Selfish is the Heart (7 page)

“Oh, no,” Deliberata disagreed, but gently. “It only proves your determination, which is not the same as worth at all. Though we are very glad you’ve made it to us, Annalise, the worth of your presence here has yet to be determined.”

Ah, she was being thoroughly put in her place. Annalise did not bristle. She knew when a bowed head was a better choice than lifted chin. “I’ll do my best.”

“Of course you will. They all do.” Deliberata rapped the desk with her knuckles. “Well. I’m sure you’re tired from your journey, such as it was. Let me ring for someone to show you to your quarters, and we’ll get you situated.”

Startled, Annalise looked up to meet the other woman’s eyes. “That’s it? I’m a Handmaiden?”

“A novitiate,” the Mother corrected, again gently. Annalise wondered if there was ever anything the woman did without quiet grace—and she wondered how long it would take her to learn such a consistent, measured response.

A very long time, she thought, if she were to ever master it at all.

“A novitiate, of course.” Annalise stood when the Mother did. The chair snagged on the rug as she pushed it back and she struggled to shove it without looking like a graceless behemoth. When she looked up, Deliberata was staring with amusement tweaking the corners of her mouth.

“I thought there would be more,” Annalise said in an effort to retain her dignity. “That’s all.”

“There will be plenty more, child, never fear. But not all at once. Nothing worth gaining is ever granted in one piece, you know.”

Annalise could think of much of value that could be gained all at once, but she held her tongue. “I thought I’d be required to prove something of my knowledge, that’s all.”

Lots of people knew, or claimed to know, what Handmaidens did, but Annalise had never met a person who’d secured the services of one. There were stories. There always were. Of the landowner in the next province who’d taken on a Handmaiden to satisfy his every base need left unfulfilled by his lady wife, and how his absolute solace had ended with his death. A relief to his lady wife, to be certain, but not exactly speaking well of the Order of Solace. Other tales were less explicit, mostly whispered, many of the “wink and nudge” variety. Inevitably there seemed to be an element of sexuality involved, which made sense to Annalise. She herself couldn’t imagine a life of sexual dissatisfaction, which was why she’d started this game.

Of how Handmaidens were trained there was far less information. Apparently, having a vision was not enough; or rather perhaps a true vision would have told her all she needed to know. Instead, she’d suffered the advice of well-meaning ignorants. “Go to the Sisterhouse,” she’d been told, and once there had been directed to yet another location. That Handmaidens must be of strong faith and well-versed in religious practice seemed the common assumption, and Annalise had no difficulty providing that.

Now, truthfully, she felt a bit cheated that she’d spent so long in study all her life only to finally be unable to use what she’d been forced to learn to impress the woman in front of her. Deliberata didn’t look like a woman who was easily impressed. Annalise admired that.

Deliberata crossed to the woven cord with the large tassel at the end and pulled it. From somewhere a bell presumably rang, though Annalise heard no sound of it, and the sharp rap on the door followed too quickly for the distance to have been long. A moment later the door cracked open and a blonde head peeked around it.

“Yes, Mother?”

“Tansy, we have a new little sister here with us today. I thought since you’ve not been assigned a roommate you’d welcome the opportunity.”

Tansy had bright hair, full red lips, and blue eyes. She looked as though the top of her head would perhaps reach Annalise’s shoulder, and she clapped her hands together in a glee Annalise would have assumed was feigned if Tansy’s broad grin hadn’t seemed to prove it true.

“Oh, lovely, Mother. Yes. I’d be delighted to share my room with . . . ?”

“Annalise,” she said when the Mother didn’t offer the introduction. “Marony.”

“Tansy Kochendor.” Tansy giggled as if even the sound of her own name amused her.

Annalise bit back a sigh.

“Tansy, please take Annalise to see Sister Precision, so that she may be dispensed a set of uniforms and other supplies, and then show her to the bathing chamber. I’m fair certain she’ll wish to bathe after her journey.”

Again, Tansy clapped her hands and bounced. Yes, bounced on her toes as though she were watching a particularly amusing puppet performance. Laughter might not be prudent in this case, but Annalise couldn’t help the short chuckle that escaped.

