A Gift Freely Given (The Tahaerin Chronicles Book 1)

by J. Ellen Ross

  “Tilla, how many women are designated for Leisha’s care?”

  “Six, my lord,” she said after some thought.

  “Can we make do with half as many?” Andrzej asked.

  “Yes, I don’t see why not, Your Highness,” she said after some consideration. “There are three senior nannies and three juniors.”

  “Can the juniors perform the duties of the seniors adequately?” As much as he wanted to save money, he did take his oaths and promises to Davos seriously.

  “Yes, I believe so, my lord. The girl is old enough not to need so much care. But, Sire, Wysia is one of the senior nannies and is the child’s favorite. We might consider keeping her for that reason.”

  Andrzej waved her away. “She costs more than a junior. Pay them their final wages and send them all on their way.”

  ***

  Leisha sat on a footstool while Wysia brushed out her long, black hair, relaxed and unguarded. At six years old, she was a precocious child. Wysia knew she was inordinately bright and far exceeded other children her age. Soon after turning three, Leisha began reading advanced texts and now she spent hours a day pouring over history, science and philosophy. Recently, she had begun arguing morality with academics at the castle. It disturbed some of her caretakers, and those women usually moved on. To Wysia, Leisha was simply different.

  Around the apartments, Jennat cleared dinner dishes while Mildra and Felnisa put away laundry. Suddenly, the girl jumped to her feet from the little stool and began trembling. When she whirled to look at Wysia, her eyes were wide with fright. “What’s happening?” she demanded and then started weeping. “What’s happening, Wysia?” she wailed.

  Wysia heard footsteps in the hallway and then Tilla and Stanna appeared in the doorway, with Stanna looking very unhappy. Tilla clapped her hands and all the nurses abandoned their chores. “Ladies, I’ve spoken with the king and he has decided to reduce Her Majesty’s staff. Stanna, Kristra, and Wysia are dismissed. I’ll have your final pay for you at the gatehouse.”

  “Your Highness,” Tilla said, turning to the girl. “You’ll be expected to take more responsibility for your own care.”

  Leisha stared at Tilla, her eyes round with horror. Wysia was one of the few women here who were kind to her. She was never as stingy as the others with hugs and sometimes she shared sweets from her pockets. Where the other nannies were aloof, Wysia was warm and comforting. Leisha ran to Tilla. “Why Wysia? Send Mildra away. Send Jennat.” Waves of panic washed through the room, which everyone felt.

  “Control yourself. There’s no discussion. The king has decided, and you will accept it.” Crossing her arms over her chest, Tilla told the women to pack their things. In the morning, they would receive a week’s worth of pay and food.

  Wysia hurried over to the little princess, who stood in the middle of the room, bereft and lost. “Now, now,” she said, kneeling in front of her small mistress. “This was always going to happen. You’re going to go home to be the queen of Tahaerin one day, aren’t you?”

  Nodding, Leisha’s bottom lip began to tremble.

  “You have a duty to do, to be a good queen to your people and to treat them fairly. Can you promise me you’ll always do your duty? Don’t lose control of yourself. You know how to control your gifts. Promise me.”

  “Yes, Wysia, I promise,” Leisha said in her small voice.

  “Good girl, then. Give me a hug.” Wysia wrapped the little princess in her arms and felt the girl lean into her. Tears threatened. No one else here cared for Leisha. What would become of her? “There. I need to go,” Wysia said.

  Leisha watched the three nannies leave her rooms before turning and running for her bedroom. Slamming the door as hard as she could, she threw herself onto the bed and wept. She curled herself into a ball, wallowing in her grief until she exhausted herself.

  Only then did she notice the sounds of laughter and talking coming from the front rooms of her apartments. The voices outside belonged to the younger nannies, the ones who never showed her much kindness. They were happy? She crept out of bed and pressed her ear to the door, but the words came indistinct through the thick wood. Leisha reached out to sweep her mind over theirs, one at a time, and heard the words clearly.

  “Did you hear the brat in there? Carrying on? Oh, Wysia’s gone forever,” Jennat mimicked the sounds of her crying.

