The Still

Chapter 16

During the day, Hester pretended I wasn’t visible. she busied herself with Elryc or fussed over the carpenter who showed up in a wagon with three grinning half-grown louts and a wife to cook his dinner, which was seldom more than boiled potatoes or thick vegetable soup. He and his young dismembered the corpse of our roof, worked the sawn trunks with which they’d replace it into beams of the needed size. Their constant scraping and planing got on my nerves; to escape it, I saddled Ebon and rode I knew not where. Out of sheer boredom with the woods and fields, I wandered into town.

Fort wasn’t much of a place, but from its open square I had a decent view of the snowy peak that towered over the valley. Careful to keep far from the mill, I wandered the dusty street, but found nothing of interest. Even the market square was virtually deserted; farmers only brought their produce on the seventh day after each new moon.

The stream frothed on the rocks as it burbled through town. In places it pooled deep; I tasted of the water. It slaked my thirst, but left my hand numb from the cold. It must descend from the high reaches of the mountain.

I’d acquired a following of peasant children, who giggled and poked each other like the village louts they were. They acted as if they’d never before seen a person of quality, with proper inlaid halter and saddle. At first I was pleased at their awe, but after a while they grew tiresome, so I spurred Ebon, and cantered off to the leafy trail that led to the Place of Rites.

A tired mule hitched to the rail flicked its ears at the flies, while an old man in a dirty dark robe swept leaves from the steps. He gave a courteous bow. “Welcome, stranger. I am Aren.” Walking with some difficulty, he came closer, eyed my gear. “You’re one of the lads from Stryx, youngsire?”

“Aye.” The less said, the better. For a moment I wondered how he had known, but of course, Hester would have made some explanation, and in a hamlet so small, word would spread to everyone in a day.

“We conduct Rites every five-day.” A flick of his broom. “Unless you have special need?”

“Thank you, I need no rituals.” My disdain was more evident than I’d intended.

“Ah, a scoffer.” Aren seemed not offended. “We all pass through such an age. Tell me, lad, what purpose do you think Rites serve?”

Who was he to question me? “To mark the season, to comfort the bereaved’-”

“You merely recite. Tell me what you think.”

His unwarranted rebuke stung me into truth. “Mumbo jumbo for old men who take comfort in the familiar, who think Lord of Nature cares what-”

“They can be that.” His admission surprised me into silence, but he continued, “That’s not their true purpose.”

I tugged the rein, turned Ebon. “I’m sure. Good afternoon.”

“Stay your fine horse a moment. In fact, get down, and let me give you a drink.”

“I’m not thirsty.”

“Sweet juice.” He smiled. “Crushed red berries from our garden, sugared and cold.”

By the imps and demons, he had me; Hester’s fare sustained life, but did little else. “All right.” I tied the reins. “Thank you.”

Aren led me along a path that ran by the stream. A cord lay across the path. One end was tied to a tree, the other disappeared in the water. He knelt, pulled on the rope, fished out a sturdy stoneware jug.

Back at the Place of Rites, he bade me sit on the steps, went inside, emerged with two cups. The juice was icy cold, and delicious. I downed mine faster than I’d intended, and he refilled my cup. “Highborn or low, all boys like sweet, I think. Now, about the Rites.”

I steeled myself for a lecture, probably about the secret cult of this place.

“Have you ever wondered about stars, or what makes mountains rise? About air turning to water, and falling on your head? Think you men haven’t asked such questions through the ages?”

“I suppose you have the answers here in this-”

“The Rites are a ritual, codified attempt to express and hand down what we think we’ve learned. Those who make them more deceive themselves.”

“Foolish learning, that must be expressed in chants and waving of tapers.”

“Imagine a Ritemaster had a foolish disciple, who watched him wave his taper for emphasis, while making a point. Later, when the disciple wants to recall the point, he waves the taper in a similar manner, so as not to deviate from what his master taught him. He cannot distinguish wheat from chaff.”

I smiled; it was refreshing to hear honesty from one of his calling. “But you can?”

“We try.”

“Well, I’ve attended Rites enough, and I can’t detect any hidden wisdom. Of course, I’m not as learned as you.”

“You mock, youngsire. I waste my juice.” He stood. “Let Elena Queen be an example. She had no such manner.”

“How would you know what the Queen-”

“I could see it in her eyes!” He made as if to sweep me away with his broom. “Ah, now you look surprised. Well, I met her. And say you one word against milady and I’ll throw you in the brook!”

“I wasn’t about to.”

