Nerilka's Story (3 page)

Anella had obeyed Tolocamp’s instruction to the letter. She had brought not only her two babies, but her mother, father, three younger brothers, and six of the frailer of her family dependents. How they managed to climb the fire-heights I did not inquire, but two of them looked about to collapse. They could go to the upper stories and be attended by our own elderlies. Anella pouted a bit at being assigned rooms so far from Tolocamp, but neither Campen nor I paid any attention to her remarks or to those of her shrewish mother. I was just relieved that the entire hold had not descended on us. I suspected the older two brothers had more sense than to chance their arms on their pert sister’s prospects. Although I felt Anella ought to be well able to care for her children, I did assign her two servants, one from the Nursery level and a general. I wished to have no complaints from my father about her reception or quarters. Any guest would have had as much courtesy from me. But I didn’t have to like it.

Then I sped down to the kitchens to discuss the day with Felim. He needed only to be told he was doing splendidly. The kitchens are always the worst places for rumor and gossip. Fortunately, no one there understood the coded messages, although they must have recognized that the drum tower was unusually busy. Sometimes one knows the drums are relaying good news, happy tidings. The beat seems brighter, higher-pitched, as if the very skins are singing with pleasure at their work. So if I fancied that the drums were weeping today, who could blame me?

Toward evening, mistakes were made in the messages relayed as weary drummer arms faltered in the beat. I was forced to endure repetitions—despairing pleas from Keroon and Telgar for healers to replace those who had died of the disease they tried to cure. I put plugs in my ears so that I could sleep. Even so, my eardrums seemed to echo the pulse of the day’s grievous news.

Chapter IV

3.14.43

O
NE OF THE
plugs fell out during my restless sleep, so I heard the drums all too clearly that morning when they beat out the news of my mother’s death, and then the deaths of my sisters. I dressed and went to comfort Lilla, Nia, and Mara. Gabin crept in, his face reddened with the effort not to cry in public. He howled as he buried his head in my shoulder. And I cried, too. For my sisters and for myself who had not wished them a safe and happy journey.

My brothers, all but Campen, sought us out during the morning and so we had the luxury of private grief. I wonder if any of us hoped that Tolocamp would fall ill of the disease he had left our mother and sisters to die from.

When a messenger from Desdra found me, I welcomed him as an excuse to leave the sorrow-filled room. I could have gone down the back stairs to the stores to fill Desdra’s request for supplies, but I led the man through the main corridor. Clearly I heard my father’s vigorous voice calling out the window, and I saw Anella lurking just round the first bend in the corridor. Quick as a snake, she scuttled away, but the gloating smirk on her face provoked me past indifference to active dislike and disgust of her.

The healer apprentice was hard-pressed to keep up with me as I whipped down the spiral stairs to the lower levels. When I piled sack upon sack of the herbs and root medicines that Desdra had listed, he protested that he wouldn’t be able to lug so much to the Healer Hall. I summoned a drudge, my voice almost a shriek, and the scared Sim rushed in answer, his eyes round with fear that he had somehow forgotten something important.

Controlling myself, I apologized to the healer for overburdening him. I would have merely ordered a second drudge to assist Sim and the healer, but as I entered the kitchen passage, I caught sight of Anella sweeping down the steps, beckoning imperiously to Felim. I knew that if I entered the main kitchen and saw that smug little lay-aback playing Lady Holder, I would rue the outcome. Instead, I left by the side door with healer and drudge. The chill afternoon air enveloped and cooled me, though I set a brisk pace for my companions.

The Harper Hall was in an uproar when I got there, alive with shouts and cries of joy. I couldn’t imagine what occasioned such joy, but it was contagious and I smiled without knowing why, just relieved to hear some happiness. Then the voices became separated and an unmistakable baritone rang clearly.

“Fog caught me between holds, friends,” Master Tirone was saying in clarion tones. “And a lame runner. I caught a fresh mount from a pasture and was proceeding on when I heard the first drum message. I came on apace, I can tell you, and never stopped for sleep or food. I’ll apologize for borrowing the runners later, when the drums are not so hot with important messages.” The sly hint of laughter in his voice was rewarded by chuckles from the other harpers. “It was shorter to take the back route by then, so how was I to know Lord Tolocamp had set up guards to prevent any of us entering or leaving?” That was the first I’d heard of my father’s precautions. Master Tirone’s voice dropped to a more confidential tone. “Now, what’s this about an internment camp for healer or harper trying to contact his Hall? How are we supposed to work with such a foolish restriction on movement?”

