“I’m sure she’s worried for Lord Gavin.”
“It has been a difficult day,” the Seneschal repeated.
He led Nate down one corridor and up another, until finally they stopped at a heavy wooden door. It felt central, but after so many turns, Nate couldn’t be sure. Before opening it, the Seneschal stopped. “One more chance to turn back.”
No, there were no chances to turn back. Not for Nate. But he did wonder uneasily exactly what the Seneschal had in mind, that he felt the need for such repeated warnings. “Forward,” he said.
The Seneschal nodded and produced a heavy set of keys. Effortlessly, he found the one that fit the keyhole in the wooden door and pushed it open. The room beyond was the grandest Nate had ever been in. The walls were lined with red silk and bookshelves. Inside a glass-fronted cabinet were bottles of what appeared to be Sevedran wine; for the price of just one of those bottles, the entire caravan could have eaten for months, and skipped the hokey, obligatory medicine shows and entertainment. An enormous settee and two armchairs, all of the same rich leather, were arranged before an enormous fireplace, and if the fireplace wasn’t made of Ophenian marble then Nate himself was. The air smelled of expensive tobacco and paper and wine—but it also smelled stale and unused. Under that smell was another, dusty and metallic. Old blood, Nate realized, with some surprise. Derie could smell blood years after it had been spilled. He’d never been able to before.
“This is a beautiful room,” he said, although suddenly the blood was all he could smell and he would have liked to leave. “Your office?”
“Lord Elban’s study,” the Seneschal said. “Generally, nobody is allowed inside when he’s gone, but it’s extremely private.” He did not move to sit down, nor did he offer a seat to Nate. “What I have to tell you is extremely private, as well. If you were anything less than the House Magus, you would have your tongue cut out before you heard it. It involves the foundling, Judah. You’ve seen her. I believe you’ve even spoken with her.”
Nate’s breath caught, but “A time or two,” was all he said, as if it mattered so little he couldn’t quite remember. He considered shrugging, but thought better of it. “I found her pleasant enough.”
The Seneschal’s eyebrows went up. “Pleasant is not exactly the word I’d use. What do you know of her story?”
“I’ve heard all the rumors,” Nate said carefully, “but I wasn’t aware that anybody actually knew her story.”
“Indeed. She was brought in by the midwife who delivered Lady Clorin of Lord Gavin. In her satchel, with the rest of her supplies. When Lady Clorin heard the crying, the old woman said the baby was the result of her earlier night’s work, that the mother had died, and that she had not had time to dispose of the infant before receiving the summons and rushing to the House. Lady Clorin had lost several children by then. She could not bear the thought of the child being thrown into the river, so she begged Lord Elban to let her keep it. He agreed.”
“Because he loved her?” It was a real question. If Arkady had taken a wife, anything was possible.
“Because he didn’t care. He had his heir. Once that heir was proven healthy, I don’t believe he had any intention of seeing Lady Clorin again.” He shook his head. “He has come to think of it as his greatest mistake, taking in the foundling.”
“Why?” This story was one that Nate had heard all his life—but this version was different. Inside-out. He was fascinated.
“There is something unnatural about Judah. He hates her for it, but I don’t believe it’s her fault. I don’t believe there’s anything she can do to change it.”
He was right enough about that, Nate thought.
The Seneschal shook his head. “There is no easy way to say it. What Lord Gavin suffers—illness, injury—Judah does, and vice versa. It has been that way all their lives. We have tested the bond in every way we can think of, and we have not been able to break or even lessen it.”
Nate had practiced for this moment. His mouth fell open. His eyes grew wide. “That’s—”
“Complicated?” The Seneschal nodded. “It is. Lord Elban did try to produce a new heir when the problem was discovered; thus Lord Theron, who I’m afraid was unacceptable even before his illness. I think Lord Elban would have gone against tradition to marry again if any of his other women had fallen pregnant, but none of them ever did. The last plague left some men sterile, and Lord Elban seems to be one of them.” The Seneschal shrugged. “At any rate, he hopes that the Nali chieftains will be able to break the bond. They are supposed to have some knowledge of such things. Along with a great deal of gold, of course.”
