Page 32 of Valdemar

Huh. Well, if they want me to leave, they’ll suggest I go to my room. He certainly wasn’t going to let the presence of a stranger prevent him from being in his own home.

The King and Queen were seated at a table near the window in the sparsely furnished main room, with the girl opposite the King. All three were dressed in the usual sort of garments that everyone wore now, the simple canvas tunic, linen trews, and linen shirt—except in Isla’s case she wore a skirt instead of trews. The main difference between the King, Queen, and highborn were the trimmings, sometimes elaborate ones, that had been cut from older garments and sewn on the tunic and shirt. Restil and his brothers didn’t bother. All three were talking and sipping cool water. That made sense; she wasn’t a close enough acquaintance to be seated in the converted (much more comfortable) boat-couch with them. Which might be smart anyway. If they are trying to get information out of her, they want a more formal seating arrangement.

She was very pretty, and she certainly didn’t need the fancy gowns he remembered from the Duchy days to enhance her looks. She was beautiful, even. And she didn’t have that vapid prettiness that girls with more hair than wit had. She was very pale, which only made sense since she never saw the sun, her eyes a strange purple or violet color, and her raven hair, though put up in braids wrapped around her head, looked as if it would fall past her waist in an ebon waterfall. Her features were, well, perfect. She was almost an idealized version of a beautiful girl.

He closed the door behind himself very softly, and paused to gauge the situation. He could understand Scar’s reaction to Lythe, but he didn’t share it. The last ten years here in his father’s company, where he could observe without being paid much attention to, and had Uncle Hakkon and his parents coaching him, had taught him a lot about people, and he’d learned to read them pretty well. What he saw now was an artless girl, used to being the center of a small, admiring circle, generally used to getting her own way, who was now completely out of her element. None of the little tricks and mannerisms that used to work for her back in her village worked here. Instead of being the one issuing requests, she found herself the one following orders, and now she was adrift. Father was right to keep her away from the rest of the people here for now. She’d be eaten alive by some, scorned and made fun of by others, cause trouble among the lads and possibly even the married men, and break hearts without intending any harm. He did not detect any sign of flirtatiousness when she talked to the King, and a naive but manipulative girl well aware of her beauty would surely have seen an opportunity there. So that suggested that while she was used to getting her own way, she wasn’t deliberately doing so at the expense of others. Been plenty of highborn girls here in the Palace that saw Mother, dismissed her as “old and no longer pretty,” and tried to catch Father for themselves. He’d seen it multiple times over the years—either the girls tried it on their own, or tried it urged on by their parents. The result was always the same: rejection and humiliation. But never public. Father was too smart, and too well aware of the delicate balance among his courtiers. He always gave the girl an easy “out,” and only once had someone not taken it and embarrassed herself, but not in a way that would make the parents blame the King.

He knew that his parents knew he was there; the girl seemed oblivious, and was lost in her own confusion and distress. Finally the Queen, speaking too low for him to make out what she said, soothed her, and she sighed, closing her eyes, her head sagging.

“Restil!” Kordas called, once that had happened. “How was your card game?”

So they want me to join them.He sauntered over and took the remaining stool. The window beside them let in a fine breeze, and the ordinary sounds of the night. A few people speaking in the distance, now and then a dog barking, the rustling of leaves, insect noises. The scent was pleasant, but nothing like the Duchy had been. More herbaceous than flower-fragrant. Practical gardens instead of ornamental. I bet Mother misses the flowers.

“I lost, as usual,” he said cheerfully. “And as usual, Kanni gave us half our pins back. He says he only needs enough to make good presents for women.” He sat down, and nodded to Lythe. “Hello, Lythe Shadowdancer. I’ve been meaning to ask you, do you have a surname or is that something that doesn’t happen in your home village?”

The unexpected question took her off guard, and lifted her for a moment out of what looked like despondency. “I—no, I was always just Lythe, or Lythe, Sussuna’s daughter. I didn’t know people even had second names until I met the Hawk people. We’re somebody-or-other’s son or daughter, unless there’s two people with the same name. Then it’s usually ‘the elder’ or something that describes them, like ‘the tall’ or ‘the smith.’”

He nodded. “So what was home like?” He was very pleased to note that she wasn’t showing any signs of making a play for him—which, again, would have been the natural action of a manipulative girl. When rejected by the father, try the son—that was a game that had been tried on him in the past, and he refused to play it.

Hmm. Need to have a talk with little brother Hakkon about that. He’s old enough now that highborn girls and their parents could consider him a prize catch.