The healer eyed me with some consternation, for this smacked of criticism of the Lord Holder. I could not in conscience show any trace of my growing disgust, disillusionment, and distrust of my sire. And obviously I should not have overheard such sentiment.

Then Desdra herself appeared from the far side of the Hall court, her face lighting with relief as she saw how burdened we were. “Lady Nerilka, I only asked for interim supplies.”

“I recommend that you take as much as you can get before I am no longer in a position to help.”

She did not question me, but I saw her eyes accept my words and the implications of my tone.

“I renew my offer to nurse the sick, wherever and whoever they might be,” I said as firmly as I could as she took the sacks from my arms.

“You must take your mother’s place here during this emergency, Lady Nerilka,” she said, her voice low and kind, her deep-set and expressive eyes conveying her sympathy and condolences. I had once thought the journeywoman too passive a practitioner, her manner too detached, but I had misjudged her. How could I tell her, now, that she mistook my measure and circumstances? Or had such a trivial matter as Anella’s arrival not percolated through to the two Halls?

“How is Master Capiam?” I asked, before she could turn away.

“He has nearly completed the course of the disease.” Desdra’s voice rippled with wry humor, and I detected a twinkle in her eyes. “He’s too ornery to die, and determined to find a cure for this plague. Thank you, Lady Nerilka”

Our brief exchange had outlasted the audible conversations from the Harper Hall, so there was nothing for me to do but retrace my steps out of the court, with Sim trotting behind me. Poor Sim. I forget he has short legs and cannot match my long stride.

“Sim, where is this internment camp of Lord Tolocamp’s?” I sought any excuse to avoid returning to the Hold for a little while. My anger was too sharp, my grief too fresh, my self-discipline nonexistent.

Sim pointed to his right, where the great road south dips down into a small valley through a copse of trees. I walked far enough down the broad roadway to have an uninterrupted view, and saw guards pacing the arbitrary boundaries.

“Are there many wayfarers halted there?”

Sim nodded, his eyes frightened. “Harper and healer, all only trying to get back to their Halls. And a few of the holdless. We always have them coming along. But there’ll be sick ones, soon. Wanting help from the Healer Hall. What’ll they do? They got a right to healing.”

So they did. Even my mother was—had been—generous to the holdless.

“Do the guards allow anyone into the valley?”

Sim nodded. “But not back out again.”

“Who’s the guard leader?”

“Theng, far as I know.”

Even Theng could be got round if it was done the right way. He enjoyed a bottle of wine, and while he was drinking he could pretend not to see past the end of the flask. Harper and healer refused access to their Halls? My father was foolish as well as frightened. And hypocritical when he, himself, returning from a disease-ridden Hold, placed his own people at jeopardy by his very presence. Well, that didn’t mean that I had to be foolish, too. I knew my duty to the Halls—hadn’t my father drilled it into me? And I might need their charity before the end of these terrible days. I would speak to Felim, and to Theng.

As I walked back up to the Hold, I saw a figure in a first story window. My father? Yes, that was his window, and he was watching Sim and me. Sim he wouldn’t distinguish from any other drudge wearing Hold livery, but just how keen was his long sight? And what would it matter if he identified me? It would probably be the first time he had. I strode on, proud and careless. But I did take the side entrance into the kitchens. I had to speak to Felim, didn’t I?

“What am I to do now, Lady Nerilka?” the cook began before I could ask him to save the broken meats for the interned men. “She came down with orders for all kinds of foods that I know Lady Pendra would not condone—” And then he burst into tears again, blotting his eyes and face with the rag he always had hanging out of his apron waist. “She was stern, Lady Pendra, but she was fair. A man knew he had only to keep to her standards and there’d be no complaint.”

“What did Anella want?”

“She said she was to order Hold matters now. And I was to prepare broth for her children, whose stomachs are delicate; and there are to be confections with every meal, for her parents desire sweets; and roasts midday and evening. Lady Nerilka, you know that isn’t possible.” Tears streamed down his cheeks again as he shrugged. “Must I take orders from her now?”

“I’ll find out, Felim. Proceed with the plans we made this morning. Not even for Anella can we alter an established routine in one day.”

Then I asked him to save what he could from the evening meal, for delivery to Theng.

“I took the liberty of sending the broken meats last night, Lady Nerilka. As your lady mother would have done. Oh, oh, she was fair, she was fair. . . .” He buried his face once more in his napkin.

