Dark Moon Defender (Twelve Houses) (26 page)
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Authors: Sharon Shinn
BOOK: Dark Moon Defender (Twelve Houses)
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Paulina snorted. “Yes, and all young women are encouraged to be demure, but how many wayward girls do you know? I’ve come across plenty in my day. I was just wondering how to account for your time. I could help you, if you like.” Ellynor gave her a swift, hopeful look, and the old lady burst out laughing. “Oho, so there is somebody, isn’t there? I thought there was.”
“I met this man only once before,” Ellynor told her. Half of her wanted to keep the secret, half of her wanted to spill the tale, share some of her excitement and fear. She was being recklessly honest with this old woman on so many topics; she would be in dire trouble if the serramarra decided to repeat a word. “He seemed—I like him so much—I didn’t know if I would ever get a chance to see him again.”
“He’s here in Neft?” Paulina asked. Ellynor nodded. “Hmm. That shouldn’t be too hard. I have errands I will insist that only you can run. Jenetta will think it improper but she won’t mind if you don’t squawk about it. Her own servants have their hands full keeping up with her orders.”
“I would be happy to run errands for you, serra.”
“Well, give me a few moments. I’ll think of something I’m dying to have. And, here, eat the rest of this bread. Now, what do I want?”
He must have hoped to see her again.
Still, she felt the pressure building up around her heart as she approached the stables where he worked. How did you talk to a man coolly by daylight once you had gazed on him by starlight? How would he seem different? How would she?
She hesitated a moment, then pushed open the wide door and went in. Instantly she was surrounded by the rich smell of horse and hay. From the direction of the stalls, she could hear the sounds of animals shifting, snorting, and nervously pawing at the ground. No one was in the front area where new arrivals were received.
She took a deep breath. “Justin?” she called, and pushed through the connecting double doors. A few broad, curious faces swung over the gates to investigate her, the big liquid eyes looking wise and kind. She knew better, though; horses could be skittish and stupid, though she had a fondness for the ones she regularly rode back home. She patted a few noses as she moved down the row of stalls toward a back door open to a small corral. “Justin?”
He came striding through the door, a bucket of water in each hand, and almost dropped them both as he saw her. “Ellynor!” he exclaimed, setting down his burdens and hurrying up to place his hands on both her shoulders. His eyes had not yet made the transition from sunlight to shadowy interior; he bent down to examine her as if she was hard to see. “Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing. My patient sent me out to run some errands and made it clear I didn’t have to hurry back, so I thought—I’m probably interrupting you, I’m sure you have work to do—”
“Always work to do at a place like this,” he said with a grin. “But give me a few minutes and I’ll take a break. Sit here and talk to me while I water the horses.”
Obediently she dropped onto a rough bench in the middle of the aisle. “I don’t suppose you have any food,” she said. “I ate off of serra Paulina’s breakfast plate, but I missed lunch.”
He was emptying the bucket into a trough, but he glanced back at her. “We could go to the Golden Boar for something to eat,” he said. “There’s even a restaurant that’s a little nicer, though nothing like the places you’d find in Ghosenhall. I’ve got plenty of money if you don’t.”
“I passed some of those places the other day!” she exclaimed. “People just go there? To eat? Food that someone else made for them?”
He laughed. “What part of the world do you live in that there aren’t taverns and restaurants?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, he just went on, as if there had been no break in the conversation. “Not sure what the Lestra would think about that, though. One of her novices dining out in public with a strange man.”
“Not to mention my brothers.”
“They’re farther away. And anyway, here in Neft no one has to know
who
you are to realize
what
you are. Everyone knows the novice’s robes.”
who
you are to realize
what
you are. Everyone knows the novice’s robes.”
Ellynor glanced down at her white skirt, feeling mutinous and resentful. He was right. Anyone would recognize her, and no one would think it was appropriate for a Daughter of the Pale Mother to be consorting with a stablehand in a public place. “I don’t have any other clothes with me,” she said in a brooding voice. “Even back at the convent, I only have the clothes I wore when I made the journey here.”
Justin hunkered down next to her, shaking his sandy hair back from his face. He was grinning, and his brown eyes were full of mischief. “Well, I don’t think you’d fit in my clothes, but Delz—man who owns the stables—he’s pretty small. There’s an old shirt of his in here, a pair of pants. You’d have to belt them up tight, but—”
She stared at him a minute, unable to believe her ears. Dress up like a
man
? To go out dining in
public
? Shaming herself, her
sebahta
, and her religious order? He had to be joking. “Nobody would do such a thing,” she said faintly.
man
? To go out dining in
public
? Shaming herself, her
sebahta
, and her religious order? He had to be joking. “Nobody would do such a thing,” she said faintly.
Again, that touch of deviltry in his smile. “I know some women who would. Your brothers wouldn’t like it, though.”
“No, I suppose they wouldn’t!”
He immediately looked repentant. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I can go fetch us something to eat and bring it back.”
“You were
serious
? Not just teasing me?”
serious
? Not just teasing me?”
“A little teasing. A little serious. But I don’t want you to—”
“How would we do it? What about my hair? Do you really think anybody would be fooled?”