Nate had been basking in the knowledge that Elban’s line really did end with the two boys, but suddenly his mouth went dry, and his feigned shock became all too genuine. He didn’t know anything about the Nali. He hoped Derie did. “What would happen to Judah if the bond was broken?”
“That’s not our concern today.”
The Seneschal’s tone was final. Nate closed his eyes briefly, took a deep breath, and tried to compose himself. At least his discomfiture would seem genuine, he thought wryly. “So she’s in the same condition as Lord Gavin?”
“Yes, but if he will recover, so will she. That’s not the problem.”
“What is, then?”
The Seneschal picked up the poker from the cold fireplace and put it down again. “Judah is...well, she’s clever, and she’s bored. When they were children that led to mischief. Now it leads to actual trouble.” His mouth went thin. “She’s had an affair with a staff member. Against my explicit orders, I might add. I knew all about it, although I’m sure she thought she was being very secretive. Nothing in this city happens without my knowledge.” Nate caught a hint of smugness in the man’s tone. “I figured that once she was caught, it would serve as a relatively harmless way to demonstrate to her that my prohibition was serious. But that’s also not the problem.”
Nate went cold. “Is she pregnant?”
“Unclear, as of yet. But that’s not the problem, either. The problem is that she was with the man when Lord Gavin was injured. She collapsed. The man was understandably alarmed, as anyone would be. He picked her up and ran with her to the House. Burst into the great hall calling for help.” He shook his head. “Considering that it will cost him his life, it was actually very brave of him.”
Nate thought of Judah with a man: after all the years of sacrifice, the generations of planning, to be pawed at like a common girl. “He’ll be killed?” Nate said, and realized that he took a savage pleasure in the idea.
“He’ll have to be. We can’t have a repeat of this incident. The man’s punishment must be severe, so that even if Judah would disobey me again—and she might, she’s willful—none of the staff will have her. It’s a shame; he’s head stableman, and I understand that he’s quite good at his job. It’ll be relatively quick. Not too quick, of course, or it won’t be a deterrent.” The Seneschal rubbed his eyes. “She might at least have chosen a courtier. I wouldn’t have to kill a courtier. And she’ll be punished as well, of course.”
“How?”
“She’ll be caned.” Nate’s face must have revealed his horror, because the gray man smiled a tight, unpleasant smile. “Yes, it’s unfortunate. But the damned fool stableman ran right through the gardens with her in his arms. There aren’t many courtiers inside right now, but there are enough to make sure Lord Elban hears of it. And if I can’t assure him that she was suitably punished, he’ll want to know why. We won’t do it publicly, of course, but the rumors will spread. When the courtiers hear that she was whipped bloody for sleeping with a staff member—which they never would be—it will reinforce the idea that she’s not one of them, and perhaps they’ll be less inclined to involve her in their little games.”
“But if Judah is...whipped bloody...” Nate almost couldn’t speak.
“Yes,” the Seneschal said aga
in. “Lord Gavin will suffer, as well. Which is why we need to do it now, while the House still thinks he’s recovering from his head wound.”
Head wound. “I would not recommend this while she’s still injured,” Nate said.
“I agree, but I don’t have a choice. I’m telling you all of this because you will need to be here, and I want you to understand exactly why what you see is happening. It may seem cruel, but it’s actually the kindest possible scenario. As I said, Lord Elban will hear about all of this. If he deems the punishment not severe enough, he will order one he finds more suitable. Shall I give you some examples of the sort of thing Lord Elban might consider a suitable punishment, or will you believe me when I say that none of us want that?”
His voice was hard. “I’ll take your word for it,” Nate said. “I assume I’ll need to be here to tend Lord Gavin?”
