no windows. It gave the room a closed feeling that Krysilla didn’t like, and all the people, some she recognized from the village, and some she didn’t, added to that feeling. It didn’t help that one of the people sitting in the room was her husband, Lejer.
Those sitting now stood. “Lady Felldesh,” they all said.
“Would you like a seat by your wife, Hon Gillasin?” Lady Felldesh’s question seemed a little too playful.
“Of course,” he said, but without any returning teasing. Always proper, Krysilla thought and couldn’t help remembering Parlay. He would have said something witty or flirtatious in return.
She sat down, wondering if she should excuse herself now. The room definitely felt uncomfortable. But Lady Felldesh sat down in a chair across from her and grinned.
“Well. Lejer has told me much about you, goodwife. Cake?”
“No. Thank you.”
“I envy you,” she said, lacing her white, delicate fingers together in her lap. “You must have cake whenever you wish.”
“Oh, no,” Krysilla said quickly, hating how the other well-dressed people in the room smiled, as if she were a child who had just misspoken. “I mean, I was tempted when I first married Lejer, but he made it clear that self-control was an admirable trait.”
The eyes of Lady Felldesh glittered and her smile grew. “Oh, that does sound like him. How long have you been married now?”
“Seven years.”
“Seven. Such a long time. And yet, you seem very used to each other.”
The room had indeed begun to feel too hot. “We are.”
“How did you two meet?”
Krysilla tried her best to tell the tale: of how the miller had told Lejer of the poor girl all alone, of how no one would look twice at her because she worked the business instead of focusing on
marrying as a way of providing for her family. Lejer interjected now and then, correcting minor details. At the fifth interruption, Lady Felldesh laughed. “Perhaps you should tell us the tale, Hon Gillasin.”
He turned bright red and didn’t interrupt again.
Realizing how intimidated he must be by such a powerful woman, she did her best to put him in a good light as she finished the tale, making his mercy clear in marrying someone with no prospects and only a good sense of business for a dowry. “I’ve tried to do him justice since...though I’m afraid I’ve done a poor job of it.”
She glanced up at him, but he didn’t even look in her direction. Feeling miserable at the prospect of yet another failure, she said, “I’m feeling a little warm. May I?” she gestured toward the door.
“Of course, my dear,” Lady Felldesh said. Krysilla thanked her and left.
Once in the cool of the empty ballroom, mirrors once more in place, her head began to clear. Parlay, she thought, is a fool. There was no purpose in her getting near Lady Felldesh, except perhaps to keep Lejer from dragging her home and causing a scene.
And I’ll have to go back. That thought brought a wave of exhaustion that made her wish the servants had left the chairs in the ballroom. Only the ornate ones along the wall remained and she was afraid to touch them.
Staring at the stage, she had no idea how to get from here to where Parlay was. Did he think the stage was on the floor or that she could easily climb it? Or that there wouldn’t be any servants around to watch her?
She walked the across the ballroom toward the enormous windows. Outside, a multitude of stars shone in the night sky. For one insane moment, she wanted to forget that Lejer and Lady Felldesh existed. She wanted to rush outside and race along the manor’s perimeter until she found the entrance the musicians used, then pretend she was madly in love with Zhiv and...she closed her eyes and tried not to laugh.
Of course. She’s in love with Zhiv. Looking around the ballroom, she saw a manservant in a dark coat. “Excuse me,” she said in a soft voice, “I was wondering if I could express my appreciation to the musicians for their performance tonight?”
