All Fall Down (9 page)

At the bottom step Auren paused, then threw a stricken look at me over her shoulder. “There are so many of them,” she said slowly. The bravado of earlier had completely disappeared from her tone.

“But you told me yourself that you’ve met most of them before,” I pointed out. “What is there to be frightened of?”

“None of them have seen me since—since—” And she paused, staring down at her injured leg, now safely hidden beneath folds of glinting damask. A look of disgust quickly passed over her features and was gone.

I could understand her dismay. After all, she had been a healthy, vigorous girl, a stranger to serious illness or injury, and now she saw herself as marred forever. The wound was healing, and healing better than even I had hoped, but she would never be as she was before the day she took that tumble from her mount.

 
“It’s all right, Auren,” I said gently. “Everyone knows what happened to you, and they all understand. Indeed, I’ve heard everyone thinks you’re quite the remarkable girl to have survived your injury as well as you have.”

“They do?”
 

Heartened by the lift I heard in her voice, I replied, “Yes, they do. And you look so lovely that I’m sure no one will even notice your limp.”

She faced forward again, then paused. “But I want to do without this when I enter,” she said, and handed me her crutch. “I’ve been practicing without it. I can make it to my place at the table.”

I’d heard that determined tone before and decided it was better not to disagree. Besides, I could keep the crutch with me and give it to her later on in the evening if she required it.

“Very well, my lady,” I said. “Now go on. Your father is waiting.”

With a lift of her chin, she stepped down from the bottom stair and slowly began to make her way across the hall to the dais at the far end where her father and his guests waited. I could tell from the extreme care with which she walked that the journey was a difficult one, but even to my eyes her limp did not look too pronounced.
 

Good girl
, I thought, then moved my gaze from her laborious progress across the floor to the visitors who awaited her.

They were a varied group, to say the least. Of course I immediately noticed Lord Shaine, who stood several inches taller than anyone else in his immediate vicinity. He looked quite splendid in a high-necked doublet of a dark wine color, with just the slightest traces of embroidery around the collar and the cuffs of his close-fitting sleeves. To his immediate left stood another man who appeared to also be in his early forties or so, but there the resemblance between him and Lord Shaine ended. This man was much shorter and inclined to fat, and for some reason he had chosen a cut velvet doublet in an unfortunate shade of ochre that did little to enhance his ruddy complexion. I guessed the boy who stood by him must be his son; the young man, although probably not even twenty yet, already seemed as inclined to fat as his father.

Frowning slightly, I looked on to the rest of the group, hoping that they would be a little more promising. The second family—for the mother seemed to have come along with this one—certainly had a more appealing mien on first inspection. Both parents at least were fairly slender and inclined to be tall, as was their son, who looked somewhat dashing in a black doublet slashed with red. It was only on closer scrutiny that I noted the son’s close-set eyes and the furrow that had already begun to dig its way into his brow, young as he was. Still, one couldn’t judge character simply on the ill fortune of having one’s eyes set too close together, so I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and move on.

The last members of the group were a slight but still lovely woman of late middle age, and a young man who seemed the oldest of the three prospective suitors. Probably he was very close to my own twenty-five years. That might have been a problem, save that I had seen girls no older than Auren married off to men twice their age and more. Compatibility never counted as the highest priority, or even a priority at all in many of these cases. Rather, it was simply who made the best offer or presented the best chance for advancement. At least this young man had apparently inherited his mother’s good looks. I assumed that was who she was, as they had similar coloring, both dark-haired but with fair skin and even, regular features.

Apparently noticing my inspection of him, the unknown young man shot a dazzling smile in my direction. Caught off-guard, I could feel the color rise in my cheeks, and I looked away quickly. I guessed he had no idea I was in fact one of the slaves. My gown was far too good, and I had had Elissa dress my hair while Auren took her bath. Still, I had not come here to attract attention, and I quickly made my way across the far end of the hall to see if I could offer any help to Merime. Auren was now in her father’s hands.
 

