The Truth-Teller's Tale (11 page)

I wanted to, of course. But it would not be such an easy thing to do. “Oh—I don't know,” I said. “There's so much to do to prepare for Summermoon! It's a very rare night our parents can spare both of us together.”

“Then come by yourself,” Edgar said.

I laughed. “I don't think that's likely to happen.”

“I'll give you passes,” he pressed. “Good for any night. Come whenever you like.”

“We'll see,” I said.

I could have stood there for hours listening to him beg for my attendance, but just then a man swept the curtain back and called out. “Edgar! Someone back here looking for you! Says it's important.”

Edgar spread his hands dramatically as if conceding there were powers that could not be ignored. “It seems I must go,” he said, digging into his pocket and pulling out a few scraps of paper. “The passes. I hope you will use them.” He bowed again, kissed his hands to me, and with incomparable grace skipped down the bleachers and back onto the stage.

Well. I could not help a sigh.

“What a wonderful night,” I said, as Adele and I more cautiously made our way out of the stands. “And didn't you think Edgar was just the handsomest man?”

“Indeed I did,” she agreed.

“And charming?”

“He has so much charm it's criminal,” she said.

“And he's a very fine actor, too,” I added. “Even in such a silly play. I wonder what the historical play is like. More serious, I would suppose. I wish I could see him in that.”

“You might be able to get away one night.”

“Yes, but I couldn't go alone!”

“I'm sure Roelynn would find a way to join you.”

Oh, yes, Roelynn would be the perfect companion for a trip to the theater to swoon over a dashing young actor. But. “Yes, but Roelynn is so much more beautiful than I am! And wealthy and delightful. What if Edgar liked her more than he liked me?”

Adele smiled. “I imagine Edgar meets many young women at least as delightful as Roelynn on a pretty regular basis. If you can't feel easy introducing him to your friend while you're standing there watching, you could hardly relax a moment once he was out of your sight meeting fetching young women all over the kingdom.”

That made me frown. I did not like the picture she conjured up of Edgar going from town to town, dallying with all the prettiest girls. Not that I didn't realize it was true. I just didn't like to think about it. “Well, maybe I won't take Roelynn,” I said a little childishly.

“Oh, why not? Isn't she all caught up in some intrigue of her own right now? The sailor Micah introduced her to—the one who's working on one of her father's ships?”

I cheered up instantly. “Yes! She talked about him for hours last time we saw her. She wouldn't be interested in Edgar. Anyway, Edgar wouldn't be interested in her. I mean, he's not even interested in me, really. He's just flirting. It doesn't mean anything.”

“It means he finds you attractive,” she said. “That's always nice to know.”

“Yes, and isn't he just the handsomest man?” I said again. I went through all the adjectives one more time as we walked down the dark and mostly empty streets of Merendon. Adele agreed to them all:
charming
and
entertaining
and
talented
and
worldly.
And just as we'd rounded the corner on our street, and the inn with all its lighted windows was only a block away, I said, “And you really liked him, didn't you?” and she said, “Yes, I did.”

And I stopped dead and peered at her in the dark because I could tell she was lying.

She stared back at me, her face impassive, and neither of us spoke for at least a minute. And then I said, in a much different tone of voice, “Why don't you like him?”

She looked as if she was considering another lie, but then sort of shrugged and gave it up. “Because he's handsome and charming and delightful, and I think he's probably the most faithless man in the kingdom. And I don't know why he would find it amusing to romance a fifteen-year-old girl, when he's obviously twenty-five or more. I suspect his motives and distrust his honor.” She shrugged again.

