The Pattern Scars (38 page)

Grasni found me on a bench by the main courtyard stage. It was the bench furthest away from the performers; from it I could see the king and Zemiya, in the raised viewing area that had been erected for them, and all the other benches too, as well as the space around them. I had been sitting here for over an hour, and so far I had seen four dancers (three excellent and one so terrible that even Haldrin had looked uncomfortable), two acrobats and an actor who had attempted to transform himself into an erupting volcano using red silk scarves and an armful of very large stones. I had not seen Bardrem, though my eyes darted all the time, seeking him, expecting him.

“No wonder the princess looks so forlorn,” Grasni said as she slipped into the space beside me. “Look at him, all tangled up in his scarves, trying not to cry because he’s just crushed his toe with a rock. I wonder why the king was so eager to show her what fools Sarsenayans can be.”

“She’s not forlorn,” I said, lightly enough to hide my surprise at Grasni’s presence. “She’s smiling a little. And maybe that’s what he wanted.”

“Is that a smile? I’m not sure. . . .”

But it was—I, at least, was sure of it, as I squinted into the morning sunlight.

“Let’s get closer,” I said. “It’s crowded, but Borl will help us make a path.” He craned his head up when he heard his name and I scratched him between the ears.

“No.” Grasni eyed him and then me. I thought that she might ask a question I would not be able to answer; something like, “Why is he so attached to you now, when he only ever tried to bite your fingers off before?” She said nothing else, though, so I continued, “Or let’s leave—we could go see if Dellena will let us taste some of the recipes she’s created for the wedding. Or”—I spoke faster because Grasni was no longer looking at me, and because she was tugging at the ends of her hair in a way I recognized—“we could just go to your room, or mine, and talk about things, because we won’t be able to do that for much longer. Because soon—”

“Not soon,” she said quietly, and suddenly she
was
looking at me. “Now. Master Teldaru’s just told us: we’re to leave later on today. Selera and I.”

“Today?” I said. “But he told Selera it would be after the wedding. She . . . Where is she?”

“In her room. She refuses to come out. I even offered to let her cut my hair.”

I stood up. “He can’t do this.”

“Of course he can. Apparently our new employers are growing impatient; they’ve written to ask for our presence immediately.”

“And did he show you these letters?”

“No—Nola, what’s wrong?”

He’s lying again and he’s plotting something again; I know—I
know
and I can’t bear knowing, can’t bear any more of anything, and now you’re leaving
. “You’re leaving,” I said, “and I can’t bear it.”

We walked up to our courtyard without speaking. Borl kept nudging at my hand, and I thought,
How perfect: the only one who truly understands me is a dog I brought back from the dead.

We stood outside Selera’s door and I called to her, but she did not come, and there was no sound from within. Dren brought us bread and cheese. We walked by the pool; Grasni said, “I’m excited to be going, but I’ll miss everything here, even the heat and Dellena’s Mysterious Hard Bits Soup.” We both tried to laugh, and we both failed. I thought suddenly of the guard—Sildio, the one she loved—and I wanted to mention him, to show I remembered and was thinking of her, but I did not.

We were sitting by Selera’s door when Teldaru came. “Surely she’ll have to come out to use the latrine,” Grasni said, and then we saw him striding out of the trees. He was smiling.

“You missed an extraordinarily talented musician,” he said when he had reached us. “I’ve never heard the knee-harp played so well.” He was speaking very quickly, bobbing a bit on the balls of his feet. I felt a familiar cold seeping into my belly and wrapped my arms around myself as if this would warm me.

“Grasni, go and fetch your things. The carriages are waiting.”

I watched her rush to her room, her long, shapeless dress puffing up after her like a cloud of orange-ish dust. “What are you planning?” I said. My voice trembled a bit.

“Nola!” he exclaimed. I did not turn to him, but I could imagine his arched brows and wide, twinkling eyes. “Whatever do you mean?”

She was coming back already, stooping beneath the weight of a bag on her back and clutching a leather case in both hands. “It cannot be her,” I said, very quietly. “Whatever you’re planning, it cannot have anything to do with her.”

