Ghost in the Yew: Volume One of the Vesteal Series Page 16

  “Do they know of us? Of this place?”

  “No, not as I learned of the world. ‘Chaukai’ and ‘Edonia’ are forgotten words, and I am a discarded son. What of you? Are you the last of the Chaukai?”

  At that he whistled, and I turned to see men moving slowly closer. There were thirteen of them, grim and wary. They stepped into the sunlight beneath the tattered old birch. They were so few, but the longer I studied them, the more I felt Kyoden’s worry. The Chaukai’s secrets, whatever they were, were more important than Kyoden and more important than me. I decided to leave the topic behind.

  “What of Dia and Leger?” I asked. “Do they know of you—from my ranting as we fled the yew?”

  “Yes. Both know of the Chaukai. I do not yet trust either of them with it.”

  My opinion of the pair needed no pondering. “They have earned my trust. I hope in time they will earn yours. When they do, I would have you invite them into your number.”

  I waited, but Sahin said no more. He seemed so much like Geart—as resolute and still as an ancient fortress. How cruel I had been to the silent man in the corner. I could not stand to see the glimpse of him. Searching for distraction, I noticed the bow one of them carried. It was almost as tall as the man who carried it and superior to any I had ever seen.

  “One of yours?” I asked the bowyer.

  “It is.”

  The memories of others taught me new words as I looked at the weapon. It had a ridged handle with a laced leather grip and an ivory arrow plate. Its limbs tapered in a straight line out to the tips, and every pin knot and grain swirl was perfectly compensated for. It was made of yew, and Sahin was a master of his craft.

  “The Chaukai were archers?”

  He nodded. “Whether infantry or cavalry, all the Chaukai carried a bow, but I dare say the Chaukai of old would be ashamed of what we have become. We have poor horses, no steel, and their manuals of sword and spear are lost to us. All we have been able to maintain is their skill with the longbow, and only just.”

  “They are proud of this one.”

  It took him a moment to understand me. His response caught in his throat a bit. “Thank you, but sadly I am the only bowyer left who knows how to double-face the yew.”

  I had no wish to scratch further at another of the man’s sadness, so I abandoned the topic. It took me several moments to push back the ghosts, each still wanting to stare at the weapon. Their longing for the world was terrible. Unfortunately, one question remained and I did not know what the answer would be.

  “Will you follow me, Sahin, call me Kyoden’s heir?”

  “Yes, Barok, the Chaukai will follow you. Rebuild Edonia, and we will crown you its king.”

  Ancient memories of other steadfast guardians comforted me, and I managed a feeling of hope. “Stay close, then, Sahin, and guard your secrets as you see fit. Send men north to replenish your numbers from the young and strong of Enhedu, and tell the villages to plant every crop they can.”

  “As you will,” he said with a bow and his expression softened for the first time. “What rents can I tell them you will charge for the use of your land?”

  It was hard to conceive. I owned the entire peninsula, and they could not eat from it without my leave. If my halves had been two people at that moment, a self-congratulatory Yentif grin would have felt an angry Vesteal punch. But Leger had been right. I needed somehow to be both. I shut my eyes and searched for visions of what the Vesteal took from those who did not own the land they worked. The gifting came quickly as the ghosts crowded again behind my eyes. I could not get rid of them this time but did learn what I needed. The rents they charged were a sliver of what the Yentif extorted.

  “Two silver standards per season per acre in coin or crop is all I will ask for the next two years. And before you tell me I am being too generous, I have something for you as well.”

  I pulled free the fist-sized falcon rock that had been tearing out the pocket of my overcoat. The ghosts hissed and growled at the sight of it. I tossed it to Sahin and heard a remarkable expletive as he scrambled to catch its substantial weight with his good hand.

  “Melted down, it will weigh out to 4,000 standards of coin-quality silver.”

  “Barok, this is too much. I cannot accept such a gift. The Chaukai maintain themselves. We will take no wage.”

