All Fall Down (12 page)

“I have no intention of doing so, my lord,” I replied, feeling a liar even as I said the words. Truly, I would not have gone with Lord Arnad of my own accord, but I still hoped and prayed that someone would come soon to secure my freedom.
 

“Very good, Merys.” For a brief moment he looked abstracted, his gaze far away from the genteelly shabby room, and then he said, “I just wanted to make sure you understood why I handled the situation as I did.”

“I do, my lord. And I thank you once again.”

“Then that is all. You must be weary.”

“Yes, my lord.” I bowed my head, and then turned to go. But even as I made my way to the door, I caught him looking at me with a slightly baffled gaze, as if he had possibly meant to say more but somehow hadn’t quite managed to do so.

What he had desired to say, I wasn’t sure and perhaps didn’t want to know. All I did know was that I had managed to survive another encounter with him with both my dignity and my position intact. I could only hope that in the coming weeks there would be nothing else to mar the fragile understanding which had come to grow between us.
 

Not long afterward, winter closed in upon Donnishold. An early snow howled down past the shoulders of the Opal Mountains, enclosing Lord Shaine’s estate in its icy grip. The wind seemed to find its way in through new chinks in the ancient stone walls and around the warped wood that enclosed the much later-period glass windows with which the castle had been fitted. I recalled that when I had been a young girl I had thought a castle a most romantic place to live, especially when contrasted with my father’s handsome but oh-so-prosaic townhouse of modern construction. But now, having experienced the discomfort of a castle, I recalled with some fondness the stout wooden floors, the tightly glazed windows, and the hypocaust of my family home.

“It heated the floors?” Auren asked in some astonishment one day, after I had rubbed my chapped hands for what seemed like the hundredth time and made an unkind comment about the heating arrangements in her father’s castle.

“Yes, and the walls on the ground floor. One could sit comfortably without having to be wrapped in shawls and cloaks.”

We all sat in her chamber, Auren and Elissa and I. At least she had a hearth, whereas Elissa’s and my chilly room could be heated only by a brazier. And having three bodies in such a small space also did much to help ward off the drafts.
 

My handiness with a needle had been put to good use in assisting with Auren’s wedding gown. One of the other household slaves whose talents lay in such areas had already draped the glinting gold-threaded damask over her and cut out the basic pieces, but it fell to me to embroider the traditional musk roses over the bodice and the full detached sleeves. I held one of those sleeves now, and was glad of the extra layer of warm fabric draped across my lap.
 

 
“No wonder you complain of the cold so. Although,” she added slyly, “one would think that someone who has to travel to treat sick people all the time would be better able to live with it.”

“I can bear it, if I must,” I replied calmly. “But that doesn’t mean I enjoy it.”

Auren stared back at me for a moment, dark eyes wide, and then she began to giggle. I noticed that she laughed more readily these days, and more and more she walked about the house and the grounds without the aid of her crutch. She looked forward to the summer, when her betrothed would come to her here and take his place at her side. Since he was a younger son, and she an only daughter, he would become the heir to Lord Shaine’s estates and take on the family name. That was how these things were managed in Seldd, so the line would always continue unbroken.
 

I was just gladdened to see her nearly healed and light of heart. Certainly the dark weather had done nothing to dampen her spirits. I only wished I could have said the same for myself.

With winter upon us, my chances of any sort of rescue before the spring thaw began to seem more and more remote. Of course some limited trade continued through the winter months, but those who didn’t have to travel chose the wiser course and stayed home whenever possible. Perhaps someone from my Order could bribe a merchant and his train to make the perilous journey into Seldd at the time of the snows…perhaps not. I supposed that it would depend greatly on how valuable they deemed me.
 

Lord Shaine did not allow his slaves to sit idle through the winter months, although the flax had been harvested and the vegetable gardens gleaned of all they could produce before the first frosts descended. Beyond the slaves’ quarters sat three long, low buildings in which the flax was processed and then woven into fine cloth that would be taken to market once the snows had melted. Recently he had expanded this enterprise into dyeing the cloth as well, and on days when the snow held off, I could see the lengths of fabric drying on numerous ropes stretched between the buildings. The lively shades of blue, green, red, ochre, and amber were bright notes against the muddy snow, incongruous gleams of color in an otherwise dull landscape.

