by Sharon Green
“No, and I probably won’t find any,” she replied, annoyance strong in her voice even as she looked at him narrowly. “Those stupid low class fools are actually picking and choosing who they’ll work for, and the ingrates who used to work for us have apparently put us on some sort of refusal list. This is all the fault of the nobility, and they’d better hurry up and get things put back to the way they were. After all, what else are they good for…? Storn, there’s something you aren’t telling me, and I want to know what it is. All of it, if you please.”
Her voice had turned hard and uncompromising, the ice princess handing out orders. He usually had no trouble handling her, but when she fell into a mood like this… Well, why not? Maybe she’d be able to think of a way out…
“All right, I will tell you all of it,” he agreed, leaning back in his chair. “Odrin Hallasser is sometimes a difficult man to deal with, but this arrangement was one it wasn’t possible to pass up on. It’s unfortunate that he was the only one who had the ready gold… But to get to those details. He and I have indeed registered the land in both our names, but we did something else as well. In order to keep the deal between ourselves, we also named each other as beneficiary of that part of our estates if one of us happened to … die.”
“Oh, Storn, you didn’t!” she exclaimed with horror, understanding exactly what that meant. “You have to mean it was done without safeguards, the kind you’ve always used. And without those safeguards…”
“Yes, exactly,” Storn agreed glumly. “Without those safeguards, Odrin will benefit if I should somehow meet with an unfortunate and unexpected ending. And that’s what he’s threatened me with if I don’t find Tamrissa and turn her over to him in the next two days. I’ve been looking into the possibility of doing the same to him only sooner, but with the city in such a turmoil, finding the right people is extremely difficult.”
“As if finding people foolish enough to go up against Odrin Hallasser and his group would be easy at any time.” Avrina spoke the words shortly, her lips compressed with disapproval. “I do wish you’d mentioned this sooner, Storn. Two days… We have to stop Odrin from ordering your death, we simply have to.”
“Again, I agree,” Storn said, not particularly amused. “If you can think of a way I haven’t already tried and discarded, please do let me know. Especially if it involves getting my hands on that ingrate of a daughter of ours. I tried to do the right thing by her and insisted that Odrin marry her, but now I don’t care if he does or not. As long as he gets his hands on her.”
“And teaches her a good lesson,” Avrina said with a nod. “We can’t—Oh!”
“What’s the meaning of this intrusion?” Storn demanded as he rose quickly to his feet, glaring at the strange man who had suddenly appeared in the doorway of his study. “Who are you, and how dare you enter my house without—”
“Please calm yourself, Dom Torgar,” the stranger drawled as he looked idly about. “We did knock, but as no one came to answer the door, we had no recourse but to let ourselves in. If all your servants have left, you should really pay closer attention to the possibility of callers.”
“I asked you who you were,” Storn repeated coldly, no longer worried that Odrin had decided to act sooner than the deadline. This man was no hired thug, and there were other men in guard uniforms behind him. If they really were guardsmen…
“I’m Lord Rimen Howser, acting for the Five,” the man replied negligently, having dismissed everything he’d seen in the room. “You and your wife will now accompany me to the palace, so please pack what you’ll need for the stay. But be reasonable about the amount of things you take with you. You have only twenty minutes to pack, so don’t waste time on frivolities.”
Storn stared at the man as Avrina exclaimed indignantly, naturally refusing to do anything he’d suggested. But for his part, Storn wasn’t sure they’d be able to refuse. The man was a noble, after all, but what could the Five want with them? If there was any chance there would be profit in it, he’d agree without hesitation. But that, of course, remained to be seen…
* * *
Hattial Riven was pushed into the room by the oversized bully in guardsman’s uniform, the push nearly sending him sprawling. He hadn’t meant to stop short in the doorway, but the sight of the room was totally unexpected.
“This is the bedchamber that’s yours for right now,” the guardsman said as Hat looked around. “If anything ends up broken or dirty you’ll be flogged, so you better watch what you do. If you go into the gathering room, don’t pester the other people you’ll find in it. And if you show up anywhere but in this place or the gathering room, the next thing they’ll do is chain you in the pig sty. Too bad they didn’t start out doing that.”
And with that he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him before locking sounds came from it. Locking sounds had become horribly familiar to Hat lately, but this time they were a good deal less important. This bedchamber…
The room was the sort Hat had dreamed about for years, large and beautifully furnished with a spread on the big bed that matched the drapes hanging where windows should have been but weren’t. This chamber was part of an inner grouping in the palace, so the decorators had had to pretend about windows. The carpeting underfoot was beautifully woven and without worn spots, the chairs were upholstered and one even had a matching foot rest, the tables scattered here and there were exquisitely carved, the little decorations looked expensive…
Hat wiped the palms of his hands on the plain blue cotton trousers he’d been given, his tunic a somewhat lighter blue. He’d first been given a bath, though, to get the stink of sweat and muck off him, and then he’d been given the clothing to replace the rags his own clothes had become. That meant he could walk to the chair with the foot rest and sit down, then swing his feet up without worrying about whether or not he was staining the light-colored fabric of the chair. His back twinged a bit as he tried to get comfortable, but the last beating he’d gotten had only been for form’s sake rather than punishment. That bastard of an overseer always looked for reasons to beat the workers, and usually found them…
He put his head back and closed his eyes, cringing on the inside over the memory of the beatings he’d been given. The first one had come when he’d tried to explain that they had no right to force him to work on that estate, not when he was a free man and someone who’d had a High position stolen from him. They hadn’t cared about any of that, and a group of the guards had kept him from using his ability while the overseer sliced that accursed lash across his back over and over and over. He’d passed out from the pain, and when they’d brought him around again with a bucket of water thrown over his head, he’d almost been unable to move from the agony of the punishment.
