Alayna had no idea what Gwynn’s wishes were, or even how usual it was for a place like Scathfell to have a household leronis, and she had the sinking feeling that a lady of her station ought to know. “I’ll be sure to let you know what he decides.”
Dinner turned out to be somewhat more formal than Alayna had expected. The table usually reserved for feasts had been set for only four. A fire brightened the hearth, softening the chill that clung to the stone walls. Outside, snow began to fall almost as soon as the red sun dipped behind the western peaks. When she and Perdita entered through the main door, Gwynn and Ruyven were waiting for them.
Servants brought in a tureen of soup while Gwynn asked Perdita about her impressions of Scathfell. “It is nothing to the palaces in Thendara, but I hope you will be comfortable here.”
“I am sure I shall.” Perdita kept her gaze on her spoon as she dipped it into her bowl. “Lady Scathfell is a most generous mistress.”
“Then everything is as it should be,” Ruyven said.
Alayna laid down her spoon. Everything was not as it should be. “Dimitra told me that while we were gone there was an outbreak of summer fever. Spotted flux, she called it. She also said there was a death among us.”
Gwynn’s brows drew together, and his lips narrowed. Perdita’s spoon clattered against her plate. Ruyven said, “My lady—” but Gwynn cut him off.
“My wife, this is not the time or the place to discuss such matters, especially in front of our guest, a tender young woman who has just endured an exhausting journey.” He turned to Perdita. “I apologize for the outburst and hope it has not dampened your pleasure in the evening.”
Perdita stared at the dregs of her soup. “It is I who should beg your pardon, my lord, for my unseemly reaction. My parents died of the spotted flux when I was a small child.” She blinked away tears. “I should not be so emotional, I know. It’s just that sometimes I wonder what my life would have been, had they lived. Your lordship is undoubtedly correct, and that my feelings are somewhat—volatile—from fatigue and being so far from home. I am sad for your loss, of course, but happy that the outbreak was not worse.”
Seeing Perdita still downcast, Alayna searched for a way to cheer her friend. “How would it be if we presented an evening of music? Perdita has a lovely singing voice and now I have my rryl again. You will enjoy that, will you not, my love?” When Gwynn did not answer immediately, Alayna pressed on. “We have been enjoying ourselves in Thendara, while our people here—Zefano and Marianna and Dimitra and all the others—have been hard at work. Let us open the concert to them as well. It will be our thanks to them for their faithfulness in safeguarding our home.”
“Put like that, I can hardly refuse,” Gwynn said. “You have convinced me.”
“Excellent.” Ruyven turned to Alayna. “May I be of assistance, vai domna?”
“Not with the concert itself, although I thank you for your offer. But if you would undertake preparing a place for us to perform—what do you think, Gwynn? The Great Hall is so large, our voices will be lost. Will the solarium do for a larger group? Or perhaps the men’s parlor?”
“I know nothing of such matters. You and Ruyven must choose whatever seems best.” Without waiting for a response, Gwynn clapped his hands, and servants took away the soup course and brought a haunch of venison. The next little while was occupied with carving and serving.
“If I may—?” Perdita said shyly, after they had all eaten a little. “I often assisted Queen Cassandra in private concerts, both indoors and in her garden. One must consider the acoustics of the venue as well as the strength of the singers’ voices and the size of the audience.”
“You see, my dear,” Gwynn said to Alayna. “We have an expert in our midst.”
“This is most excellent venison,” Ruyven said, breaking the pause that followed.
“The cook seems to have outdone himself,” Gwynn replied. “Come to think of it, I don’t recall dining on venison the entire time we were in Thendara. Do you?”
“Not offhand, my lord,” Ruyven said. “But there were so many elaborate dishes with such fancy names, I could not swear to it.”
“And you, damisela? Can you enlighten us about the consumption of game in Thendara?”
“Her Majesty did not care for venison, so I cannot say,” Perdita murmured.
“I suppose you might find venison now and again in one of the city markets,” Ruyven said. “Perhaps one of the nearer estates includes a woodland park for the keeping of deer. We did eat rabbit-horn, if you recall, vai dom.”
