A Cavern of Black Ice (28 page)

Ash took the final steps to her room,
secure in the knowledge the maid would follow. The door was ajar, and
when she pushed it she came face-to-face with Penthero Iss'
manservant, Caydis Zerbina. The tall dark-skinned servant stopped
dead on the spot. His long, elegant arms cradled an odd assortment of
her belongings: the green wool rug, a thick winter cloak, one of the
amber lamps, a silver hairbrush.

Ash supposed she should be surprised at
seeing him here, but she wasn't. The calmness was still upon her. She
made a small bobbing motion with her chin, indicating the items he
held. "It's all right, Caydis. Please continue. I realize you
didn't expect me back from my ride so soon. The fault is entirely my
own. My apologies. Please finish your business."

Caydis Zerbina bore Far South blood, as
Katia did, yet unlike Katia, he was soft-spoken and gentle in manner.
He worshiped with the priests in the Bone Temple and never wore any
fabric heavier than linen, even on the coldest day. Common was not
his language of birth. "So sorry, mistress. I stop now. Cause no
more offense." He bowed deeply, the bone bracelets on his wrist
chinking like falling rain. Slowly he began to back away.

Ash raised her hand. "No. I insist
you carry on. Your actions cause me no offense." And the strange
thing was, they didn't. Caydis Zerbina was just carrying out orders,
like Katia and Marafice Eye. One person ruled Mask Fortress, one
person had access to the Splinter, one person had suggested she leave
her chamber this morning to go for a ride in the quad: Penthero Iss.
Her foster father had wanted her out of the way so he could collect
more things for her move. Chances were she wouldn't have missed
anything except the rug and the lamp, and both those items were in
need of cleaning or repair, and their absence could be smoothly
explained.

Caydis Zerbina was clearly unhappy at
being compelled to finish his business. His dark eyes, with their
almond-colored whites and thick lids, flicked nervously as he moved
about the chamber. Ash suspected that he collected things solely to
satisfy her wish that he carry on, rather than from any real need to
remove anything further. She held open the door for him as he left,
inclining her head in a gracious farewell. "Caydis," she
said after he had taken a handful of steps along the corridor, "I
won't tell my foster father about our unplanned meeting. I trust you
will do the same. There's little benefit in either of us admitting
our mistakes."

Caydis bowed his long gazelle neck.
"Mistress." Even before he reached the steps, Ash had
turned her attention to Katia. The servant girl was standing against
the corridor wall, her face all red and puffy, rubbing her arm as if
she couldn't quite believe it was hurt. One step forward was all it
took to cower her. Ash supposed she should feel ashamed about having
someone frightened of her, yet a teeny bit of her rather liked it.
"Inside. Now."

Katia's eyes were huge with a mixture
of indignation and suspicion. She moved, though. Quick enough to
dislodge the last remaining hairpins from her curls. The pins struck
the stone with musical notes as Ash shut the door behind her.

"Sit," she said, wagging her
head toward the bed. Katia sat.

Ash turned her back on her. "Now.
I'm going to ask some questions, and you have two choices. One, you
can answer them honestly and be away from here within the quarter. Or
two, you can lie and deceive me and get hurt." She spun back.
"Now which is it going to be?"

"You won't dare hurt me. I'll
scream. I surely will." Bending forward so that her face was
only a breath away from Katia's, Ash said, "Go ahead. Scream.
The Knife is out there. He'll hear if you make enough noise. But
before you do, think for just one moment. You may know and bed him,
but it's me he's charged to protect. Me. Not some scrap of a kitchen
girl who doesn't know what's good for her.
Me
." Ash saw
hurt in Katia's eyes but forced herself to continue harder than
ever. "Ask yourself this. If
you
cry out and I cry out,
which one of us is he likely to aid first?"

Katia made no answer. Her teeth pulled
at the skin on her lips.

Ash straightened her spine. "Right.
Why has my foster father set Marafice Eye to watch me?"

"Don't know." Katia sounded
sulky. "The Knife hisself thinks it's madness. Says he's sick of
the sight of you, and that he's got better things to do than watch
over a thin strip of bacon wi' no fat."

Ignoring the gibe, Ash said, "So
he doesn't know why?"

