Shards of Time (13 page)

“You have my terms,” Seregil replied coldly. “Now bring them in to meet us. Respectfully.”

Dorin rose and strode from the room, returning a moment later with a bedraggled-looking woman clutching a little girl in her arms.

“May I present Oria, and her child Daisy. They have come here for shelter, as you offered, my lord.”

Alec felt his heart torn between gladness and sorrow as he went to greet the newcomers. The woman was pure ’faie and young, barely old enough for childbearing. The little girl had the dark eyes of whoever her Plenimaran father had been. The right sleeve of the woman’s dress was pushed back, exposing her former master’s brand on her forearm.

“Ysanti maril Elustri,”
Seregil greeted her.

She did not look him in the eye as she replied softly, “I don’t understand, my lord. I never learned ’faie talk.”

“I’m sorry.”

She just shrugged.

“It’s no matter,” said Alec. “You’re safe here. We want you to consider Mirror Moon your home. And no titles, please.”

“I’m not looking for charity,” she replied. “I’m a chambermaid, come to offer my services.”

“Do we have work for another chambermaid, Dorin?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Then the position is yours, Oria,” said Seregil. “Dorin, see that our new friends have clean clothing, a proper bath, and a good meal.”

Oria gave him a grateful look. “That would be much appreciated, my lord. I’m sorry for you to see us in such a state.”

“You never need to apologize for that, my dear. Tell me, do you know your mother’s name?”

“Laziel, my lord.”

“And her mother’s?”

“Qani, I think.”

“Then your true name is Oria ä Laziel Qani. The last of it should be your birthplace.”

“Here, my lord.”

“Then from this day you have your true name: Oria ä Laziel Qani Kouros.”

Oria curtsied again, looking a little overwhelmed.

“Is Daisy the name you chose for your child?”

Oria shook her head. “I called her Tala, but ’faie names weren’t allowed by her—by my master.”

Seregil held out his hand to the child and she grasped his fingers. “Hello, Tala ä Oria Laziel Qani Kouros.”

A tear rolled down her mother’s cheek. “You’re not ashamed of us?”

“How could we be? No one chooses slavery. You’re a free woman now, and can raise your child in freedom and dignity.”

Oria began to weep in earnest. Alec reached out to her but she flinched away. Seregil signed
too soon
and Dorin led her away toward the kitchen.

Alec shook his head. “Are you going to rename every ’faie on the island, Seregil?”

“I’ve giving them back their names.”

“I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with that, talí. It’s just that you might ask first if they want you to.”

“He’s right, you know,” said Micum. “You’re a noble and they’ve been slaves. It’s not as if they can say no if it seems you’ve made up your mind.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Seregil sighed. “It’s just—”

“I know,” said Alec. “But give them time to get used to us, all right?”

“Yes. Consider me chastised.”

“You know we don’t mean it that way.” Micum sat back down at the table and poured more tea. “So, Klia doesn’t need us ’til tomorrow. What do you two have planned for the day?”

“I guess we’d better ride over the estate and act baronial,” Alec replied.

“You don’t need me for that. I have a mind to go into town, have a look around, and do some listening.”

“Good idea,” Seregil replied. “I expect the average citizen will be more comfortable talking to you than a ’faie lord. It will take some time for the people of Kouros to get used to the idea, given recent history. Perhaps you could call on the good Doctor Kordira and give her our regards, too.”

Micum chuckled. “Consider it done.”

Micum set off just before midday and gave his horse a good gallop back to Deep Harbor. As beautiful as Mirror Moon was, he was more unsettled by the previous night’s spirit visitation in the hallway than he cared to admit. Finding out how the wind was blowing in a new place was much more to his taste, and he was looking forward to it.

The road branched as he neared the town and he decided to come in from the north, passing by the governor’s mansion as he made his way to the wealthy district that bordered that estate. Quite a number of fine houses here were shuttered, the gardens already sprouting weeds. Nonetheless, there were carriages and riders about, and not a few of them looked to be Plenimaran, judging by the preponderance of dark hair and eyes, not to mention some of the unfriendly looks he was getting.

It was a bit of a surprise when a dandy on a fine black-and-white mare reined in to ride beside him.

“Good morning, sir. You arrived with the princess’s entourage yesterday, didn’t you?” He looked to have Plenimaran blood, but his accent was pure island.

