All Fall Down (21 page)

“That’s right,” she replied. “In all the confusion, I had forgotten.” A frown troubled her brow. “So you will be leaving us?”

“Not until spring. I would not wish to travel so far in winter, and besides, now there is the plague....” My words trailed off. For a brief moment I wasn’t sure whether in the remotest corner of my soul I was happy that the plague had trapped me here for the winter. At least no one would question my decision to stay.

Both of the girls looked distressed by my words, and I realized that for a few moments they had probably forgotten about the plague. Still, I could not pretend it did not exist.

“But we are all well and safe here,” I said, echoing the words I had stated earlier down in the hall. “And now I think I smell Merime’s pigeon pie. It must be time for supper. We should make ourselves ready.”

Auren immediately set the fur-trimmed hood down on her bed and stood. Elissa folded up her handkerchief with exquisite care and tucked it into her bodice, but then she shot me a nervous glance, looking from me to Auren and then back.

For a moment I wondered what ailed her, and then I suddenly understood the reason for her diffidence. This would be the first time I entered the hall as a free woman. I somehow doubted that Lord Shaine would have me sit at the high table, but I also felt certain that I would no longer take my place among the more exalted of the household slaves, the ones who were lucky enough to eat at the long table in the kitchen instead of out in the drafty slave quarters.
 

At that thought a sudden wave of nervousness passed over me, but I knew better than to betray my own unease. I could not control what would happen, after all.

Instead I forced a smile, then said, “Let us go down.” I could not allow them to see how important this meal was to me.
 

I could not allow them to know how much I cared.
 

Chapter 11

I should have known my fears were baseless. As soon as Auren and I entered the hall, Lord Shaine stood up from his seat at the high table and came toward us. “If you would do me the honor, Mistress Merys?” he asked, and gestured toward an empty seat several places down from his own massively carved chair.

Nodding, I took the seat he specified, trying to ignore the sharp-browed glare Lady Yvaine shot at me. Though of course I could not have expected to be seated immediately next to Lord Shaine—that honor had been given to Auren, who sat on his right, and Lord Marten, who had the place to his left—still the position I occupied put me on a level with her ladyship, and I could tell Lord Shaine’s solicitude toward me had definitely raised her ire. But of course she could not publicly voice her disapproval, and so instead she settled for a few more baleful glances in my direction before the servers arrived with the food.

This was no feast such as Lord Shaine had offered his guests at Midwinter. Young Lord Larol and his family might be with us for an extended time, and Lord Shaine apparently had decided not to bother with the niceties for such a lengthy period. The meal we ate was simple enough—Merime’s pigeon pie, a dish of sweet tubers and onions, bread and butter.
 

In Farendon, we have a saying: “The most welcome visitor is unwelcome after four days.” I could tell that held true here as well. Lord Shaine might feel duty-bound to keep his daughter’s affianced groom and his family safe here at Donnishold, but I got the impression it was a duty he found more and more of a burden each day. His expression was pleasant enough, but he seemed little inclined to speech, and there was an uncharacteristic restlessness in the way he played with his knife and fork.

Although I certainly understood how he felt, I knew there was little he could do to remedy the situation. It might be weeks or even months before it was safe enough to resume contact with the outside world. It actually worked in our favor that the estates of Seldd were so isolated from one another; as long as we were careful, we could avoid contagion. Lord Shaine and his overseers had made sure that we had sufficient stores to last out the winter. The men would still go out and hunt when the weather permitted in order to augment the mounds of smoked meat, poultry, and fish that had already been laid down against the coming of the cold season. Now it was simply a waiting game.

Even as I sat and ate the simple but filling food, however, I felt uneasy. It somehow seemed wrong to sit there and feel warm and safe and satisfied when so many others might be suffering and dying at that very moment. Had I not taken a vow to succor the sick? Should I not have immediately left this place once I knew I was free of infection, and gone out into the world to see what little relief I might bring?

