look at Ao, balancing on his wooden supports, and sent one of the kitchen children to fetch Per, with orders for him to “bring ’round the chair.”
“Old Master Josia, when he was older,” she explained. “Not so much with the getting around, but still impatient, he was. Had this made for him, to move easier, and stored it when he was gone. No reason why, save now, I suppose. Never be rid of anything you might need, that’s truth.”
“I’m sure Kaï will be thankful not to be my beast of burden any longer than needed,” Ao said. “My thanks, O Mistress of the House.” He tried to bow from his seat, and Detta scowled at him until he settled down.
“Once the healing starts . . .” Jerzy said, and then let his voice trail off. He would not give Ao false hope; the best he could promise would be that the scar tissue would not become infected, and the pain would lessen. He could not give Ao back his legs.
There was an awkward silence, then Ao shrugged and went back to his meal, and the others followed. As they ate, Detta quietly brought Jerzy up-to-date with what had happened while he was gone.
“Harvest was unexceptional; it was as though they knew he was gone, the vines did.” She was no Vineart, but she was House-keeper for decades, and knew more than most. “A fair amount of fruit was plucked and crushed, but I suspect it was no great loss you were not here to prepare it. I had the slaves cask it, anyway, but . . .” Her rounded shoulders rose and fell. “I’d no idea what to do, other.”
“The fields were cleared and prepared for Fallowtime?” He felt no taint here, within the walls where the Guardian protected, but other things could and often did go wrong. It had been too early in the morning when they rode in to see if all had been done as it should.
“As always; the overseer knew what to do, there, and made sure the other fields were kept likewise. We had . . .” She paused. “It was a quiet autumn.”
Meaning no visitors, Washer or otherwise. No attacks, once Malech was dead and he, Jerzy, was gone. The House had been no threat to what their enemy planned. That would change, now.
“I’ll need to ride out to see for myself,” he said, his mind leaving the impossible problems to focus on more well-traveled routes. “And let them know I’m back.”
They know.
The Guardian, its voice cool and silent in his head. “They” might have been referring to the overseer, or the slaves, but they were not.
* * *
W HILE HE was away, Detta had moved all of Jerzy’s belongs—a few trinkets his weapons master, Cai, had given him, the grammar he had learned his letters from, and a handsome glass bottle that Master Malech had gifted him with—to the rooms downstairs. Master Malech’s rooms: a bedchamber, a small garderobe, and the study. Now Jerzy’s. He could not protest: it was only right and proper. But the suddenness of it, to him, made his eyes sting.
Detta pretended not to notice as she sent Kaïnam and Ao up the stairs to what had been Jerzy’s room, and arranged for Mahault to settle in with Lil.
“If I do not intrude . . .” Mahl said, clearly torn between being separated from the others and the pleasing thought of not having to share sleeping quarters with them any longer.
“You do not intrude,” Lil assured her, tucking her arm into Mahl’s and leading her away to the side stair without a second thought.
“Do you need help with the stairs?” Kaïnam asked Ao, who shot him a glare, and stomped off, awkwardly, on his crutches, only to stop at the foot of the staircase and give a heavy sigh. “Yes,” he said. “I’m going to need help.”
“I will have Per construct a railing,” Detta said into Jerzy’s ear, watching the two take the stairs carefully, Ao’s upper body bearing his weight against the wall while Kaïnam carried the crutches. “And a pulley, perhaps: to slide the crutches alongside, so that he need not ask anyone to carry
“Old Master Josia, when he was older,” she explained. “Not so much with the getting around, but still impatient, he was. Had this made for him, to move easier, and stored it when he was gone. No reason why, save now, I suppose. Never be rid of anything you might need, that’s truth.”
“I’m sure Kaï will be thankful not to be my beast of burden any longer than needed,” Ao said. “My thanks, O Mistress of the House.” He tried to bow from his seat, and Detta scowled at him until he settled down.
“Once the healing starts . . .” Jerzy said, and then let his voice trail off. He would not give Ao false hope; the best he could promise would be that the scar tissue would not become infected, and the pain would lessen. He could not give Ao back his legs.
There was an awkward silence, then Ao shrugged and went back to his meal, and the others followed. As they ate, Detta quietly brought Jerzy up-to-date with what had happened while he was gone.
“Harvest was unexceptional; it was as though they knew he was gone, the vines did.” She was no Vineart, but she was House-keeper for decades, and knew more than most. “A fair amount of fruit was plucked and crushed, but I suspect it was no great loss you were not here to prepare it. I had the slaves cask it, anyway, but . . .” Her rounded shoulders rose and fell. “I’d no idea what to do, other.”
“The fields were cleared and prepared for Fallowtime?” He felt no taint here, within the walls where the Guardian protected, but other things could and often did go wrong. It had been too early in the morning when they rode in to see if all had been done as it should.
“As always; the overseer knew what to do, there, and made sure the other fields were kept likewise. We had . . .” She paused. “It was a quiet autumn.”
Meaning no visitors, Washer or otherwise. No attacks, once Malech was dead and he, Jerzy, was gone. The House had been no threat to what their enemy planned. That would change, now.
“I’ll need to ride out to see for myself,” he said, his mind leaving the impossible problems to focus on more well-traveled routes. “And let them know I’m back.”
They know.
The Guardian, its voice cool and silent in his head. “They” might have been referring to the overseer, or the slaves, but they were not.
* * *
W HILE HE was away, Detta had moved all of Jerzy’s belongs—a few trinkets his weapons master, Cai, had given him, the grammar he had learned his letters from, and a handsome glass bottle that Master Malech had gifted him with—to the rooms downstairs. Master Malech’s rooms: a bedchamber, a small garderobe, and the study. Now Jerzy’s. He could not protest: it was only right and proper. But the suddenness of it, to him, made his eyes sting.
Detta pretended not to notice as she sent Kaïnam and Ao up the stairs to what had been Jerzy’s room, and arranged for Mahault to settle in with Lil.
“If I do not intrude . . .” Mahl said, clearly torn between being separated from the others and the pleasing thought of not having to share sleeping quarters with them any longer.
“You do not intrude,” Lil assured her, tucking her arm into Mahl’s and leading her away to the side stair without a second thought.
“Do you need help with the stairs?” Kaïnam asked Ao, who shot him a glare, and stomped off, awkwardly, on his crutches, only to stop at the foot of the staircase and give a heavy sigh. “Yes,” he said. “I’m going to need help.”
“I will have Per construct a railing,” Detta said into Jerzy’s ear, watching the two take the stairs carefully, Ao’s upper body bearing his weight against the wall while Kaïnam carried the crutches. “And a pulley, perhaps: to slide the crutches alongside, so that he need not ask anyone to carry
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