“Yes, I met her.” He settled himself.

I said cautiously, “That’s no basis to say what’s in her mind. Surely when you visited Stryx she didn’t invite you to her private Rites.”

“I’ve never in my life been to Stryx.” An impatient sweep. “Didn’t your father beat you properly? You have the insolence of a-bah. Wait.” He disappeared into the ramshackle building.

I unhitched Ebon, in case the demented old man emerged with a stick.

The door swept open. “Here.” A closed fist. He opened it, peered down, grimaced, plucked something from his hand, rubbed it vigorously on his robe. “Look, but don’t touch.”

“A ring.” Red stones, set in gold. Aren’s old eyes sparkled, as if in response to the jewel.

“If you were never in Stryx …”

“She was here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Why would Moth-the Queen come to such a backwoods?”

“Old Dame Hester was once high in her esteem. The Lady accompanied her here, to see where her nurse was spawned.”

“In a nest of demons.” But I spoke to myself. “How came you by the ring?”

“She gave it to me, from her own finger.” He frowned at my expression. “You doubt? For hours she and I discussed the mysteries, and she was enthralled. So much she wanted to know, to pass on to the son she knew she’d have.”

“Enough of your nonsense. No one can know whether an unborn babe-”

“She knew!” He glared. “What ken have I of the Still or the Powers it confers? She was certain, unto the russet of his hair, though he wasn’t yet conceived.”

I shivered, resisted an urge to brush back my locks. Could my Power do all that?

His gaze softened; he thrust the ring back inside his robe. “So much she wished she could know, to pass to her boy. Oft I’ve wondered how much she taught him. It’s said he’s haughty and ill-mannered. Of course, that may just be his time of life. We change; thank Lord of Nature for that.”

“Yes.” I was careful to look elsewhere.

“You’re of Stryx, youngsire. Did you know milady?”

“Not really. Only in passing.” I looked him in the eyes, knowing I wouldn’t offend the True.

“Ah well.” Again, he took up his broom. “Come again, when you have more patience. Perhaps there’ll be fresh juice.”

“Ritemaster …” I swallowed my pride. “Sir, may I see again the ring?”

Garnets, blood red, on a gold circlet. Mother had a dozen such, and I’d thought nothing of them, but suddenly this seemed the most precious jewel ever I’d seen. Without thinking what I was doing, I stroked my lip with it, thought for a moment I felt a caress. I asked, “Would you part with it?”

“If you labored a lifetime, you’d not earn what that ring means to me. Besides, they say you folk fled destitute from Tantroth’s attack. How could you pay for such a bauble, without even a roof over your head?” He held out his palm.

Reluctantly I handed back the ring. “I can’t.” Why, Mother, did you give such a treasure to a disheveled man of Rites, when to your own son, naught but lectures and admonitions?

“I have my work to do, but you’re welcome to help.”

I beat a hasty retreat, made my way back to the cottage.

Elryc waited by the trail. “Let me ride behind.”

“To where?” I helped him up.

“The trees beyond the field. We need to talk.” He gripped my waist.

I let Ebon have his head through the disused field. Elryc enjoyed it as much as I, despite the bouncing. We slowed our pace only where the grass was so high I feared Ebon would catch his foot in an unseen chuckhole.

“Now what?” I tied the reins to a sapling.

My brother rubbed the inside of his legs, adjusted his breeks, patted Ebon’s nose. “I asked Hester to let me work with the rest of them, but she refused. It’s too dangerous, she said, while Uncle Mar’s looking for me. Roddy, we have to go back, or to Uncle Cumber. It’s no use.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Hester sits out of the carpenters’ way and weeps. I don’t know how to give comfort.”

“She doesn’t take care of you?” My mouth tightened.

“I’m fine. Who’s to care for her?” He paced. “She weeps for Pytor, and for me. Above all, she’s ashamed.”

“Of what?”

“That we send the others off, while you and I play. Genard bound himself to me in loyalty, not as a laborer.”

“Damn Genard.”

“Chela hates-”

“And damn Chela!”

“Fostrow’s a soldier, not a reaper. For what he does, he gets no thanks, except from Hester. So, she’s ashamed. All her life, she’s made her own way. Now she’s living on the work of others.”

“She hates me. Why should I be bothered with her worries?”

“And Rustin?”

My tone was cautious. “What about him?”

“He demeans himself for you. How can you send a noble to work in the fields like-”

“Elryc, I forbade it. He went nonetheless.”

