Bound by Blood and Sand
Page 11
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Rannith was going to be there. Firran knew that.
Jae staggered to the side of the hall, leaned against the wall for a moment, her heartbeat echoing so loudly in her ears that she couldn’t hear anything else. She hunched forward, trying to breathe, dimly aware of every scrape and scab on her body, every smudge of dirt. The armor that turned her invisible, kept her beneath their notice and away where she was safe—armor that she now had to strip off.
The Curse started throbbing slowly at the base of her skull, a nudge because she had to move. It didn’t matter that she’d rather work outside with no water, and it didn’t matter if Lord Elan had intended to do something kind. This was the task she’d been assigned, even if it was just by Firran, and she had no choice at all.
She stowed her equipment and went to clean herself up. Her hair was too short to do much with, tight spiral curls clipped close to her scalp, but she wiped the sweat and sand from her skin and changed into one of Gali’s plain tan dresses. It was unwashed, but nowhere near as filthy as Jae’s clothing. It fell straight down from her shoulders, with long loose sleeves and a belt around her waist. It didn’t quite fit, too short because she was taller than Gali, and the belt was just old scraps braided into a flat strip, hanging down too low because Jae’s figure was so much flatter than Gali’s.
There was no mirror in the Closest’s quarters, which was just as well. Jae knew she looked ridiculous. But ridiculous was safer than pretty.
Lady Shirrad’s kitchen was run by a cook, one of the few Twill who hadn’t fled back to the central cities as the drought had grown worse. He had two assistants, but the rest of the kitchen workers were Closest, including Asra tending a pot on the fire. Asra glanced at her and gave a tiny almost-nod in greeting before turning back to her work.
Only the cook bothered to say anything to her. “You’re not the usual server.”
Jae shrugged silently. The cook wasn’t Avowed, so the Curse would allow her to speak, but he probably wouldn’t like it. It would be the same when he gave her orders in the kitchen. Magic wouldn’t force her to obey, but she’d still end up in trouble if she tried to resist. All he’d have to do was tell Lady Shirrad or one of the other Avowed—if he even bothered. No one would say a word about it if he beat her himself.
“Well, we’re not ready to serve yet—take the ladle and get to work.” He shoved the scoop into her hand and nodded toward where one of his assistants was pulling the lid off a stone pot.
As Jae began doling stew out into bowls, the assistant looked up at the cook and asked, “Did His Highest like breakfast?”
“He didn’t say anything about it,” the cook snapped. “And he’s not all that high. Just the second child.”
“High enough,” the other assistant put in.
“Not even close,” the cook said. “That tutor of his told some of the Avowed all about it last night. Lord Elan’s not the heir, and he won’t ever be now that Lady Erra has children of her own. He’s not even in favor with his father.”
“I don’t believe it. How does the Highest’s own son fall out of favor?”
Jae began arranging the bowls on a platter. The assistant garnished them with something green and slightly wilted.
“Well, what Lord Desinn says—not that we were meant to hear this, of course—but he says that Aredann isn’t the only estate where the reservoir’s run too low. Most towns are all right, and the central cities are all fine, but the farther out you get, the worse it is. It’s bad enough that they’ve left some estates behind entirely—just packed up all the Avowed and moved. They’re going to leave Aredann soon, too.”
Just like Firran had said. Jae frowned down at the bowls.
“But of course, the guardians don’t like that too much. No one’s going to question it, not when it was ordered by the Highest themselves. No one would dare…except Lord Elan. That’s what Lord Desinn said, that Lord Elan heard the grumbling and asked his father about it, and, well, Highest Lord Elthis wasn’t very happy with him. He said it was traitorous talk, even if it was coming from his own son. So now Lord Elan’s here, to see what it’s like in the real drought, to learn his lesson, and he’s cursed lucky he wasn’t disavowed. He definitely won’t be questioning his father again.”
“But surely they won’t really just leave Aredann behind,” one of the assistants said. “There’s still some water here.”
“Not enough. And once the people are all gone, they’ll work it so the Well sends its water to other reservoirs.”
Jae stared resolutely down at her work. Once the people were gone—once the Closest were dead.
“Hey—hey you there, Closest. The platter’s ready. Get it out there before His Highest complains.”
Jae heaved the platter up, braced herself, and headed into the dining hall. The gossip had at least given her something to think about other than her terror of the gathered lords and ladies, but when she stepped out into the open, the fear flickered back to life. She moved as quickly as she could manage without risking tripping or spilling anything, making her way to the head of the table to serve Lord Elan first. He nodded his thanks when she set it down, though no one else at the table bothered to. Lady Shirrad sat next to him, along with her advisors, Aredann’s few other Avowed.
Lord Rannith sat at the far end of the table. Jae’s stomach clenched as she stepped near to him, hating how close she had to be to set the platter down. He was too large for her to reach around easily, with hugely muscled arms from his work as the captain of Shirrad’s tiny guard squad. He reached for his fork and Jae darted away quickly, forcing back the memory of those hands on her body.
Thankfully, he didn’t even look at her. He just leaned forward to eat and listen as Lord Elan talked about how everyone who went to search the desert for the Well left from Aredann. Jae caught her breath as she walked back to the kitchen, her skin crawling. The work wasn’t hard, but she was tense, worried that a misstep would have everyone’s eyes on her.
Eventually the meal wound down. She cleared the dishes and delivered them to the kitchen to be cleaned, then had to wait in the corner of the dining room. She stood like stone, schooling her breaths to come as silently as possible while she watched and listened to see if anyone needed anything.