“Word certainly gets around fast here,” Micum replied, and extended a hand. “Micum Cavish of Watermead.”

The man shook with him. “Azrin of Kouros.” He gave
Micum a wry look. “Formerly a lord myself, as it happens, but alas, times change.”

“Yet you’re still here.”

“I was born here. My grandfather came over from Benshâl years back, but I’ve never been. Don’t let my appearance fool you; I’m as island as they come.”

“So you had no problem taking the oath?”

Azrin shrugged. “Queen or Overlord, it’s all the same to me, so long as I get to keep my farm. This is my home.”

“Home is home,” Micum agreed. “Say, if you can point me to a good tavern, I’d be happy to stand you a meal.”

“My pleasure! The Fox is just two streets over.”

The Fox turned out to be a fine establishment, with superb mussels boiled in ale and wild herbs. Azrin was well known here, and a lively dining companion. They talked horses, which Azrin’s family had traded for generations.

“I know the Mirror Moon herd well,” he told Micum. “Please tell the new baron that if he wants to sell off his stock, I’d be happy to assist.”

Micum chuckled. “I don’t think he’ll be parting with any for the moment, and there are two barons: Seregil and Alec.”

“Two? Are they brothers?”

“No.”

Azrin raised an eyebrow. “Ah, I see. Such things are common in Skala, I suppose. Which one is the ’faie?”

Micum grinned and pretended to not notice the man’s clear disapproval on both counts. “That would be Baron Seregil. Do you think they’ll be unwelcome here?”

“It’s none of my business. Are you their friend?”

Micum shrugged. “I met them on the ship.”

“And do you approve of such—relationships?”

“I can’t make much sense of it, really.”

“Then you are a sensible man!” Azrin laughed and poured more ale for both of them. “So, what brings you to Kouros?”

Micum gave him a wink. “I happen to be friends with Klia’s aide-de-camp and she got me a warrant to buy island horses. I hope to be the main Skalan importer in Rhíminee. Perhaps the two of us can work out some mutually agreeable relationship, eh?”

“I think we might, my friend.”

“So, how’s the political situation here? Was the transition of power a smooth one?”

“About what you’d expect. Your General Klia came with a large force, evicted the Plenimaran governor, fought any who stood against her, and drove out anyone who wouldn’t swear an oath of loyalty to Queen what’s-her-name. Quite a few chose to go to Plenimar.”

“Did many of them take slaves with them?”

“No, Klia wouldn’t allow it.” He paused, and something in the way he suddenly avoided eye contact caught Micum’s attention.

“There should be more ’faie than I’ve seen so far.”

Azrin nodded. “Some of the islanders who held slaves killed them quietly, to keep the fact from her.”

“Damnation!”

“Klia hanged the ones she caught at it. Some of us aren’t so happy to see her back again, and as governor, no less.”

“I’ve known her through her aide for some time. She’s a good woman, and fair,” Micum assured him.

“If you say so.”

“I’ve heard talk of unrest here. What do you think?”

Azrin shrugged. “I’ve heard grumbling, but given the force the new governor brought with her, I doubt there’ll be open insurrection. Still, enough of politics. The apple tart is exceptional.”

They returned to lighter topics, and soon Micum knew of the best gambling establishments, brothels, and tailors in Deep Harbor.

“What do you make of the ghost stories up at the old city?” Micum asked at last.

Azrin’s smile faded. “They’re nothing to laugh at, my friend. When I was a boy, some friends and I rode up there to see for ourselves if spirits still walk there. We went when the moon was full and saw men and women walking the streets with their chopped-off heads held under their arm! Even the dogs had no heads.”

Micum gave him a skeptical look and Azrin burst out laughing. “Those stories are for scaring little children into
being good. ‘Eat your dinner or we’ll leave you at the gates of Menosi!’ ”

“So you’ve not been there?”

“I passed there once on a hunt. It’s just a ruin, or was until Governor Toneus began messing about up there.”

“What about the stories of people disappearing?”

“It’s a dangerous place, I suppose, as any old ruin is.”

“Was Toneus popular with the people?”

“What do you think?” asked Azrin. “The Plenimarans ruled here for as long as most can remember. When you see your friends and neighbors run off like that, you don’t much care for those who did it.”