The Seneschal nodded. “And Judah, as well. But you’ll be with Lord Gavin during the caning. You can treat his wounds as they occur. He can’t be drugged, because the guards will no doubt report what they see to Lord Elban, and Judah must seem aware of what’s happening. We’ll do it as soon as Lord Gavin begins to awaken. That’s another reason we have to do it today; he will do whatever he can to stop the caning, so he’ll need to be restrained, and I don’t think he’ll let that happen if he’s fully conscious. You and I will bind him ourselves. I can see that you find this situation distasteful. Rest assured that I do, as well. If there were another option, I would take it.” Then, as if to himself, he added, “A few more weeks and it might not have mattered.”
“The shock might kill her,” Nate said coldly. “It might kill both of them.”
“You’re here to prevent that.”
No. That wasn’t why he was here at all. He was there to take care of Judah, to help her find her power and untie the knot Mad Martin had wrought. “How will Lord Gavin react when he’s put through all this pain because of her?”
“It will remind him of lessons he learned as a child, which he would do well to remember, anyway. But that’s none of your concern. Do you want to examine her before she’s caned?”
Nate gritted his teeth and said that he did, and they went back to the rooms where they’d started. The girl lay on a tiny cot in a dusty, windowless room off the grand state bedroom where the Tiernan slept—surely with the young lord, now that they were betrothed, and what must that be like for Judah, to lie alone in a cold bare room meant for a servant, while mere feet away the two more fortunate highborns took as much pleasure in each other as they liked. The bond would transfer pleasure as well as pain, but secondhand pleasure would not be the same. No wonder she had been driven to find her own. He hoped she had found it.
He still hated the stableman, though.
He checked Judah’s eyes, pulse and reflexes, just as he had Elban’s son’s. Aware of how he handled her more gently; aware, too, of the smoothness of her skin, the warmth of it. Whatever she and the stableman had been doing when she was stricken, she was fully dressed now, if barefoot, so he could not find out for sure if she was pregnant. He could feel her abdomen, and did; but the Seneschal was watching, and unconscious as the girl was, Nate didn’t want to undress her in front of him. He hoped she wasn’t—Derie wouldn’t like it—but even if she was, she might not be for long after the caning. Nate had seen it happen before.
When he had done all he could for her, the Tiernan pale with worry and wringing her hands in the doorway, the Seneschal said, “Do you have everything you’ll need, or do you need to return to the manor?”
“I can make do with what I have now, but it would be better if I could get a few things.”
“Then do so,” the Seneschal said. “But be fast.” With a nod to the Tiernan, he left the parlor. Nate moved to follow, but before he could, Lady Eleanor stopped him.
“Magus,” she said. “A word, please?”
Her voice held the faintest unsteadiness. Nate liked the girl well enough but found himself impatient; she probably just wanted more of the contraceptive sachets. He filled his voice with a deference he did not feel. “Lady, I’m sorry. I did not bring—”
Her blue eyes went to the door the Seneschal had so recently passed through, and she stepped close to him. “Never mind that.” The unsteadiness was gone. Her words fell quick and sharp. “There’s a courtier named Firo. He’s a friend—sort of—of Judah’s, and of mine. When you leave our rooms, turn right instead of left. There’s a staircase halfway down the corridor. He’ll be waiting for you on the landing.”
“Lady,” Nate said, “time is of the essence, for your betrothed and for Judah.”
“This is for Judah,” she said, insistent. “Please.”
Something in her face was urgent and human, so he nodded. Outside, the corridor was empty. He turned right instead of left and found the courtier as she’d promised, lounging indifferently on the landing. Before Nate had come to Highfall, he’d had a picture in his head of what one of Lord Elban’s courtiers would look like, and it might have been painted after the man in front of him: overstyled hair gleaming with oil, garish clothes, gaudy jewels on every available appendage. No doubt the jewels had been mined by slaves in the Barriers. No doubt this courtier, this Firo, knew that, and didn’t care.
“Well, magus,” he said. “I see Lady Eleanor has convinced you to join in her little subterfuge, as well. What has she offered you in payment? Arkady could be bought for a few glasses of wine and an hour or two with a willing woman. Do you come so cheaply? I might require your services one day.”
