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Kosenmark came into the courtyard. He was barefoot and dressed in old cotton trousers cut very loose. He nodded politely to Ilse, but she could see the tension in his mouth and the faint line between his eyes. “How goes the lesson?” he asked.
“Well enough,” Ault said. “Perhaps you would like a bout while Mistress Ilse rests.”
Kosenmark hesitated, then nodded. Ault gestured toward the wooden practice swords. Both men picked out blades and took their positions.
It was like and unlike their bout from the previous day. After a salute, the two exchanged a flurry of blows, their wooden blades rattling loud in the morning. Kosenmark pressed hard, but as she watched, Ilse gradually realized that Ault did not press back. Though his blade moved in a blur, he used it only to guide Kosenmark, not to attack him.
Abruptly Kosenmark stopped. His face had a sheen of sweat, but he was not breathing hard. “Tired, Benedikt?” There was an edge to his voice, and he had not lowered his weapon.
Ault smiled grimly. “If you think so.”
“Benedikt …”
“My lord, I suit the lesson to the student and his condition. You know that.”
Kosenmark lowered his weapon. The tightness around his mouth had gone, and his eyes no longer had the unnerving blankness. “Yes, I do know that,” he said. “My apologies.”
“None required, my lord. Will you practice your next pattern, while I attend to Mistress Ilse’s lessons? Use the heavier blade, I suggest.”
Kosenmark exchanged blades and went to the far corner of the courtyard to practice a complicated series of moves. Ilse resumed her old position. She didn’t know Ault well—until yesterday, they had only spoken in passing—but she thought his smile was a shade warmer than before, as though he were satisfied about something. However, he only said, “Show me the second sequence, Mistress Ilse. The one that begins so …”
He guided her through the sequence, making comments and suggestions and corrections after every move. Off to
the side, she could hear the soft thump, thump, pause, thump of Kosenmark’s feet on the dirt as he practiced.
“Good enough,” Ault said. “We should end for today. You will be sore,” he added. “That, too, will pass.”
She nodded, absently rubbing her wrists, which ached. So did the bottom of her feet. And her legs. She was surprised her scalp didn’t hurt.
Glancing up, she caught Ault’s amused smile. He probably knew exactly how she felt. “Take a warm bath for your muscles, and I shall have Mistress Hedda prepare a salve for your wrists. Do not stint on the warm water,” he said. Then to Lord Kosenmark, “Your turn, my lord. Would you prefer unarmed combat today, or another bout with the sword?”
“Sword,” Kosenmark said shortly. “Steel this time. I believe my control is better. Mistress Ilse, when you are done with your bath, please report to my office. We have some business to discuss.”
Her pulse jumped. “New business, my lord?” she asked. “Or old?”
“Both and neither,” he said. “And ask Mistress Raendl to send up refreshments for five guests as well.”
He turned back to Ault before she could ask what or if he had discovered something.
Ilse hurriedly washed and changed her clothes, her thoughts running through all the possibilities for this meeting. We’ve received nothing in the past week. No letters. No special courier today. Even yesterday, the post contained nothing. Nothing, except …
Except Lord Dedrick, who had just returned from his father’s district.
She paused in tying the ribbon around her braid. Lord Dedrick must have heard new rumors. Yes, that had to be the reason. With renewed speed, she finished her toilette and caught up her writing case. A brief stop by her office for her notes on the Károví situation, and then she was running up the stairs.
When she came into Lord Kosenmark’s office, the vast sand glass was just turning over in its cage; the last sands of the old hours and minutes were still falling through the smaller glasses. A soft chime sounded, marking the new hour. Six months since she first walked into this room. How quickly she had accustomed herself to its rare beauty. These days, she noticed the books and papers and maps, less frequently the new paintings or statues that Lord Kosenmark sometimes acquired. Most days, her focus was on the man himself and what he said, not his belongings.
Voices sounded from the landing. Kosenmark came into the office with Luise Ehrenalt at his side, both absorbed in conversation. “… better to describe the situation just once, Luise,” Kosenmark was saying. “That way everyone can hear your concerns—and you will have some. Mistress Ilse.” He paused and his eyes narrowed briefly. “You will regret ignoring Maester Ault’s advice about the bath, but I am glad to have you so punctual. Please, both of you, go directly into the gardens. The others should arrive soon.”
“Including Lord Dedrick?” Ehrenalt said.
She and Lord Kosenmark exchanged pointed looks. “Someday you must share your network with me, Luise,” Kosenmark murmured.
“When you share yours with me,” Luise said. “But in this case, the news came from Adelaide. She saw no reason to keep that from me.”
“True. Yes, Lord Dedrick will be present. Now, if you will excuse me, I will take a few moments and make myself look less like a street ruffian.”
Ehrenalt appeared caught between amusement and irritation. When Kosenmark made a shooing gesture toward the door, she went, shaking her head.
