Bound by Blood and Sand
Page 7
“Thirteen, Highest. I’d only just returned from taking my vows at Danardae.”
Elan sagged on his cushion. Thirteen was far too young to rule over any town or city, even one as insignificant as Aredann. He gave her a sympathetic look and went back to his meal, but he was already thinking it over. Lady Shirrad’s father had believed he could find the Well from Aredann. He must have had reason to. He must have found something—hopefully something still here, not lost with him in the desert.
Maybe Lady Shirrad knew what it was. She’d definitely never talk about it, with her situation as precarious as it was. She couldn’t afford to look like she questioned the Highest. But once Elan had a chance to speak with her alone, he’d reassure her, and find out everything she knew. And Desinn would never know what was happening, until Elan was ready.
Lady Shirrad offered to show Elan and Desinn around Aredann after the meal, but Desinn declined, tired from all their traveling. Elan was just as exhausted, but even so, he said, “I’d love to see more of Aredann this evening, at least enough to start to learn my way around.”
Shirrad gave a shrill, nervous laugh but stood and gestured toward the hall. “I know Aredann is a small estate. It certainly can’t compare to Danardae. But it is beautiful here, Highest.”
“So I can see already,” Elan agreed, eyeing the designs in the halls. The large, swirling patterns built up to peaks, their shapes echoing the arched hallway itself, dotted with the occasional burst of yellow or red flowers. Legend said Lord Aredann, the guardian the estate had originally been named for, had been an almost obsessive gardener and that under his rule, the estate had been blanketed by blossoms year round.
“It is remarkable what the mages were able to do, isn’t it?” Shirrad asked, reaching out to drag a hand along the wall.
“It’s a shame so much magic was lost after the War,” Elan said. And then, carefully, he continued, “One of the final battles was fought here at Aredann, wasn’t it? If I remember my history right…”
“Yes!” Shirrad chirped.
“I’m fascinated by your estate’s history. Are there any artifacts left from the battle?” Elan asked.
“Not many, I’m afraid,” Shirrad said. “It’s hard to tell what was used in a magical battle—I suppose we’re lucky the house was even left standing!”
“Yes, we are,” Elan agreed.
They turned down another long hall, one with enormous, empty windows. “But we do have the mosaic in the main hall that was created only a few years after the War, to celebrate Lord Aredann’s victory. And oh!” She stopped short. “Of course he loved his garden. It’s nothing to look at now, but…”
She gestured to a large, open arch, which led out into a courtyard. Elan squinted in the dark and started forward as his eyes adjusted, peering across the yard at the strange shapes of the bushes—
And he walked directly into something. It gave, and cool liquid hit his sandals. He jumped back, and Lady Shirrad crashed into him from behind. It took him a second to spot what he’d hit—a large water skin had been propped open on the path. He managed to steady himself and Lady Shirrad, while someone else scurried in the darkness—a barefoot servant girl.
No—servants would never go around barefoot. That was a sign of the Closest. He frowned in confusion as the girl hurried to save the rest of the water, but it was too late. A little still sloshed inside the skin, but the rest puddled and spread across the garden path. The Closest froze, still clutching the skin, then dropped into an awkward bow, shoulders hunched and gaze cast downward.
“Jae!” Shirrad shrieked, and pushed past Elan. “All that water! Blood and bones, how could you be so careless?”
Elan’s vision had finally adjusted enough for him to see the Closest more clearly. He’d never seen one so closely before. Her hair was cut short, close to her scalp, and her clothes were filthy. “It was an accident, Lady. I was watering the garden….” She trailed off, looking down at her muddy footprints.
“You never should have left that open!” Shirrad yelled. “And now it’s all wasted.” She turned to Elan, eyes wide and glistening as she said, “I’m so sorry, Grand Warden. We are never this careless with water. Please believe that.”
The Closest girl had sharp features and dark skin. Elan couldn’t make out the color of her eyes, but her mouth hung half-open and her hands trembled. Shirrad raised her arm, and the Closest tensed, eyes screwed shut. The sound of the slap echoed through the courtyard, a sharp noise like a thunderclap. The Closest didn’t react except to quiver in place, but Elan’s gut twisted with horror. Back home, they’d never dream of striking one of their servants—but then again, they’d also never have a Closest inside the house or on its grounds. Their servants were all well paid. Some of them were even Avowed, working not for money but for a chance to impress the Highest families.
Lady Shirrad raised her hand again, and Elan reacted without thinking, grabbing her arm to stop her. She whirled around to face him, her lips twisted in an angry sneer that turned to shock when she remembered herself. She dropped her hand quickly and asked, “Highest?”
“What is she even doing inside like this?” he asked.
Shirrad shifted awkwardly, and finally explained, “With the drought being what it is…the servants have mostly left. I know it’s…it’s unusual to allow the Closest into the household, but…”
“I see,” Elan said.
“But I promise, I will see her punished for that waste,” Shirrad finished, her voice growing a little stronger as she spoke.
The Closest girl’s eyes shut for a moment, and she looked away, defeated, silent. Something in Elan’s gut twisted unpleasantly, and he said, “No, that’s not necessary.”
“But we never waste water like that,” Shirrad insisted. “You must understand that. We—”
“I do understand,” he said. He was a water warden, after all; he knew the difference between waste and an accident. But Shirrad still looked nervous, so he sighed and said, “I’ll take care of this.”
Shirrad glanced at the girl, then nodded. “Very well. Jae, go wait in His Highest’s room until he’s ready to deal with you.”
