[Lanen Kaelar 01] - Song in the Silence (9 page)

“Are you sure you won’t stay here with
me?”

He grinned. “And miss out on all the inside
dealing at the grounds? Not even for you.”

“Good luck to you then, because it’s been
forever since I’ve bathed and I’d kill for hot water. I’ll meet you here for
supper.”

I watched Jamie and the lads ride off with the
horses, who despite constant attention looked as much the worse for wear as I
suspected I did. It was evil of me to leave the men with all that work, but we
all knew the horses would be the better for my being gone. I was thrilled at
being in Illara at last, and the last thing the poor creatures needed in this
strange place was the smell of my excitement.

I turned towards the inn. Losing proposition, eh?
Just in case, I had changed my filthy leggings for the only skirt I had
brought. After l found Shadow a place in the stables I went around front. Now
for it.

I took a deep breath for courage and went in.
Coming in from brilliant sunshine in the late afternoon was like walking into a
cave.

I don’t like caves.

“Yes, milady? Come in, come in, what might I
be doin’ for your ladyship?”

Well, he sounded a little greasy, but not so bad
as I had feared. I had never been “milady’d” before.

By now my eyes were becoming used to the gloom.
The innkeeper was some way shorter than I, but made up for it sideways. (Surely
there is somewhere a place where innkeepers are made; they seem all cut from
the same cloth.)

“I need a room for the night and an evening
meal for two,” I said quietly.

“Certainly, milady.” His smile made me
long for clean water. “Though I fear I’m near full up for the fair. I’ve
only the one room left and it’s the finest I have. I couldn’t take less than a
silver piece for it.”

A silver was worth twelve coppers, or the hire of
a man for six days. It was robbery.

I fought the impulse to accept it simply because
I could afford it this once. “A silver for the week? That’s fair,” I
said innocently.

The man laughed. Ugh. “Oh, no, milady. A
silver for the night.”

“A silver for two nights, with breakfast and
supper for two thrown in,” I said. “Or if that doesn’t suit, I am
certain there are other inns in the town.”

It was twice what he could expect to get for any
room he might have and he knew it. “Very well, milady. As you say.”
He oiled in front of me, leading the way. “It’s lovely, truly it is, well
lit and airy and plenty of room for you both. And it has a balcony as overlooks
the river, you couldn’t ask for better.”

I could not suppress my smile entirely. “I’m
sure it’ll be fine. Send up a bath as well, please, with enough hot water for
two.”

“Yes, milady. And supper will be ready when
you come down for it. My cook’s a good hand with a stew, and the bread’s fresh
this morning, you’ll be well pleased. Now if you’ll follow me, it’s just up
this way.”

He led me up a narrow stair and round a corner.
“There you are, big and light like I told you,” he said, opening the
door for me. “You’ll have come for the fair, I don’t doubt. Have you
travelled far?”

“Yes,” I said, looking round. The room
was indeed light and airy, the ceiling allowed me to stand upright, and the
bed, thank the Lady, looked long enough so that for once my feet wouldn’t hang
over the edge if I stretched out.

“I suppose your man will be getting the
horses stabled?” said the innkeeper. It was mere pleasantry.

Right.

“I took my horse to your stables before I
came in. Your groom seems able enough.”

The innkeeper frowned. “Then where—your
pardon, milady, but where is your husband?”

“I don’t have one,” I replied. When he
started to protest I cut him off. “I never said I did. You saddled me with
him when I came in.” I was far too pleased with myself as I watched the
innkeeper’s jaw drop. “I have been travelling for two solid weeks, to
answer your question, and I will need enough hot water for two baths, one for
me and one for my clothing. I have arranged to meet a friend here for supper,
and now he can join me for breakfast as well. You are very kind.”

He opened his mouth to object, so I kept
talking.” And no, I won’t move out of this room for some closet under the
eaves. I like it here and my silver is as good as anyone else’s. Now send up my
bathwater and a bottle of your best wine. I’ll be down later.”

