The Office of Shadow (21 page)

"I think I'd like some tea," she said coldly.

"Fine. Come along," said Everess. He led her downstairs for tea, and
when she returned to her room an hour later, all evidence of the doctor and
of the old Accursed Object was gone.

The crones are not nice. When Lord Tanen is at the manor, which isn't often,
they are respectful to him, and tell Lord Tanen how well they are treating her.
But when he is gone they are cold and cruel. There is no one to play with.
No one to sing to her or tell her stories. The crones are always there, but all
they do is stare into her eyes, poke and prod her. They say strange words and
paint pictures on Sela's body and watch her and wait. Sela knows that they
are waiting for her to manifest her Gift, and they say the words and paint the
pictures to make it come faster and be stronger. She wants to manifest her Gift because she wants to please them. But she soon comes to understand that
nothing she says or does will please them.

She learns to sew and knit, and learns to read and write in Common and
High Fae, and she learns poetry and singing. She learns how to hold a knife
and how to kill cats. She learns how to move quietly. She learns how to hurt
a man by kicking him in a certain place. It will also hurt a woman, but not
as much. The crones make her learn all these things, and if she makes a mistake they slap her.

The only one who is nice to her is the big man named Oca. He towers
over the crones. He moves slowly and has a high voice. Oca is the only one
who is ever allowed to be alone with Sela, and that makes him special. He
brings her meals and stands over her while she eats, tut-tutting if she refuses
to finish her entire plate. He is kind to her, but only when the crones are not
around. If they catch him being nice to her, he will be punished. He says it
is a shame what they are doing to her, but she doesn't know what that means.

Lord Tanen does not come often, but when he does, the manor house
comes alive. The maids are given extra chores; a special chef comes to the
kitchen. All of this belongs to Lord Tanen. The house, the land, even the village at the bottom of the road, which is like Sela's village. She would like to
visit there but is not allowed. Sela understands that Lord Tanen owns her as
well, though when she tells Oca this, it upsets him. She doesn't want him to
be upset.

Everyone is frightened of Lord Tanen, and the crones pinch Sela and warn
her to be on her best behavior whenever he comes to visit.

Lord Tanen is coming today, Oca tells her. When he arrives, the crones
meet him, and the butler comes and gives him a drink. There is a lavish meal
in the dining hall that's kept locked at all other times. The staff have been
busy all day in preparation, but Lord Tanen never thanks them that Sela can
tell. Oca has taught her that it is always polite to say "Thank you" when
someone does something for you. But Lord Tanen is the owner, and the owner
does not have to say thank you if he doesn't want to.

After Lord Tanen finishes his dinner, he asks to see Sela. Oca and the
crones have dressed Sela in a stiff white dress, with flowers woven into her
hair. Sela likes the attention and the dresses and the flowers, but does not enjoy being presented to Lord Tanen. She must curtsey, then stand quietly,
saying nothing and not moving, until dismissed. He stares at her silently,
nodding his head. He motions her closer and takes her chin in his hand and
looks deep into her eyes. His hands feel like paper. He is neither kind nor
unkind. Like the crones, he is waiting for her Gift. Until then, there is
nothing to do but wait.

The next morning, Sela awoke in her new room expecting Everess to appear
and take her somewhere, somewhere where she would do something other
than have tea and sit and read. She began to feel as though she were still at
Copperine House, that nothing had really changed.

There was a quiet knock at the door, and a chambermaid appeared carrying a washbasin and clothing.

"Good morning, Miss Sela," said the maid, in an accent that Sela had
never heard before. Sela looked into her eyes; they glinted in the morning
sunlight that drifted in through the diaphanous curtains on the windows. She
was not very pretty, and there was also something sad and damaged about her.
Nothing unusual for Sela-she was used to seeing sadness and damage at
Copperine House-but she'd assumed that people in the outside world were
all like Everess: confident, direct, unbroken.

"Is something wrong?" the maid asked. Her name was Ecara, Sela realized with a start. She touched the new Object on her arm, and it was cool to
the touch. Accursed no more.

"No, Ecara," Sela said, smiling. This was a smile that would win over
Ecara, she knew. Ecara felt invisible most of the time. Looking around her,
Sela couldn't see any threads stretching out from the girl. It was so sad; she
was just like Sela herself.

Seeing the hint of confusion in the girl's returned smile, Sela added, "I
asked Lord Everess what the maids' names were last night. I like to get to
know people."