I was absolutely furious. “How can you say such terrible things? You don't know anything about him! He could be the kindest man in the world! You don't like him because he's an actor—and you're a snob, you're like Mother and Father and even Roelynn's father, you think people have to have some kind of respectable, boring profession to be worthwhile—”

She tried to interrupt me numerous times. “I didn't say that—I didn't say any of that—well,
you're
the one who's usually more judgmental than I am, so this is just a little funny—” I wouldn't let her complete a sentence. I wouldn't listen to what she had to say. I put my hands over my ears and ran the last few yards to the inn. Then I yanked the door open and darted upstairs, past my mother, who stood there gaping at me. I dashed into the room and flung myself on the bed before I remembered that this was Adele's room, too. Then I jumped up, locked the door, and threw myself back on the bed and cried for an hour.

I suppose Adele spent the night in one of the guest rooms or on the sofa in the parlor downstairs. She didn't even come upstairs and twist the handle on the door. I have no idea what she told our parents. Certainly nothing about Edgar, because they didn't come seeking me out the next day to tell me in no uncertain terms to have nothing to do with such a man. No, Adele was a Safe-Keeper, not one to tell other people's stories.

But I did not appreciate her discretion. I could not forgive her for the things she had said the night before. From that day until Summermoon, I went out of my way to avoid speaking to her at all. You would have thought this would have been difficult, particularly as there was no way to bar her from her own room after that one night, and we spent the next three weeks sleeping only a few feet apart. But Adele had a great gift for silence. If you did not want to talk to her, that was perfectly fine with her. She never felt the necessity of initiating any conversation at all.

So I did not tell her how my romance with Edgar progressed. I did not tell her how, so many days when my mother sent me out on errands, I was able to swing by the southern edge of town and visit the Harst & Hope Regional Traveling Troupe. I did not tell her about the night Roelynn and I went to see
Rebecca's Revenge
, and stayed nearly two hours after the performance had ended, while I flirted with Edgar, and Roelynn quickly established friendly relations with the young man who handled horses and heavy lifting for the actors. I did not tell her about the stolen kisses, the quick embraces, the whispered pleas for me to stay another minute, another hour, there's a little room right behind the stage where we could be quite private. . . .

I told no one but Roelynn that I had agreed to meet him very late on Summermoon, after
Killed by a Kiss
had closed and all the chores at the inn were done. I knew that no one would miss me till very late the following morning, for Mother and Father would sleep in, and Adele, if she did not sleep late, would see my empty bed and assume I had risen early. I thought it would be my one chance to find out if he truly loved me, as he said he did. I wanted to know, but I did not want anyone else to know about my desperate assignation.

I had learned to be my own Safe-Keeper. I found I rather liked it. There is nothing so exhilarating as a secret, particularly a dangerous one. Nothing so exhilarating . . . and nothing so deadly.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Summermoon is such a different celebration from Wintermoon. Much more lighthearted and frivolous, full of activities and distractions. Wintermoon is a time to think about the months past and what you would like to leave behind, and to look forward to the year ahead and plan to make better use of your time. Wintermoon is a time for reflection and soul-searching and coming to terms with your dreams. Summermoon is simply about delight.

 

 

Our entire street had been decorated with ribbons and pennants and floral wreaths since the week preceding the holiday. Restaurants set out chairs on the sidewalks, and minstrels strolled by. It was said that the city beggars earned half their year's income on Summermoon alone, for generous (and often drunken) revelers would toss them dozens of coins as they passed by. The Leaf & Berry was full of guests, some rooms holding two or three more people than the accommodations usually allowed, and there was so much work to do that I had very little time to enjoy the pleasures of the festival. But everyone was in such a good mood that it was hard to complain about the extra sheets to wash, the extra food to prepare, the additional cleaning that had to be done to keep the front parlor looking inviting.

Besides, I knew that once midnight rolled around on Summermoon, my responsibilities would be done, and I could creep out the back door and head down to the edge of town for my romantic tryst with my handsome actor.

“Are you really going to meet him tomorrow?” Roelynn whispered to me the afternoon before that much-anticipated day. She had come to the inn with Micah to collect some of our guests, who would be attending dinner at her father's house that evening. Karro's house was quite large, but his circle of acquaintances was even larger, and he could not accommodate them all overnight.