  “Then call it recompense for the injury a Zoviyan prince did to this place. And it is also a pittance compared to how the Kaaryon doles out gold for its armies. That would equip and pay no more than ten Hemari for a single year. You will need to make it go a long way indeed.”

  “How shall we spend it?”

  “That is your business. I would not add insult by trying to tell a Chaukai how to spend his own coins.”

  “But, Lord, though we wish it were otherwise, we are not soldiers.”

  The ghosts took hold of me then, focused and grim. They looked at Sahin and his men, and they were not pleased. They were farmers, fishermen, and a bowyer.

  “Then I suggest you add one to your ranks.”

  He looked me dead in the eye for a very long time. “Leger.”

  I shrugged. “Again, my Chaukai, I would not think to tell you your business.”

  “I can see that.”

  26

  Matron Dia Esar

  The Dame

  “Do you have time to meet the staff?” the old cook asked after Barok and Sahin wandered off into the trees. I wanted to, but had to postpone. I could not stand the chafe of my borrowed clothes any longer. I excused myself and went up in search of Madam Sedauer. I found her in her apartment mending a skirt while Urs wrestled with the documents around his desk.

  “You and I have some garments to discuss,” I said as I entered. The pair rose and bowed, and a stack of sheets started toward the floor. “You better get ahold of those.”

  He scrambled to steady the pile. “Excuse me, milady. Barok asked after all the previous arilas today and all the old documents are a shamble.”

  The quality of the brushwork in the stack was mediocre and I hoped for Barok’s sake that none of it had been done by the reeve. A newer sheet amidst the mess stood out not only for its good color but also the clean strokes upon it. I could not make sense of its topic, however.

  “What is this one?”

  “Which? Oh, that is one of Fana’s from when I was teaching her.”

  “She can read as well?” I asked, and he nodded as though he been caught committing a crime.

  How very dense of me. Fana was an only child to an aging couple. I did not need to ask if they had wished for a son. It was incredibly rare to have a single daughter, and first-born girls in Bessradi were often found dead in their cribs. Enhedu could not possibly be that different. Still, it was very surprising. Few women at the capital could read, and fewer still could write. Dagoda had taught me so that I might better entertain. There were far better uses for the talent, however, and the beautiful girl’s most-unusual skill gave me an idea.

  I pointed at the stacks. “Fana should help you. I will have Barok name her his scribe.”

  “A scribe? But that would make her a bondsman to a prince. Her wage would be more than my own.”

  I worried he would be angry but his pride beamed through instead.

  “Yes it would, and knowing my prince, it will not be long before Enhedu is teaming with activity. You’ll need someone to help keep track of it all.”

  “Oh, she can read and write well enough, but can’t keep a ledger.”

  “A poor excuse. If you taught her how to read, you can teach her the rest.”

  “Oh my,” he said, and set his hand upon his brow. “I will have to organize lessons right away. Can I tell her now?”

  I bid him to do so and he hurried out.

  Madam Sedauer was trembling, but she hid it well by making space for me to join her on the bed. I sat in the warm space and took hold of the hem she was mending.

  “I thought you were joking about us making clothes.”
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  “Not at all. Fana said you have patterns you have always wanted to use, and I am very much in need of your skill. I have no proper garments.”

  “Oh, dear. I worried that was the case. We must remedy this at once. It will be my honor to sew for you.”

  She pulled a roll of thin cloth out from beneath the bed. The tiny marks of her patterns were already on it. She blushed as I saw it—her hopes revealed—and we both giggled.

  I brought in the bolt of silver brocaded blue silk and we discussed the dresses we would make. But despite the talk, her skill, and my confidence, we could not bring ourselves to cut the untouched bolt. Practice was the remedy, we decided, so began planning a simpler dress with odd pieces of undyed wool she had saved.

  The fabric’s lack of color, like the rest of the clothing in Enhedu, was a bit of a mystery. “Why is everything undyed? Is it preferred?”