Elan sagged on his cushion. Thirteen was far too young to rule over any town or city, even one as insignificant as Aredann. He gave her a sympathetic look and went back to his meal, but he was already thinking it over. Lady Shirrad’s father had believed he could find the Well from Aredann. He must have had reason to. He must have found something—hopefully something still here, not lost with him in the desert.
Maybe Lady Shirrad knew what it was. She’d definitely never talk about it, with her situation as precarious as it was. She couldn’t afford to look like she questioned the Highest. But once Elan had a chance to speak with her alone, he’d reassure her, and find out everything she knew. And Desinn would never know what was happening, until Elan was ready.
Lady Shirrad offered to show Elan and Desinn around Aredann after the meal, but Desinn declined, tired from all their traveling. Elan was just as exhausted, but even so, he said, “I’d love to see more of Aredann this evening, at least enough to start to learn my way around.”
Shirrad gave a shrill, nervous laugh but stood and gestured toward the hall. “I know Aredann is a small estate. It certainly can’t compare to Danardae. But it is beautiful here, Highest.”
“So I can see already,” Elan agreed, eyeing the designs in the halls. The large, swirling patterns built up to peaks, their shapes echoing the arched hallway itself, dotted with the occasional burst of yellow or red flowers. Legend said Lord Aredann, the guardian the estate had originally been named for, had been an almost obsessive gardener and that under his rule, the estate had been blanketed by blossoms year round.
“It is remarkable what the mages were able to do, isn’t it?” Shirrad asked, reaching out to drag a hand along the wall.
“It’s a shame so much magic was lost after the War,” Elan said. And then, carefully, he continued, “One of the final battles was fought here at Aredann, wasn’t it? If I remember my history right…”
“Yes!” Shirrad chirped.
“I’m fascinated by your estate’s history. Are there any artifacts left from the battle?” Elan asked.
“Not many, I’m afraid,” Shirrad said. “It’s hard to tell what was used in a magical battle—I suppose we’re lucky the house was even left standing!”
“Yes, we are,” Elan agreed.
They turned down another long hall, one with enormous, empty windows. “But we do have the mosaic in the main hall that was created only a few years after the War, to celebrate Lord Aredann’s victory. And oh!” She stopped short. “Of course he loved his garden. It’s nothing to look at now, but…”
She gestured to a large, open arch, which led out into a courtyard. Elan squinted in the dark and started forward as his eyes adjusted, peering across the yard at the strange shapes of the bushes—
And he walked directly into something. It gave, and cool liquid hit his sandals. He jumped back, and Lady Shirrad crashed into him from behind. It took him a second to spot what he’d hit—a large water skin had been propped open on the path. He managed to steady himself and Lady Shirrad, while someone else scurried in the darkness—a barefoot servant girl.
No—servants would never go around barefoot. That was a sign of the Closest. He frowned in confusion as the girl hurried to save the rest of the water, but it was too late. A little still sloshed inside the skin, but the rest puddled and spread across the garden path. The Closest froze, still clutching the skin, then dropped into an awkward bow, shoulders hunched and gaze cast downward.
“Jae!” Shirrad shrieked, and pushed past Elan. “All that water! Blood and bones, how could you be so careless?”
Elan’s vision had finally adjusted enough for him to see the Closest more clearly. He’d never seen one so closely before. Her hair was cut short, close to her scalp, and her clothes were filthy. “It was an accident, Lady. I was watering the garden….” She trailed off, looking down at her muddy footprints.
“You never should have left that open!” Shirrad yelled. “And now it’s all wasted.” She turned to Elan, eyes wide and glistening as she said, “I’m so sorry, Grand Warden. We are never this careless with water. Please believe that.”
The Closest girl had sharp features and dark skin. Elan couldn’t make out the color of her eyes, but her mouth hung half-open and her hands trembled. Shirrad raised her arm, and the Closest tensed, eyes screwed shut. The sound of the slap echoed through the courtyard, a sharp noise like a thunderclap. The Closest didn’t react except to quiver in place, but Elan’s gut twisted with horror. Back home, they’d never dream of striking one of their servants—but then again, they’d also never have a Closest inside the house or on its grounds. Their servants were all well paid. Some of them were even Avowed, working not for money but for a chance to impress the Highest families.
Lady Shirrad raised her hand again, and Elan reacted without thinking, grabbing her arm to stop her. She whirled around to face him, her lips twisted in an angry sneer that turned to shock when she remembered herself. She dropped her hand quickly and asked, “Highest?”
“What is she even doing inside like this?” he asked.
Shirrad shifted awkwardly, and finally explained, “With the drought being what it is…the servants have mostly left. I know it’s…it’s unusual to allow the Closest into the household, but…”
“I see,” Elan said.
“But I promise, I will see her punished for that waste,” Shirrad finished, her voice growing a little stronger as she spoke.
The Closest girl’s eyes shut for a moment, and she looked away, defeated, silent. Something in Elan’s gut twisted unpleasantly, and he said, “No, that’s not necessary.”
“But we never waste water like that,” Shirrad insisted. “You must understand that. We—”
“I do understand,” he said. He was a water warden, after all; he knew the difference between waste and an accident. But Shirrad still looked nervous, so he sighed and said, “I’ll take care of this.”
Shirrad glanced at the girl, then nodded. “Very well. Jae, go wait in His Highest’s room until he’s ready to deal with you.”