“Think you that Hester doesn’t know how you refused him, and he provides you to eat despite yourself?” He came close, eyes beseeching. “Chela will be the first to leave, I think. Then perhaps Rust, or Fostrow, and we’ll be alone. We can’t treat them like churls.”

“So you want me to work? Did Rust put you up to this?”

He shouted, “Fool that thou art, don’t you ever listen? I want to work! Yes, strike me, if thou will!”

Reluctantly, I lowered my fist.

“Roddy, my honor’s at stake. If I can’t work tomorrow, I’ll forbid Genard to go. I think he’ll do as I say.” He took a deep breath, set his jaw. “We must do right.”

I sighed. I had to admit the situation had gotten out of hand. “Give me a day. I’ll deal with it.”

“Lord of Nature, no. You’ll assault Danar, and-”

“I won’t go near him or the mill. I already promised Rust. Let it be.”

“Just one more day?”

“Aye.” I climbed into the stirrup. “Let’s go.”

I woke to bright daylight and the carpenters’ saws.

“Ho, you’re up at last.” Hester went to the fire, poured tea, brought a crust of bread with it to my bedroll. “Eat, then.” Her voice was gruff.

“Where’s everyone?”

“They woke at a civilized hour to work. Elryc’s following the carpenter’s boy, like a pet calf.” She busied herself with the contents of a trunk. “Tomorrow, I’ll ask if someone wants a washerwoman. You’ll watch Elryc.”

I looked at my bread, ashamed. “Have you eaten?”

“Enough.” Perhaps it meant she’d had nothing.

“I’m sorry for your troubles.” I spoke with casual care; much sympathy and she’d douse me with scorn.

“Bah. Run off and play.” She took my empty cup, hesitated. “Roddy …” She found a seat. “There’s something I must tell you.”

“What have I done now?”

“Much I haven’t heard, I’ll warrant, and none of it good. No.” A sigh. “Some days past you spoke of my conjuring coin. Think you I would not, if I could?”

“Who knows? Perhaps our plight amuses you.” I spoke with more force than I’d intended.

“Aye, you can see me holding my belly from laughing. Come outside.” She led me to the wagon.

“I took Elryc out of Stryx in this.”

“What did you change him to?”

“Nothing.”

“I was there, and watched them search.”

The grimness of her mouth relaxed into a bitter smile. “What did you see?”

“The soldiers, annoyed that you’d parked the cart to block their way. Housemaids and servants sweating with your gear, piece by piece, while you berated them. The horses hitched. Your fury when the guards insisted on searching. Then, to jeers and catcalls, you rode out.”

“So now you know how I took Elryc.”

“Don’t mock-”

“The answer’s before you.”

I stared at the ugly, weather-beaten wagon, the wheel I’d slammed into while running from wasps, the awkward high box seat, the tailboard against which I’d rested. Once more I got down on my knees, peered under, looking for straps.

I sighed. “You’re a witch. Would I’d known it when I was young, to protect myself.”

“You’re still young, and foolish as a milch cow.” She reached up, rapped the seat. “Here, dolt.”

I flushed, but ignored the insult. “You lie. I watched from the start, and never you had a moment to smuggle him-”

My jaw dropped.

The audacity.

“But you must have …” I shook my head, marveling. From the night before she left, there wasn’t a moment when Hester could have smuggled Elryc into the coffin of the high box. Which meant-“You sealed him in the box prior, in the stables. Then you parked him in front of the soldiers’ noses for the night. That whole show of loading the wagon-you are a witch!” I couldn’t help but grin like a cretin.

She nodded. “It was all I could think of.”

“And all that time you egged the soldiers on, you were dancing on the high seat, atop Elryc.”

“Aye, and nearly tumbled to the wagon bed. But it was vital that eyes be on me, and not the cart.”

“Hester, why didn’t you tell when first I asked?”

Her smile faded; her shoulders slumped. “It’s useful that men think you have power. But now, you had need to know. A lifetime of serving the Queen, and I’m reduced to poverty, the care of Elryc, and the company of a dim-witted heir. Ah, Roddy. How little we know of life’s end, when we start the journey.” She made her way back to the cottage, leaning on her stick.

I went to the stream, to think. I unlaced my boots to dangle my feet, but a moment’s immersion changed my mind in a hurry. The water was just short of ice. I stared at the torrent rushing down from the hills, rubbed the blueness from my ankles, relaced my boots.

Elryc was right; our situation was intolerable. I brushed off my breeches, went to saddle Ebon.