“Silly, suspicious girl,” he murmured, and stepped forward to take the case from her. He set it on the ground, and the bag beside it, and rapped on Selera’s door. “Selera. You’ve been listening; you know it’s time. Come out, please.”

Silence.

“Selera.” A little more firmly.

Mistress Ket was coming, I saw, clacking her way along the path. Dren was walking with her and the other students were behind them. A farewell procession. I swallowed sudden tears and looked back at the door.

“Dearest.” A new tone, one I’d never heard before. “Come out to me.”

I took Grasni’s hand and pulled her away, to where the procession had halted. I watched him say something else, his forehead against the door, both hands splayed as if he would draw her out through the wood with them.

The door opened slowly, and Selera emerged slowly, and Teldaru fell back a few steps, also slowly; perhaps time itself had forgotten to breathe, seeing her.

“Oh!” a little girl beside me gasped. “She’s more beautiful than
ever
!” And she was. I had never seen this white dress before—the one with the jewelled coils of ivy. I had never seen her hair done so intricately, in whorls and loops, pinned by gold and yet more jewels. Her slippers were golden too, with heels that made her taller.

“Ah,” Grasni muttered, “so she would make him regret what he’s done.”

Perhaps he does
, I thought as I watched him watch her.
Perhaps, right at this moment, he does.

She did not look at him once. She walked over to us, bent to kiss the children and the top of Mistress Ket’s head. Mistress Ket was weeping. “Child,” she said, “you will make us so proud. They will love you as we do.”

Selera did not glance at Grasni or me either, not even when Teldaru said, “It is too crowded for you and the children, Mistress Ket; only Nola will accompany us to the gate.” It must have been difficult to avoid glancing at her only three companions, but Selera managed it. She walked slightly ahead of us, holding her dress up in her hands. She was moving quite quickly, now; the guards carrying the cases struggled to keep up. We followed her through the keep and down the steps to the main courtyard; we followed her among the tents and around the largest stage, where a girl was playing a viol. Only when Selera reached the castle gate and the two carriages waiting just inside it did she slow.

Teldaru stepped past her and turned to us. “Come here to me, you two,” he said to the others. They went to stand with him; all three faced me, though only Teldaru and Grasni actually looked at me. “Nola,” he said, “perhaps after you have said your farewells you would like to watch from the gatehouse tower.”

“Just me?” I said. “What about you? Would you not like to wave them away, too?”

He was touching each of them: Grasni on the elbow, Selera on the smooth, pale skin of her back—just above her shoulder blade, I guessed. “I will be accompanying them,” he said. Now Selera did look at him, her mouth that small, perfect “o” it always made when she was surprised.

“You’re leaving?” I could hardly hear my own words above the sudden clamour of my heart.

He smiled at me. “I will escort them a very short ways. You will hardly notice I’m gone.” He removed his hand from Grasni’s elbow and wagged a finger at me. “Don’t get into any trouble, now,” he said brightly, “or there may be dire consequences.”

Will there?
I thought dizzily.
What happens if
you
leave
me
? Does that part of the curse stop working? If it does, you have no way of hurting Bardrem because he’s
here
and you don’t know it—I could find him and we could go together and there would be nothing you could do.

“I’ll behave,” I said, as steadily as possible. “As I always do.”

He gazed at me, not smiling any more, and I turned my own gaze away, to Selera. “Farewell,” I said. “May you find everything you seek, in your new home: renown, fortune. Love.” I did not intend to be mean—not this time—but perhaps my distraction and excitement made me sound it; she glared at me—for the last time, I thought—and walked to the nearest carriage.

“And you,” I said to Grasni, and found that I could say nothing more.

“And you,” she said, and smiled, though her eyes were bright with tears. We clung to each other for a moment, until she drew away. She patted her freckled cheeks and her shapeless dress and said, “Renown, fortune and love,” and we laughed together—for the last time, I thought. Just before she climbed into the second carriage she looked up at the castle walls—for him, I realized. Sildio, who had so entranced her that she had come to me, that night when everything had changed between us. The night that had made our friendship more about words not spoken than ones that were.

Teldaru bent close to me, before he got into Selera’s carriage. “Take care, Nola,” he said. “I won’t be long.” He ran his finger along my jaw and quickly, quickly over my lips and then he was gone.

