Sterling (7 page)

Relief robbed my legs of any remnant of strength. I dropped to my knees, leaning my head against the door. The door handle did not give.

I made my way around the building. The Lone Line posting station wasn’t much of a place. The stable and carriage house were small—enough for two vehicles and eight animals. I searched for a well, a trough, anything that might offer me liquid. I found nothing.

Finally, in utter exhaustion and frustration, I curled on the back stoop and tried to sleep.

In my dreams, oncoming horses beat down the road.

A
voice
, not hooves, woke me. “Miss, miss.”

An unfamiliar face leaned over me. The girl—or was it boy?—could not have been much older than I. She had an earnest look, friendly and concerned. Her face was tanned and covered in freckles. She wore breeches, but surely her jaw was too delicate to be anything other than a girl’s? “Miss, are you all right?” Her hand rested on my shoulder.

“I need water.” I tried to sit up.

She pulled out a ring of keys, unlocked the door, and disappeared into the Lone Line building, returning with a ceramic cup. My hands shook so much I spilled half the water as I took it.

“Come in and have a seat.” She led me into a foyer lined with hard benches hewn from rough wood—the stagecoach waiting room, probably. “You don’t seem well,” the girl said.

“I’ve been walking without food or water.”

“Oh! I’ll get you something to eat. The next coach is due around midday, so you’ve a while to wait.”

“I have money,” I told her. “I can pay for a meal.”

She brought grainy mush and a cup of cheap Lysandrene tea. I didn’t care; I shoveled the food into my mouth and gulped the tea, burning my tongue in my eagerness.

“Feeling better?” the girl asked.

“Yes, thank you. I would like to get passage on the next coach.”

“Well, of course you do! You can’t walk to Avani.”

“Avani? But I want to go to Lyssus—”

Her eyes widened. “Surely you weren’t thinking of walking all the way to Lyssus, miss? It’s too dangerous, walking alone
anywhere
, what with the war and all, much less Lyssus!” She looked over my clothes: the plain grey dress, the white cap. “Are you in service, then?”

“Ah—yes.” As if it wasn’t bad enough to be on the run, friendless, and orphaned, I also had to lie. I hated lying. “I’m on my way to my new position.”

“Your new master didn’t pay your way? Typical. You gotta demand such things. Grand folk don’t know how it is. They’ve never wanted for money. Sometimes you have to stand up for yourself, especially in these uncertain times. More tea?”

I shook my head.

“I hope there’s a spot in the next coach; might be full from Engashta. There’ve been more travelers since the war ended. I heard it’s all over, you know, and that the Ricknagels won. I hope Lord—King—Xander doesn’t add a new transportation tax for public coaches. The Galatiens did every year, and it hurt business.”

She hadn’t yet heard of Costas Galatien’s escape or Papa’s death, then.

“So, you do chambers or what?” the girl continued.

“Chambers?” For a moment I thought she meant chamber music. I’d never been accomplished on any instrument, though my mother had insisted I learn the clavier.

“Are you a chambermaid or do you do kitchen work? What’s your new position?”

“I—ah—” My mind raced. She was just a talkative person; I didn’t need to be so suspicious. “I do chambers. What—what is it you do here?” Her breeches threw me. She’d be dressed like me if she were a maid.

“Why, everything. Have some more tea; there’s plenty.”

“What do you mean, everything? Do you live here
alone
?” She could hardly be older than twelve years.

“Sure I do.”

“But—your parents—your guardians—”

She chortled. “Been gone a long while. But the man who drives the coach is nice, pays me all right, even better since the war. All the prices have gone up with the uncertainty. My name’s Rachell. You?”

“St-ah-Serafina.” I had been caught off my guard.

“What a grand, pretty name.” Rachell laughed. “I’ll call you Sera.”

I shuddered. Like me, she was an orphan, but she seemed so much more capable of fending for herself, alone in the world.

Was my mark showing? I covered the right side of my face with my hand. “Do you have a—a—” I flushed. How did one say it? Bath chamber was too grand and would mark me as upper class.

“A necessary?”

I nodded.

“Follow me.”

I did, wincing on my battered feet.

“Are you hurt?”

“My feet are blistered from the walk. It’s nothing.” I did not want her to see my too-fine shoes.

“Now, now, if you don’t treat a blister, it can get infected and slow you down. Let’s have a look. I keep a salve in the kitchen for when my hands get raw.”

I hesitated, but I feared she was likely correct.

“You have a seat,” she directed as she rummaged on her shelves.

I removed my shredded slippers and torn silk stockings, attempting to hide them behind my skirt.