  “Quite the opposite, I am afraid. From Enhedu’s forests we can make any number of dyes—brown and black from acorn husks, yellow from lichen, even a very nice green from stinging nettles. It’s all out there,” she said before continuing with a shrug, “but without fixatives, there is little point.”

  “Fixatives?”

  “Well, dear, you can stain clothes all you like, but unless you can set the color, it will wash right out and stain your skin. Some dyes fix when soaked in heavy salt, others in vinegar. We can make and have sea salt, but as much work as it takes, all of it’s for cooking. Vinegar enough, we simply cannot afford.”

  “But you had wine. Why no vinegar?”

  “The wine was for our spring festival. It was all we could afford.”

  Her shame reminded me of the lost souls that filled the Warrens of Bessradi, and I was not about to suffer reminders of such poverty in my midst.

  “Just you wait. Before long Urnedi will have all the hundreds of little things it is missing. I think green might be the best color to use. How is the dye made? Stinging nettles you said?”

  The afternoon vanished with nothing made besides a mess, but we did have a plan by the time evening meal threatened. We found Barok and Sahin in the great hall chatting over a map, thick as thieves. Food arrived and the meal was as filling and as successful as the last.

  Barok slept like a stone, woke early, and departed with Sahin. His good mood, though odd, was a relief for everyone. I saw so many smiles during the days that followed I was certain half the staff went to bed with sore faces. Leger was not one of those. He and Barok would deny what he endured, but to Leger’s credit, I must make this small mention. He disappeared into his room for five days, and my prince did not allow anyone to visit him during his ordeal. Everyone knew why and we did not speak of it.

  I spent those days in the hall with Madame Sedauer making dresses and getting to know the twenty-three people that answered to me. I loved every moment of it. Every task within the castle was mine to approve or give opinion on. Even Thell, the cute old man who took care of so much, asked me for permission before doing anything. When he came to ask permission to use the warm space behind the kitchen stoves to dry the horse blankets, I said yes. Pemini found me almost immediately.

  “Milady, the soup will smell like horse.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Thell has all of his nasty blankets hanging in the kitchen. Do you know what a stink they cause? He says you gave him permission.”

  The old cook appeared then too and her look was as sour as her assistant’s. She was the oldest of those at Urnedi, and it even Madam Sedauer deferred to her in most things.

  I had taken her job and authority.

  It has not occurred to me and I felt very foolish. She had even invited me the previous day to meet the staff. I set my shoulders back and waited for her hard words. But she moved her girth toward her assistant instead and forced the girl to back away from me. “Back to the kitchen. You know better than to second-guess the matron.”

  “My apologies, milady. I was not thinking. Forgive me.”

  The old cook growled and the girl hurried down the stairs. Then the cook bowed and started down after her.

  “Ma’am,” I said, unable to remember her name.

  She turned. Her face was very kind, but I could not decide what to say. She saved me the words. “You are doing fine. Do not fret. Everyone works hard and knows their jobs. Just do your best to keep them out of each other’s way and let them answer their own questions. You will see.”

  “Yes, ma’am, but—”

  “Milady, please stop calling me that. Poor Thell almost fell over dead when the alsman ‘sirred’ him. A few more ‘ma’am’s’ from you is as likely to make my poor old heart thump right out of my chest. Call me Vala, or if you must, you can call me Dame.”

  “Dame? You are not so old that I can call you that.”

  She blushed, but I remembered hearing others call her by the friendly title. She was the oldest woman at Urnedi after all. To call her the grandmother of Urnedi would rank her informally above all of us—even our young prince in a way. She shifted her weight anxiously and brushed invisible crumbs from her apron.

  “Please, Dame, could you help Thell find a better place to dry the blankets?”

  “Yes, matron,” she replied but then hesitated.

  “Was there something else?” I asked and took her arm.

  “Do you know—will other Yentif ever come to visit? I do not know how to cook for them. Do you know what they would eat?”