Before he could speak (or think) I had shoved him
out the door and latched it.

I waited until I heard him go cursing down the
stair before I laughed. Two days before, when we stayed in a village inn, I had
been polite and found myself in a room I couldn’t stand up in because the
landlord discovered I travelled alone. This was a vast improvement. It was
clean and well warmed by the sun, and there was indeed a tiny balcony with enough
room for the little chair that sat by the bed. If I could make my peace with
the innkeeper I thought I might stay here while I decided what to do with my
new freedom.

Just then my bath arrived, a big caulked wooden
tub with six large buckets of steaming water. I filled the tub with three of
them and followed them in, lowering my aching body into the hot water with a
deep sigh of relief. I lay back, legs hooked over the edge of the tub, letting
the heat soak through to my poor mistreated bones and breathing in the steam
like rarest perfume. That was the worst of travelling, I thought as I lay
back—you so rarely got a chance to bathe. Smelling like a horse is fine for a
while, but I hadn’t bathed in hot water for nearly a week. I was sick of horse.

By the time I was clean and dry and the worst of
the muck washed out of my clothing, the sun had set. I dressed in the spare
linen shirt and clean leggings that I had been hoarding and realised with some
surprise that much of my feeling of pleasure and well-being came from the
simple fact of being clean again at last.

I took up the bottle of wine and the rough cup
that had arrived with my bath and settled into the tiny chair I had moved onto
the balcony. Spread there before me lay Illara at the edge of night. The light
of the new-risen moon covered the city like a potter’s blue-white glaze, broken
only by the shimmer of silver where moonlight caught the river Arlen as it
flowed on its way to join the Kai. And in nearly every window there was a
light, like a skyful of stars come to rest. I smiled, filled with a quiet
delight. I had dreamed of this for so long, dreamed of what it would be like to
be in a city. I had never imagined there would be so many lights.

The first stars gleamed at me as I stretched out
in my chair; long legs, long body, broad back and strong arms. Jamie had always
told me that I looked well enough, but the glass told me clearly I was not
beautiful. Still, if I truly was like Maran—so alive, that was what you saw,
the others were as candles to the sun—yes, I could live with that. I was proud
of my hair at least. Loosed now from its braid it lay draped about me to dry.
It was the colour of late autumn wheat, thick and full, and when it was clean
it fell to my waist like a waterfall of dark gold. And I had my mother’s
northern eyes, grey like the northern skies.
   
.

It was growing cold, I knew I should go inside,
but the colours of the clear night were so lovely. I had not known such peace
for a long time. I sat back and let myself be filled with moonrise over Illara.
It was my first night in a city, and I was making a memory. By noon tomorrow I
would have my third-share of the profits and be free to stay here or go where I
chose.

The thought still seemed a little unreal. The
heavy purse at my side, the carefully packed saddlebags with their hidden
silver, made me into another person. No longer the sharp, neglected mistress of
Hadronsstead, old before my time, a poor tired farmwife with no husband. I
would miss Jamie—now more than ever—but from the moment he left, I would be my
own woman, and I had all of Kolmar to discover in truth rather than in dreams.

I sipped my wine. Such a pleasure to be clean and
dry, with the prospect of a real bed to sleep in again! I could stay here
another few days, enjoy the fair, then off to—where? I wasn’t sure I had
decided yet. With all of Kolmar before me, the choices seemed endless.

I grinned then as I realised what I was doing.
“I wouldn’t have thought it of you, my girl,” I said aloud.
“Waiting still? Seeing all the rest of Kolmar while you wait for your
dream yet a little longer? Idiot.” I stood, leaning over the railing of
the balcony, my heart beating faster, still speaking aloud to myself. “No
more. I will wait no longer. If I am truly to be Lanen Kaelar then I must go
where my heart leads. It is but the turn of the season. If by some miracle
there is a sailing this year for the Dragon Isle the ships won’t be setting out
for some weeks yet. I can get to Corli soon enough. Surely by the time they
sail.”

