The Briar King (54 page)

“I want a gentleman who will allow me to get dressed.”

“This gentleman will allow that,” Cazio replied, patting the clothes.

“Not while you're watching.”

“But the sight of you was granted me by a goddess. Who am I to deny her will?”

“You didn't see me,” Fiene corrected, though her tone betrayed some doubt. “I was submerged.”

Cazio peered over his nose. “I admit, I've not viewed the undistorted image. The rippling of the water might mask defects in figure. I'm starting to wonder if you could actually be as beautiful as I imagine.”

“Figs!” Fiene replied. “I don't have to take such a slight. Here, you judge whether there are any defects.”

So saying she began to rise from the water—but when the water rested across her breastbone, she snorted derisively and sank back down. “I repeat,” Fiene said, “why do you think I'm stupid?”

Cazio drooped his head. “I'm the stupid one. I already know that your beauty is perfect.”

Fiene rolled her eyes, then settled them boldly on him. “I am betrothed, sir,” she said. “I don't care whether you find me perfect or perfectly ugly.”

“Ah. Then you are
not
a nun.”

“I have been sent here for my education, that is all.”

“Praised be every lord and lady in the night sky and under earth,” Cazio said. “For now I have at least a slim hope.”

“Hope? For you and me?” She laughed. “There's no hope of that, unless you intend to kill me and abominate my body. After that you can look forward to your own death at the hands of my betrothed, Roderick.”

“Roderick? That is an unwholesome name. It sounds of pimples and deception.”

“He is noble and good, and he would never take advantage of a lady's distress, as you do.”

Despite himself, Cazio suddenly felt his ears burning. “Then he is hardly a man,” he replied, “for no true man could ever unfasten his eyes from your face.”

“Oh, it's my
face
you're interested in. Then you won't mind my dressing. My wimple will not hide my features.”

“Not if you'll promise to stay here and speak with me a bit,” Cazio relented. “I sense that you're in no great hurry.”

The girl arched her brows. “You'll turn your back, at least?”

“Lady, I will.” And he did so, despite the tantalizing sound as she emerged from the pool, and the rustle of her clothes as she retrieved them. For a moment she was so near he could have turned and touched her. But she was skittish, this one. She would take work.

He heard her carry her clothes back toward the pool.

“What day is it?” she asked.

“May I turn yet?”

“You may not.”

“The day is Menzodi,” he replied.

“Three more days,” she murmured. “Good. Thank you.”

“Three more days of what?” he asked.

“Do you have anything to eat?” Fiene asked, instead of answering him.

“Nothing, I'm afraid.”

“Very well. No, keep your back turned. I'm not quite finished.”

Cazio puffed his cheeks and tapped his foot.

“You never told me what you were doing out here,” he said. “You're up to mischief, aren't you?”

She didn't answer. “May I turn yet?” he asked. “I've kept my bargain.”

When she didn't answer again, he did turn—in time to see her vanish up the hillside.

“Faithless beauty!” he shouted after her.

She popped back into view briefly, waved, and blew him a kiss. Then she was gone. He thought about chasing her, but decided against it. If she wanted to play that sort of game, to Lord Ontro with her.

With a sigh, he turned and began walking back toward the mansion of the countess Orchaevia. But he took care to remember the landmarks of the place.

The sun was a perfectly golden coin and it was an hour before sunset when Cazio came back in sight of the manse. It lay below him, in the midst of a hundred versos of vineyards, a single narrow road wandering to and away from it. The house itself was splendidly huge, white-walled and red-roofed, with a spacious inner courtyard and a rustic-walled horz on its west wing. Behind that were stables, barnyard, and the must-house where wine was fermented and bottled.

Cazio descended between rows of grapevines, idly picking the amethyst fruits now and then, enjoying the sweet, wine-like smell of those that had fallen to rot upon the ground.

He couldn't stop wondering about the girl. She said she'd come from Liery. What country was Liery? One of the northern ones, surely, where such pale skin and strangely colored hair were commonplace.

He found himself at the mansion gate almost before realizing it. A sharp-featured serving boy in yellow stockings and plum
doublet recognized him and let him into the red-flagstoned courtyard.

