The Forbidden Circle (54 page)

“As fat, maybe, as an embroidery needle,” he scoffed. Her eyes on his face, she saw that he too was thinner, drawn and worn, and his eyes seemed set deeper behind cheekbones and brow.

“Is there none here to keep you company, Father?”

“Oh, Ellemir is in and out, about the kitchens. Damon has gone to the village, to see to the families of the men who were frostbitten during the great storm, and Andrew is in the greenhouse, seeing what the frost has done there. Why not join him there, child? I am sure there is work enough for two.”

“And it is certain I am no help to Ellemir about the kitchens,” she said, laughing. “Later, perhaps. If the sun is out they will be doing a great wash, and I must see to the linen rooms.”

He laughed. “To be sure. Ellemir has always said that she would rather muck out barns than use a needle! But later maybe we can have some music again. I have been remembering how, when I was younger, I used to play a lute. Perhaps my fingers could get back their skill. I have so little to do, sitting here all the day. . . .”

The women of the household, and some of the men, had dragged out the great tubs and were washing clothes in the back kitchens. Callista found her presence superfluous and slipped away to the small still-room where she had made her own work. Nothing was as she had left it. She remembered that Damon had been working here during her illness, and, surveying the disorder he had left, she set to work to put everything to rights. She realized too that she must replenish stocks of some common medicines and remedies, but while her hands were busy with some of the simplest herbal mixtures, separating them into doses to be brewed for tea, she realized that there was a more demanding task before her: she must make some
kirian
.

She had thought when she left the Tower that she would never do this again; Valdir was too young to need it and Domenic too old. Yet she realized soberly that whatever happened, no household of telepaths should be without this particular drug. It was by far the most difficult of all the drugs she knew how to make, having to be distilled in three separate operations, each to dispose of a different chemical fraction of the resin. She had set everything to rights in the still-room and was taking out her distilling equipment when Ferrika came in and started, seeing her there.

“Forgive me for disturbing you,
vai domna
.”

“No, come in, Ferrika. What can I do for you?”

“One of the maids has scalded her hand at the wash. I came to find some burn salve for her.”

“Here it is,” Callista said, reaching a jar from a shelf.

“Can I do anything?”

“No, my lady, it is nothing serious,” the woman said, and went away. After a little while she returned, bringing back the jar.

“Is it a bad burn?”

Ferrika shook her head. “No, no, she carelessly put her hand into the wrong tub, that is all, but I think we should keep something for burns in the kitchen and washing rooms. If someone had been severely hurt it would have been bad to have to come up here for it.”

Callister nodded. “I think you are right. Put some into smaller jars, then, and keep it there,” she said. While Ferrika at the smaller table, began to do this, she frowned, opening drawer after drawer until Ferrika finally turned and asked, “My lady, can I help you to find something? If the Lord Damon, or I myself, have misplaced something for you . . .”

Callista frowned. She said, “Yes, there were
kireseth
flowers here . . .”

“Lord Damon used some of those, my lady, while you were ill.”

Callista nodded, remembering the crude tincture he had made. “I have allowed for that, but unless he wasted or spoiled a great deal, there was far more than he could have used, stored in a bag at the back of this cabinet.” She went on searching cabinets and drawers. “Have you used any of it, Ferrika?”

The woman shook her head. “I have not touched it.” She was smoothing salve into a jar with a small bone paddle. Watching her, Callista asked, “Do you know how to make
kirian
?”

“I know how it is done, my lady. When I trained in the Guild-house in Arilinn, each of us spent some time apprenticed to an apothecary to learn to make medicines and drugs. But I myself have never made it,” the woman said. “We had no use for it in the Guild-house, though we had to learn how to recognize it. You know that the . . . that some people sell the by-products of
kirian
distillation, illegally?”