It was near dark when I returned, near starving. A day’s ride will do that. I was eager to make my announcement. The carpenters were gone, and our party was finishing a meal of bread and cheese, augmented by soup.

“Where were you?” Hester’s rheumy eye was cold with disfavor.

“I had business to attend.” I waited for them to ask.

“You’re a fool to go off without telling us.”

“I don’t need your permission.”

“Roddy.” Rustin cleared his throat. “One of us should ride with you, for safety.”

“I can take care of myself!” For a while, I sulked.

Fostrow slurped his tea. “We took grain to the mill today. I had word with Danar.”

Rustin was indignant. “We agreed not to-”

“Yes, I know. I told him to make settlement with Dame Hester, or I’d slice him in twain, and let Lord Cumber judge the penalty. Don’t look so aggrieved, youngsire. My back aches so, I cannot sleep. I took arms to escape such a life as this.”

“It’s only for a while.”

“Even so.” He drained his dregs. “I swore to Lord Rodrigo unto death. By my thinking, hanging is no worse than a sword in the belly. Both are more fitting than hacking at grain.”

Chela spat into the fire. “You destroy yourself for him, who won’t lift a finger for himself or us. Why do we this? Shush, Rustin, you know it’s true. If Lord Roddy worked, we’d be done in three weeks.”

I snarled, “You’d earn more on your back than ever you could scrubbing wash.”

“What do you know of men lying with women?”

Rust snapped, “Both of you, stop!”

My voice cut through the babble. “There’s no more need.” Reveling in the moment, I stood, emptied my coin-purse, opened my hand slowly. One by one, I let the silver coins fall onto the table, all except one that I kept. “Your roof. Hens, for eggs and meat. Feed. Milk.”

All was silence.

I waited.

Rustin was the first to stir. “You had your purse all the while, and let us-”

Fostrow. “How could you, Rodrigo!”

“What you’d expect of him.” Chela. “He didn’t care if-”

I sat, unable to repress my smile.

Hester stirred. “I bathed his stings when he came howling in the night, with naught but his loincloth. He had no purse.”

Again, a silence. Rustin crossed to my side, bent, took my chin in his blistered hands, raised my face. “How came you by this coin, my prince?”

I glanced from one to the other. “You think I robbed your precious Danar, but I had no truck with him.” From Fostrow, a sigh of relief. “I took a long ride today. Once you reach the Cumber Road it’s easy going. On a good horse it’s only three hours.”

Rustin’s hand tightened on my chin. “How came you by this silver, Rodrigo?”

“I’m telling you.” I shook off his swollen hand. My moment wasn’t going as expected. “I rode to Shar’s Cross and sold the smith …” I swallowed, my triumph fading. Suddenly I feared my next words.

Hester put hands on knees, groaned to her feet. She too came close, eyed me. “What did you sell, boy?”

I shrugged. “Nothing we had need of. The sword.”

“My sword!” Rust’s cry was anguish.

“What use was it, if we starved? Even if we paid the carpenter, you’d still have to work-”

“How could you!”

“-to put food in our bellies. You all hated the labor.”

“It wasn’t yours to sell!” Rustin’s face was contorted. He hugged himself.

Chela lunged at me, tore my hair, slashed at my cheek.

With a howl of rage I knocked her to the floor. “You’re crazed, all of you! I saved us!”

Elryc turned away, leaned his cheek on Genard’s shoulder.

I said, “Rust, I’m sorry if …”

His eyes glistened, but he stood as if stone.

“You gave it to me. We’ll find you another sword, when times are-”

Hester opened the door, trudged into the dark.

Rustin’s voice was unsteady. “I only gave you the use of it, Roddy. It was my first sword. My first ever.” He wiped his face, regarded mine. “Why did you not sell Ebon?”

“My horse? Don’t be ridiculous!” A nobleman was nothing, without a horse.

Or a sword.

I cleared my throat, suddenly uncomfortable. “I’m sorry if you feel-”

His face twisted. “No, it doesn’t matter. What need of a fine sword has the son of Llewelyn, traitor? We’ve lost the keep, our place in Caledon, our name. Sell Santree, if you would. I’ll have no need of him either.”

“Rust-”

“I have no liege. No friend.” Beside himself, he kicked off his boots. “Here, sell these too.” Barefoot, he tottered into the night.

Chela scrambled to her feet, ran after.

Genard stared at the floor.

Fostrow shook his head. “It was wrong, my lord.”

“Shut thy cursed mouth!”

I took my bedroll, spread it with a savage snap, lay fuming.