All Fall Down (7 page)

It was Ourrel who explained these things to me, in his quiet yet unflinching way. He was a tall, grave man, a native of Seldd with an impeccable sense of dignity—a far more suitable candidate for steward than dour and heavy-browed Dorus, in my opinion.
 

Ourrel added, “Do not think, Mistress Merys, that we do not know what the rest of the world thinks of us. More than once I have heard his lordship say he wished he had more power to change things, and I am inclined to agree with him. However, if he were to free his slaves wholesale, word would spread quickly enough, and it would cause unrest on the estates of those who see no reason to discontinue the old ways. So we do what we can here to make the lives of those in service not quite so difficult. Perhaps you think it is not enough, but even free men cannot always do as they wish.”

To these revelations I could only nod and murmur that I understood. Whether this was the complete truth or not, I couldn’t say, but Ourrel’s words made me think less harshly of Lord Shaine, and my respect for both men grew as a result.

Of Lord Shaine I saw little, but I supposed that was to be expected. Once he had reassured himself Auren was well on the way to health and that there would be no relapses, I saw him very little in her tower room. His reserve troubled me somewhat, for I could not help but contrast him with my own jovial, good-natured father. However, if I had learned anything over the years, it was that the world possessed as many types of men as it did diseases to lay them low, and I could not judge Lord Shaine simply because of my own personal experience.

 
It was during one of my rounds in the kitchens, a little more than a month after my arrival at the estate, that I made a disturbing discovery. Merime, the head cook, suffered from shortness of breath and chest pain. While her surest remedy would have been to shed some of the twenty-odd stone she carried about every day, I held my tongue on that matter and instead treated her with an infusion of foxglove that had worked very well in the past for patients who had heart conditions.
 

But it was not Merime or her condition that troubled me. She took the medicine with good enough humor and thanked me for it. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the same young slave who had brought the water up to Auren’s chamber skulking in the corner near the hearth. He had the sort of hangdog, half-guilty expression of one who does not want to attraction attention yet at the same time desperately craves it.

I noticed immediately the blue-black bruises on his upper arms beneath the short sleeves of the dark linen tunic he wore, a garment far too skimpy for the chilly late autumn weather, even if he spent most of his time in the considerably warmer confines of the kitchen. Then my eye was drawn to the pinched, frightened look on his face, the shadows under his eyes that were almost as black as the bruises on his arms.

“You there!” I called, using the common tongue, for I was fairly certain he had come here as a captive, as had I. “Please come over here for a moment.”

He looked as if he wanted to bolt but instead took a few halting steps in my direction.
 

“What’s your name?” I asked, for it was obvious he would not speak unless addressed first.
 

He jabbed his toe into the stone floor, staring down at the ground and avoiding my eyes.

“You speak when you’re spoken to, boy,” scolded Merime, who had been looking on with some bemusement, as if she couldn’t comprehend why I was bothering with a young man who didn’t seem to be in any immediate need of medical attention.

“Raifal, mistress,” he answered, looking as if he very much wished to be someplace else.

“How did you get those bruises on your arms?” I inquired, already fairly certain of the answer…or at least the answer he would try to fob off on me.

“I’m clumsy,” he said, his voice a dull monotone, as if repeating an oft-recited but not entirely understood lesson. “I bang into things.”

I wanted to retort that no one was that clumsy, but I knew I would have to tread carefully here. “As a healer, I’ve seen a lot of bumps and bruises. But it seems a little odd to me that you would only have bruises on one part of your arms if you’re continually bumping into things.”

He looked stricken then, his jaw tightening even as he glanced away from me. His gaze flickered for a second toward Merime, and he hung his head, remaining silent.

Obviously he would say nothing else in front of the cook, and I couldn’t very well ask her to leave her own kitchen. The spacious pantry immediately behind me seemed the most convenient solution.

I unlatched the door and indicated that he should follow me inside. Merime raised an eyebrow at me but said nothing; I had earned her goodwill by easing the pain of her heart condition, and at least at the moment she seemed inclined to trust me...which was more than I could say for Raifal. He entered the dim, herb-scented room with me, but the whites of his eyes showed in the semi-darkness, reminding me of a frightened horse about to bolt.