But Merime, surrounded by what seemed to be five times more kitchen slaves than the household normally possessed, brushed me off when I appeared.

“Goodness sakes, no,” she said breathlessly, even as she waved a young woman carrying a pair of wine bottles past her and out the kitchen door. “Bring your fine dress in here? And unless I’m mistaken, you’ve as little experience in roasting a side of venison as I do sewing up wounds. Stay out there, and make sure Lady Auren keeps out of trouble.”

With a sigh I nodded and returned to the hall. At least this time I appeared at the opposite end from the place where I had last entered, and my presence was somewhat masked by the arrival of Lord Shaine’s senior men-at-arms, the master of the horse, and the falconer, all of whom had status enough to be invited to such an event. Along with them came several tens of people whom I did not recognize but who probably were the retainers of his lordship’s guests. Of course they would sit at the lower tables, but at least they helped to fill up the room and make me a little less conspicuous. Possibly I could even take my place among them during the actual dinner portion of the feast, although I was not certain how my presence would be received. Perhaps it would be better if I simply ducked back into the kitchen at the appropriate time and stole a few morsels for myself.
 

For now, however, I used the shifting crowds to provide concealment as I watched the group on the dais. Quite formally, Lord Shaine had taken Auren by the hand and appeared to be introducing her to all of their guests. Her back was turned, so I couldn’t see her face, but I could guess what her expression might be as she greeted the plump lord and his equally chubby son. I assumed that the quelling presence of her father would force to her to maintain at least a semblance of politeness, however.

After she had made her courtesies to all of them, the company took its place at the high table. I could tell, even from this distance, that she had definitely lingered in her greeting to the handsome young lord who had flashed me that brilliant smile. Not that I could blame her. If I had been in the same situation, he most likely would have been the one to whom I pinned my own hopes.
 

The rest of the crowd took its cues from those at the high table, and all around me people began to seat themselves at the less exalted but equally loaded lower tables. Merime had certainly outdone herself this time. Certainly in my admittedly short tenure at Lord Shaine’s estate I had yet to see such a feast produced. I glimpsed roast venison, and partridges and pigeons cunningly displayed with their feathers still attached. Bowls full of tubers sweetly cooked in honey sauce sent a rich aroma into the air, and my stomach growled in response. Best for me to escape into the kitchen now, before anyone noted my anomalous presence in the hall.

Luckily, no one seemed to take notice of me as I slipped back into the kitchen. With most of the servers occupied at the feast outside, Merime’s kingdom looked oddly deserted, although the disarray I beheld certainly told its story of the feverish preparations for Lord Shaine’s feast.

“Hiding?” the cook asked, as she stepped away from the hearth, where she had been giving the glowing coals a sharp prodding with the poker. “Can’t say as I blame you. I’ll be glad when all those high and mighty lords take themselves off again.”

“It is a lot of extra work, I would imagine,” I ventured, feeling oddly guilty, even though I knew that Lord Shaine would never have expected me to work in the kitchens, slave status or no.

“You don’t know the half of it,” she replied, grimly wiping her hands on her grease-spattered apron. “Still, I don’t imagine you came in here to listen to me complain. Looking for a bite?”

“If you have any to spare—”

“Listen to her! ‘If you have any to spare’—we’ll be feeding the staff for a week on the leftovers from this feast. Pull up one of those stools over there, and I’ll see what I can cobble together for you.”

 
What Merime “cobbled together” for me turned out to be sizable indeed. A large portion of pheasant breast, a hunk of venison big enough to feed me for several days, helpings of various side dishes, and a large chunk of her special “sour” bread all appeared as if by magic on an oversized silver plate, which she set down before me with a look of satisfaction. The finishing touch was wine served in one of Lord Shaine’s special glass goblets, the ones that normally sat on a high shelf under lock and key.

I felt overwhelmed by her hospitality but recovered myself enough to say, “Thank you, Merime. Certainly I never expected anything so fine.”