“She offered me nothing,” Nate said curtly. “And I don’t have much time. What do you need?”
The courtier’s eyebrows lifted. “I need nothing, good magus. We are on a mission of mercy. Would you care to see my rooms?”
“As you wish.”
The courtier looked him up and down in a way that Nate was not entirely comfortable with, and rolled his eyes dramatically. “What I wish is that this was a different kind of story entirely, my lovely young magus, but oh, well. Maybe another time.” Then he smiled. “You look shocked, magus. Do you disapprove of my predilections?”
“They’re...unproductive,” Nate said.
“How quaint. Have you been visiting with my father?” Firo laughed. “I assume that you mean un-reproductive. There’s no shortage of babies in the world, magus, but there is a distinct shortage of delight.”
“I’m not here for your delight, and I’m not here for you.”
Firo drew himself up. “All business, then? Fair enough. Onward, good sir. To the guest rooms.” Picking up a large bundle that Nate hadn’t noticed from the floor—a bundle which clanked softly—Firo led Nate downstairs, through a rather utilitarian corridor to a grander, more sumptuously appointed one, studded with highly polished doors. Nate guessed that they led to the rooms the courtiers paid handsomely to keep. The door Firo opened was halfway down; the room behind it was a riot of color, lushly carpeted and sparkling with glass, although the narrow bed seemed at odds with Firo’s licentious manner. In the middle of the room, holding himself stiffly without touching anything, stood a huge man wearing drab staff clothes. His hugeness was mostly in his arms and shoulders, which told the story of a lifetime of hard work; his curly hair was damp with sweat, and his broad, ordinary face was twisted with worry and sadness and an exhausted sort of resignation. There was a smell in the room that did not match the furnishings, a smell of horse and manure and leather. Add in wood smoke and the creaking sound of wagon wheels, and with his eyes closed, Nate could have been convinced he was home.
“Do they not teach you to sit in the stables?” Firo said once the door was closed, letting his bundle clatter to the ground.
Glancing uncertainly between the two men, the stableman—for that was who he must be—said, “I did not know if I was allowed to sit, my lord. This is the nicest room I’ve ever been in.”
Nate felt a p
ang, remembering his own reaction to Lord Elban’s study. Firo merely said coolly, “I’m glad you like it. I had to pay a great deal of money to have you brought here. If we’re caught, I imagine the price will increase dramatically.”
Even more confused, the man said, “Then...why—”
“I suppose I like the idea of Lady Eleanor owing me a favor more than I fear death. Now.” He kicked the bundle open with one polished, high-heeled shoe, revealing a leather cuirass with a white badge. Nate could see other pieces of armor underneath it. “This should fit, for all that you’re freakishly large. Fortunately, most of the guards are also freakishly large.” To Nate, he said, “Our Judah has interesting taste in men, does she not?”
Nate scowled, but he had imagined someone more handsome, someone confident and predatory, like the young Slonimi men who caused trouble with village girls. The stableman went scarlet. “Please, my lord,” he said. “Is she—”
Firo pointed at Nate, who said, “She’s fine. Nasty bump on the head.”
The scarlet drained away, leaving the stableman deathly pale. “I swear to you, I would never hurt her.”
“No need to explain,” Firo said. “As I was just telling the good magus here, we take our pleasure where we find it in this ugly old world. Now—” picking up the cuirass “—how do we put this thing on you?”
“The straps buckle.” The stableman’s voice was barely audible. He shook his curly head. “My lord, forgive me, but this won’t work. They’ll come looking for me.”
“They’ll get their blood. You’re being replaced.”
Warily, the stableman asked, “By who?”
“By somebody replaceable,” Firo said impatiently, “which Lady Eleanor, for some reason, seems to believe you’re not.” He shoved the armor at the stableman, who took it rather than drop it—through years of having things shoved at him, Nate suspected—but did not move to put it on. “Stupid man. You’re being given your life.”
He stared at the cuirass. “They’ll go to my mother’s house. They’ll burn it down. My sisters—”
The Unwilling Page 30