“I had heard this, even in the Tower,” Callista said dryly.
Kireseth
was a plant whose leaves, flowers and stems contained various resins. In the Kilghard Hills, at some seasons, the pollen created a problem, having dangerous psychoactive qualities.
Kirian
, the telepathic drug which lowered the barriers of the mind, used the only safe fraction, and even that was used with great caution. The use of raw
kireseth
, or of the other resins, was forbidden by law in Thendara and Arilinn, and was regarded as criminal everywhere in the Domains. Even
kirian
was treated with great caution, and looked on with a kind of superstitious dread by outsiders.

As she counted and sorted filtering cloths, Callista thought, with a peculiar homesickness, of the faraway plains of Arilinn. It had been her home for so long. She supposed she would never see it again.

It could be her home again, Leonie had said. . . . To dispel that thought, she asked, “How long did you live in Arilinn, Ferrika?”

“Three years,
domna
.”

“But you are one of our people from the estate, are you not? I remember that you and I and Dorian and Ellemir all played together when we were little girls, and had dancing lessons together.”

“Yes, my lady, but when Dorian went to be married, and you to the Tower, I decided I did not want to stay at home all my life, like a plant grown fast to the wall. My mother had been midwife here, you remember, and I had, I thought, talent for the work. There was a midwife on the estate at Syrtis who had been trained in the Arilinn Guild-house, where they train healers and midwives. And I saw that under her care, many lived whom my mother would have consigned to the mercy of Avarra—lived, and their babies thrived. Mother said these newfangled ways were folly, and probably impious as well, but I went to the Guild-house at Neskaya and took oath there. They sent me to Arilinn to be trained. And I asked leave of my oath-mother to come here and take employment, and she agreed.”

“I did not know there was anyone at Arilinn from my home villages.”

“Oh, I saw you now and again, my lady, riding with the other
vai leroni
,” Ferrika said. “And once the
domna
Lirielle came to the Guild-house to aid us. There was a woman there whose inward parts were being destroyed by some dreadful disease, and our Guild-mother said that nothing could save her except neutering.”

“I had thought that illegal,” Callista said with a shudder, and Ferrika answered, “Why, so it is,
domna
, except to save a life. More than illegal, it is very dangerous as it is done under a surgeon’s knife. Many never recover. But it can be done by matrix—” She broke off with a rueful smile, saying, “But who am I to say that to you, who were Lady of Arilinn and know all such arts?”

Callista said, shrinking, “I have never seen it.”

“I was privileged to watch the
leronis
,” said Ferrika, “and I felt it would be greatly helpful to the women of our world if this art was more widely known.”

With a shudder of revulsion, Callista said, “Neu tering?”

“Not only that,
domna
, although, to save a life, that too. The woman lived. Though her womanhood was destroyed, the disease had also been burnt out and she was free of it. But there are so many other things which could be done. You did not see what Lord Damon did with the crippled men after the storm, but I saw how they recovered after—and I know how men recover when I have had to cut off their toes and fingers to save them from the black rot. And there are women for whom it is not safe to bear more children, and there is no safe way to make it impossible. I have long thought that partial neutering might be the answer, if it could be done without the risks of surgery. It is a pity, my lady, that the art of doing such things with a matrix is not known outside the Towers.”

Callista looked dismayed at the thought, and Ferrika knew she had gone too far. She replaced the cap on the jar of burn salve with strong fingers. “Have you found the
kireseth
that was missing, Lady Callista? You should ask Lord Damon if he put it somewhere else.” She put away the salve, glanced through the herbal teas Callista had divided into doses, and looked along the shelves. “We have no more blackfruit root when this is gone, my lady.”

Callista looked at the curled scraps of root in the bottom of the jar. “We must send to the markets at Neskaya when the roads are clear. It comes from the Dry Towns. But surely we do not use it often?”

“I have been giving it to your father,
domna
, to strengthen his heart. For a time I can give him red-rush, but for daily use this is better.”

“Send for it, then, you have the authority. But he has always been a strong, powerful man. Why do you think he needs stimulants for his heart, Ferrika?”