Pitching my voice low, just in case Merime should decide to press an ear to the pantry door to hear what transpired within, I asked, “Who has been hurting you, Raifal? I want to help you, but I can’t if I don’t know what the situation is.”

Again that tightening of the jaw, but I could also see his lower lip tremble. He was, after all, very young, fifteen or an under-grown sixteen. “He said if I told anyone he’d kill me.”

I willed myself to stay calm. But I had seen this kind of abuse before. The bruises on Raifal’s upper arms were just the sort left by a pair of man’s hands as they grasped an unwilling victim. Choosing my words with care, I asked, “Has he hurt you...other ways?”
 

Silence, and a quick averting of his eyes, was my only reply.

His lack of response was answer enough. Fighting the sick anger that rose in me, I then said, “Raifal, I can’t make him stop if I don’t know who it is.”

“You can’t make him stop,” he answered, his voice thick with rage and unspent tears. “No one can.” He gave me a contemptuous look. “Who would listen to you? You’re just another slave, just like the rest of us.”

The words were a slap in the face, but I forced myself to remember that he was angry and afraid, and had most likely suffered the very worst sort of abuse. “Yes, but I’m also the slave who healed Lord Shaine’s daughter,” I replied. “That gives me an advantage, don’t you think?”

He said nothing, but gave a small lift of his shoulders. Not exactly encouraging, but at least it wasn’t an outright denial.
 

Hardening my voice slightly, I said, “And if you say nothing, what then? Do you think he’ll ever stop?”

The boy’s hands balled into fists, another indication of the impotent anger he must surely be feeling. Then he whispered, “No.”

“Then let me help you. That’s what I’ve been trained to do. But I can’t do anything if I don’t know who your tormentor is.”

“Do you—you promise if I tell, then you’ll get him to stop?”

I took a breath as I felt the relief sweep over me. “I promise, Raifal.” Even as I said the words I worried that I might not be able to uphold my vow—but what else could I do? Without information, I was as helpless as he.

He was silent for a long moment, obviously torn by worry and guilt. I wanted to lay a soothing hand on his arm, but I guessed he would spurn my offer of comfort. For someone who had suffered the way he had, a touch would only be cause for further torment. Instead, I only waited in agonized silence, wondering what on earth I would do if he refused to offer up the name of his abuser.

But then he said, so softly I could barely catch the words, “It is Dorus.”

Anger washed over me, so intense and sudden that I knew if the steward had suddenly appeared before me, I could have killed him with my bare hands, I who had sworn a vow to preserve life at all costs. As much as I wanted to give in to my rage, though, I knew I must remain calm at all costs.
 

“It was very brave of you to tell me, Raifal,” I said, before the silence could grow too terrible. “Can you try to stay out of the steward’s way for a while so that I can go find Lord Shaine and speak with him?”

He swallowed and then nodded. “Mostly he would come for me in the night, anyway. Merime needs me to fetch the meat for dinner from the smokehouse—that will keep me away for a while.”

“Good,” I said, and pushed open the door to the pantry.
 

Merime stood at the large scrubbed oak table in the center of the kitchen, chopping leeks, but I could see the avid curiosity in her light blue eyes.
 

Ignoring her gaze, I said, “Run along to the smokehouse, Raifal.”

The boy all but bolted from the kitchen, gratefully accepting the opportunity for flight I had given him.

I turned to the cook. “Merime, do you know where I might find Lord Shaine?”

She lifted her fat shoulders. “Am I his lordship’s keeper? At this hour—possibly riding the fields. Or he could be in his study.”

It was little help, but I knew she was right. I had assumed she might know a little more of his movements simply because of her lengthy tenure in the household, but in truth Merime rarely ventured forth from her culinary domain. Dorus would most likely know where to find Lord Shaine, but of course the steward was the last man on earth with whom I wished to speak at the moment.