“You should be having it, though, with what you’ve done for that girl—and the rest of us.” Her broad, pleasant face grew uncharacteristically grim. “No one else would have had the courage to go to himself the way you did. And for ridding us of that adder, I do thank you.”

No need for me to ask who the “adder” was. “I only wish I had found out sooner,” I said.

“Well, but you noticed at least, which is more than I can say for myself. Sure, that Raifal always had a hangdog look about him, but he’s not been a slave overlong. Hadn’t had time to get used to it like the rest of us, that’s what I thought.”

Struck by her remark, I paused with a mouth full of wine and then remembered to swallow. “
Can
one get used to it?” I inquired.

“That would depend on the person, I suppose.” Tilting her head to one side as she regarded me carefully, she went on, “I don’t suppose you ever would. You come from the quality, I can tell.”

“I’m just a merchant’s daughter,” I protested.

“There are merchants and merchants,” she said equably, “just as there’s nobles and nobles. Were you born in a big house? Did you have servants? Did you ever have to worry about where your next meal was coming from?”

“Well,” I said, hesitating. Her remarks took me aback. I had never thought much about our own wealth, separated as my family had been from the nobility. But she was correct. We weren’t nobility or even gentry, but we had always been more than comfortable, and in fact probably possessed more actual wealth than many who had a title in front of their names. “The house was rather large,” I admitted.

“Hmph,” was her only response, but I could tell she thought she had scored a point. “Anyhow,” she went on, “it’s easy enough to tell that you’re used to dealing with the quality, whether noble or just rich. Most of us were taken from farming stock. I’ve been here for twenty years…and most ways it’s been a better life than I would have had back home in Farendon.”

“How can you say that?” I exclaimed.

“Easy enough. Back home the most I could have had was another farmer’s son for a husband, and backbreaking work all day to hold on to a few miserable acres. Here I have my own place, and an important one, too. Freedom?” She sniffed. “What would I do, if someone were to come in to tell me I was free? I’d tell them to get the hell out of my kitchen!”

She told the truth, or at least her own truth. I couldn’t argue with her. After all, I knew nothing of the life she’d lived before coming here, and I had seen how much influence she wielded in her small domestic demesne.
 

 
“But you—” she said. “Well, you had your own power, of a sort, didn’t you? Order of the Golden Palm, woman young as you? No wonder you chafe here like one of Master Breen’s new-caught falcons. Lucky we are to have you, that’s the gods’ own truth, but even I can tell you were meant for grander things than this.”

The delicious food suddenly tasted like sand in my mouth. I knew her words to be true. They brought to light the feeling of unease that had underlaid my every waking moment here, ever since I knew Auren would heal and that by rights I should have moved on. But I couldn’t. I was as trapped here as one of the falcon master’s half-tamed birds.

“They’ll come for me,” I said, giving the words a firmness I did not precisely feel. “As soon as they know I was taken, they’ll send someone to ransom me.”

“You think so?”

“They must.”
They must
, I thought,
for if I’m left to languish here forever I most certainly will wither and die, like a bloom denied sunlight for too long
. “These things take time, after all. And whoever comes for me must wait for the convenience of a merchant train large enough to avoid capture by the slavers.”

“Is your Order so wealthy, then?” Her face expressed nothing but curiosity, but I wondered if I had made a mistake in confiding my hopes of rescue in her.
 

“Not overly so,” I replied cautiously. “But those who are able do give donations to the Order in exchange for our services, and we have many wealthy patrons.”
Not to mention my own family
, I thought then.
Surely my father will do whatever he must to see his daughter returned to her homeland.

 
“Then I will pray to the Goddess that she sees your way safely home,” Merime said.
 

I did not want to tell her the Goddess and I had parted ways some years before. I had followed the path of science and learning, not of faith, but if Merime wanted to believe that her prayers would find a home, then so be it.
 

Unsure of how to respond, I instead took a few more bites of the excellent food Merime had set before me. “Perhaps I should see how Auren fares out there,” I said, after an uncomfortable pause.