But he’d had to move, to keep them from doing the same thing to him a second time, and they’d worked him until he was ready to drop. He and the others had been fed on scraps and then were allowed to collapse into sleep, and the next day the same thing had happened. In point of fact the same thing had happened every day, and after his second beating Hat had learned to stop cursing the overseer and the guards. But that hadn’t stopped him from hating them with every fiber of his being, them and the man who was responsible for his being in that place to begin with…
Hat stirred in the incredibly comfortable chair, anger rising in him at the memory of what one of his fellow slave-workers had tried to claim. The fool had said that nothing had been stolen from Hat because Hat was only fractionally stronger than the rest of them, and a High was much stronger than mere Middles. The others had all agreed with that fool and then had told Hat to stop boring them with his imaginary complaints, or they would tell the guards to keep him quiet. They’d refused to believe that Lorand was responsible for all his troubles, but they were stupid slaves who knew nothing. Hat knew the truth, and would never forget it.
It took some effort to calm down again, but once he had Hat realized he was hungry. That was nothing new, of course, not
since they’d taken him to that estate to work, but the place he was in was new. It was possible that that gathering room had something which would prove edible, even if that turned out to be nothing but the usual scraps. He had no true desire to get out of that wonderfully comfortable chair, but he did so anyway and walked to the second door of the three in the room.
That second door hid access to a comfort facility, a beautifully clean and private one which was apparently all his. Hunger was momentarily forgotten as Hat used the facility, never having had such an opportunity before. What a difference it made, having private access like that, just the way a High was supposed to have. It would have been his much sooner if Lorand hadn’t stolen his place, and finally finding out what the situation was like added fuel to an already raging fire. Someone had once promised him a chance at revenge; now that he’d been brought to the palace, that chance was hopefully not far away…
The third door led directly into a very large open area, one which had couches and chairs arranged around small tables on the left, and a large dining room table with chairs on the right. The dining room table was being cleared by a single servant, which seemed strange for part of the palace. The first time he’d been brought there, the place had been crawling with servants.
But Hat was still hungry, so he hurried over to the table and thereby brought himself to the servant’s attention. He was about to ask that the scraps of the meal be left for him, but the servant spoke first.
“Ah, there you are, sir,” the servant said cheerfully, pausing in gathering together the remnants of the recent meal. “I’m afraid you’ve missed sitting down with the others, but a plate has been left for you on the buffet, and the food is, of course, still warm. As soon as I bring this lot to the kitchens, I’ll return with a fresh pitcher of tea.”
The servant had glanced at a long table beyond the one with chairs as he spoke, a table which held large covered containers. They were the same sort which had been used to provide gruel for the workers every couple of days, a more solid meal than the scraps which they were given the rest of the time. Hat wasn’t in the mood for gruel, but at fine it was better than having to beg for scraps. So he took himself over to the other table, and sure enough there were two empty plates standing near the containers. Bowls would have been better, of course, but Hat took one of the plates without complaint and reached toward the first container. He hadn’t complained about things aloud since the first time he’d been beaten for the words…
And once he took the cover from the container, he blessed the Highest Aspect for having kept him silent. There wasn’t gruel in the container, there was food, real food meant to be eaten by people rather than slaves. Hat raised the cover of the second container, found actual meat to go with the mix of vegetables in the first, and because of that didn’t fill his plate with vegetables alone as he’d been about to do. Instead he visited all the containers, one after the other, and ended up with a very full plate. Chicken and beef and pork and fish, all with different sauces and things, and most of the vegetables had the same. He might not be able to finish it all, but he certainly meant to try.
Sitting down at the table alone didn’t bother him, not when he had all that incredibly wonderful food to keep him company. The servant was as good as his word and brought a fresh pitcher of tea and a cup when he returned from the kitchen, but Hat was too busy chewing and swallowing to do more than take the pitcher and pour some tea. He needed to wash down the food and make room for more, and that was exactly what he did.
By the time he was forced to push the plate away, he’d eaten most of what he’d taken and was close to being too full to move. And he was no longer the only one at the table, the other occupant of a chair on the other side of the table being a woman. She was older than Hat found of interest in a woman, but she looked as though she’d been fairly attractive at one time.