Jae staggered to the side of the hall, leaned against the wall for a moment, her heartbeat echoing so loudly in her ears that she couldn’t hear anything else. She hunched forward, trying to breathe, dimly aware of every scrape and scab on her body, every smudge of dirt. The armor that turned her invisible, kept her beneath their notice and away where she was safe—armor that she now had to strip off.
The Curse started throbbing slowly at the base of her skull, a nudge because she had to move. It didn’t matter that she’d rather work outside with no water, and it didn’t matter if Lord Elan had intended to do something kind. This was the task she’d been assigned, even if it was just by Firran, and she had no choice at all.
She stowed her equipment and went to clean herself up. Her hair was too short to do much with, tight spiral curls clipped close to her scalp, but she wiped the sweat and sand from her skin and changed into one of Gali’s plain tan dresses. It was unwashed, but nowhere near as filthy as Jae’s clothing. It fell straight down from her shoulders, with long loose sleeves and a belt around her waist. It didn’t quite fit, too short because she was taller than Gali, and the belt was just old scraps braided into a flat strip, hanging down too low because Jae’s figure was so much flatter than Gali’s.
There was no mirror in the Closest’s quarters, which was just as well. Jae knew she looked ridiculous. But ridiculous was safer than pretty.
Lady Shirrad’s kitchen was run by a cook, one of the few Twill who hadn’t fled back to the central cities as the drought had grown worse. He had two assistants, but the rest of the kitchen workers were Closest, including Asra tending a pot on the fire. Asra glanced at her and gave a tiny almost-nod in greeting before turning back to her work.
Only the cook bothered to say anything to her. “You’re not the usual server.”
Jae shrugged silently. The cook wasn’t Avowed, so the Curse would allow her to speak, but he probably wouldn’t like it. It would be the same when he gave her orders in the kitchen. Magic wouldn’t force her to obey, but she’d still end up in trouble if she tried to resist. All he’d have to do was tell Lady Shirrad or one of the other Avowed—if he even bothered. No one would say a word about it if he beat her himself.
“Well, we’re not ready to serve yet—take the ladle and get to work.” He shoved the scoop into her hand and nodded toward where one of his assistants was pulling the lid off a stone pot.
As Jae began doling stew out into bowls, the assistant looked up at the cook and asked, “Did His Highest like breakfast?”
“He didn’t say anything about it,” the cook snapped. “And he’s not all that high. Just the second child.”
“High enough,” the other assistant put in.
“Not even close,” the cook said. “That tutor of his told some of the Avowed all about it last night. Lord Elan’s not the heir, and he won’t ever be now that Lady Erra has children of her own. He’s not even in favor with his father.”
“I don’t believe it. How does the Highest’s own son fall out of favor?”
Jae began arranging the bowls on a platter. The assistant garnished them with something green and slightly wilted.
“Well, what Lord Desinn says—not that we were meant to hear this, of course—but he says that Aredann isn’t the only estate where the reservoir’s run too low. Most towns are all right, and the central cities are all fine, but the farther out you get, the worse it is. It’s bad enough that they’ve left some estates behind entirely—just packed up all the Avowed and moved. They’re going to leave Aredann soon, too.”
Just like Firran had said. Jae frowned down at the bowls.
“But of course, the guardians don’t like that too much. No one’s going to question it, not when it was ordered by the Highest themselves. No one would dare…except Lord Elan. That’s what Lord Desinn said, that Lord Elan heard the grumbling and asked his father about it, and, well, Highest Lord Elthis wasn’t very happy with him. He said it was traitorous talk, even if it was coming from his own son. So now Lord Elan’s here, to see what it’s like in the real drought, to learn his lesson, and he’s cursed lucky he wasn’t disavowed. He definitely won’t be questioning his father again.”
“But surely they won’t really just leave Aredann behind,” one of the assistants said. “There’s still some water here.”
“Not enough. And once the people are all gone, they’ll work it so the Well sends its water to other reservoirs.”
Jae stared resolutely down at her work. Once the people were gone—once the Closest were dead.
“Hey—hey you there, Closest. The platter’s ready. Get it out there before His Highest complains.”
Jae heaved the platter up, braced herself, and headed into the dining hall. The gossip had at least given her something to think about other than her terror of the gathered lords and ladies, but when she stepped out into the open, the fear flickered back to life. She moved as quickly as she could manage without risking tripping or spilling anything, making her way to the head of the table to serve Lord Elan first. He nodded his thanks when she set it down, though no one else at the table bothered to. Lady Shirrad sat next to him, along with her advisors, Aredann’s few other Avowed.
Lord Rannith sat at the far end of the table. Jae’s stomach clenched as she stepped near to him, hating how close she had to be to set the platter down. He was too large for her to reach around easily, with hugely muscled arms from his work as the captain of Shirrad’s tiny guard squad. He reached for his fork and Jae darted away quickly, forcing back the memory of those hands on her body.
Thankfully, he didn’t even look at her. He just leaned forward to eat and listen as Lord Elan talked about how everyone who went to search the desert for the Well left from Aredann. Jae caught her breath as she walked back to the kitchen, her skin crawling. The work wasn’t hard, but she was tense, worried that a misstep would have everyone’s eyes on her.
Eventually the meal wound down. She cleared the dishes and delivered them to the kitchen to be cleaned, then had to wait in the corner of the dining room. She stood like stone, schooling her breaths to come as silently as possible while she watched and listened to see if anyone needed anything.