"No. Says it'll be over soon,
though. Vealskin promised any day now."

Ash frowned. Marafice Eye was Protector
General; he would hardly agree to act as personal guard to a
foundling without good reason. He knew something, Ash felt sure of
that. And despite what he said to Katia, he took a cat's pleasure in
watching and taunting her—though he wouldn't likely admit that
to any girl he chose to bed. Suddenly uncomfortable with the turn of
her thoughts and knowing that if she dwelled on them further, she
would lose her nerve and weaken, Ash changed the subject. "What
happened to the clothes I gave you to repair last week?"

"Iss took them."

"Where?"

Katia shrugged. "Don't know. Said
he wanted to start collecting a few things here and there to make the
move easier when it came. Said he wanted to surprise you, and to tell
you I wanted them for repair."

"What other special instructions
did my foster father give you?"

No reply.

"I
said
, what else?"

Katia shuffled her feet. "Nothing."

She was lying. Ash took a breath,
thinking. After a moment she began to shake her head. "You know,
Katia, my foster father isn't the only one who has power over you. I
don't have to take you with me when I move to my new lady's chamber.
I could tell my foster father that I no longer care for your
services, that you bed any man who crosses your path, and that you
stole one of my—'

" 'Taint never stole nothing!"
Katia stood, fists clenched. "You'd be lying if you say so.
Lying
!"

"Hush, girl," Ash said in a
voice she hoped sounded bored. "I can claim anything I want and
get away with it. Do you really think my foster father will take your
word over mine? Do you?"

That made Katia stop and think. All the
strength and light in her face faded, leaving her looking as young
and vulnerable as the girl she really was. Fifteen, that was all. Ash
felt her determination waver; all she wanted to do was go to Katia
and put her arms round her and assure her that she'd never say
anything bad about her—even if she really
had
stolen
something. Katia was younger than her by almost a full year, yet up
until today, until right this minute, Ash had always felt like the
younger one. Strange, but the very thing that was frightening her was
also making her strong. She had to know. And she would do anything,
anything
, to find out.

Steeling herself, Ash said, "I
think we both know the answer to that question, Katia. You'd be back
in the kitchens within a day on my say-so, no matter how diligently
you carried out my foster father's orders. I am Penthero Iss' ward,
his almost-daughter. Now tell me what I need to know, and I swear
he'll hear nothing but good about you from me."

Although she was still standing, Katia
seemed smaller than usual; her shoulders were slumped, and her back
was bent. Even her curls seemed flatter. "Promise to take me
with you when you go."

Ash closed her eyes. A pain, like a
sore muscle, flared softly in her chest. "If I go to a grand
chamber with isinglass windows and a fireplace all my own, then I
promise to take you with me." She felt the lie as she spoke. It
was the truth, but it was also a lie.

Katia, who was such a terrible liar
herself, heard only the truth. She brightened immediately. "Well,
that's settled, then. Isn't it?"

Ash nodded. She didn't know how she
managed to stop her cheeks from burning.

"Well, miss, it's the strangest
thing. Can hardly understand it myself—'less of course it's to
do with your'tility." Seeing Ash's blank look, Katia expanded,
her love of sharing secrets now fully engaged. "Your fertility.
You know, when you finally come into your blood and can be married
and tumble with men. Well, ever since His Lordship engaged me, but
most particular these past three months, he's asked that I check your
chamber pot and sheets each morning for blood. You know,
women's
blood. Says he must be told the minute you come to your menses. Right
fierce on the matter, he is. Gives me the dox just thinking about
it."

"Sheets? Chamber pot?"

"Aye, and your nightdress and
underthings, too."

Ash exhaled softly, her strength
vanishing as quickly as it came. You
can't stay a child forever,
Asarhia. The old blood will show soon enough
. Her foster
father's words came back to her, each one a drop of ice against her
face. Iss was waiting for her menses to come. All his pinching and
prodding and watching was for just one thing.
Why
? What did
he want with her? What would he do when her blood finally broke? The
thought made cramps jab at Ash's stomach. Putting a hand on the wall
to steady herself, she said, "Leave me, Katia. I want to be
alone."

