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almost but not quite setting. I felt the tension as a pleasant thing between us, as a suspension and a
wonder both. I viewed it as an extension of my strange new sense, and so I marveled that Molly seemed
to feel and react to it as well. I wanted to speak to her about it, to ask her if she was aware of other folk
in a similar way. But I feared that if I asked her, I might reveal myself as I had to Chade, or that she might
be disgusted by it as I knew Burrich would be. So I smiled, and we talked, and I kept my thoughts to
myself.
I walked her home through the quiet streets and bid her good night at the door of the chandlery. She
paused a moment, as if thinking of something else she wanted to say, but then gave me only a quizzical
look and a softly muttered Good night, Newboy.
I took myself home under a deeply blue sky pierced by bright stars, past the sentries at their eternal dice
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game and up to the stables. I made a quick round of the stalls, but all was calm and well there, even with
the new puppies. I noticed two strange horses in one of the paddocks, and one lady's palfrey had been
stabled. Some visiting noblewoman come to court, I decided. I wondered what had brought her here at
the end of the summer, and admired the quality of her horses. Then I left the stables and headed up to the
keep.
By habit my path took me through the kitchens. Cook was familiar with the appetites of stable boys and
men-at-arms and knew that regular meals did not always suffice to keep one full. Especially lately I had
found myself getting hungry at all hours, while Mistress Hasty had recently declared that if I didn't stop
growing so rapidly, I should have to wrap myself in barkcloth like a wild man, for she had no idea how to
keep me looking as if my clothes fit. I was already thinking of the big earthenware bowl that Cook kept
full of soft biscuits and covered with a cloth, and of a certain wheel of especially sharp cheese, and how
well both would go with some ale when I entered the kitchen door.
There was a woman at the table. She had been eating an apple and cheese, but at the sight of me coming
in the door, she sprang up and put her hand over her heart as if she thought I were the Pocked Man
himself. I paused. I did not mean to startle you, lady. I was merely hungry, and thought to get myself
some food. Will it bother you if I stay?
The lady slowly sank back into her seat. I wondered privately what someone of her rank was doing
alone in the kitchen at night. For her high birth was something that could not be disguised by the simple
cream robe she wore or the weariness in her face. This, undoubtedly, was the rider of the palfrey in the
stable, and not some lady's maid. If she had awakened hungry at night, why hadn't she simply bestirred a
servant to fetch something for her?
Her hand rose from clutching at her breast to pat at her lips, as if to steady her uneven breath. When she
spoke, her voice was well modulated, almost musical. I would not keep you from your food. I was
simply a bit startled. You ... came in so suddenly.
My thanks, lady.
I moved around the big kitchen, from ale cask to cheese to bread, but everywhere I went, her eyes
followed me. Her food lay ignored on the table where she had dropped it when I came in. I turned from
pouring myself a mug of ale to find her eyes wide upon me. Instantly she dropped them away. Her mouth
worked, but she said nothing.
May I do something for you? I asked politely. Help you find something? Would you care for some ale?
If you would be so kind. She said the words softly. I brought her the mug I had just filled and set it on
the table before her. She drew back when I came near her, as if I carried some contagion. I wondered if
I smelled bad from my stable work earlier. I decided not, for Molly would have surely mentioned it.
Molly was ever frank with me about such things.
I drew another mug for myself, and then, looking about, decided it would be better to carry my food off
up to my room. The lady's whole attitude bespoke her uneasiness at my presence. But as I was struggling
to balance biscuits and cheese and mug, she gestured at the bench opposite her. Sit down, she told me,
as if she had read my thoughts. It is not right I should scare you away from your meal.
Her tone was neither command nor invitation, but something in between. I took the seat she indicated,
my ale slopping over a bit as I juggled food and mug into place. I felt her eyes on me as I sat. Her own
food remained ignored before her. I ducked my head to avoid that gaze, and ate quickly, as furtively as a
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rat in a corner who suspects a cat is behind the door, waiting. She did not stare rudely, but openly
watched me, with the sort of observation that made my hands clumsy and led to my acute awareness that
I had just unthinkingly wiped my mouth on the back of my sleeve.
I could think of nothing to say, and yet the silence jabbed at me. The biscuit seemed dry in my mouth,
making me cough, and when I tried to wash it down with ale, I choked. Her eyebrows twitched, her
mouth set more firmly. Even with my eyes lowered to my plate, I felt her gaze. I rushed through my food,
wanting only to escape her hazel eyes and straight silent mouth. I pushed the last hunks of bread and
cheese into my mouth and stood up quickly, bumping against the table and almost knocking the bench
over in my haste. I headed toward the door, then remembered Burrich's instructions about excusing
oneself from a lady's presence. I swallowed my half-chewed mouthful.
Good night to you, lady, I muttered, thinking the words not quite right, but unable to summon better. I
crabbed toward the door.
Wait, she said, and when I paused, she asked, Do you sleep upstairs, or out in the stables?
Both. Sometimes. I mean, either. Ah, good night, then, lady. I turned and all but fled. I was halfway up
the stairs before I wondered at the strangeness of her question. It was only when I went to undress for
bed that I realized I still gripped my empty ale mug. I went to sleep, feeling a fool, and wondering why.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Patience
THE RED-SHIP RAIDERS WERE a misery and an affliction to their own folk long before they
troubled the shores of the Six Duchies. From obscure cult beginnings, they rose to both religious and
political power by means of ruthless tactics. Chiefs and headmen who refused to align with their beliefs [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]