Untalented (9 page)

“And neither do we.”

Loric’s hand resumed its insistent tapping. “She mustn’t slip through our grasp. First—we must ferret out everything there is to know about this Martezha before Urdig does. Time for another emissary to Adram Vale. And time for a new ally.”

In the morning, Saroya sat slumped on the bed and stared at her feet without seeing them, ignoring Nalini’s soft snores. Queen’s daughter. Untalented. She couldn’t reconcile the two.

She moved her saddlebag over to the window so as not to wake Nalini and rummaged inside for her leather letter sheaf. She removed the small piece of parchment and frowned in frustration. Veshwa. Six little letters on which hinged her fate. “Loyal servant of Veyle.” What did that mean? Had her mother written the note? Or had Veshwa? Saroya knew two things: Veshwa was a woman, and that conniving little sow Martezha knew nothing about her. Was she a servant here in U’Veyle Castle? Or someone the queen knew from elsewhere? Saroya shrugged. She had a place to start. Martezha would never see her coming.

A knock at the door startled her. Nalini rubbed a sleepy hand across her eyes and sat up. Saroya opened the door to find Master Guffin waiting.

“The guildmasters will arrive shortly.” He addressed Nalini. “Mistress Ferlen, you are to present yourself in the reception hall in one hour. Please have your bags packed.”

He turned to Saroya, his face stern. Saroya gave him an uncertain look. Had Callor spoken with him after all?

“I understand you have no guild, Mistress Bardan.”

That was the polite way to put it. Then it hit her—Guffin, as a servant, although an elevated one, was probably an Untalent too. She nodded.

“If you wish, we have prepared a place for you with the staff of U’Veyle Castle. You must have impressed Captain Callor. He arranged it when you arrived. You will start at the bottom, but be given any necessary training.”

Saroya felt Nalini sidle up to her and nudge her with her hip.

“I am grateful for the offer, Master Guffin. It’s a good one, for someone like me. But I will only take it on one condition.” Nalini squeaked beside her.

Guffin raised an eyebrow. “You are not in a good negotiating position but go on.”

“I’d like to stay away from Martezha.”

“Why?”

“I’d rather not discuss it. In Adram Vale, we were never friends, and …” She trailed off. “I just can’t be in service to her, that’s all.”

Master Guffin looked surprised but not put out. “Very well. I do not know if she will remain at the castle, but I won’t place you among her handmaidens—you’re too inexperienced. The stable staff is more appropriate. Callor told me you handled horses well. Collect your things, and I will take you to your quarters after I’ve seen the other students off to their guilds.” He left them to their packing. So she hadn’t escaped the stables after all. Maybe castle manure smelled better.

Saroya wasn’t sure how, but Nalini managed to look glum and excited all at once.

“I guess this means goodbye,” Nalini said.

“You won’t be going far, will you? I can visit you at the guildhall on my free days—if I have any. We can write to each other if you wind up somewhere outside the city.”

“I can’t promise I’ll be able to help, but if you ever need anything, you’ll come see me, right?”

“I could have used your help last night,” Saroya countered.

Hurt shadowed Nalini’s eyes. “Please don’t.”

“How did you expect me to feel? It was the one time when I needed you to be there for me.”

“If I hadn’t been completely sure, it would have come out at some point and then we’d both be in bigger trouble.”

“Do you always have to be such an honest prig?” Nalini looked so offended that Saroya immediately regretted her words. But Nalini hadn’t just lost her family to theft. “I lied for you!”

“When?”

“That time your parents came to visit. You begged me not to tell them about your healing classes.”

“That was different. And it wasn’t even really a lie. It was avoiding the truth.”

“So it’s fine when your life is at stake, but not the other way around? Thanks for nothing.” Identifying the ring as hers wasn’t even a real lie. Not if it supported the truth. But she wouldn’t win this argument with Nalini. Approaching Callor had taken all Saroya’s courage. Could she really expect quiet little Nalini to rise to such an occasion? Still. Nalini
knew
the ring belonged to her. “Whatever. Have it your way.”

“I don’t want us to say goodbye like this. Stay strong.”

“I’ll be fine. I just have to stay out of Martezha’s way. She’ll want me as far from here as possible.”

“It’ll all work out in the end. You’ll expose her for the little thief she is. I can’t believe you’re a princess.”

Nalini reached out to squeeze her hand, but Saroya avoided the touch, still upset. “It won’t do me any good unless I can prove it to someone. It may not mean anything even then.”

“Why not?”

“An Untalent on the throne? Not likely.”