  “Aye, the brat. My sister can barely feed her children and this one weeps with a full belly and silk bed sheets.”

  “Always crying because she didn’t get her way.”

  One more hiccup and Leisha’s tears stopped abruptly. They mocked her, making fun of her sadness. Fury flooded her. How dare they? They were just nannies and she was a princess. She had a duty and they had chores.

  Never again. Their cruelty only confirmed no one here could be trusted. No one in this castle cared for her. She heard it in their minds when they thought about her. They did not trust her or even like her very much. Jennat, in particular, thought she belonged in a circus. Wysia was the only one who ever asked how it felt to read the thoughts of others. She called it a gift.

  Crouched by the door, Leisha swore she would be strong and she would control her emotions so no one would ever make her cry again. Just as she promised Wysia, she would do her duty. One day, she would go home to Tahaerin to be a good and fair queen and from now on, she would make her own way. She would never make the mistake of trying to be close to her servants again.

  Oaths

  Cezar slipped his coat on as he stepped into the chilly morning. He pulled the wicket door shut behind and hurried across the training yard. In a few hours, the yard would fill with his students, boys and girls from seven to eighteen.

  Twenty years ago, he came to Ostrava to sell a plan to Edik, the lord of the region. Together, they became brokers of information and of spies, training children to become highly sought-after agents and occasional assassins. When they finished their training, Cezar sent them out to spy for Edik and then sold the information they brought back. Once he deemed them ready, he sold their contracts to noble houses and even royalty, for large sums, making Edik and himself very wealthy. Every noble employed spies and every noble spied on everyone else.

  Cezar knew his methods were not unique or even special. His success lay in the support he received from Edik, who allowed him to spend freely on training as long as it produced results. The children received an education only available to nobles, they trained in all manner of weapons and they swore to live by a simple code. Loyalty, secrecy, objectivity.

  Around their thirteenth birthday, each of the children took their oaths. They owed their employer their utmost loyalty. If they could not be loyal, they pledged to leave his employ. They swore to keep their employer’s secrets. And, they had to maintain their objectivity when it came to dealings with their employers. It meant they could never become too entwined in the lives of their employers or become romantically involved with anyone in the household. To do so would destroy any hope of objectivity and make it impossible to do their job. They would make decisions with their hearts, not their heads. If they slipped, they were obligated to leave their employer’s service. Everything else fit into one of those three rules.

  They took their oaths and then received a brand on the inside of their wrist. Once branded, they were obligated to stay with Edik until he sold their contracts. After Edik sold their contracts the first time, they were free and could use the brands to prove Cezar trained them and command higher salaries.

  A nobleman could hire a spy from anywhere. Sneak thieves who knew their way around a sword or small blade abounded. But if a rich man wanted to hire a well-trained, educated and polished spy, they hired ones from Ostrava.

  This morning, as he crossed the yard to wake the older students for morning drills, Cezar saw a boy emerging from one of the other barracks and smiled to himself. Only one of his charges would be up at this time of morning.

  ***

  Zaraki woke well before the sun
rose and well before Father expected him for lessons. He lit his small candle from the banked fireplace and pulled on his boots and coat. Both his roommates, Aniska, and Fellnin, would sleep for another hour, which gave him some time to himself. He remembered when there were seven others in his group of students. Two died from a fever the year after Father found him, three were expelled for breaking rules several years ago and two others could not keep up with the lessons. They worked as runners in the castle now.

  Aniska was a year younger than him, and Fellnin a year older. Before they took their brands and swore their oaths, Father moved both boys and girls together in the same rooms as a test. At thirteen, he expected them to be able to control themselves. Their oaths forbade them from becoming involved with anyone in the household, including other students. Violating their oaths meant expulsion from the castle and their little family. Zaraki had no interest in being expelled.

  Grabbing the candle and slipping out of their room, he hurried across the courtyard to the classroom. Father left it open for him, knowing he often had trouble sleeping. This morning dreams of his mother drove him out of bed. Someday, he liked to think the nightmares would stop. He barely remembered his parents anymore.