And how much could you do?
the practical side of my mind asked.
You are one woman, and they must number thousands of sick. Surely you are not arrogant enough to think you could help them all?

No, of course not, but the Order had taught me that one life saved was a multiple blessing, for of course each life touched many others. Who was I to remain safely here in Donnishold, sheltering myself from the plague? How could I ever face my peers again if they should learn of my cowardice?
 

How could I ever face myself?

I set down my fork, knowing I had no stomach for any more of my meal. Around me the conversation ebbed and flowed—carried on mostly between Auren and the Lady Yvaine as to the preparations for the wedding, with a few asides contributed by Larol and his sister Alcia—but I found I could not participate in it. Instead, I stared off toward the dark doorway at the far end of the
 
hall, the one which led to the keep’s main corridor and the entrance to the castle. Did I possess the courage to walk down it one last time, to face horror and death and the very real possibility that I would never see this place again?

Several times I noticed Lord Shaine’s keen blue-eyed gaze resting on me, but as he sat several places away, of course he could not engage me in conversation without the rest of the table listening in. No one else seemed to notice my abstraction, and it was with an immense feeling of relief that I saw the kitchen slaves come in at last to clear away our table settings.
 

At this point in the evening, Lord Shaine would usually retire to his study, and Auren often would come up to the tower to join Elissa and me for an hour or so of needlework before we went to our respective beds. Unfortunately, I had no idea of how the evenings had been spent in my absence, now that the household numbered young Lord Larol and his family.
 

So I waited, hands folded in my lap, as the table was emptied and I watched Auren to see what happened next, hoping that I might take my cue from her. To be honest, I mainly wished that I could slip away, quiet and unnoticed, so I could go to my room and decide what I should do. My conscience told me I should prepare to leave the next morning, after I had gathered together as many supplies as I could, but I already felt myself resisting that course of action. What difference could one day make, or two? Such a mission would require rest, and preparation, and was not something to be undertaken lightly.

But those were specious arguments, and I knew it. Better that I should admit to my fear. Fear can be healthy, after all, if it makes one more cautious. However, I knew there was more to my reluctance than a simple desire to avoid the misery and death which surely awaited me beyond Donnishold’s borders. I hadn’t imagined that small but telling hesitation as Lord Shaine had bade me farewell before I departed for Arnad’s estate. Could I really leave this place without knowing anything of his true feelings for me?

The others at the high table stood, and I did so as well, watching out of the corner of my eye as Larol and Auren stepped closer to the hearth, their fingers intertwined. They shot a few furtive looks in their respective parents’ direction. No doubt they plotted to see if they could slip off to a secluded corridor where they might share a few stolen kisses. Lady Yvaine fixed her son with a disapproving glare, however, and Larol blushed suddenly, while Auren seemed to find something of absorbing interest in the wilted greens that still adorned the mantel. I surmised that the two lovebirds weren’t feeling quite brave enough yet to face her ladyship’s wrath.
 

Meanwhile, Lord Marten and his daughter wandered off in the direction of the hearth as well. His lordship didn’t seem to be particularly perceptive, so his movements most likely betrayed only a desire to stay warm in the drafty hall, and not any particular interest in his son’s and future daughter-in-law’s doings.

No one seemed to be paying any attention to me, so it seemed the perfect opportunity for me to slip out of the hall unseen. I stepped down from the dais and began to move in the direction of the tower stairs. But I had only gone a few paces when Lord Shaine’s voice stopped me.

“Mistress Merys.”

With some reluctance, I turned. He stood next to his seat on the dais and regarded me carefully, a half-amused look on his face. “Away so soon?”

“I thought I should leave you to your family’s company.”

He glanced at Larol and Auren, and at the other members of Larol’s family who clustered near the hearth. “They seem to have some occupation for the moment. I would speak with you privately.”

At his words my heart began to beat more quickly in my breast, but I merely bowed my head and said, “Of course, my lord,” then waited for him to step down off the dais and come to stand beside me.