“It is often so with men who have been very active,
domna
, swordsmen, riders, athletes, mountain guides. If some injury keeps them long abed, their hearts weaken. It is as if their bodies developed a need for activity, and when it is too suddenly withdrawn, they fall ill, and sometimes they die. I do not know why it should be so, my lady, I only know that very often it is so.”

This was her fault too, Callista thought in sudden despair. It was in fighting with the catmen that he lost the use of his limbs. And, remembering how tender her father had been with her that morning, she was seized by grief. Suppose he should die, when she had just begun to know him! In the Tower she had been insulated from grief and joy alike. Now it seemed that the world outside was filled with so many sorrows she could not bear it. How could she ever have had the courage to leave?

Ferrika watched her with sympathy, but Callista was too inexperienced to realize it. She had been taught to rely so wholly upon herself that now she was unable to turn to anyone else for advice or for comfort. After a time, Ferrika, seeing that Callista was lost in her own thoughts, went quietly away, and Callista tried to resume her work, but what she had heard left her so shaken that her hands would not obey her. Finally she replaced her materials, cleaned her equipment and went out, closing the door.

The men and maids had finished the washing, and in the rare bright sun, were out in the courtyards, pegging up sheets and towels, linens and garments, from lines strung everywhere. They were laughing gaily and calling jokes back and forth, tramping about in the mud and melting snow. The courtyard was full of wet flapping linens, blowing in the gusty wind. They looked merry and busy, but Callista knew from experience that if she joined them it would put a damper on their high spirits. They were used to Ellemir, but to the women of the estate—and even more to the men—she was still a stranger, exotic, to be feared and revered, a Comyn lady who had been a
leronis
at Arilinn. Only Ferrika, who had known her as a child, was capable of treating her as another young woman like herself. She was lonely, she realized as she watched the young girls and women running back and forth with armfuls of wet wash for the lines and dry sheets for the cupboards, making jokes and teasing one another.

She was lonely, belonging nowhere, she felt, not in the Tower, not among them.

After a time she went off to the greenhouses. Heaters were always kept inside the greenhouses, but she could see that some of the plants near the window had been frostbitten, and in one of the buildings the weight of snow had broken several panes. Although it had been hastily boarded up, some fruit bushes had died. She saw Andrew at the far end, showing the gardeners how to cut away damaged vines, looking for live wood.

She rarely
looked
at Andrew, being so accustomed to being aware of him in other ways. Now she wondered if Ellemir thought him handsome or ill-looking. The thought annoyed her disproportionately. She knew Andrew thought her beautiful. Not being a vain woman, and, because of the taboo which had surrounded her all her adult life, unaccustomed to masculine attention, this always surprised her a little. But now, she felt that since Ellemir was so lovely, and she was so thin and pale, he must certainly think Ellemir more beautiful.

Andrew looked up, smiled and beckoned to her. She came to his side, politely nodding to the gardener. “Are these bushes all dead?”

He shook his head. “I think not. Killed to the root, maybe, but they’ll grow again this spring.” He added to the man, “Mind you mark where you’ve cut them back, so you don’t plant anything else there and disturb the roots.”

Callista looked at the cut bushes. “These leaves should be picked and sorted, and those which aren’t frost-damaged must be dried, or we’ll have no seasoning for our roasts till spring!”

Andrew relayed the order. “A good thing you were here! I may be a good gardener, but I’m no cook, even on my world.”

She laughed. “I am no cook at all, on any world. I know something of herbs, that is all.”

The gardener bent to take away the cut branches, and behind his back Andrew bent to kiss her quickly on the forehead. She had to steel herself not to move out of reach, as long habit and deep reflexes prompted. He was aware of the abortive movement and looked at her in pained surprise, then, remembering, sighed and smiled.

“I am glad to see you looking so well, my love.”

She said, sighing, feeling nothing in his kiss, “I feel like that bush there, killed down to the roots. Let’s hope I’ll grow again in spring too.”

“Should you be out? Damon said you should rest again today.”