“Yes, I am,” I said. “I'm going to wear that dress you lent me—you know, all gauze and pink ribbons. I've hidden it in the back of my armoire.”

“And are you going to—when you're alone with him, are you going to—” She hesitated, saw my scowl, and plunged forward. “Are you going to allow him to make love to you?”

“No,” I said right away. And then, “I don't know. I haven't decided. I'm not sure that's what he wants.”

“Oh, I'm certain that it is,” she said in a knowing tone of voice. “But is that what
you
want? You should know now, before you meet him, so that you aren't tricked or coerced into doing something you don't intend to do.”

“Tricked! Coerced! What kind of opinion do you have of him, anyway?” I demanded.

She shrugged. “Persuaded, then. You know what I mean. You should not allow the excitement of the moment to cause you to do something you don't want to do.”

“I never do what I don't want to do,” I said.

“Well, not usually,” she replied. “But with a man—particularly with a man like Edgar—it's different. Sometimes your will is not as strong as you'd like. Just be sure that what you do is what
you
want to do.”

I was so annoyed with her that I couldn't wait for Micah to reappear with the guests in tow. “And have you sometimes been tricked and coerced into doing things you didn't want to do?” I snapped.

She nodded, looking sad. “I have.”

Now I stared, and my whole attitude changed. “Roelynn! Tell me!”

“Oh—not now—it was a while ago. But it won't happen to me again. So promise me you'll be careful tomorrow, Eleda. Promise me.”

“You make it sound like I'm going to an execution, not a rendezvous.”

“I just want you to be happy.”

We had no time to talk anymore because now, when I least wanted them to appear, Micah and the guests came out the front door. Roelynn hurried over to greet them in her best rich-man's-daughter voice, and I went back inside. I was instantly drawn into the day's calamity—a dinner roast ruined, should we substitute with baked chicken or perhaps another meat pie?—and didn't have another minute to think about Roelynn or my own situation until nearly midnight.

When I fell into bed and instantly tumbled into sleep, I did have one final thought before dreams overtook me:
Tomorrow at this time I will be with the man I love.

 

 

I woke the next morning feeling as if someone had scraped out my stomach with a trowel. My guts clenched and twisted with a sort of quivering horror, like a housekeeper who'd spotted a mouse in her kitchen and shook from an excess of revulsion. I managed to stagger up and dress myself, but after my third visit to the chamber pot, I could not move again. I lay myself gingerly on my bed and prayed for the world to end.

My mother found me about an hour later when she came bursting into my room in a fit of temper. “Eleda! What are you doing still in bed? There are the breakfast dishes to be done and the lunch to be started, not to mention the cakes and pastries to be prepared for tonight—”

One more word about food and I certainly would have vomited right at her feet, but just then her voice stopped, and she fluttered across the room. “What is it? Are you sick? Oh, poor thing, look at you, you're as white as milk.” More food references. I actually groaned. She put her hand on my forehead. “A fever? Maybe, a little one. I can't tell. When did you get sick? Last night?”

“This morning,” I whispered.

She made a
tsk
ing noise. “Oh, dear. Let's see. I can—I can send Adele to Mary Percy and see if she can help out this afternoon—and then I can send your sister up to take care of you—”

“I don't need taking care of,” I managed. “I just want to lie here and die.”

She laughed very softly. “Yes, no doubt, but
I
don't want you to die. And on Summermoon! How sad to die on such a happy day. Have you been able to keep anything down? Water? Shall I bring you some tea? Come on, let's get you out of these clothes and into your sleeping shift—”

She fussed over me another twenty minutes or so, easing me out of my day clothes and back under the sheets. There is really nothing like having your mother nearby when you're sick to make you feel as if the world is not quite such a miserable place. She was so busy she would scarcely have time to wash her own face and braid her own hair, yet she stayed beside me long enough to do both those chores for me, and then kissed me on the cheek.