“We did? When?”
“The feast hosted by Lord Syrtis.”
Gwynn’s brow furrowed. “Aldaran was there.”
“And very courteously he greeted your lordship, too,” Ruyven said smoothly.
“You are right, my friend. He did make friendly overtures—not just on that occasion but on many. I must take care not to see the hand of Old Lord Aldaran in every syllable the young one utters.”
“Lord Edric Aldaran sent us a wedding gift,” Alayna said to Perdita. “My beautiful rryl, just the right size for my hands.”
“Yes, it was a handsome gift,” Ruyven said. “Should Lord Aldaran ever take a wife, we must be sure to reciprocate appropriately.”
“Well, he is not wed or even betrothed, not that my spies can discover.” Gwynn bent over his meat, cutting it into thin, precise slices.
“Spies?” Alayna stared at him. He spied on Aldaran? On Kyria’s new family? Even after all the overtures of good will?
“Don’t look so shocked. I’m sure he has spies here. I could rout them out if I wanted to put everyone in the castle, not to mention the whole valley, under truthspell. He could do the same. But then I’d be forced to execute the traitors.”
Executions? Traitors? Blessed Cassilda.
Alayna rose. “I beg your pardon, my lords. I am—” How could she say what she felt: appalled, outraged? “—overly fatigued. Please do not trouble yourselves on my account. Enjoy the rest of your dinners.” She took a step backward and found herself less steady than she expected. An instant later, Perdita was beside her.
“Vai domna, you cannot go wandering about the castle without proper attendants,” Perdita said in a low but determined voice. Before Alayna could protest, Perdita bustled her out of the dining hall, down the hallway, up the stairs, and into her own quarters.
“I had no idea you were so capable,” Alayna murmured as Perdita eased her on her bed and piled pillows under her head and beneath her knees.
“It seemed more dignified than to call for servants to carry you. I’m shy, as you know, but I’m not helpless. Queen Cassandra understood that about me. I hope that you will come to trust me as she did.”
“Do you miss the queen? And your home in Thendara?” Alayna said once she found her voice.
“Lady Scathfell, you have a kind and open heart, which is worth more than all the sophistication of ten royal courts,” Perdita said. “Come, I shall rub your hands as I used to do for the queen when she had one of her headaches, and tomorrow we will plan such a concert that the entire castle will talk about nothing else all winter!”
28
The first serious snowstorm of the winter descended on Scathfell Castle on the very day of the concert. By midday, the clouds were so thick and gray, and the fall so heavy, that even the solarium felt gloomy.
After conferring with Ruyven, Alayna assigned the concert venue to the men’s parlor. A good blaze in the fireplace and banks of candles combined with the comfort of the chamber to create a sense of intimacy. As they filed in behind the guests of higher rank and took their places along the walls, she watched the servants, the way their eyes gleamed, the whispers, the smiles.
We are a family. It was the closest she’d yet come to understanding Gwynn’s devotion to Scathfell and his fierce defense of it.
Gwynn st
rode into the chamber. As he passed, the nearest bowed or curtsied. One or two, Dimitra among them, murmured their thanks. Dimitra held herself stiffly; in the warm candle light, she looked more drawn and tired than Alayna had ever seen her. Gwynn settled himself in the largest and grandest of the chairs, placed in the front center row, with Ruyven on his right side and Zefano on his left.
Alayna stepped forward and recited the greeting she had prepared. “Thank you all for joining us this evening and especially for welcoming Damisela Perdita Vyandal into our midst,” she said, pitching her voice so everyone might hear. “As the nights lengthen and the days grow colder, we hold in our hearts faith that the sun will return. Spring will come again. Meanwhile, let us take delight in one another through the dark of winter.”
When she finished, there was a scattering of applause and murmurs of agreement. Gwynn met her gaze and she thought she saw a glint of emotion, although she could not discern what it was. When the words “take delight in one another” came to her mind, she had been thinking of him.
