Storms of Destiny (28 page)

Analis quickly fetched it, then considerately turned her back as Eregard, repressing a groan, managed to get up on his knees to use it.

“Here,” she said when he was done, “drink this.” She held out a flask.

It was water, cool and sweet, from the well. Eregard’s throat was so dry that he nearly choked on the first swallow.

“Drink it slowly,” she cautioned. “Sip it.”

He did as she bade. When his thirst was gone, she gave him a twist of dried herbs. “Chew on these,” she said.

“They’ll help with the pain, and prevent fever.”

The herbs were so sour he nearly gagged, but he managed to chew up several hanks. The pain lessened even more.

Eregard’s head grew clearer. He glanced at the door to his cell. “They let you come in to tend me? I’m surprised.”

She smiled, her dirty, worn face looking suddenly younger. “Perekin has been set to guard you, and he’s a friend of mine.” She patted her bulging belly. “He let me in so I could tend you.”

“I wonder what will happen now,” Eregard said, after taking another drink from the water flask and wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “I hate to imagine.”

“You’re to be taken north and sold,” she said. “The master can’t allow keepin’ a slave here who’s laid a hand on the overseer. Even if he can read and write a fair hand.”

Her mouth thinned. “Might give the other slaves ideas, y’know?”

Eregard nodded. He had been expecting this. “Any idea where they’re sending me?”

“They’re sendin’ to North Amis to buy seed and more help,” she replied. “I’d guess you’ll be sent up there. ’Tis a pretty big town, and they have slave auctions every market day.”

Eregard nodded wearily. “Goddess help me.”

She nodded. “I’ll pray for you, Eregard. Tell me somethin’ …”

“Yes?”

“You don’t seem addled in your head. Why did Barlin keep callin’ you ‘Prince’?”

Eregard stared at her and could find nothing to say. At the moment, he scarcely believed it himself. He was one step away from being convinced that his whole life on Pela, his mother, his father, Adranan, Salesin—all were products of a

fever dream. He shook his head wordlessly. “I can’t explain,” he mumbled.

She smiled, suddenly. “You were out of your head when they carried you in here, and you kept talkin’ ’bout ‘my father the King.’ ”

He groaned. “I did?”

Analis nodded, and held out two oiled packets. “Listen, here’s the rest of the salve, and some of the heal-herb to chew if the pain gets too bad.”

He nodded. “Thank you,” he managed to whisper. “I’m very grateful.”

She nodded. “Well, just in case it
is
true, you can make me a countess when you get back to court, m’dear.” Her expression sobered, became serious. “Thank you for tryin’ to help with Barlin. The man is a pig-turd, plain an’ simple. Not many of the men have the balls to stand up to him.”

Standing up, she gave him a last wave, went to the door of the gaol-crib and knocked on it. Quickly, it opened, letting in the last light of day. Eregard had been in the dark so long that the wan sunlight made him blink and hold up his hand to shield his eyes. The door closed and Analis was gone, leaving him in the dark.

The next two days seemed to crawl by. Eregard alternated between fear and apathy. His back throbbed, but he managed, by nearly dislocating his shoulders, to smear Analis’s salve into most of the whip-weals.

As his voice recovered, he sometimes sang to himself, old Pelanese ballads, sea chanteys, love songs …

When he recalled his previous attempt at a love-song for Ulandra, it now seemed laughably callow and trite. Humming softly, he composed a new song in his head. When he was done, he sang it alone in the darkness, wondering if he would ever see her again.

“Hair of sunlight kissing grain
Eyes of deepest summer skies
Voice of haunting pipes and strings
Ulandra! My heart sings and cries!

Slender as the youngling fawn
Gentle as the nestling dove
Hands like whitest, flying swans
Ulandra! Oh, my secret love!

Face and form like breaking day
Spirit pure and bright and fine
Fate so cruel, my dreams to slay
Ulandra … Who can never be mine!”

Talis Aloro stood in the doorway of her father’s home, watching as her brothers slung their bags into the carriage and waved a last good-bye to her and their parents. She managed to smile and wave, though inside she was seething. Her brothers were going off to school, Armon to study law, and Benno to study medicine.

Talis glared at the back of her father’s head.
And me? I get
to stay here and run the double-bedamned farm.

Last night, unable to contain her rage any longer, she had confronted her father. “Father, Armon and Benno are nice boys, but I’m smarter than either of them! I work harder around here than they do. Why can’t
I
go to school? I promise you I’ll do you credit! There’s an Academy for Young Ladies in Port Alvar. I could go there. They wouldn’t teach me as much as the boys would learn, but I could learn to cipher better, and study the classics. Firone went, and they taught her geometry and natural sciences!”

Even before she finished her impassioned outburst, Gerdal Aloro was shaking his head. “Daughter, daughter, I don’t deny that you’ve got wits in that head of yours. But you can read and write, and cipher a bit, too. You’ve plenty of learning for a girl. Any more and you’ll scare off any prospective husbands. Your tongue is sharp enough as it is— we don’t need you being able to insult suitors in foreign languages!” He’d chuckled at his own wit, oblivious to her rising anger. “Which reminds me. Young Havier Carino saw you at services last week and he asked me to ask you if he could call on you. He said—”

“Dad,
stop that
!” Talis shouted.

Her father had stared at her, his eyes wide at her outburst.

Talis glared at him, breathing hard. “Dad,” she said finally, “what is it going to take to make you understand that I don’t
ever
want to get married? Ever! After what your precious brother did to me, the thought of letting any man share my bed is enough to make me …” Her mouth twisted.

“Enough to make me puke.”

Her father shook his head, his brown eyes troubled.

“Daughter, I thought we agreed never to speak of that. It happened long ago, and ’tis best forgotten.”