“Thank you, Mother. Come along, Annalise. If we hurry, I’ll have time to show you around a bit before evening services!”

Annalise found her hand imprisoned in Tansy’s and the pair of them heading through the office door before she had time to protest. “That’s it?” she asked over her shoulder as Tansy tugged her through the doorway. “Mother Deliberata?”

“We find it best if your first day is spent in acclimation. Tomorrow will dawn early enough for us to determine what place you will hold here. Good day, Annalise. Welcome to the Order of Solace. May you find here what you seek, and may you seek what you find.”

T
he door closed behind them with a solid thud that left no room for argument. Annalise turned to Tansy, who was still bouncing. Annalise took her hand from Tansy’s grip.

“Was this how it was for you, on your first day?”

Tansy’s grin twitched, flattening. “Oh, no. After my parents left—”

“Your parents brought you?” Soft wall hangings muffled the sound of Annalise’s voice, but she minded herself to keep it low and smooth, anyway. This hall had many doors, and she knew not what lay behind any but one of them.

“Oh, yes. When I became of age, my parents brought me. Right up to the doorstep.”

Tansy didn’t look much older than a girl now, and Annalise became conscious of what some might consider her “advanced” age. “How nice for you.”

“Papa had a contribution, of course.”

“Of course,” Annalise said dryly. She understood, now. Tansy was one of those privileged young ladies who’d been sent to finishing school and changed their frocks every season.

“Don’t make it sound that way.” Tansy gestured as she led Annalise down the hall and up a set of narrow stairs that had been hidden behind one of the wall hangings. “I know you think that Papa’s contribution is what gave me my place here, but I can tell you that’s not true.”

“I didn’t assume your father’s money is what gained you entry. The Order takes all who make it to the gates, isn’t that true?”

Tansy faltered at the top of the stairs before moving toward the left-hand hall. “Well, yes. But you wouldn’t be the first to believe that because my parents gave the Order a lot of money I’ve somehow been treated special.”

“Have you?” Annalise was never fond of ignoring questions for the sake of politeness. She looked down the other hall, empty but for some dust motes dancing in the shaft of light from the window at the end.

“I—well—I—” Tansy stuttered and shrugged.

When Annalise caught up to her, the girl’s cheeks had gone a painful shade of pink. “Tansy, if others have accused you of it unfairly, I won’t be one to join them. But if it’s true, it might be best to own the fact rather than pretend it’s false. You needn’t brag on a truth to admit it.”

“I don’t think so,” Tansy whispered after a moment, her head bent before she looked up more fiercely than Annalise expected. “If it’s so, it’s not because I’ve wished for it. My papa granted the Order money toward my room and board, for the cost of keeping me. It could be years before I’m deemed suitable to serve a patron—”

“Or never,” Annalise added in a murmur. “That’s always a possibility.”

Tansy nodded. “Yes. Or never. But I won’t let it be never. My parents would be so saddened, and I couldn’t bear to disappoint them so. But I know it could be a long time before my patron fees would begin to cover the cost of my time here. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with my papa giving the Order a contribution to its coffers.”

That was interesting, that Tansy would be saddened to disappoint her parents should she never become a Handmaiden. “What of your own sadness should you never be determined ready to take a patron?”

Tansy blinked rapidly. “Of course I would be so saddened. It’s just that my papa has made a great effort for my keeping here . . .”

“There are those who believe they can buy their way into the Land Above with boons to the Temple.” Annalise shrugged, unconcerned. “Or upon the backs of others.”

Tansy whirled, blue eyes wide, mouth open. “No! That is not my papa!”

Annalise held up her hands to counter the girl’s alarm. “Your mercy, Tansy. I meant no disrespect to your father.”

Tansy shook her head, her shoulders hunching. “The others . . . there are others here who do. They say I am treated especial because of Papa’s gift, and I know they have reason to think so, but they never see what I’ve earned on my own merit.”

“Perhaps you should be less concerned with what others think of your merit, then.”

Tansy looked over her shoulder, red lips parted. “Mother Consolata said the very same thing to me!”