  Opening the door, he took his candle over to his desk and pulled out the math book. He hated math but understood he might need it. In the dim light, he bent over the pages and read, trying to commit it all to memory. While not the best student Father had trained, he knew he was good. He had to be. One taste of starvation and poverty was enough for this lifetime. Zaraki remembered having a home, having a bed and a family. He remembered losing it all.

  At six bells, Aniska and Fellnin wandered into the classroom yawning and rubbing at their eyes. Their tutor followed them in, looking very sleepy and maybe hung over as well. He greeted them and asked them to write invitations from a high-ranking merchant to a nobleman, inviting him to his child’s birthday party. He also asked they do so in silence. All three went to work and by the end of the hour, three neat invitations rested on the tutor’s desk.

  Cezar came to watch their etiquette lessons at seven bells. Over and over, the tutor drilled them on greeting noblemen and women from all different kingdoms at a gathering. Someday it would come naturally, but for now Father watched, corrected and judged. If they hoped to pass among the nobility, there could be no flaws, no hesitation and nothing to arouse suspicion.

  “Aniska,” he barked. “Not low enough.” He shook his head at her. “Remember you’re wearing a gown at this ball and this is Embriel. Sink to the ground, all the way, girl.”

  “Yes, Father,” she said, repeating his instructions. “To the ground. I’m terrible at this and I hate dresses,” she grumbled to Zaraki.

  He grinned at her. “One day, you’re going to look like a fine lady in your beautiful gown.” With Father’s attention elsewhere, he pantomimed twirling around in an imaginary dress and Aniska stuck out her tongue. One thing she never needed to worry about becoming was a lady of any sort.

  “Fellnin, gods help me, if you can’t learn to bow, then it’s no breakfast or lunch today. Watch Zaraki. Watch him. Do it, boy.”

  Zaraki snapped to attention. Pretending to be a Trillinae noble, he swept back his imaginary cape before sliding his left leg forward and bowing low over it. Easy, but this would likely earn him a punch in the ribs from Fellnin when Cezar looked away. The boys seemed incapable of getting along. Zaraki did better at lessons; Fellnin liked being a bully. Zaraki had a habit of smarting off; Fellnin took it all personally. At least now, they were of similar size, so Fellnin had a harder time harassing the younger boy.

  At eight bells, Father usually released them to find food in the kitchen. A few times a month, he sent them into town to steal what they needed to eat. Aniska’s quick hands kept her out of trouble while Zaraki spent a night or two in a cell before Cezar paid his fine. Fellnin killed a man when the shopkeeper grabbed his hand and tried to take an apple back from him. That had been difficult to smooth over with Edik and almost cost Fellnin his place.

  Today, the kitchens served sausage and sweetbreads. Cezar allowed them fifteen minutes to eat before they had to be back in the small room with their tutor. Anyone returning late earned extra laps or pushups, or worse, he would make them spar with one of the older boys who returned to the castle after a job.

  This morning, everyone made it back in time. They dove into lessons covering social customs and politics of the different kingdoms making up the continent of Ilayta. In the middle of a discussion of Embriel women’s fashions, Cezar interrupted the lessons.

  “What are the three things all Ostravans promise their employers?” he asked.

  “Loyalty, secrecy, objectivity,” the three children repeated back to him.

  “Good. You’ve all learned your lessons at least. You’re all around thirteen now, so tonight, I’ve decided you’ll make your oaths and take the brand.” Shocked expressions met his. They had known it would be soon but had not expected it tonight. “You’ve all memorized the oaths?” he asked, knowing all three had. These were the finest he had trained in years – dedicated, driven, serious students who would make Edik a fortune.

  They nodded.

  “Excellent. Remember, after tonight, if you fail at any of your training, I will expel you, banish you from Ostrava and cut you off from any help. Remember, too, we own you until we sell your contracts. Are we clear?”

  Zaraki spoke up first. “Yes, Father.” He would give no offense to earn his expulsion and would not fail. He would not go hungry again.

  “Tonight, in your room, I’ll bring the strike brand and a brazier. You’re all released from lessons today. Instead, spend the afternoon learning how to put the fire to each other. Think about what you need to know and ask questions of the older students here.”

