The Ritual (44 page)

“Will I see you at lunch?” I asked Tio as I unbuckled the padding, wiped my face down with a cold, damp cloth and grabbed the dress I had worn over my skin-tight practice clothes, conscious of the fact that I always had to keep up the pretence that I was an ordinary court lady.

“No, I’ve got a date with Miri,” he drawled, stretching lazily. Then with a wink he added, “That’ll be my exercise for the day, I reckon. Good work today, Sita, I’ll see you in the rosary this afternoon.” He reached out as if to pat my shoulder, then seemed to remember my sweaty state and turned it into a finger-waggle wave instead before walking away.

I resisted staring after him and instead gave Ziarev a respectful bow, Tash an affectionate ruffle of his hair, then left in order to have a bath before lunch.

My room was on the opposite side of the palace, in the opulent wing that held the royal rooms as well as those of the queen’s most favoured ladies in waiting. It reflected my high status, but unfortunately it also meant I had to wend my way through a maze of marble-floored corridors, up two wide carpeted stairways and through one of the secondary audience rooms. The décor everywhere reflected the queen’s penchant for understated splendour, with simple but exquisite vases of the finest Mazarian porcelain, tapestries subtly interwoven with gold and silver thread and delicate, velvet-covered furniture from the best Innisian artisans.

I knew that back in King Sovander’s days the palace had been glittering with riches. All the candelabras had been gilded, all the chandeliers hung with gems of many colours and all the floors covered with ankle-deep carpets. My history books said that after Queen Timaniel ascended the throne, many of those riches had been exchanged for coin to fatten the royal treasury, and that she had used much of that coin to better the lot of half-elves and humans in Arlennis.

I was woken from my musing by Lady Nizielin, one of the queen’s elven ladies-in-waiting, and barely suppressed a sigh. It was impossible to reach my rooms without being waylaid by at least one acquaintance, but I would have given much to avoid having to make polite conversation with this particular one.

“Sita! Oh, I’m so glad to see you here!” she said, gliding towards me on elegant little mules that peeked out from underneath her wide, frothy skirt, the pale peach colour of both perfectly matched. Almost without thinking I bent my knees a little to hide my own shoes, which were the sturdy leather boots I always wore during fight practice.

“Linny, such a pleasure to see you too,” I replied, smiling at her. The reaction was easy and stemmed from years of practice, even though I hated her guts and she knew it. “I was just thinking that it had been far too long since I invited you and your husband over for tea.”

Her face fell, and just for a heartbeat I could see clearly how much she hated me back. Her husband had pursued me for a while, five years ago, and even though I had initially not been interested, she had automatically assumed that the worst had happened. Out of vindictiveness I had decided that since she had already tried and convicted me in her head, I might as well be guilty of the crime.

It had left an exceptionally bad taste in my mouth. It was common enough for the courtiers to sleep around, but this particular episode had shown me firsthand what effect it had on marriages, friendships and other relations that depended on trust, and since that time I had restricted myself to lovers who had no ties to other women. However, my relationship with Linny had never recovered, even though we both had to keep up the pretence at least of fond acquaintances.

“We would be delighted to, but that’s not what I wished to speak to you about,” she said with a dainty wave of her hand. Even her nails had been lacquered peach, I noticed, hiding my own hands in the folds of my skirt. “No, I wanted to invite you to a little fete at our country residence. It’s six days from now and only a small affair, no more than thirty people, but please bring a partner?”

She smiled at me expectantly, and I suppressed another sigh. ‘A partner’ meant Tio, of course, and it meant that if I went, and brought him along, he would be pestered all night by Linny’s friends among the lower aristocracy, who would otherwise have to spend weeks at the court before being granted an audience with the queen or her son.

“I’m sorry, Linny, but I’m afraid I already have an engagement that night, or I would have loved to come,” I replied, putting just the right amount of regret in my voice. “Do ask me again next time though, your fetes are unrivalled. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have lessons to attend this afternoon, and I have a few last minute things I need to do for it. Please give my regards to your darling husband.”

“But of course, he will be pleased to receive it, I’m sure,” Linny replied, her voice now tart. “Apropos, you’re wearing a very interesting perfume, Sita. Very bold, though I’m sorry to say that I do not think it suits you. You may wish to choose something lighter in future.” With that she gave me a measured nod and swept away down the corridor.

In other words, I stink of sweat
, I thought, bowing my head to hide my grin. I had seen the glimpse of curiosity in her eyes before she left, and knew that she still couldn’t figure me out, still didn’t know what exactly my position was at the court.

But then, I wasn’t even sure of that myself.

I had been adopted from the orphanage at age ten by one of Aunt Tima’s ladies in waiting, but everyone knew I fell under the queen’s personal responsibility. She could not have adopted me herself, since by law only half-elf couples could adopt half-elf children, and Aunt Tima was adamant that the law applied to everyone, even her. Still, I rarely saw the people I ought to call mother and father socially, and although I liked them well enough, we had little use for each other.

My education had begun immediately, together with Tio’s. He was a year younger than me, but initially we had shared all our lessons. We had been versed in etiquette, conversation techniques, dancing, demeanour and poise – all essential for a courtier. We had been schooled in fashion, hair- and skincare, and make-up held no secrets whatsoever. They were all crucial skills for a lady-in-waiting or an attendant, but so far it was nothing that most elf children in Arlennis – boy or girl – did not learn as a matter of course.

Then at twelve my education had expanded. History, geography, literature, calculation and basic alchemy had passed before my eyes, and I had taken it all in greedily, spurred by a desire to please the woman who had taken me away from the dreariness of the orphanage and into a life infinitely more dazzling than I would have had if I had been adopted by a half-elf couple out in the normal world. Aunt Tima had been more than pleased, and my education had expanded again.