“So an islander murdered him, not a ghost?”

“I heard it was that lover of his. Rumor is that she stabbed him in a jealous fit, then killed herself. How else do you explain the room being locked from the inside?”

“That’s common knowledge, is it?”

“The guard who finally broke the door down blabbed it. Crazy stories, most of it—guts hanging from the ceiling and such.”

“More stories to scare children?”

Azrin shrugged. “They locked him up in the madhouse.”

“Do you know the man?”

“Hardly,” Azrin sniffed. “I may be down on my luck, but I’m still a noble. The man was one of the guardsmen Toneus brought with him. A captain, I think.”

“I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“Not at all. I’m just saying things have changed on the island, and they haven’t, if you take my meaning.”

“Thanks for that.”

They finished off the last of the tart and Micum paid for the meal.

“Say, could you recommend a good healer?” Micum rubbed his thigh. “The voyage played havoc with an old scar of mine, and the drysian with Klia wasn’t much use.” It wasn’t completely untrue.

“Doctor Kordira is the one to see,” Azrin told him. “She’s a proper doctor, not one of those mystical hand wavers you have in Skala.” Azrin gave him a wink. “She’s a pretty thing,
too, but mind your manners. It’s said she knows as much about poisons as she does healing.”

“More tales to scare children?” Micum said with a laugh.

“Let’s just say I wouldn’t push my luck if I were you.”

“Much obliged, friend.” He shook hands with Azrin at the door. “I hope to see you again soon. Could you direct me to the good doctor?”

“Of course. Go back the way we came, go left on Leaf Lane, and you’ll see the sign.”

It was midafternoon now. Micum soon found the physician’s home—a narrow, three-story row house with a receiving room on the street level.

The room smelled of herbs and roots, and baskets of them lined one wall, together with bolts of linen and baskets of vegetable lint. The instruments of her trade lay on shelves on another wall, many of them rather alarming.

A pretty young woman came out from behind a tapestry at the back of the room. “Are you in need, sir?”

“I was hoping to speak with you about my leg, Doctor Kordira.”

The woman laughed. “Oh, I’m not the doctor, sir. She has a visitor at the moment, but if you’d like to wait, I can make you comfortable here.”

She set a chair for him by the front window. “Give me your name and I’ll bring word to her upstairs.”

Micum told her and she moved another tapestry aside and disappeared up the steep stairway behind it. A moment later she returned with word that the visitor was a friend of his, and that he could go up and join them.

His leg ached as he slowly climbed the steep, narrow stairs. At the top he went through an open door and down a short corridor to a comfortable sitting room where he discovered Thero and a beautiful Plenimaran woman at tea. The wizard wore his formal Orëska robes and his curly black hair bound back in a severe queue. Nonetheless, he seemed perfectly at ease with his hostess.

Kordira was a true beauty. Her skin was fair, her eyes and hair black as night, her lips red and sensuous, without any sign of cosmetics. She wore a plain blue gown and a rainbow-colored
knitted shawl over her shoulders. Her hair was in a braided coronet around her head, woven with blue ribbon. She wore no jewelry, and her nails, though well trimmed, were stained from her work.

“Ah, here’s your friend, Lord Thero!” she said with a smile that would melt the hardest of hearts. “Please join us, Lord Micum. We’ve just started.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

“Oh, I have no title. Please, call me Kordira. Everyone around here does.”

“Then you must call me Micum.” He took the empty chair and noted how graceful her hands were as she filled a delicate tea dish for him from an equally elegant pot and passed the sweets plate.

“I was just telling your friend how grateful I am to Princess Klia for allowing me to remain on Kouros,” she said. “I’ve been here for nine years and can’t imagine living anywhere else. It’s so beautiful.”

“I can understand that,” Micum replied, balancing his tea dish carefully in his big, callused hands.

“But I think that’s not what you two came to speak with me about.”

Micum had planned to give her the complaint about his bad leg, but Thero seemed to have the situation well in hand.

“Princess Klia brought me here to help investigate the death of the previous governor,” the wizard told her, the pleasantries evidently out of the way. “I visited the madhouse last night, and spoke with Captain Sedge. The man seems completely unhinged by what he saw that day. Have you had any contact with him?”