Again I found myself impressed by Lord Shaine and his clear mind. All around us the world was changing, slowly but certainly. More and more people came to the cities, to work in the new iron foundries and factories where all sorts of goods were being produced: pottery, furniture, wagons, textiles, tools—the list was endless. In a way, his lordship had created his own factory here, where he could directly profit from the production of the fine linen for which Seldd was known. Apparently he was the first of the local lords to attempt such an undertaking, but I had seen several of them (although thankfully not Lord Arnad) come to visit the estate and tour the facilities here.

That hotheaded lord had taken himself off in a huff. Word trickled back to us that in an act of retaliation he had apparently hired Dorus as his new steward, but although this news produced in me a vague uneasiness, I could not think how Dorus’ new position would make a difference to those of us who remained at Lord Shaine’s estate. No doubt the erstwhile steward had been privy to some of his lordship’s private matters, but that was a matter of concern to Lord Shaine, not me. And of course I worried for the slaves at Lord Arnad’s estate, for I did not think it would take long before Dorus’ old habits reasserted themselves. I was also fairly certain Lord Arnad would not champion their rights the way Lord Shaine had those of his own servants. Still, there was little I could do about it now, and since Lord Shaine had taken the news in stride, I attempted to do the same as well.
 

Suddenly restless, I laid my embroidery aside and went to the window. The glass here was of a better quality than that in my own chamber’s window, and I had a fine view of the courtyard. The skies had lowered again, and I somehow could sense that snow would begin to fall again very soon. For now the weather held, although it was bitterly cold, so chill I could see the vague mist of my breath as I stood there, looking out through the faintly streaked glass.

Because of the cold, the courtyard was mostly deserted; two men-at-arms huddled in their cloaks near the main gates, and as I watched, I saw one of them stamp his feet against the chill and blow on his gloved hands. Miserable duty, no doubt, and I did not envy them, even though they were free and I was not. Farther off I caught a sudden flicker of color as two slaves strung a length of vivid blue fabric between the dyeing house and one of the weaving buildings. They worked as quickly as possible, bare fingers probably numb in the freezing air. I thought then of how lucky I had been in my reception here, slave status or no. That could have been me, shivering in the cold while performing back-breaking work for no pay but a few meals and a place to lay my head.
 

Then I saw the men-at-arms suddenly snap to attention. Looking past them, I spied a largish party of men on horseback approaching the castle gates. Numbering ten or so, they led several heavily laden pack animals with them, and they did not appear to be armed beyond the usual short swords any man traveling the roads would carry.

My heart began to pound—foolishly, I knew, because this could just be an ordinary caravan of merchants, chancing travel at this season because of the higher prices they could command. Then again, Lord Shaine’s estate was remote. Auren had told me that often they saw no outside visitors save their nearest neighbors for the entire winter. So why these travelers now? Could my rescue finally be upon me?

“What do you see, Merys?” Auren asked, and I turned, hoping that my face would not reveal any betraying excitement.

“It appears that a caravan of merchants is approaching the castle,” I replied, trying to keep my tone level, indifferent.

“Really?” She tossed aside the pillowcase she had been embroidering—indifferently, as it was obvious her skills were shaky at best—then hurried over to the window, her limp hardly noticeable in her excitement. I barely had a chance to step aside before she brushed past me, wiping at the foggy window panes so she could gain a better view. She peered out for a moment, then announced, “We should go down to the hall to greet them.”

“As you wish,” I replied, with a curl of the lip. Perhaps it was her duty as the
de facto
lady of the castle to offer such hospitality. I was more inclined to think she merely desired anything that would break up the mundane routine of her day. Not that I could blame her—the days of inactivity, with only the occasional chilblain or cough to require my skills, had begun to wear on me as well.
 