Ecara curtseyed, clearly uncertain what to say. "We don't have to be
formal with one another," said Sela. "We're just two girls with jobs to do."

Something in Sela's mind slid in to place, and Sela could see a thin blue
thread spring into existence between her and Ecara. The maid couldn't see it,
of course. It wasn't something you saw with your eyes. Blue felt like trust and
friendship.

Ecara was fairly weak-willed. With only a tiny effort, Sela could convince
Ecara to fall in love with her, to die for her, or to kill for her. It would be easy.
She hoped no one would ask her to do that, though, because she thought that
Ecara was a very nice girl.

"I'm sure we'll be great friends," said Sela.

The blue thread wavered; that was the wrong thing to say. Why was it
wrong? What had she done?

Awkwardness flowed out of Ecara. She wasn't on a level with Sela; it was
impossible for them to be friends.

Sela corrected. "Now then, let's get me washed and dressed. I'm sure
Lord Everess has a great deal for me to do."

That did it. Even if she hadn't been able to feel inside Ecara, she could
see the relief on her face. Sela was the kind mistress; Ecara was a favored servant. All was well. The blue line snapped into place that much more firmly.
This was one of the saddest things that Sela knew about people; sometimes
frightening them made them love you more.

She allowed Ecara to dress her without another word. It was a complicated gown with hoops of whalebone and petticoats and all sorts of lace pieces
that Sela couldn't even name.

Sela sensed that Ecara thought her beautiful; she moved her eyes over
Sela's soft, unblemished skin, her lustrous hair, her curves. This wasn't the
sexual attraction that Sela sometimes got from women; it was something
more innocent, a kind of adoration. Sometimes tinged with jealousy, but not
in this case. It was very sweet.

Yes, Ecara would die for her if it became necessary. Oh, how she hoped it
wouldn't!

"So today's the day, then, is it?"

"For what, miss?"

"The day that I'm to be taken out to do ... whatever it is that I'm supposed to be doing."

"I don't know about any of that," said Ecara, frowning. "I'm just here to
check the fit."

"Oh?"

"Aye. His Lordship says he wants you to look just right for the lads."

Something cold pierced Sela's thoughts. "Does he?" she said.

The blue thread wavered and turned a deep violet. She'd frightened
Ecara.

"I'm sure he doesn't mean anything by it, miss." The girl trembled.

"Are we quite finished then?" asked Sela, with as haughty a voice as she
could muster, stretching that violet line nearly to its breaking point. But not
past it.

"Yes, miss."

Ecara helped her out of the complicated dress and left the room without
another word. Sela wanted to call after her and apologize, but on some level
knew that there was nothing to be done about it. So she sat.

And waited.

Alpaurle:Who, then, is the trustworthy man?

The High Priest:Why, one who can be trusted, of course.

Alpaurle: And how do we know that a man can be
trusted?

The High Priest: Such a man does not engage in deceit.
Alpaurle:And how do we know this of him?

The High Priest: Because in all his dealings he is honest.

Alpaurle: But what of a man who is simply never caught
in deceit? Would he not appear to be trustworthy?
How, then, do we know the trustworthy man?

The High Priest: I see that you are again trying to confuse me.

Alpaurle: Not at all! I am only trying to resolve my own
confusion.That is why I ask.

-Alpaurle, from Conversations with the High Priest of Ulet,
Conversation VI, edited by Feven IV of the City Emerald

fter the incident with Ilian, Jedron became more surly and combative
than ever. Silverdun couldn't tell whether he was angry at himself for
allowing himself to be used by Ilian, or whether he was genuinely dismayed
at the loss of his only companion. Whatever the reason, he took out his extra
aggressions on Silverdun. Not only did he increase the intensity and frequency of their practice sessions, but he also unloaded a great deal of Ilian's
chores onto Silverdun. So in addition to his grueling workouts, Silverdun
now found himself cooking meals and scrubbing floors.

Nice work for the Faerie lord of Oarsbridge and Connaugh manors. Not
that he'd ever been much of a lord. Looking back, Silverdun had to admit
that the lordship was only really good for two things: giving him access to
women of every station, and providing enough income to keep him off the
streets. Being bowed at was all well and good, but Silverdun had discovered
over the years that he found commoners and bourgeoisie much more pleasant
to be around than his alleged peers.

"Not enough!" shouted Jedron one morning as Silverdun failed to climb
the tower by hand in the amount of time that Jedron deemed fitting. "You've
got Elements, schoolboy! If there aren't any handholds, then make handholds!
Just make them so no one will notice them."