  “I do know the menu they prefer, though I do not think you would ever have to worry about them visiting.”

  “Because he was banished?”

  “That, yes, but mostly because other than his brothers there aren’t many Yentif left. There was a big war before Barok was born. Most of the Yentif were killed. As far as I know, there are only the princes and a few distant cousins.”

  “None of his brothers would come?”

  “No. They rarely leave the palace, much less the capital. I do not think you need to worry about that. But I could tell you all about their food if you would like.”

  “And how to serve it?”

  “Oh, yes. That I know very well.”

  “Oh, please. Between the morning and evening meals? I can lay out a table in the storeroom so you can show us?”

  “I would be happy to,” I said and she hugged me before hurrying down.

  I couldn’t help but jump around like Barok had the morning he saw his swords. All of Urnedi was alive with effort and purpose.

  Urs saw to Barok’s accounts, Leger his affairs, and Sahin his education. All else was mine to command, including the bedroom.

  It had only been a short span of days, so not very telling, but I had so far managed to satisfy my prince by myself. I woke him every morning for a long bath and planned my days around being clean and eager beside him each night. He had not touched Fana even once, and though she was disappointed, I told her to be patient and keep me informed. It did not help that her father had her sequestered for lessons.

  Those days also saw us finish two proper floor-length gowns with the blue silk brocade. The pattern of silver thread woven into it was a swirl of intertwining ribbons that framed alternating pairs of stately falcons and flame-shrouded fruit. It was not a very feminine pattern, but the construction of the gowns made up for that. The neckline of both bodices framed my bust and neck beautifully, and the uneven eyelet in the back allowed for a wonderful fit and kept the waistline level. The hanging sleeves were snug, one fit with thin shoulder rolls, the other with flounced, white silk cuffs. The long skirts of both were cleverly vented from floor to waist, a linen riding skirt concealed beneath. The same soft white linen lined everything, and silver bobbin lace lined the seams and hems. On the better of the two gowns, a long line of the lace began at the bottom of the long vent and drew a single elegant line all the way to the neckline. On the other we tried to form a long triangle of the lace, using it to edge the neckline, bodice seams, and the flounced front of the skirt, but the construction was a bit to
o ambitious. The addition of a white silk shoulder wrap camouflaged the poor joins at the shoulders.

  We also made a simple, loose-fitting sheath dress for Fana from the yellow linen. Mother and daughter wept all through the final fitting.

  I promised her a blue dress and second of white when her father would attest to her ability to keep a ledger. It was hard to pry her away from her studies after that.

  Fana and I began to wear the dresses the next day and the staff seemed more pleased than I. I’d worried they would be jealous, but like the Dame, they wanted nothing but for us to succeed. Their poverty never seemed to weigh much upon them, and the only shame to be found was from parents when they talked of desires for their children. When I promised those dark days were at an end, I needed only to point to Fana to be believed.

  The evening meal was another in a series of fine meals, and better still because Leger joined us and Barok was more measured. He spent the meal encouraging Leger and Sahin to conversation, and even managed to compliment my dress.

  He was getting ready to retire to our apartment to do some reading when he happened to pass near Fana. He remarked upon her dress as well, and then kissed her on the cheek.

  It happened so fast I am not sure anyone else saw it, and I wished I had not. I wanted to tear his lips off and sew his hands together. All my nightmares of being discarded returned and I was slapped by the memory of a task I’d forgotten.

  I’d not found any mangor root, and it was getting past time to take a dose.

  I was angry when I pulled her aside and asked if she knew where I could find some. She took hold of my hand without saying a word and took be down to the kitchens where the Dame was cleaning up after the meal. Fana whispered to her, and she led us to the back corner of the storeroom where a loose stone hid one of the innocuous brown roots.

  “So, everyone knows Barok is not allowed to have children?”

  “Yes,” the Dame said. “We have heard the stories of what Lord Vall has done to the princes who have had children. That terrible old man has a lot to answer for.”