Gesturing toward the doorway, he indicated that I should follow him, and I did so, feeling increasingly puzzled. I would have thought he might prefer to speak to me in his own chambers, as we had done so many times before, but instead he led me out through the corridor, on into the open courtyard.
 

It was bitterly cold. The stars glittered like chips of ice against the night sky, but I saw thin ribbons of cloud beginning to drift overhead. From that harbinger, along with a shift in the wind’s direction, I guessed that another storm had begun to move in from the east. The signs did not bode well for my travel plans. I knew little of Seldd’s geography or its roads, such as they were. I had reached Lord Arnad’s estate without incident only because I had a native to guide me. What would I do in a midwinter snowstorm, if I found myself stranded far from everything I knew?

Lord Shaine paused just outside the entrance to the keep. A faint breath of air from inside the hall followed us, like a ghostly memory of summer’s warmth. The freezing air in the courtyard seemed to settle on my body, heavy as a leaden cloak. Although I could not deny a small thrill at being here alone with him, I knew we could not stay outside for very long.

“You seemed very far away at supper,” he said.

A little startled, I risked an upward glance at him. Only one torch relieved the darkness, and so I saw little in his face—just a chance gleam from his eyes, and exaggerated shadows below his brow and cheekbones. “Perhaps I was,” I admitted. “I have much to occupy my mind.”

“Such as?”

Did I dare to tell him the truth of my thoughts? But how could I do otherwise? I owed him honesty at least. “My lord, I cannot stay here.”

My reply appeared to surprise him. He shifted slightly, and stared down at me. “A few days ago you seemed determined to stay the winter,” he said, and I could discern nothing from his tone. “May I ask what has happened to change your feelings on this matter?”

“I have had time to think,” I replied simply.

“Think on what?”

The cold from the freezing stones on which I stood seemed to be working its way up my legs, leaching all warmth from me. I crossed my arms in a vain attempt to slow down the chill that threatened to overtake my entire body. “That I cannot hide here in safety when there are so many who need my help.”

He didn’t waste time asking me to explain myself. When he spoke, his tone sounded strangely gentle. “And do you sincerely believe you can make that much of a difference, one woman working alone?”

At his words I opened my mouth to protest, and he held up a hand, requesting my patience. “I do not mean to belittle your skill, Merys,” he said. “I of all people know how much healing you hold in those hands of yours. But how much good can two hands—even ones as skilled as yours—do against a great evil such as the plague?”

A question I had already asked myself, and one for which I had no ready answer. But still I replied, “More good than these two hands could do here, sitting idle.” Hoping I looked braver than I felt, I gazed up at him. The uneasy light in the courtyard rendered his familiar features almost unrecognizable. I might have been speaking to a stranger. Paradoxically, that notion gave me the courage to go on. “I swore an oath, my lord, an oath to tend the sick and the wounded, wherever they might be, and whatever illness they may be suffering. It is a very simple oath, actually, one which has no provisions that allow the healer to avoid his duties simply because he fears for his own life. This is a risk we all must take, we who swear our lives to the Order. I cannot abandon my vows now, just because the thought of what lies beyond these walls terrifies me.”

I fell silent then, wondering if I had said too much. Certainly it was the longest speech I could ever remember uttering in his presence.
 

For a moment he did not speak. Then he said, “You are an extraordinary woman, Merys.”

His words of praise brought the blood flooding to my cheeks, and I stammered, “Oh, no, my lord. That is—I do only what I have been sworn to do, what I know I must—”

“Are you contradicting me?” he inquired, and although the words might have been stern, I could tell from the amused tone of his voice they had not been intended that way.

“No, my lord,” I said meekly, and he laughed outright at my uncharacteristic humility.

“Enough of that,” he remarked. “So is there nothing I can say to dissuade you?”

There were many things I wished to hear him say, but I knew I did not have the courage to articulate any of them. I merely looked away from him, glad of the uncertain light.