Alayna joined the others as they took up their instruments. Besides herself and Perdita, Marianna and Shayla were to perform together. Shayla was too lacking in confidence to attempt a solo in front of such an audience, but she played the hand drum and sang harmony very nicely. As they began a country reel, the rryl came alive in Alayna’s hands. Marianna played the bowed viol and Perdita a simple wooden flute. Perdita had learned the instrument as a girl, “as every child in Thendara did,” and said her playing was not good enough for an audience, but Alayna had persuaded her to join in.
The chamber filled with the lively tune, reprised over and over, as it would be for a dance, but each instrument in turn played a solo variation. Most of the listeners knew the melody and clapped out the rhythm. Alayna suspected that if the floor were cleared of chairs, many would have formed into lines and let the music carry them away.
They followed the reel with a call-and-response courting song, with Alayna’s harp and Marianna’s viol taking the two parts while Shayla tapped out the rhythm. After several more tunes, all of them traditional and fast-paced, it was time for something slower. As Alayna had anticipated, her fingers needed a rest, and Marianna looked grateful to set down her viol. Perdita came forward.
“I would like to sing for you a lament taught to me by Lady Scathfell. She in turn learned it from the folk of her homeland. It seems to me to belong here, in these beautiful mountains.”
They had already decided that the song should be performed without accompaniment so that nothing detracted from the purity of Perdita’s voice. After composing herself, she lifted her head and began,
Farewell to the place
Where I was raised,
Land of high mountains
Where the mist maidens dwell,
Where the sun rises early
In a sky bright as roses
To sweep away the shades of night.
Verse after verse poured from her, the yearning of the song-maker transformed into notes so vibrant that Alayna thought her heart might break. In her mind, she wandered on slopes dotted with wildflowers. She smelled snow on the air, and the freshness of a spring breeze. She had no idea what mist maidens were, perhaps the daughters of herdsmen or trappers living on the heights, or another name for the nonhuman, supernally graceful chieri. When the song ended and she came back to herself, she saw brightness in the eyes of the audience and even a quickly wiped tear.
So the evening went, with solos and ensemble pieces, quick-paced dances and mournful ballads. Perdita sang a few of the new, fashionable tone songs from the court, to polite, restrained applause. Then everyone, performer and listener alike, joined in for a Midwinter Festival children’s song. During the finale, the servants standing along the back wall slipped quietly out, as Alayna had instructed. They returned carrying tables and laden with an assortment of holiday treats just as the performers were taking their bows. Soon everyone was milling about, chatting with the musicians and helping themselves.
Alayna caught sight of Dimitra, who stood beside a refreshment table, holding on to it as if she felt faint. The next moment, Alayna was at her side, catching her other arm. “Dimitra, you look unwell. What is the matter? Has something happened?”
Dimitra pulled away, but not before Alayna became aware of how withered her arm felt. Until that moment, she had not realized how much Dimitra had diminished from the round-bodied woman who had welcomed her to Scathfell Castle.
“Just a momentary—” Dimitra said, her voice rough. “’Tis the closeness of the chamber, nothing more. I pray you, my lady, take no notice.”
“I will indeed take notice.”
“Just let me sit awhile.” Dimitra collapsed onto the nearest chair and broke into a fit of coughing.
If Jerana were here, she would know what to do. But she is not. I must do the best I can. “We must get you to your bed, or at the very least a place where you can lie down. Can you stand?”
Dimitra pushed with both hands against the seat of the chair, but it was no use.
Alayna gestured to a servant girl who was headed, empty plate in hand, back toward the refreshment table for a second helping. “You there. Tell Lord Scathfell I must speak with him immediately.”
A moment later, the girl returned with Gwynn. He looked and sounded annoyed. “What’s this?”
“Dimitra nearly fainted and cannot get to her feet. Someone will have to carry her to her chamber.”
“Vai dom, I’m sorry to cause such a fuss,” Dimitra protested. “I told her ladyship that a brief rest would restore me.”