He tilted his head back, assessing her. She thought he was trying to gauge if she was angry, if she was feeling reckless, if she would later regret any rash action embarked on now. Ellynor herself was flushed with exhilaration, sparkling with rebellion. She couldn’t believe it, couldn’t
believe
she was considering such a thing.
believe
she was considering such a thing.
Couldn’t believe how much she wanted to do it. What an adventure in a life that had held so little!
Justin had no idea how flattered she was that he would even make her the offer, believe that she had the nerve and desire to carry off such a wild masquerade. Would be willing to make her a partner in such a lark. Would give her the chance to take such a risk.
“Got a cap I wear on cold days—you could shove your hair up under that. You’re so small and your skin’s so smooth. Everyone will think you’re my little brother. Just don’t say much. Oh, and let me see your shoes.”
She lifted the hem of her robe. Plain and sturdy boots, good for walking. She’d worn them for the trip in from the convent and forgotten to bring any others. Justin nodded.
“Those’ll do. Let’s get you changed.” He stood, then hesitated a moment, looking down at her. “Only if you want to. Don’t let me talk you into something that’s going to make you hate me later.”
She rose, the motion almost turning her dizzy. Or maybe it was the emotion. The excitement. The blissful terror. “I won’t hate you. Now I have to do it or I’ll hate myself forever for the missed chance.”
In fifteen minutes, she was transformed. Delz’s clothes were too big on her, but they helped hide her figure and left her looking, or so Justin said, like an underfed urchin. She had to rely on his assurance that she could pass for a boy, since there was no mirror here for her to check. Still, she had trusted him this far; accepting his assurance on this point was a minor act of faith. The knit cap fit rather sloppily over her coiled braids, and Justin adjusted it so it covered her ears, tucking a strand of hair back in place.
“You look like you’re about twelve,” he said. “Just keep that wide-eyed expression on your face and everyone will think this is your first time in from the country.”
“It may as well be,” she retorted.
“And don’t talk too much, at least to anyone but me. I’ll order for us. What do you like to eat?”
“What are my choices?”
They discussed possible menu items during the short walk to the Golden Boar—a taproom where, Justin said, her somewhat disreputable appearance was less likely to be noticed than it might be in a more formal establishment. It was some time past the usual lunch hour, so company was sparse and they got a table to themselves in a corner of the room. Justin sat with his back to the wall, but she only had to turn her head a little and she could survey the whole scene. The individual tables, some still littered with dirtied plates and glasses. The wide smooth bar near the front entrance, lined with high stools on one side and kegs of ale on the other. The men gathered in twos and threes at various points in the room, eating in silence or arguing in idle voices. Two women were there with men who seemed to be their husbands. A pretty girl about Ellynor’s age approached their table and gave them a tired smile.
“Eating or drinking?” she asked.
“Eating,” Justin said. “What’s available?”
Within another fifteen minutes, they were both happily consuming a hearty meal of soup, bread, potatoes, and roasted vegetables that was much better than convent fare, though not nearly as good as feast food at a Lirren household. Ellynor didn’t care. She had been starving ever since drawing on the Great Mother’s power to heal Paulina’s leg last night. She didn’t think she could ever fill the cavern of her stomach.
“Don’t know how someone as little as you can take in so much food,” Justin observed.
“Am I being vulgar? It’s just that I missed breakfast—
and
lunch—and we had cold rations on the road last night—”
and
lunch—and we had cold rations on the road last night—”
“I’m hungry, too,” he said, cutting himself another slice of bread.
“I love it here,” she told him, so earnestly that he started laughing. “I do! We just ask for more food, and she brings it, and we don’t have to do any of the work—we don’t have to wring the chicken’s neck or pluck the feathers or roll the dough or chop the vegetables. Oh, and we don’t have to scour the pans afterward or haul water up to soak the dishes—stop laughing,” she said, but she was smiling, too. “You don’t know how much work it takes to prepare a meal.”
“Oh, yes, I do. I’ve cooked plenty when I was traveling. Hunted my own game, too,
and
dressed it. I’d wager that’s as hard as picking a chicken out of a coop or separating a cow from a herd for slaughter.”
and
dressed it. I’d wager that’s as hard as picking a chicken out of a coop or separating a cow from a herd for slaughter.”
“Do you travel a lot?”
“Goes in cycles. Sometimes yes—weeks at a stretch. Other times, I sit at home for months.”
“Which do you prefer?”
He shrugged. “I don’t like to sit still. If I’m at home, I’m up and doing something. Practicing bladework or prowling the city. So the traveling’s good, because it keeps me occupied.”
“Gives you a way to focus your energy.”
He nodded. “How about you?”
She shook her head. “Oh, I think I’d like to travel awhile— see everything there is to see—and then go home again. I think my heart is made for contentment, and that I’m happiest with familiar things around me. But not just yet. Lately—right now—I’ve been so restless. I’ve felt so confined. I want to see everything! Gillengaria first and then, who knows? Arberharst. Karyndein. All the lands beyond the ocean. Then I think I’d want to wander home.”
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