I was sent to farms and taught the basics of animal husbandry and crop rotation. Then I visited artisan craftsmen, learning all about cloth – both basic homespun as well as luxurious court fabrics – from a weaver, furniture making from a carpenter, and metalwork at a blacksmith, though I lacked the physical strength to wield the hammer for long periods of time and never made more than a plain, basic nail.

I spent a week at an infirmary, treating both simple ailments as well as assisting the head medic with a thatcher who had slipped off his ladder and broken his leg in two places.

Yet still my education was not complete. My lessons with Ziarev had begun when I was sixteen, and he had relentlessly drilled me in the use of every single weapon known to him. Three times a week I trained with him and Tash, and by now I knew how to wield a spear as well as I could handle a shortsword or knife, and could shoot a crossbow as well as I could aim a throwing knife.

My smile turned into a smirk when I thought of what Linny would do if she ever found out that I could skewer her to a wall by her clothes without so much as scratching her skin.

Provided she kept still of course. If she didn’t…

I shrugged the thought away. I hadn’t even been lying to Linny when I told her I already had an engagement, though I would have had to think of a lie if she had asked me what it was, for this particular engagement was my fortnightly lesson with Nightfoot.

Aunt Tima had introduced me to him two years ago, saying that I needed to be educated in one last thing. Nightfoot was the only name he had ever given me, and if that wasn’t enough secrecy, one of the court sorcerers then put a Binding Oath on me, which rendered me incapable of speaking of him to anyone other than the people who had been present.

I understood the secrecy when Nightfoot took me away for my first lesson, which centred on lockpicks and how to use them. Since then I had also learnt how to pick pockets, break into buildings, hide in the shadows and walk without making a sound. I didn’t think I was very good at it, but Nightfoot assured me that it took years of practice to be a good thief, and that I wasn’t doing too badly for the little time I spent on it.

It still puzzled me why Aunt Tima wanted me to learn something so clearly illegal, but so far she still had not chosen to divulge her reasons, and I knew better than to ask. Considering the depth and breadth of my education I had always assumed that I was being trained to be some sort of bodyguard to Tio, although that didn’t explain the burglary. I had stopped worrying about it though – I would find out eventually, and another thing I had learnt in my years at the court was patience.

*   *   *   *   *

When I arrived at the south rosary that afternoon, exactly on time, I found a guard waiting for me. “Good afternoon, Lady Veysita,” he said when I approached. “Master Juarev has assigned me to guard you and Prince Tionev today.”

I nodded at him, unsurprised. Juarev was a scholar to the core who would avoid going outside at all cost, but he would not let us work this afternoon unsupervised.

For whatever that supervision was worth. A guard was even less likely to reproach Tio for anything, and when he arrived a tenth-measure later and snatched my essay from under my nose I knew that he was still in the same disruptive mood he had been in that morning.

“
The Life of Chiarin and her Influence on Modern History
,” he read out loud, and I sighed. From experience I knew it was best to just let him get it out of his system, then he would be fine again for a few weeks.

“It’s as good a subject as any,” I said. “Modern history is littered with the influence of the changes brought on by the revaluation of half-elves as full citizens, so it makes sense to use that as a subject for a history essay.”

“Except that’s not your subject,” he pointed out. “You’ve picked one half-elf only, and one that no one has heard of at that.”

He did not seem inclined to return my paper, so I put my quill on my blotting cloth and folded my hands. “I wouldn’t say no one has heard of her. You have, haven’t you? And there are plenty of references to her, if you pick the right texts.”

“Oh, I forgot,” he sniffed. “You’ve read the entire library.”

“Maybe I have. Maybe you should try it too sometimes, rather than spending your afternoon chasing skirts.” My annoyance from that morning resurfaced and I added, rather snippily, “What’s your essay about anyway, ‘The Women in my Life and the Positions I’ve Fucked Them in’?”

The guard burst into a coughing fit, but Tio threw his head back and laughed. “Language, Sita! Swearing doesn’t become you, and neither does jealousy. But thank you for the suggestion, I’ll consider it for my next essay.” He winked at me and returned my paper, and I gave him a reluctant smile, as always unable to stay angry with him.

“So why her?” he asked, serious again, and I shrugged.

“I admire her.”

He snorted. “Wasn’t she a thief? What’s to admire about thieves?”

I stared ahead, thinking of Nightfoot and our fortnightly excursions. I had asked him once why he did what he did, and he had given me a curt explanation involving a dead wife, mounting debt and a lack of options. It had sounded convincing, but I had also often seen the gleam of excitement in his eyes as he picked a lock, and heard the wistfulness in his voice when he spoke of places he had paid a nighttime visit. My own thoughts were that some people were simply driven to do certain things, even if they were wrong, and even if it was dangerous. I doubted that Tio would understand such reasoning though.

“She’s not just a thief,” I said evasively. “That’s why I’m writing this essay, to draw attention to the other things she has done.”

“Such as?”

I peered at him, wondering if he was genuinely interested or merely trying to avoid doing some work of his own. He had his head propped up on his hand and his gaze was open and curious, but Tio was an expert in looking innocent and it could be just a ruse.

Then I decided that it didn’t matter. “There aren’t many references, but the ones I’ve found are tied to quite significant events.”

“Such as?” Tio said again.

“Well, first of all there’s the Monastery of Balance. It is run by a monastic order of half-elf women, right? They take all payments, ensure an honest distribution of the water and use any excess income to help pay for the half-elf orphanages throughout Arlennis.”

“True. So what’s that got to do with Chiarin?”

“Well, all sources I have found say that the monastery was founded by human men, and in Sovander’s time it was still run by them, not by half-elf women. What most of these sources do
not
state, however, is that there
were
half-elf women there, but that they were enslaved and used for sexual gratification.”