“
You
may be able to forget,” Talis had said, her voice level but filled with venom, “but I can’t. It didn’t happen to
you
, it happened to
me
.”

Then, turning away, she strode out of the room, slamming the door behind her. She’d slept in the woods that night, rolled in a blanket, rather than face anyone from her family.

Talis didn’t want to cause her mother distress, and she was honestly worried that if her father mentioned marriage one more time, she might lose her temper and lash out with more than words.

Now the carriage was pulling away, pulled by her father’s best team of matched chestnuts. Benno and Armon were crowded together at the window, waving. Gerdal and Evonly waved back.

The carriage reached the end of the drive, then turned east. Seconds later it was out of sight. Talis’s shoulders slumped and she fought back tears.
It’s not fair.
She thought about the books Castio had smuggled to her, books and pamphlets that she kept carefully hidden. She read whenever she had a spare moment, but it was hard trying to learn it all

without a teacher, without someone who could answer her questions.

Gerdal came toward the doorway, his arm around Evonly, who was leaning heavily against him. Talis bit her lip as she saw how drawn and pale her mother appeared. Her father helped her mother inside, turning as he did so. “Stay a moment, Talis. I need to talk to you.”

Talis waited while he helped her mother to their bedchamber so she could rest. Hope surged within her.
Could it be
that he’s thought it over, decided I can go to school, too?

Perhaps Mama talked to him, changed his mind … after all,
we just hired a new overseer. If I could go to school, learn
more, I could help Castio and the Cause so much more!

As she waited for her father, her hands were busy, tidying up the last minute clutter her brothers had left. She had nearly finished when he returned.

He glanced around at the room, nodded. “You’re a good girl, daughter,” he said. “Even though you should be tidyin’

a house of your own, I’m glad of your help.”

Talis frowned. This did not sound promising. “What did you want to talk to me about, Dad?”

“Your mother …” He hesitated. “Well, I don’t think she should be alone in the house. I’ll need you to supervise the new overseer and the slaves. I’m sorry, daughter, but you know what needs to be done, and your mother is quietest when I’m with her. You know that. With your brothers gone, she’s upset.”

Talis knew he spoke the truth, but disappointment stabbed her, keen as a blade. “Oh,” she murmured.

“What is it?” he said.

“I thought … I thought you had changed your mind about sending me to school.” She bit her lip and turned away, unable to face him.

“Daughter, Talis …” Gerdal stepped closer, until he could look down into her eyes. “I know you’d love to go to school.

I know you’d work hard and be a credit to me. But, Talis, I need you here at Woodhaven now that your brothers are gone. And girl, they
had
to go. Your brothers need schooling so they can earn their living. They’ll have to support families. You won’t. They
need
the schooling. You don’t.”

Talis bit her lip and counted slowly to twenty. It took that long before she could speak without losing control. “I understand, Father.” Her voice was flat.

“Good.” Gerdal took her by the shoulders, then dropped a quick kiss on her forehead. “I’ll make it up to you, daughter.

When you decide to marry—Goddess pray it be soon— you’ll have the finest wedding this parish has ever seen. I swear it.”

Talis heard the love in his words, and wanted to scream aloud. But she remained silent. There was nothing to say.

Her father would never understand.

“This new overseer I hired, I think he’ll be all right, but he’s going to need watching,” Gerdal said. “He thinks well of himself, almost as though he’s gentry. He seems a decent enough sort, but we need to let him know that our livestock and our slaves are to be well-treated, so long as they work hard. This fellow, Darlo Trevenio, came from farther south, and I’ve heard of farms down there where they solve everything by whippings and hangings. So you keep an eye on him.”

“I will,” Talis said.

“I bought two new slaves in North Amis yesterday. One of them’s an older chap, but a skilled carpenter, so we can use him. The other, well, he’s young and looks fairly strong, but he’s branded. They say he can read and write as well as cipher, so I thought he could be useful. But be careful. That brand marks him as a troublemaker.”

Talis nodded listlessly. “Very well.”

After she had finished preparing her mother’s medicine, Talis changed into work clothes, then went looking for Trevenio.

The weather was getting warmer, and every available slave was out in the fields, planting seeds or seedlings that had been raised in the small greenhouse next to the barn.

Gerdal prided himself on raising some of the best tomatoes

in the area. Every fall, before the first frost, Talis oversaw the house slaves as they put up a winter’s worth of tomatoes, relish, and sauce. Usually they had enough extra jars to sell and make a tidy profit. With the rest of their crops, plus the sales of salted meat and hides to the King’s troops, Woodhaven was one of the most prosperous farms in the parish.

Gerdal was planning to expand his barley crop, and earlier that spring, the logging crew had cleared a new field. As she walked down the farm road, Talis realized that Trevenio already had a crew out there, picking up the rocks, breaking up the clods, preparing the land for plowing.

She walked around the edge of the field, answering the waves of the field hands she’d known for years, heading for the overseer, who was supervising the work while seated on his tall roan gelding. The man wore a broad-brimmed hat to shield his face from the sun. When he caught sight of her, he swept it off, bowing slightly before dismounting. “Fair morning to you! You must be Miss Aloro.”

“Good morning, Mr. Trevenio,” Talis said formally, holding out her hand to him. “How is the work going?”

To her surprise and disgust, Trevenio did not respond by shaking her hand, but bent to kiss it. Talis yanked her hand away.

Trevenio was young, in his late twenties or early thirties, and was dressed so neatly that he seemed something of a dandy—his boots were mirror-polished, his black hair combed neatly, his narrow moustache meticulously waxed.

He was good-looking, in a sharp-featured way. Talis wiped her hand on the fabric of her work skirt, wondering if she would have problems with him. Many males did not like taking orders from a woman.

“Fine, they’re doing well,” he replied heartily. “You father has a good crew, Miss Aloro.”