Consolata, Deliberata. Annalise knew Handmaidens were given new names upon taking their vows, but these were not names. They were characteristics. If chosen for their reference to the personality of the bearer, what name would she be given? She quirked her mouth at the corners.

“Do you mock me?” Tansy stopped in the hall, lined with more doors, these mostly half open with the murmur of voices coming from inside.

“Not at all,” Annalise assured her. “I’m simply finding all of this rather . . . unexpected.”

“There was a Seeker who came here last year. She claimed she had a Calling. She started the training. And yet all she ever did, day start to day end, was poke fun at what we do here.” Tansy’s bright expression dimmed. “She made a mockery of what we do. She was most particularly unpleasant.”

“Did she become a Handmaiden?”

“She was not sent away,” Tansy said with a sniff, but before she could continue, a door at the end of the hall flung open and a trio of young women spilled out.

“The color of this suits my eyes ever so much better,” said the tallest, smoothing the skirt of her dress. “And that gray does bring out the pink of your cheeks, Helena.”

The three paused when they spotted Tansy and Annalise. Helena, clad in gray, nudged the side of her partner wearing dark blue. The tall girl who’d spoken, her gown a deep plum and her hair a rich copper, lifted a brow.

“Tansy.”

“Hello, Perdita. Helena. Wandalette.”

Perdita gave Annalise an up-and-down appraisal. “And you are?”

“New,” Annalise said. This girl was easily six years younger than she. Annalise could have consumed her for breakfast.

Perdita blinked rapidly, but if there was confrontation to be had, it was not going to happen then. Instead she gave Tansy a sly, sideways glance and smoothed her skirts. “I’ve a new gown, Tansy. One provided me by the Order.”

Tansy looked at her own hem. “It’s pretty on you.”

Perdita shrugged as though the compliment, though deserved, was unnecessary. “We’re off to our afternoon faith instruction.”

Tansy snorted softly. “I’m fair certain you’ll enjoy your class, Perdita.”

Helena snickered while the still-silent Wandalette hid a grin behind her hand. Perdita’s mouth twitched, but not kindly. She looked Annalise over again, then bowed her head in a gesture that might have been respectful had it at all smacked of sincerity.

Then the trio set off in a swirl of skirts and giggles.

“Allow me to hasten a guess. Those are the girls who give you difficulty over your father’s generosity?”

Tansy sighed. “They share a room. Helena and Perdita can be . . .”

“Vile?”

“Irritating,” Tansy said. “But Wandalette can be very kind.”

Annalise looked back at them as the young women rounded the corner and disappeared. “I’ve grown beyond the age of posturing. But I suppose some never do.”

Tansy giggled. “Perdita never will. If you ask me, I don’t think she’ll ever be assigned a patron. But I didn’t say that aloud.”

A halo of gray hair above a round, wrinkled face peered around the doorway through which Perdita and her companions had come moments before. “Tansy! Is that the new girl?”

“Yes’m. Come,” she gestured to Annalise. “If we don’t hurry, we won’t have time to put away your things before the evening service.”

“Good day, girl.” The woman in the room put her hands on stout hips. She stood only as high as Annalise’s chest and had to tip her head back to catch a glimpse at her face. “Step you up and let me take your measure.”

Crates and racks all over the room teemed with bolts of fabric and gowns in all shades. Some hung haphazardly over the backs of chairs while others looped on hooks set into the wall. It was as though a dressmaker’s cabinet had exploded. Other tables held jars of buttons, and pincushions bristled with needles adangle with thread.

“Sister Precision,” Tansy said by way of introduction. “This is Annalise.”

“No need for names, girl, just step up on the stool so I might figure your size.”

Annalise did as she was told, but with a laugh. “I’m hardly a girl, Sister.”

Precision snorted. “Anyone is a girl to me any longer. I passed my sixtieth year last month. I’ll not be long denied the Land Above.”

Tansy bit down on her lower lip as though to hold back words, while Annalise looked at the old woman. “My mother’s mother lived until her ninetieth year. You could have a lifetime left on this plane, Sister.”

Precision, who’d been reaching for a pincushion to strap to her wrist, now gave Annalise a lifted brow stare. “Bite your tongue!”