  ***

  The three children retreated to their small room. Pulling out a small piece of paper and a bit of charcoal from his pocket, Zaraki sketched out the questions he thought most important to find answers to. From the corner of his eye, he saw Fellnin sigh, impatient and ready to begin, but Zaraki would not rush. He would plan this carefully and make sure he knew what to do, what to expect. When he finished his list, he read it to his brother and sister. “How do we do it? How will we know when it’s hot enough? How long do you hold it down? How hard do you push? What else can we think of?”

  “Who cares?” Fellnin said, drawing the words out and rolling his eyes. “It can’t be hard. It’s just burning each other. I watched them do it to the warhorses last spring. I’m taking the rest of the day off.” He fell back onto his bed, lacing his fingers behind his head and closing his eyes.

  Ani would not argue with Fellnin. No good ever came of that. “Come on, Zaraki. Let’s go to talk to Inuska and Tsigan. They took their brands last year, didn’t they?”

  ***

  Just as he promised, Cezar appeared in the barracks, arriving as the watch pulled the cord to announce eleven bells. In his hands, he carried a wrapped package and a small metal brazier. Covered on all sides with a lovely etched pattern, it stood on four engraved legs. He set it on the ground off to one side.

  Father folded back the leather to reveal the metal strike – a long rod ending in the Ostravan mark. Formed from heavy gauge wire, the circle cut by a bar would leave a scar along the inside of each child’s wrist. A permanent mark nobles across Streza or further south in Meszdra knew and respected. Some in Embriel would know it, but further west, few people did.

  Taking the candle burning next to Aniska’s bed, he lit the coals in the brazier and set the strike into them. “You’ll speak your oaths to me and then set the fire to each other. We’re a family here in Ostrava. An odd family, perhaps, but it’s the only family we have. Trust your brothers and sisters. Are you all ready to recite the oath?” Three heads nodded, solemn, serious faces staring back at him. “Begin then.”

  The children looked at each other, afraid to go first. Screwing up her face, Aniska found her courag
e and the other two joined in. “I swear to be loyal to my employer,” they said, watching each other. “For in loyalty I am steadfast, worthy of the trust given to me. I swear to keep my employer’s secrets, for his secrets hold value I cannot comprehend. I swear to keep my objectivity, for anything that clouds it, obscures my way and blunts my blade.”

  Father smiled. “Welcome, all three of you. You’ll only hear this once from me. You’re all very talented, gifted students. I’m happy you’ve all made it this far and I expect great things from each of you. Now, this is your last trial. Brand each other and you’ll be fully Ostravan.” Cezar nodded and left the barracks, leaving them with a burning brazier and the strike brand.

  All three children looked at each other, wondering who would volunteer to be burned first. Once again, Aniska spoke up before the boys.

  “Zaraki, you do me. Before I lose my nerve.”

  “I’ll do it for you, Ani,” Fellnin volunteered, always eager for her approval.

  She shook her head, her breath coming quick and her eyes wide. “No, I want him. Go on, you do it,” she said holding out her wrist, palm up.

  Fellnin scowled and stepped back, furious again for her to show favor to the smaller boy.

  Touching the end of the metal shaft, Zaraki jerked his hand back. When he found it still cool to the touch, he fished out the strike brand. Holding it up, he saw the wire circle and bar at the far end glowed bright red. He hesitated, not wanting to hurt her.

  “Do it quick, before it cools,” Ani said forcing herself to stand still. “You heard what Inuska said. The pain fades. Just be firm and let it burn before you pull it back.”

  Taking her hand in his as Tsigan had suggested, he held the brand over her wrist and tried to line it up evenly. Zaraki looked at her once more and she nodded.

  “Now, do it,” she whispered and gritted her teeth.

  The smell of burning flesh filled their little room and Aniska convulsed, leaning over, trying not to scream. Then it was over and Zaraki pulled the brand away. He grabbed the pot of salve Inuska told him to buy in the market and smeared the awful smelling stuff over her wound. “Don’t touch it,” he warned and examined his work in the candlelight. “It looks good. I got it all.” If they left any part of the design off, they had to rebrand their friend.