A throaty female voice greeted him as he entered. “Cazio, my
dello
!” she said. “Where have you been? You've almost missed dinner.”

Cazio bowed. “Good evening,
casnara
Countess Orchaevia. I was merely taking my leisure in the beautiful countryside around your estate.”

The countess Orchaevia sat at a long table beneath the eaves of the courtyard wall. She was a woman in her middle years, enlarged and rounded by the copious foods that always graced her table. Her face was as round and shiny as a porcelain platter, with a little snubbed nose, emerald eyes, and pink cheeks. Cazio had rarely seen her without a smile on her face.

“Rambling again? I wish I could think of more to entertain you with here, so you needn't walk all over creation.”

“I enjoy it,” Cazio told her. “It keeps me fit.”

“Well, a young man should be fit,” she allowed. “Please, join me in repast.” She nodded at the viands before her.

“I think I will,” he said. “I've worked up a bit of an appetite.” He pulled out a leather-bottomed chair, sat, and surveyed what was to be had. He settled on a fig, cut and opened to resemble a flower and garnished with the dry, salty ham of the region. A servant approached and poured him a goblet of dark red wine.

“Was z'Acatto with you?” the countess asked. “I haven't seen him today either.”

“Have you checked your wine cellars?” Cazio asked. “He has a tendency to settle there.”

“Well, let him stay there then,” she pouted, spooning a cube of fresh cheese, drenched in olive oil and garlic, onto a slice of toasted bread. “He can't get to the choicest vintages, anyway. He thinks I don't know he's searching for them.” She looked up at Cazio. “Which direction did you go today?”

Cazio gestured west with the half of the fig that remained.

“Oh! You paid a visit to the Abode of Graces.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Cazio replied innocently,
taking a sip of the wine. “I saw only trees and sheep.”

She looked at him suspiciously. “You're telling me a handsome young dello like you hasn't yet sniffed out a coven full of young ladies? I never thought it would take you this long.”

Cazio shrugged and reached for a ripe black olive. “Perhaps I'll go there tomorrow.”

The countess wagged a grilled partridge leg at him. “Don't go to cause trouble. Those are my neighbors, you know. Each year I throw a small fete for them. It's the only such luxury they are allowed.”

“Do you indeed?” Cazio said, placing the olive pit in a small dish and turning his attention to a plate of sliced pears and hard ewe's cheese.

“Oh, Orchaevia has your attention now, doesn't she?”

“Nonsense,” Cazio said, stretching his legs out and lazily crossing them at the ankle.

“Well, if you're not interested …” She shrugged and took a long draught of her wine.

“Oh, very well, let us assume I have some slight interest. When might this fete take place?”

The countess smiled. “On the eve of Fiussanal, the first day of Seftamenza.”

“In three weeks' time.”

“Of course, you aren't invited,” she said slyly. “But I might be able to arrange something, if a matter of the heart is involved.”

“No such matter exists. Besides, I may not be here in three weeks.”

Orchaevia shook her head. “Oh, things haven't cooled in Avella yet. That will take more time.”

“I had considered a trip to Furonesso,” Cazio said.

The countess sputtered into her wine. “In this heat? Whatever for?”

“My sword is growing rusty.”

“You practice every day with my guards!”

Cazio shrugged.

The countess narrowed her eyes, then suddenly laughed
merrily. “You'll stay,” she opined as she spread rabbit liver pâté on another toast. “You're only trying to convince yourself that someone hasn't got you by the nose.”

Cazio stopped with a buttered quail egg halfway to his mouth. “Casnara, what under heaven are you talking about?”

She smiled. “I can see it in that distracted look on your face, the expression when I mentioned my fete. Never try to fool Orchaevia when it comes to matters of love. You
are
in love.”

“And that is very ridiculous,” Cazio said emphatically. He was becoming annoyed. “Even if I did meet someone today, you think my heart could be so quickly swayed? That's the stuff of your romances, Countess, not real life.”

“That's what every young man thinks until it happens to him,” the countess replied, with a wink. “Tomorrow you'll wander in the same direction you did today. Trust me.”

Anne woke in darkness. From a vantage on the hill, she'd watched the strange man leave, but she didn't trust him not to return, so she'd slept in the cave. Of course, he seemed relatively harmless; he'd never threatened her, only swaggered and strutted like a rooster. But there was no sense in being stupid.