Saroya took stock of her new quarters. A narrow bed hugged the wall, with folded sheets and blankets atop a lumpy pillow. Two other beds lined the other two walls. Each bed had a nightstand at its head, and a small chest at its foot. Hooks lined the wall over the beds, her hooks empty, tunics and livery hanging from the others. A ceiling lantern provided feeble illumination—the small window in the corner let in little light. A whiff of hay and manure filtered in from the stables below.

She dropped her saddlebags on the chest and took the stack of clothing from Mistress Weeda.

“These will do you until you are fitted,” the head of the castle servants said. “See the seamstress on your first free day.” Mistress Weeda sized her up with an appraising eye. She pursed her thin lips then shook a bony finger at Saroya. “We punish laziness and impertinence here—how we treat you is up to you. Follow me. I’ll show you where to find your meals.” Mistress Weeda led her to the kitchens, where a flustered cook and several scullery maids met them. Saroya had never seen a kitchen so clean. A chorus of voices clamored for Mistress Weeda’s attention.

“It wasn’t my fault—”

“I told you berry sugar—”

“Ruined, just ruined, what’ll they be having for dessert now?”

Saroya gaped as Mistress Weeda sorted out the whole sorry mess then herded her out of the kitchen. “Always a crisis with that lot.”

“Mistress Weeda, may I ask a question?”

“Be swift about it. The stable awaits.”

“Have you ever heard of a castle servant named Veshwa?”

“I’m afraid not. If such a person ever worked here, it was before my time. Now, off to the stable with you. The head groom’s expecting you.” She bustled away in search of another problem to fix.

Saroya grunted in disappointment. Finding this Veshwa would not be so easy after all.

“Lord Dorn, are you implying that King Urdig is intentionally concealing an Untalented child in a bid to retain power?”

Daravela, High Eminence of the Order of Adepts, stared at Loric. Though she kept her expression neutral, he could tell his words had shocked her to the core. She was known for her shrewdness, though, and he didn’t doubt that she’d already analyzed the implications and potential opportunity for the Order.

 
“No. I don’t believe he knows of the other child, Eminence,” said Loric.

“Do you have proof of her identity?”

“It is only a matter of time before I do.”

“Then why come to the Order with this information now?”

“I propose an alliance. The support of the Order in exchange for certain powers I will be in position to grant once I gain the throne.”

“What makes you think you can unseat Urdig?” Daravela steepled her fingers.

“Once we unmask this girl, Urdig can be made to look complicit. Failing that, he looks like a fool. Taken alone, not enough to bring him down. But combined with his reaction to a few crises I intend to manufacture …” Loric leaned forward, leaving the thought hanging. Through the window behind Daravela, he saw gray-clad Adepts sitting on the lawns below, surrounded by clusters of teaching apprentices.

“And in return?” Daravela asked.

“The Order gets a seat in the Great Circle of Houses. Full voting rights.”

“And a seat for each guild.”

“Impossible.”

Daravela stared him down.

Loric grimaced. The Houses would fight dilution of their power. He’d need to call in all his favors. Finally he inclined his head. “Very well. Guild seats, too. I can count on your discretion?”

Daravela nodded. She pressed gnarled hands onto the armrests of her chair, and seemed to will herself upright. Loric studied her as she shambled to the window and her gaze settled onto the distant pink stones of the castle. All the eminences preceding her had failed in their attempts to consolidate the Order’s power after the Great Plague. Power he’d now placed within her grasp. He hoped he wouldn’t regret it.

Daravela summoned her assistant. “Contact the doyenne in Adram Vale. She is to assist Lord Dorn’s inquiries and then relay all information to the Order here in U’Veyle. Any other requests regarding either Martezha Baghore or Saroya Bardan are to be deflected. Any requests. Including royal ones.”

“You know this borders on treason,” Loric said.

“A calculated risk. Something bothers me about this Untalent in the Roshan family line.” Daravela turned back to the assistant. “And bring me all records of House Roshan Testings for the past three generations. Tell no one.”

Saroya scratched her nose, leaving a smear of grain dust across her cheek. She puffed a strand of hair away from her face as she poured the oats into the trough. The head groom had no use for her as a trainer, and put her to work feeding the horses and mucking out stalls, muttering “those that gets foisted on me best not expect the pretty jobs.” Saroya wasn’t yet trusted to ride, but so much tack needed cleaning, with all the leather to soap and metal bits to polish, that her day was full.

The feeding and stalls were her job when she first rose prior to dawn. If a large party of guards returned from a long patrol, she could spend her whole day in the barn, currying, combing, and settling the animals, never seeing the sun. She’d get back to her room in the early evening, sweaty and dusted with hay or smeared with muck. Her hair absorbed a semi-permanent odor of manure and saddle soap.