If his lordship were in fact riding the fields, surveying as his slaves brought in the last of the flax harvest, then I was definitely out of luck. My exalted status had given me free run of the castle and its outbuildings, but I most certainly would not be allowed to take a horse from the stables, and given the estates’ vast acreage, I could walk from now until the end of the week and still not locate Lord Shaine.

But he could be in his study, and it would not seem out of place for me to seek him there, especially since the chamber was located in the same tower as Auren’s room, and my own as well. I made my way across the great hall, noting as I did so an unusual bustle. Several slaves were in the process of mopping the stone floor, and the hangings had been taken down, presumably to be removed to the courtyard for a good beating. Obviously his lordship expected guests this evening. I was surprised Auren hadn’t said anything to me about having visitors, since she usually managed to keep me informed of the goings-on about the castle, but perhaps she was unaware of the impending festivities as well.

I wondered uneasily whether this was the most appropriate time to be confronting Lord Shaine. Surely the news I had to impart would be most unwelcome. But I had promised Raifal I would do everything I could to help him, and better that I should see Lord Shaine now, while the hot anger still burning in my breast gave me the courage to bring up such an unpleasant topic.

Never before had the steps up to the first landing where his lordship’s study was located seemed so short. I paused for a long moment outside the door, gathering my breath. Then I lifted my hand and knocked.

A moment of waiting silence that seemed to go on forever, and at last I heard Lord Shaine’s voice from inside. He spoke in Selddish, of course, but even I could understand the simple command. “Enter.”

No help for it, then—I had not been given the luxury of delay by his absence. I lifted the latch and entered the room, hoping that I didn’t look overly flustered.

He seemed somewhat surprised to see me. The level brows lifted for a second, but he said evenly enough, in the common tongue, “Mistress Merys. Is there a problem with my daughter?”

For a second I just stared back at him, and then I shook my head. Of course—what reason would I have to disturb him in his study, other than something to do with Auren?

“No, my lord. She is well. I believe she is out enjoying a short walk through the herb garden with her maid.” These short excursions were something I encouraged, once I had determined the leg was healing well and that Auren would not be overtaxing the limb by walking on it. Now that the muscle had begun to knit itself together, it was important for her to keep it from atrophying.

Lord Shaine laid aside the quill he had been holding and regarded me with a frown. “What is it, then?”

Now that the moment had come, a horrible awkwardness seemed to take possession of me. Suddenly I felt as I had at my first “grown-up” dance, when I was taller than most of the boys by a head, and my feet had seemed huge. For some reason, I couldn’t decide what to do with my hands, so I let them hang by my sides, feeling as useless as the rest of me did.

I cleared my throat. “My lord, I would not have disturbed you if this weren’t a matter of the gravest importance—”

“Well, what is it?”

Nothing in his face or manner indicated anything except an impatience to hear what I had to say and be done with it. I supposed I should be glad that he hadn’t simply ordered me out of his study once he realized my presence there had nothing to do with his daughter.
 

“It’s about one of the servant boys—Raifal.”

Lord Shaine’s face remained expressionless. I wondered whether he even knew Raifal by name. “Yes?”

 
There being no easy way to say it, I decided to just give him the simple truths of the matter, not couched in euphemism or polite words that would soften the ugliness of the situation. “He’s being abused by your steward.” Somehow I could not bring myself to say Dorus’ name.
 

The slightest tremor seemed to go through Lord Shaine’s frame, but if I had not been watching him carefully, I probably would not have even noticed it. When he spoke, the words came slowly, as if he considered each one with care before he uttered it. “That is quite an accusation. Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because the boy told me so himself.” I waited for a response from Lord Shaine, got none, and pressed on. “My lord, I noticed the boy when I was down in the kitchen, attending to Merime. His arms are black and blue between the shoulder and the elbow. I spoke with him in private, and he finally confessed to me that it was your steward who had used him so—and worse.” I took a breath to collect myself; the previous words had tumbled out of me like a stream in spate. Then I added, “He also told me that Dorus threatened to kill him if he ever told anyone about the abuse.”