She rose, stretched, got her bearings, and began cautiously back toward the outside. Her stomach rumbled; all of the food that had been sent down with her was back in the fane of Mefitis, and Anne didn't want to go back there until she had to. She'd considered going all the way back there to sleep, on the off chance that the sisters might check on her, but if they hadn't in the six days that had already passed, she couldn't imagine they would today.

Still, she would have to do something about her hunger soon. Perhaps she could find apples or pomegranates.

She waited at the cave entrance for a while, watching and listening, then began climbing back down. She found the pool again, circled it several times, and found no one there. Then she went to look for food.

Around noon she was ready to give up and go back to the
fane. She'd found some fruits, but either didn't know what they were or didn't find them ripe. She'd seen a rabbit and many squirrels, but knew nothing of hunting or how to build a fire if she did manage to get one. Austra had been right, of course; her fantasy of living free and off the land was just that, a fantasy. It was a good thing she hadn't managed to run away.

Disconsolate, she started back toward the cave.

Passing by the pool again, she caught a motion from the corner of her eye and ducked behind a bush. She winced at the stir of noises she made, then cautiously peered around the leaves.

Cazio was back. Today he wore a white shirt and dark red breeches. His sword was propped against a nearby olive tree and he sat on a blanket. He was busy removing items from a basket—pears, cheese, bread, a bottle of wine.

“I've brought food this time,” he said, without turning.

Anne hesitated. He was far enough away that if she ran, he probably couldn't catch her. Still, what did she know of this fellow other than he was an arrogant ass?

That he'd kept his back turned when she was naked, as she'd asked him. After a moment's consideration, she emerged and walked toward him.

“You're persistent,” she noticed.

“And you're hungry,” the fellow replied. He stood and bowed. “There were no proper introductions, yesterday. I am Cazio Pachiomadio da Chiovattio. I will be in your debt if you will join me for a time.”

Anne quirked her mouth. “As you say, I am hungry.”

“Then, if you please, casnara Fiene, sit with me.”

“And you'll be a gentleman?”

“In every way.”

She settled warily on the other side of the blanket, with the food between them. She eyed the victuals hungrily.

“Please, eat,” Cazio said.

She reached for a pear and bit into it. It was sweet and ripe, and the juice drizzled down her chin.

“Try the cheese with it,” Cazio suggested, pouring her a
goblet of red wine. “It's
caso dac'uva
, one of the best in the region.”

Anne took a wedge of the cheese. It was sharp, hard, and piquant, and went very well with the pear. She washed it all down with the wine. Cazio began eating, too, at a much more leisurely pace.

“Thank you,” Anne said, when she had eaten some of the bread and had a little more wine, which was already warming her thoughts.

“Seeing you is thanks enough,” Cazio replied.

“You aren't a rogue at all,” Anne accused.

Cazio shrugged. “Some would argue with that, but I've never made the claim, only the offer.”

“What are you, then? Not a shepherd, with that sword. A wanderer?”

“Of sorts,” Cazio replied.

“So you aren't from these parts?”

“I'm from Avella.”

Anne let that pass. She didn't know where Avella was, and didn't care. “You've taken a holiday?” she asked.

Cazio grinned. “Of sorts,” he repeated. “Though it was never festive until now.”

“I'm still betrothed, you know,” Anne reminded him.

“Yes, so I've been told. A temporary situation, for once you've gotten to know me—”

“I will undoubtedly still think you an ass, if you keep talking that way,” Anne replied.

Cazio clutched at his chest. “Now
that
was an arrow,” he said, “striking right to my heart.”

Anne laughed. “You have no heart, Cazio, or at least not a loud one. I think other parts of you are more outspoken.”

“You think you know me well, so soon?” Cazio said. “This fiancé of yours—he is better spoken?”

“Infinitely so. He writes wonderful letters, he speaks poetry.” She paused. “Or he did when he could still speak to me and write to me.”

“Does he tell you how your hair is like the rarest red saffron of Shaum? Does he reflect on the myriad colors of your
eyes? Does he know your breath as well as he knows his own?” Cazio's eyes were suddenly, uncomfortably focused on hers.