Felim was fair, too, I thought, trying to keep my mind off my mother. Thinking of Anella helped. That little lay-aback, coming in here and thinking she could just take over a Hold the size of Fort and run it as if it were exactly like the backhills midden from which she’d come! The thought of the chaos that would shortly result at such inexpert hands gave me a perverse delight. Little did Anella know of real management, and if she wished to keep my father content, she’d better learn. Whatever had made her think that just because Lady Pendra was dead, she was to step into her shoes, just as she had taken her bed partner? Unless . . .

Once again I encountered a distressed Campen in the front hall. My brother’s face was suffused with blood and his features contorted with dismay. Doral, Mostar, and Theskin, who were deep in low conversation with him, wore the same expression.

“Isn’t there anything we can
do
?” Theskin was demanding, his fingers clenching and unclenching on the hilt of his belt knife.

Doral was slamming one fist into the other palm. “Nerilka, where have you been? Do you know what has happened?”

“Anella’s moving in.”

“Father has had her transferred into Mother’s rooms. Already!” There was no doubt of the outrage that Campen and the others felt. “He’s looking for you, Rill, demanding to know where you’ve been all day, what you were doing at the internment camp—and whatever possessed you to go there?”

“To find out if it existed at all,” I replied, bitterly ignoring the other questions. “When?”

“That was our early morning task,” Theskin replied, indicating that Doral had assisted. “Setting the guard and drawing up the watch rosters. Now this! Could he not wait a decent interval?”

“He may come down with the illness and have lost a last chance to enjoy his few remaining hours!”

“Nerilka!”
Campen was appalled at my irreverence, but Theskin and Doral guffawed.

“She may have the answer, you know, Campie lad,” Theskin said. “Our sire has ever liked his little pleasures.”

“Theskin, that is enough!” Campen remembered to lower his voice, but the intensity of his reprimand made up for the lack of volume.

Theskin shrugged. “I’m off. Checking the guard! I’ll be back for my dinner. Wouldn’t miss that for the world!” He winked at me, tugged Doral by the arm, and they went off, leaving me with Campen.

But I had no wish for a continued lecture on my shortcomings. “Watch out, Campen. She has two sons, you know, and we could all be booted to the upper stories!”

Patently this had not occurred to my eldest brother. As he struggled with the possibility, I made it safely to my snug little inside room.

That evening’s meal was one I do not remember eating, certainly not enjoying. Our dead mother had made courtesy in us such an instinctive reaction that we could not, any of us, be impolite despite that night’s provocation. I had delayed my descent to the Main Hall, so I was rather surprised to find so many of our relations from the second story. The great tables were set up; even my father’s chair sat in place on the dais. Anella had been busy.

“Were you invited?” I asked Uncle Munchaun when he sauntered over to me.

“No, but she’d not know our ways, would she?”

One could count on Uncle Munchaun, not to mention the others, to sense a situation and make sure to witness it firsthand.

“I fear I’ve found nothing of value in my reading thus far,” Uncle continued smoothly. “I’ve set others to the task, as well. Any word from the Halls? I understand you were there today.”

I ignored the thrust. “Master Tirone has returned from that mediation. By the mountain trail.”

“Then he missed the additions to our Hold?”

“He may have. Certainly he missed the guards.”

“I almost wish he hadn’t,” Uncle murmured, a gleam in his eyes. Then he touched my arm warningly and I turned to see Anella, followed by her parents, sweeping into the Great Hall.

Her grand entrance was spoiled by her flaming cheeks and her father’s stumbling pace. The man had not been drunk, I was later informed, but had a crippled foot. But I was in no mood to be charitable or compassionate. He, at least, had the grace to look embarrassed throughout the next few minutes.

Anella, dressed in a heavily embroidered gown totally unsuitable for the mourning of the Hold or for a family dinner, mounted the three steps to the dais and walked firmly to my mother’s chair. Uncle Munchaun’s hand restrained me now.

“Lord Tolocamp wishes me to read this message to you.” Her voice was strident in her effort to be heard and to project her new authority. She unrolled the message and held it up in front of her eyes, which bulged unbecomingly as she shouted at us.

“I, Lord Tolocamp, quarantined from active participation in the conduct of Fort Hold in these unsettled days, appoint and deputize Lady Anella as Lady Holder to ensure the management of the Hold until such time as our desired union can be publicly celebrated. My son, Campen, will actively discharge under my direction any duties required of the Lord Holder until such time as I am no longer immured.