Gone, gone
—the word circled in my head as I ran up the gatehouse tower steps. I would have to make certain that the carriages were out of sight before I made any attempt to find Bardrem.
You do not need to find him
, whispered a voice in my head.
Just try to go; try
now
. And then what?
my other, louder mind-voice demanded.
What will Teldaru do when he finds me gone? Whom will he hunt down right away? No—I won’t endanger Bardrem that way . . .

I lost sight of the carriages as soon as the horses drew them down the road into the city. I leaned as far over the tower’s edge as I could, craning, waiting. It seemed like an age before I saw them again, out past the other, further gatehouse, already well onto the long, straight eastern road. It seemed like another age before they dwindled. The sun was behind me, and the pure, vivid light made the tiny horses and carriages very distinct and not quite real. I waited until they were just specks—flickers of light off wheel hubs and harnesses.
Gone, gone
, said my head, and I picked up my skirts and ran.

I hardly saw the guards I passed as I flew down the stairs. One of them called to me to be careful. I burst from the tower into the courtyard and would have kept going except that someone caught me by the arm and pulled me to a reeling stop. I wrenched myself around, opening my mouth to say something shrill, but instead I cried, “Bardrem!” and wrapped my hand around his arm. We stood there gripping each other like dancers who had forgotten their steps.

“I saw you,” he said at last, as I tried unsuccessfully to retrieve all the ideas that had filled me only moments before. “I saw you go up there, and then I watched you. You could have fallen over, you know. I would never have caught you in time.”

I made a sound that was part laugh and part sob. “Did you see the carriages?” I asked, and he nodded. “And who was in them?”

“No,” he said. “Should I know who was in them?”

“No”—thinking,
Of course he didn’t see Teldaru—if he had he’d be upset—furious, shocked . . .
“They were friends. Going away.” I took a deep breath that steadied me. “Bardrem. I have to leave the city. Come with me.”

“What?” He let go of my arm, though I kept hold of his. “Why?”

“Because,” I said quickly, like an impatient mother avoiding a real explanation, “I have to.”

He was not angry this time—just puzzled. “My turn at the competition is tomorrow—it’s why I’ve been looking for you; I was wondering if you might come to listen . . . I suppose I’ll go with you, as long as I’m back in time.”

“You won’t be.” I dug my fingers into his skin and he winced. “I’m leaving for good.”

He pried my hand away. “You can’t mean this. Nola—be serious, don’t—”

“I am.” I felt more tears; when had I ever cried so much? “This is the most important thing I’ve ever had to do. Please, Bardrem—stay here. Wait for me. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

I hardly breathed. I watched his face, which showed me nothing, not even when he said, “I don’t understand. I haven’t understood anything since you found me.” A long pause; I tried not to reach out and clutch him again. “How do I know,” he finally said, “that you won’t just disappear?”

My breath escaped in a noisy rush. “I won’t. I’ll come back—I promise.”

“
I’m
not promising anything,” he said. “I’ll just wait for now, if that’s what you want—only Nola, I . . .”

But I was running again, waving at him over my shoulder.

I would have to remove everything I could from my room. If I left anything that had come from my body—a hair, a fingernail—Teldaru would be able to use it to Othersee, just as he had done when he had been hunting Chenn. I found an extra bag in Grasni’s room and took it back to mine. I began shoving dresses, skirts and shifts inside—for although he would not be able to use the cloth itself to find me, there might be stray hairs caught in lace or bodice ribbons. Luckily I did not have too many clothes; I moved swiftly on to the hair combs and clips, the necklaces and earrings and bracelets. (The jewellery I packed simply because I loved it.) Not too many of these, either—thankfully I was not Selera, with her five cases—and I reached for the toy horses. They were too big to take with me. I looked them over carefully, found nothing but matted material and bead eyes; I held them both for one long, still moment and then I placed them back on their shelf. I would have to strip the sheets from the bed; maybe I’d claim they were crawling with ticks and have Dellena burn them. I’d have to sweep and wash the floor too—so much; too much. I was moving toward the door, intending to find a broom, when someone knocked on it.