Rachell crouched and lifted my foot. “Ouch, girl, that’s some blister.” She dabbed on her salve and repeated the process on the other foot. Then her gaze fell upon the shoes and stockings. She snatched one of the shoes and stared. “Why, look at the beadwork! I never seen the like, so pretty. What were you thinking to soil such lovely shoes by walking to Lyssus in them?”

“They were the only ones I had.”

Rachell raised her eyebrows and eyed my fancy stockings. “My mama would have skinned my hide if I bought such foolish attire before practical boots.” She did not meet my gaze, and I feared she knew I had told her lies.

“I have a weakness for pretty things,” I said lamely.

She clucked her tongue. “Well, you can’t wear them anymore. They’re ruined. I’ve got an old pair of boots you can have. They ain’t pretty, but they’re serviceable.” She hurried out to fetch the shoes. I drew out my cosmetic and smeared a generous dollop across my right cheek. I’d only just rubbed it in when Rachell returned.

“There you are.” She handed me the old shoes, battered, but more functional than the slippers. They were only a little tight.

* * *

W
hen the stagecoach finally arrived
, I was exhausted. I’d fallen asleep on the benches in the waiting room.

“Gracious, Sera, how can you sleep the day away?” Rachell jostled me awake. “You’d better shape up,” she advised as the coach pulled up. “Gotta be on your toes when you’re traveling alone. Stay—what they call it?—vigilant.”

As I climbed into the public conveyance already crowded with people—my mother would have been horrified at their proximity to my person—I scanned all the occupants, praying none of them would be dressed in Galatien or Talatan colors. Most looked more downtrodden than I did. I squeezed into the only seat, between an elderly lady also dressed in the uniform of service, and a too-handsome man who sent me into a panic—was he a Talatan agent? A Galatien loyalist? I shielded my face with my hand, adjusting my mob-cap.

“Where are you headed?” the man asked me.

I let the cap brim hide my face as much as possible. “I’m seeking a new position.” My voice wavered.

“You, too?” the man crowed. “I’ve just been hired to work in Avani. I’m to be a footman. Name’s Cortis.” Hearing this relieved my anxiety. He fit the part, and there was no reason to believe he lied; his face was sunny and open as he went on, “Scelpts, on your right, is going to a new position as a housekeeper.”

The older woman, whose iron-grey hair was pulled back tightly into a severe bun, said, “Some housekeeper. I haven’t even got the staff I need to start. Stupid girl didn’t show.” She sighed. “What am I do, I ask you, hire a Temple acolyte from Avani to be our maid?”

“I’m Sera,” I said. “Are you—are you looking to hire someone?” I tried to mask my interest so I didn’t come across as desperate.

The housekeeper turned to me, a spark in her eyes. “The chambers girl we hired in Engashta never showed for the stagecoach. That’s why there was an open seat.”

My heart raced. Was she offering me a position? “Yes, ma’am,” I said.

“You seem a proper sort of girl,” the housekeeper said. “It would be a great help to us if you could take the other’s place. You do have references, of course?” She glanced rather shiftily at Cortis the footman and dropped her voice. “Though I might forgo references, as it were, if you would agree to the position immediately. We wouldn’t have to explain to the master why there was no chambermaid, if you see my meaning. I’ve been in a dither about what to do. A maid is expected to arrive with us today.”

I didn’t even hesitate. “I accept the position.” I had to hide Sterling Ricknagel so well that no one would find her, and a chambermaid seemed the perfect, least-expected disguise until the fallout from the events in Engashta was sorted. And if I was taking the place of a girl who hadn’t shown up, all the better. No one would think of me as a lone woman, but rather as one servant among many. I would blend.

* * *

A
playground
of the young and beautiful, the city of Avani boasted a scandalous reputation. Two buildings dominated the cityscape: an enormous Temple and an ornate opera house.

“Amaranth,” Scelpts the housekeeper said as she stepped down from our conveyance at Avani’s central posting station across from the Temple. “I’ve heard about that Temple. A den of wickedness.”

“Wickedness?” I knew mages used the Temple of Amarite to restore themselves after magic, and that the Temple acolytes gave their life force to sustain the mages’ power in a ritual that I didn’t fully understand, except that it had to do with lovemaking.

Scelpts sighed, the long lines that bracketed her mouth deepening as she stared at the statue of the naked goddess on the Temple’s steps. “I wouldn’t have accepted a position in Avani under normal circumstances. It’s the war, though. It’s made finding work difficult. Can’t be choosy.” She turned to Cortis the footman. “Do you remember the directions to the house?”

“Of course, Mrs. Scelpts.”

Cortis looked up at the Temple, an eager expression flashing over his face. “Ah, Avani,” he said. “I’ve always wanted to live here. It is a place for mages and men. Come, everyone. Follow me. Our new life awaits.”