Gwynn beckoned across the crowd to two guards. “The lady is unwell and requires assistance to her chamber.”
“Z’par servu, vai dom,” the older of them said.
How the two of them managed it, Alayna was not sure, but without any fuss or awkwardness, they lifted Dimitra to her feet, one of them on either side as if she were a fine lady and they her two swains. With their assistance, she was able to walk enough to make a stately, if slow, exit.
“That was kindly done,” Alayna said to Gwynn. She would have gone on, but at that moment, Ruyven and Zefano approached them. Gwynn explained the situation in a few words.
“It’s a pity that Lady Jerana is no longer with us,” Ruyven said.
“Yes, that was my thought, too.” Alayna glanced at Zefano. “Is there some other woman with healing skills in the castle?”
“I know of none who can do more than bind up a kitchen cut or tend a sour stomach, although a man or two among the soldiers has experience with treating battle injuries,” Zefano answered.
“What about the village?” Alayna asked. “Surely they must have a midwife or some grandmother experienced in treating women.”
Zefano bowed to her. “I will inquire.”
After the coridom hurried away, Alayna said, “This is no ordinary fatigue. Seeing her now, after an absence . . . I had no idea she was ill, but she most certainly is.”
“Go with her and do what you can to make her comfortable.”
Summoning Perdita, Alayna hastened to the staircase and then along the corridor leading to the quarters of the upper servants, like Zefano and his family.
“Did your experience in court include nursing the sick, by any chance?” Alayna asked Perdita as they approached Dimitra’s door.
“Alas, nothing formal. The queen was rarely indisposed, and when she needed care, she was always tended by Lady Arielle or one of the other leroni from Hali Tower.”
Alayna knew that the skills of the Tower healers were far beyond those of ordinary herbal healers. Scathfell no longer included a household leronis, so she must make do with her own eyes and ears and common sense, whatever small measure she possessed, at least until more skillful help could be found.
As she lifted the latch, she realized that she had never been in Dimitra’s rooms
before. She was pleasantly surprised to find herself in a snug parlor, adequate for someone who did not spend many hours there. A fire had been laid but not lit. Candles illuminated the worn, ruby-hued carpet, the little table, and the divan on which Dimitra lay. The guards were still there and had just set her down. They turned to Alayna and bowed, awaiting further orders.
“This won’t do. She needs to be in bed.” Alayna knelt at Dimitra’s side and took her hand. “Lady? Can you hear me? Are you able to walk a short distance?”
Dimitra’s bloodless lips moved. “Let me . . . just rest . . .”
If I do that, I may never get her back on her feet.
Alayna gestured to the guards. “If you would, please carry her the rest of the way. Then you may return to your duties, but send a page in case I require anything further. Perdita and I will care for her.”
Once the men had moved Dimitra and left, Alayna and Perdita worked together to fold back the comforter and remove Dimitra’s shoes and stockings. Dimitra roused enough to sit up and allowed herself to be undressed down to her shift. Alayna managed to not gasp aloud when she saw the condition of Dimitra’s body, the emaciation of her arms and chest in stark contrast to the swelling of her abdomen.
After covering her, they withdrew to the sitting room and closed the bedroom door behind them. Alayna dispatched the page for hot water and towels, then sat down on the divan next to Perdita. “I’ve never seen anything like that,” Alayna said. “Her belly looks as if she were carrying a child, but I do not think that is possible at her age.”
“There was a lady at court, one younger than Domna Dimitra, who looked something like this,” Perdita said. “I believe that for a time, there was a rumor she had dallied with one of the courtiers, although that would have been out of her usual character. She left the court and later I heard that she had died.”
“Evanda grant that Dimitra recovers.”
Sometime later came the sound of someone rapping on the outer door. Perdita jumped to her feet to open it. Zefano stood outside, and with him was an elderly peasant woman. Her shape could not be discerned under layers of patched-together tunics, scarves, and shawls. She was short, wrinkled, and the hairs that had escaped from her knitted cap were snowy white. Despite her cane, she moved briskly into the room.