Dorus had not yet been replaced. Lord Shaine’s personal servant, Ourrel, still supervised the daily routine of the castle, so it was he whom we first encountered when we descended the stairs. Elissa stayed behind, to continue the necessary but tedious darning of Auren’s stockings.
 

Ourrel’s dark eyes lighted on Auren and me for a moment, and he inclined his head ever so slightly. “My lady,” he said to Auren, “how kind of you to come and greet our visitors.”

Brushing the compliment aside, she said breathlessly, “Who are they? What have they brought with them?”

He ignored the rudeness—obviously he was used to the impetuosity of fourteen—and replied, “Traders from Purth, my lady. As to their goods, we are not sure yet. I’m sure they would be more than willing to share that information with you and your father.”

As he spoke, I saw Lord Shaine enter the hall from the courtyard. I guessed he had been in the dyeing house and had come in as soon as he received word of his visitors. A few flakes of snow dusted his dark hair and the shoulders of his cloak; the merchant train seemed to have arrived just in time.

As if my thoughts were a summons, they began to make their way into the hall. My count had been correct: They numbered ten. None of their faces were familiar, and I felt my heart fall. And Ourrel had said they came from Purth, not Farendon. Hoping that my disappointment had not shown on my face, I watched as the leader of the merchant group bowed deeply before Lord Shaine.
 

He murmured something polite, although I could not make out the words. But the merchant leader bowed once again, then said something to one of the others in his group. That man nodded, and I watched as they opened up one of their packs to reveal lengths of gleaming foreign silks. Another man opened his pack, showing fine pelts: fox, mink, beaver, ermine.

I began to suspect that they must have gotten wind of Auren’s upcoming nuptials at some point in their travels, as these were the sorts of luxury goods that even a household such as Lord Shaine’s would only purchase in limited quantity. But to further expand the dowry of an only, beloved daughter—

 
“Goddess,” Auren breathed, and her dark eyes glowed as she took in the fabulous contents of the merchants’ packs. Without a backward glance toward me, she hurried over to her father’s side and laid a hand on one of the mink pelts, a rich glossy brown that would do very well with her honey-colored hair.

A period of good-natured haggling ensued, although I was certain Auren would get the best of Lord Shaine eventually. He smiled down at his daughter, obviously happy in her reflected joy, not paying attention to the lead merchant or the sudden, furtive look the man gave his subordinate.

More quickly that I would have thought possible, the man drew the long knife he wore at his belt and, just as Lord Shaine bent over to more closely inspect the mink pelt his daughter lifted toward him, drove the blade into his side.
 

Chapter Seven

I believe I screamed. I can’t remember for sure—I only know that after a heartbeat’s-breadth of sickened shock, I moved without hesitation across the stone floor of the hall, even as Ourrel outpaced me on his longer legs.

Until then I hadn’t realized that Ourrel always wore as well the short, leaf-bladed sword common to Seldd. He gave a shout and drew it now, and lunged savagely toward the leader of the merchants. The man had barely withdrawn his own knife from between Lord Shaine’s ribs before he suffered the same fate he had brought down on his victim. The steward’s sword plunged into the man’s side, driven deep by Ourrel’s headlong rush to succor his lord.

At that point—only a few seconds had passed, but they felt like an eternity—Auren finally realized what was happening and let out a despairing wail. Lord Shaine sank to his knees, hands clutched against his lower ribs as bright blood began to seep out between his fingers.
 

The leader of the merchants (hired assassins, more likely) staggered backward, a look of surprise etched on his sharp features. Probably he had not expected to meet with any sort of resistance. At the same time men-at-arms crowded into the hall from the courtyard, no doubt drawn by Ourrel’s shout. By then I had reached Lord Shaine’s side and dropped to my knees beside him, reaching for the fastenings on his doublet as I did so.

 
Auren continued to keen, arms wrapped tight around herself as she stared down at her father. But I could not waste any attention on her, nor on the clash between the remainder of the so-called merchants and Lord Shaine’s men.