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Ilse hid a smile. She had observed one fitting and knew Lord Kosenmark and Maester Hax were to have very fine costumes, but the process proved trying to them both. An artistic man, the tailor had been most particular, saying that the cloth had to fall just right, both standing and in dance.
“You are laughing at me,” Kosenmark observed. “Or my tailor.”
“Never, my lord.”
Kosenmark eyed her suspiciously, but confined himself to waving her away.
Ilse dispatched the letters and reported back to Maester Hax. “Am I wanted now?” he asked.
“Not yet,” Ilse said, temporizing. “He signed the letters you asked about earlier, and I’ve sent them off. And I let him know when the tailor comes today.”
“Good. And the thank-you letters?”
“Done. Gone. Sir.”
“You’ve left me nothing to do,” Hax said, smiling faintly.
I wish I could do that, Ilse thought. Hax had subsided into his chair and was resting his head on his hands. He and Lord Kosenmark had met until late the previous evening, and she expected they would do the same tonight. “You promised Mistress Hedda that you would work fewer hours.”
Hax made a noise in his throat. “Save me from inquisitive women. Did you spy on us?”
“I listened, sir.”
“Did Hedda ask you to?”
“No, but—”
“But you are worse than Lord Kosenmark. What happened to that shy girl from three months ago?”
Ilse smiled. “She is here, listening to a stubborn man who is trying to distract her.”
He lifted his head and eyed her narrowly. “You are too clever sometimes. And since you insist, would you please fetch Mistress Denk’s quarterly report for me? I promised Mistress Hedda that I would not climb the stairs so often.”
“What about Mistress Raendl’s accounts? Would you like those, too?”
“Yes. Those, too. Take your time coming back.”
By the time Ilse completed her tasks, Hax had gone from his office, leaving behind a note that he was in his rooms, and would she meet with him after noon. A new batch of letters had arrived as well, among them a letter and package from Lord Dedrick Maszuryn. Ilse took those at once to Lord Kosenmark, who received them with an especially warm smile.
“Stay,” he told Ilse. “The letter might require a reply.”
The package proved to be a collection of antique maps. Lord Kosenmark scanned them with obvious pleasure, then broke the letter’s seal and scanned its contents quickly.
Ilse could almost tell what it said by the rapid changes in his expression—from pleased to concerned and then to none at all. Kosenmark’s fingers tightened around the paper. Not good, she thought.
Kosenmark glanced up from the letter. “There will be no answer,” he said softly, and crumpled the letter in his fist. “Go. Find something to do. So will I.”
Ilse did not wait for him to repeat the order. At the door, she dared a backward glance. Kosenmark was staring out the windows, his fingers tapping a restless pattern on his desk.
* * *
LORD KOSENMARK CANCELED all his appointments that afternoon, including the tailor’s. Ilse and Maester Hax were together in Maester Hax’s office, reviewing the week’s schedule, when a runner brought them the news. Hax read the message in silence then released an audible sigh. “Not good,” he muttered, and folded the note in quarters.
His words made an uncanny echo of Ilse’s earlier reaction. She must have made an involuntary movement, because Hax looked up with a frown. “Curious, Mistress Ilse?”
“No, sir. Just concerned.”
“Don’t be. I say that for your own peace of mind.” He closed the schedule book with a firm thump. “I’ll talk to Lord Kosenmark when he’s calmer. Tomorrow, most likely. In the meantime … read a book, play chess with Nadine or Josef, go for a walk into town. I shall take a nap, since nothing else can be done today.”
