Chapter 3.10

#

As the great hall filled for supper, I waited by the door to the ladies’ tower, my bouquet in hand. Charles and Ison were my guards tonight, a comforting presence at my back.

The door opened and a half-dozen blossoms of womanhood poured out – some mere buds and some past their prime, and one so withered and wilted that she may have nursed Lord Guerney’s father in his cradle. Both blonde and dark, they all wore colorful bliauts with wide sleeves that brushed the floor. At the center walked the Lady Victoria, with gold trim and white lace, the most delicate flower of them all.

"She’s not here tonight," Ison muttered, so low that only I and Charles could hear.

I turned my palm upwards.

"The Lady Laurice. Ah don’t see here."

"Unless she’s hiding in the monk’s cowl," Charles said a little too loudly. He gestured toward the Silent Monk who followed them out.

The ladies stopped and looked at us, then giggled. I hastily thrust my wild roses toward the Lady Victoria, a gesture of supplication.

She turned her face toward me, and I was trapped in the emerald beauty of her eyes. How smooth her skin was, how soft and full her lips. A faint rose blushed her cheeks, and she smiled.

And laughed. "What do you make of that?" she said to her companions.

"It’s like that little monkey your Uncle brought back from the Southern Wizardlands," said one of the other women, a thin-faced maid with limp hair. "It used to follow you around, didn’t it? What happened to it?"

"The dogs caught it." She didn’t sound sorry. Without further acknowledgment, she turned and led the entourage off.

My shoulders slumped. I shoved the roses into Ison’s hand and turned, then found myself face-to-face with Sharp. His was dressed in the formal clothes of a Guilded Bard – buckskin leggings and a linen shirt with Bardic symbols embroidered along the sleeves and hem, leather boots and belt embossed with more symbols of strength, and a woolen mantle lined with fox fur. I felt all too aware of my Christian clothing. Yet in that instance, I knew the gulf between us would be bridged, and we would be old friends in each other’s arms.

Sharp drew his sword.

On either side of me, my guards drew their weapons – a sword for Charles and a hunting knife for Ison.

"At least your keepers know what this means," Sharp growled. He slid his blade back into its scabbard. "A pity, though, that you can’t understand why I hate you."

With that he turned on his heel and stalked away.

Chapter 3.9

#

Leaving the kitchen, I found a break in the rain, and took the chance to wander up to the gardens. I knew they would be brown and withered at this time of year. What I did not know was that Lord Guerney had built a greenhouse.

It was a marvel, a green heart in the beast of stone, as large as the Great Hall. Paths wound between flowering bushes and small trees, and here and there a bench provided respite for no more than a pair of intimate friends. I saw where Sharp had taken his rose, from a bush than guarded a private bower – his gift had been an invitation, then, not just a gesture of appreciation.

Pushing deeper, I found plants both intriguing and disturbing. Their odd-shaped leaves and twining branches marked them as having come from deep within the Easter Green Forest. Lord Guerney did not fear that wood, but delighted in it.

Perhaps he valued that land more highly than an association with Lord Reinard, and that was why the Lady Laurice was so slow in coming? A troubling thought. Land is good, but worthless without trusted allies.

Leaving those stunted shrubs behind, I turned a corner in the path, and came across something worse. It was a bed of flowers, their translucent petals colored in the pale shades of a moonbow, their stems and leaves shimmering like frosted silver. I took a quick step backwards.

“Jewels!” Charles exclaimed, reaching forward. “Where did they come from?”

I grabbed his arm and yanked it back. Scrabbling out the slate and chalk, I hastily wrote, “The Heart of the Eastern Green Forest.”

Charles read what I wrote, his lips shaping each word, then frowned. “Wouldn’t that make them cursed?”

I nodded, though it is not the flowers that carry the curse, but those who grow them. Here before me was proof that Lord Guerney did not just visit the Eastern Green Forest, but traded with the soulless Silver-eyed.

The sooner I left this place, the better.

Refusing to follow the path past the flowers, I backtracked to the entrance. On the way I found a bramble of mountain roses climbing the far wall, and I conceived a thought. They were not so fine that Lord Geurney would take offense at my plucking a few, and their carried no secret invitation. A few, however, would make a pleasing bouquet – perhaps in that way I could ingratiate myself with one of the maids-in-waiting, and perhaps discover some tidbit about the Lady Laurice, some bit of news to carry back to my lord.

Sick

Due to illness, there will be no update today.

Chapter 3.8

#

The warmth of the kitchen bathed my face; the smell of baking bread and roasting meats filled my nostrils. A kitchen maid, crouched on the hearth to stir a large pot, turned to face me, and smile. She rose, flour-streaked skirts swirling about her legs, and hurried over. It was nice to be recognized, for once.

“Are ye hungry?” Elise asked.

With her question, I was. I nodded.

She slipped away, and returned just as silently. “Fresh-baked bread, just out of the oven. And some of the best cheese Ay’ve ever aged.”

At Songless, when the Old Lord was still alive, I was lucky if the handouts from the kitchen were no more than a little stale. I nodded my thanks at her generous charity.

“Do ye know, that sweet-voiced boy hasn’t been seen today, and the Lady Victoria was caught dozin’ at her needlework. They must have been all night in the garden!”

I shook my head at her words.

“Ye don’t like my saying that?”

Again I shook my head, this time sternly. The Lady Victoria was a lady of the castle, a beautiful rose among brambles. Kitchen maids were too easily replaceed.

“Aye, well, I’m no Christian to call a Bard a horrible Pagan beneath the sun, then kiss him by moonlight. I stand by my bard no matter the weather.”

Another conquest for Sharp, I thought bitterly. He was the only Bard to be found in this castle. I nodded my thanks for the meal and turned to go.

“Ay’ll see ye tonight,” she said quietly.

Behind me, Charles said loudly, “Gir-rl. Go-od.”

I looked back to see him make exaggerated gestures of the feminine shape with his hands. Then he laughed, and the other workers in the kitchen laughed with him. Face burning, I shouldered him aside and stalked ot the door.

“Why are ye bothering with that mute creature?” another woman asked behind me. “Do ye think he even knows what ye are sayin’?”

You lose your voice and you lose your ears. Soon I would be nothing more than a ghost.