And she also looked as though she’d been used to living in the sort of surroundings they were now in. She used her fork slowly and gracefully, but her hand shook as she fed herself and her plate was almost as full as Hat’s had been. Hat had to look twice, but his first impression of the shadow of dirt on the woman remained. She’d obviously been cleaned up and put into cheap but clean clothes, which meant it was strange that a lingering dirtiness had been left on her skin and hair. Hat extended his senses, the first time he’d done so for his own benefit in quite some time, and then he had the answer. The woman had the residual remains of coal in her hair and on her skin, and it had somehow stained her in what might prove to be a permanent way.
Looking at her disturbed Hat in a way he couldn’t define, but he no longer had to put up with disturbing things if he didn’t want to. So he rose heavily from the chair and turned away without even a nod to the woman, and then strolled toward the couches and chairs where the people who had eaten earlier now sat. One of them was a really beautiful girl, one with auburn hair and a body to harden any man, and now Hat had the chance to introduce himself. It had been much, much too long…
And maybe, if she had the right contacts, she might even be able to help him get back what had been stolen from him…
CHAPTER THIRTY
Allestine Tromin, who had once been the darling of Rincammon and its entire surrounding area, walked carefully into the gathering area of the palace beyond her new bedchamber. Her assigned quarters weren’t nearly as nice as what she’d had in her own residence, but after the last—how long had it been?—however many weeks, a broom closet of a room would have looked palatial. In the mine, she and the others were locked into the same room for their sleep period, and very often the guards forgot to replace the thin pallets they were supposed to be allowed to sleep on. Forgot on purpose, most of them believed, the lousy, rotten—
Allestine stopped short for a moment, which allowed her to swallow the rage which was with her most of the time. She’d tried to manipulate the guards the way she’d always manipulated men, but they’d actually laughed in her face. She’d been filthy from the coal dust and had been dressed in rags, and one of them said he’d rather do without than use a woman who looked like her. One or two of the men on her assigned gang hadn’t felt the same, but the indignity they’d forced on her hadn’t been repeated very often. It was almost unheard of for anyone to have enough strength for anything beyond work, food, and sleep, and she’d quickly learned why that was.
There was a man seated at the dining table, and he was so busy shoveling his food into his mouth that he didn’t even notice her approach. The buffet table held one last empty plate, so she went to it, chose as much as she would be able to eat from the warming containers, then carried her meal to the table. She was in the midst of salivating at the thought of eating decent food again, and her hands trembled with the urge to take handfuls of it and simply stuff it into her mouth. But that would have shamed her and made her just as low as the peasant gobbling down his food opposite her, a fate she refused to bring upon herself.
So she sat and picked up her fork, then began to eat slowly the way a lady of cultured habits was supposed to. It was very difficult to hold herself back, but she doggedly continued on while paying attention to nothing but the contents of her plate. Or almost nothing. She couldn’t help noticing the way the peasant looked at her, as though she were far too coarse to appeal to him in any way. He himself was barely more than a child, and a short, stupid-looking one at that, but he still dared to reject her in his own mind. Allestine felt the rage again, but revenge would have to wait until later. There was still food on her plate…
When the peasant left the table, Allestine’s capacity for eating any more seemed to leave with him. But she’d judged that capacity fairly well, and the amount of food left on her plate was just enough to preserve her dignity. She did finish the tea in her cup, though, and then rose to walk over to the group of people the peasant had already approached. If they were all there in the same place, there had to be something they had in common.
“… tell you it can’t be anyt
hin’ else,” one of the men was saying as she approached the grouping of couches and chairs. The peasant hovered uncertainly on the fringes, looking as though he didn’t dare choose a chair of his own, but she would not be that backward.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Daddy,” a fairly pretty young girl retorted, tossing her head in a way that told Allestine the girl had practiced the gesture. “We’ve been invited here to the palace for just a single reason, and that’s because one of the Five has noticed me. He’ll be comin’ by any time now to introduce himself to me, and when he does you’ll be feelin’ really foolish if you claim we’rehere for any other reason.”
“This is reality we’rediscussin’, Mirra, not your little fantasies,” her father returned with a faint sound of scorn. “If you were the only one here, it might be true that you’d been noticed. But your Momma and I are also here, as is Dom and Dama Torgar, not to mention those other folk. Who do you imagine noticed the rest of us?”
“I agree with you, Dom Agran,” the other older man said with a nod, looking oddly thoughtful. “We’reall here because of our ties with that one group of troublemakers. My daughter is part of it, as is the young man your daughter is involved with. If these other people have similar ties, the only question remaining is, what have those ties gotten us into?”
“Nothing good, you can be certain of that,” the cold-looking woman beside the man who had spoken said, her sniff full of disdain. “If Tamrissa walked in here right now, I’d slap her face hard enough to leave a hand print.”
“Tamrissa,” Allestine echoed from the chair she’d taken, suddenly understanding what they were talking about. “She was that friend of Jovvi’s, the pretty one with Fire magic. Yes, I think both of you gentlemen are correct. We are here because of our associations with different members of that group, but—”