My gut tightened at the idea. There really was no
reason to wait any longer. I could leave the moment the fair was over indeed,
as soon as the horses were sold—and get to Corli in time to find out if any
Merchant was daring or desperate enough to send a ship to brave the passage of
the Storms. Corli, whence the bold or the foolish were wont to board ships
bound for the Dragon Isle, once in every ten years when the Storms abated
enough to allow passage.

I knew perfectly well that this was the one year
in ten, but we had heard no rumours of such a venture being mounted. Still,
better chance of finding out here in Illara than wandering through the Ilsan
countryside!

I started to laugh, for sheer gladness and for
the delicious fear that stirred my blood. I could not be still, I had to do
something—so I started to dance. Nothing graceful, believe me. I broke into a
kind of leaping dance, of the sort done by the people of the Méar Hills before
they went to war; a traveller at Hadronsstead had taught it to me to pay for his
supper. It involved sharp movements and leaping into the air and loud beating
of the feet on the floor, and it was just what I needed. I started to sing the
song that went with it when I heard (barely) a loud knocking at the door.

“What is it?” I yelled, striding
towards the door.

A high, frightened voice answered, “The
Master says will I please tell the lady to shut up, and that supper is ready in
the common”—here I threw open the door — “room downstairs,”
finished the little maid with a gulp. She was a tiny thing, and from the look
on her face the Master hadn’t told her quite how large I was. Poor child.

I smiled at her. “Thank you, lass,” I
said kindly. “I’ll be down soon. And dear, the next time your master sends
you to tell a guest to shut up, try to soften the blow a bit. Telling someone
that another guest needs sleep is good, or that there are rules about only
singing in the common room. It makes it seem less rude.”

“Y—y—yes, milady,” said the girl. She
curtseyed hurriedly, turned and rushed down the stair as if her life depended
on it.

I laughed as I closed the door and began to put
myself back together. Poor thing, she looked terrified. I caught sight of
myself in the glass and laughed harder. My drying hair was flung in all
directions, my eyes gleamed still with my excitement—I looked positively wild.
I forced a comb through my hair again, braided it, and belted my shirt about my
waist. The wine had been lovely but the thought of food made my mouth water.
Jamie and I hadn’t taken a noon meal in our hurry to get to Illara, and
breakfast was a dim memory of old hard bread and older cheese.

I was halfway Clown the stair before I
remembered. I returned to my room and slipped the slim, sheathed blade into the
top of my boot. I knew Jamie would look for it.

I hurried downstairs towards the smell of stew
and ale.

When I reached the common room, Jamie was waiting
for me at a table on the far side of the fire. “Is this place to your
liking, my girl?” he asked as he signalled to the innkeeper.

“It’s lovely, Jamie. Are you sure you won’t
change your mind? I hate to think of you sharing a barn with the horses when
I’m lying in such luxury.”

Jamie grinned, the creases in his face deepening.
I smiled with him, when of a sudden I had a sense of ending upon me; It was
unexpected and unwanted, as I felt for the first time a new aspect of what I
was doing. I stared at Jamie with the eyes of memory, treasuring this moment.
Hadronsstead I had left with joy, Illara held no regrets—but it would be hard,
hard to leave Jamie behind. He was the last of my old life, and the best; even
before our journey he had been the dearest soul alive to me. Now… I shook
myself to hear what he was saying.

“—and if I’m not there, I’ll have no measure
of what the other stock are going for.”

“Ah, well. I’m sure you know best,” I
said quietly.

He drew breath and I knew he was going to ask
what was troubling me; I could not bear that, not just then. I forced myself to
smile and mean it. “Oh, and it worked beautifully. The innkeeper never
knew what hit him, he was out the door almost before he had time to abject.
I’ve the best room in the house, it’s—oh, hello,” I said pleasantly, as
the man himself arrived with two tankards of ale and a jug.