“Small,” she replied. “A dozen families, a couple of single men, and another widow besides my mother. There were four—no, five villages within walking distance, although the fifth one took half a day to get to, so I’ve never been there. Actually, I never went to the other villages without my mother. I guess I liked it there? But it isn’t as if I had a choice in the matter. It was the only thing I knew.”

“What does your mother do?” he asked.

“Weave. The Widow Tankel spins; Mother weaves, because she’s the fastest weaver the village has. I’m . . . not very good at large weaving, but she didn’t really care. She had me weaving straps and trim on a stick-loom instead.”

Hmm. Her mother probably didn’t care that she wasn’t good at the family trade because she reckoned on bartering those good looks to someone who’d take them both into their household and support her in old age.Well, he certainly couldn’t blame Lythe’s mother for the sort of thing that was common as dirt even among the highborn. Actually, particularly among the highborn. You married to increase your family’s prosperity, not for any emotional reasons. That was what was expected of you. That was changing, but not swiftly; it was hard for parents to stop thinking of their children as another kind of crop to harvest. It helped that so many customs had been upended during the mass migration.

“I don’t really know how to do anything well, I guess,” the girl continued, looking down at her hands, blushing a little with what he assumed was shame. Huh. Self-aware enough to say that, and feel badly about it, at least now. Not a bad sign.

“You have Animal Mindspeech,” he pointed out. “That’s not ‘nothing.’ Are you staying here with us, or planning to go back home?”

“Oh, we have to stay until this curse is broken!” she exclaimed artlessly. “No one at home wants cursed people around!” Then she dropped her head again. “I guess we’re just really lucky that the Hawk people and all of you aren’t afraid of curses.”

He took a quick glance at his mother; she showed every sign of sympathy. All right, then. She’s a good judge of character. Better than Father is, sometimes.

“What would you do if we manage to break the curse?” he asked, though he wondered if one or the other of his parents had already asked that question.

Evidently not. Her head came up, her eyes looking startled. “I—I don’t know.” Her face took on a look of panic, and Isla reached over and patted her hand comfortingly.

“If you want to stay here, we’ll make sure that Rothas stays as well. I am sure we can persuade him,” Isla said firmly. “After all, he’s not likely to find larger audiences than he has here, and I very much doubt he’ll find another teacher.”

Restil’s mind worked in odd ways—things would be tumbling into place in the background, completely unnoticed, and suddenly, something would jump into his head, fully formed. He’d learned to trust these sudden bursts of intuition, but not totally rely on them. Sometimes they were wrong, but that was mostly because he didn’t have enough information.

Oh, dear gods. That poor girl. Hit in the head by a lifebond to someone she didn’t even know, and still doesn’t really know. She’s worse off than if she’d been betrothed to some old man at home—at least she’d still be in her home village, and still have her friends. Rothas is a good enough fellow, but . . . I bet he can’t stop talking about himself, because he’s really happy to be here and is learning things all the time. What a nightmare! The boy is as thick as two short planks when it comes to understanding girls. Though he had to laugh at himself for thinking that. Not that I understand them all that well, but I do better than he does.

“I’d like to stay,” she said slowly. “But don’t you say that everyone has to be working and helping? I’m not sure walking the wall at night is all that helpful.”

Kordas winked at her. “I’ll tell you a secret. The only reason I assigned you to that job was to wait until I knew what you were good at. There are things you obviously can’t do, because you are awake when everyone else is asleep, but you have Animal Mindspeech, and that is very useful already. You can start by helping in the stables and the kennels. With your help the horses and dogs will understand their jobs much better, much quicker, and will understand from a very young age that the things we are asking of them and exposing them to aren’t at all frightening. We’ll be able to talk to problem animals and sort out their problems quickly rather than guess and flail. Humans can tell a Healer what’s wrong. Animals can’t. Well, just ask Delia, she’s the busiest person in this Kingdom when birthing season comes around, because she can reach inside a mother and turn the baby without ever hurting her or the baby. She can—” He stopped as Lythe blinked at him, perplexed. “Don’t worry, we won’t be asking you to do that. But there are so many things you can do to help us with animals—and you know, it’s kind of a truism that everything that goes wrong with a valuable animal happens in the middle of the night.”

Lythe put her finger to her mouth, thoughtfully. “That’s true,” she said. “Sen Shepherd says that all the time. He says that the minute he lays his head on a pillow, one of his sheep decides to drop her lamb early.”

“And we haven’t even properly explored your other Gift,” Kordas continued.

She looked at him blankly, then flushed. “Oh! The things I can see? You mean, you believe me!”

“Of course I believe you. Which brings me to a question. Do you happen to see anything here, now?” He gave her an encouraging nod.