The little maid brought her lips
together, took a step forward, hesitated, then took one back. "You
won't tell Iss I told you, will you? He'd be madder than a snagcat in
a trap if he knew. If mad's the right word for someone who never
raises his voice, just fixes you with a cold stare and-"

"I promise I won't say a word."
Ash cut her short; the last thing she wanted right now was a reminder
of how cold-blooded her foster father could be. As Katia swung open
the door, she said one last thing. "I'm sorry about hurting you
before. Truly I am. It won't happen again."

Katia turned and smiled. "Weren't
nothing really, miss. I used to get worse from Mistress Wence. A lot
worse."

Ash tried a smile but failed. By the
time she thought of a reply, Katia was gone. Ash stared at the closed
door. Why had she never mentioned being beaten before?

It seemed like a very long time before
she made her way to the bed. The cramps became stronger, rolling
across her abdomen in sickening waves, and all she wanted to do was
sleep. Later. She would decide what to do later. Her eyes closed,
bringing darkness and peace, and before she could form another
thought she fell into a deep numbing sleep.

So
cold, mistressss. So dark.
Reach
.

Ash twisted in her bed, turning her
back on her dreams. They pursued her, liquid shadows with hands that
cracked and bled. Their shapes massed and shifted, darkness leaking
from them like water weeping from ice.

Reach, mistressss, pretty
mistressss. Reach.

Ash twisted again, saw the ahead. No.
Not there. She twisted back, felt shadows slide across her face, cold
as water from the deepest darkest well. Things moved in the
periphery, wet and twitching like skinned beasts. Ground shifted
beneath her feet, and suddenly the cavern was below her, its entrance
a vast hole blasted into sea ice, an ocean of black tar rolling
beneath. Ash backed away. She wouldn't go there, wouldn't take that
last step.

Reach, mistressss. Reach.

Wet fingers clawed at her arms, drawing
them up and up and up. Ash fought to keep them from rising, but it
was like trying to bend her knees backward: the joints would only
work one way.

Reach! Reach!

No. She shook her head, tried to twist
away. Nothing moved except her arms, which continued to rise until
they drew level with her shoulders. Shadows pushed from all sides,
eyes flickering like serpent's tongues.

REACH,

Ash didn't reach, she
pushed
.
Palms falling flat against something that shone pale like ice, she
thrust herself away from that place. A white-hot needle of pain raced
along her arms to her heart. She felt something deep within her tear,
heard a great weight of ice shatter as it hit hard ground, then
staggered back and back and back…

She opened her eyes to a world dulled
by pain. Belly down upon the bed, sheets bunched around her waist,
she lay for a long moment without moving. Her hands were stretched
high above her head, reaching for the nearest wall. Even as she
worked muscles to pull them in, she knew something was wrong. The
hot, angry pain that came with skin burns flared in her palms, making
her wince. One palm was open, the finger and thumb pads red. Burned.
Ash dragged her other hand into view. It was closed, the fingers
stiff and set in place. She opened it slowly, aware of something hard
pulling at her skin. When the fingers had curled halfway, a drop of
clear liquid slid along her wrist. Shivering, she forced the fingers
back all the way.

Ice. A chunk of ice slid from her palm
onto the bed.

Iceborn
. Katia's word was the
first thought she had, before shock or fear or the need for
explanations set in. The burns had been caused by ice, not fire.

The ice was wedge shaped, blue as
frost, and stippled with the kind of pressure lines that Ash had seen
on rocks dug from the base of Mount Slain. As she watched, the patch
of damp beneath it spread.

Abruptly she looked away. What time was
it? How long had she slept? Late afternoon light made everything in
the chamber seem gray. No lamps had been lit, but the little charcoal
brazier was still burning, giving off a puttering last-breath sort of
light. Ash brought her burning hands to her face and blew on them.
After a moment she braced herself and began to rise from the bed.

That was when she felt it. Halting on
the spot, halfway up from the bed, her weight borne by one elbow and
one knee, she reached down with her right hand, pushing through skirt
fabric and linen. Seconds passed before her fingers found the right
place. Ash tensed. Wetness, warm this time, between her legs. Slowly,
as if she were moving through water, not air, she brought her hand
back. She didn't want to look, didn't want to
see
, but
matters were too far gone now, and of all the changes that lay ahead,
surely this one would be the easiest to bear?