The Well of Shades (71 page)

A
FTER HIS NIGHT
spent out in the woods searching fruitlessly for Derelei, Bedo was unable to conceal from his stepmother that his arm was troubling him. Brethana ordered him to stay back in the morning when the others went out, his brother among them. For
once Bedo obeyed her without question, though he chafed at the restriction. The physician had made it quite clear what would happen if he overtaxed the mending limb. The thought of little Derelei freezing to death or coming to some other harm filled him with the urge to help, to take action.
Common sense told him there were many men searching, capable men; it told him that his own small contribution
was of insufficient worth to justify risking his future as a warrior chieftain. He stayed behind and won his stepmother’s smile and words of praise.

Then there was another tedious day to fill, a day which, like every other since the hunt, seemed endless and empty. He’d never been much of a scholar, though he’d worked hard enough at his learning while Ferada was bringing them up, him and Uric.
He’d had to; his sister had been no easy taskmaster. After their mother went away, Ferada had applied herself to the job of overseer and tutor with all her formidable strength. As a result, he and Uric were competent in the branches of learning a young man of noble blood required. Still, it had been a relief when their father had wed Brethana and Ferada had gone off to Banmerren to start her experiment
in the education of young women. Bedo had never really enjoyed cramming his head with history, geography, astrology, and languages. He was happier taking his horse over a difficult jump or wrestling with his brother. Until this arm mended, he would find his days hard to get through.

Today was a little different. He did have a task to accomplish. The pin Uric had found was in Bedo’s pouch, well
concealed. With Uric gone out again on the search, it fell to Bedo to discover whether their theory was correct, and to do so without arousing their quarry’s suspicion.

Girls seemed to like to travel in packs. It was exceptionally difficult to separate one out without the others noticing and coming after their friend. Of course, today most of the men were absent from court, for the search area
had widened, taking them well away from the wooded slopes of White Hill and out across the flat lands beyond, up toward the coast, down toward the dark, deep lake, over to the rising ground in the southwest that eventually became the Great Glen. Court was quiet. The arrival
of the Christians created a small drama; Tharan handled it with his usual competence, shepherding them away to somewhere
secluded. Another thing for the king to deal with.

The absence of so many folk made Bedo’s quest more difficult. It made him more visible. The morning had been useless, the girls coming out only once and staying together the whole time. In the afternoon he hung about in the garden a while, exchanging desultory talk with Dovran. Later he found temporary occupation with Garvan the stone carver
and his assistant. Garvan was touching up some of the small decorative carvings along the courtyard wall, little creatures mostly, cat, badger, squirrel, owl. With one arm in a sling Bedo couldn’t do much, but there were times when an extra hand to hold bracing timbers in place or reach for a particular chisel came in useful. Besides, Garvan seemed to welcome the company.

Breda and her handmaids
came past twice and Bedo watched them without being too obvious about it. They kept close together like a gaggle of geese, Breda a little in front, the others in her wake. Not a chance of singling one out. Not a hope. None of them was like Cella, who had stood out for her wit and independence, quiet girl as she was. He still found it hard to accept that Cella was dead, Cella with her soft brown
hair and her shy smile. It was wrong that she should have been taken thus, and this heartless princess still walking about as if the world owed her humblest allegiance. These other girls seemed all too ready to give it; they clung as close to her as burrs in a dog’s coat.

The day wore on and the light began to fade. Garvan packed up his tools, thanked Bedo and the assistant, and left. Curse it,
Uric would be back soon and Bedo would have to report that he’d achieved absolutely nothing. There must be some way to do this. He went to the privy and sat awhile thinking, the jeweled pin like a leaden weight in his pouch. He thought about girls, and the way
they always needed their friends with them for some reason. They probably even went to the privy in a group. Or did they? What about washing?
Breda would be the kind of girl, like his sister Ferada, who could not attend supper without washing her face and hands, dressing her hair, and getting into a fresh gown even if the old one was perfectly clean. With that bevy of handmaids she wouldn’t have to lift a finger. They’d bring warm water and take the leftovers away again. He’d wager the ordinary household serving people of White Hill
never set foot in Lady Breda’s private quarters.

It was getting on for suppertime now, though the king would doubtless delay it until the search party returned. That there had as yet been no sign of them foreshadowed bad news; if they had found Derelei or Eile, a message would have come back swiftly. A plan suggested itself to Bedo. He must find a spot from which he could watch the entry to Breda’s
apartments, but in which he could not be seen. Gods, to think that not so long ago he’d been practically panting for the opportunity to speak to her. It shamed him to recall it.

Most of the guards were away. That made it easier for Bedo to conceal himself without drawing attention. It wasn’t the subtlest of hiding places, behind a pillar at the foot of some steps, but it did allow a clear view
of what he needed. It was a test, he thought. A warrior’s test: keep silent, stay alert, be ready to strike at a moment’s notice.
Strike
being used figuratively, of course.
I’m doing this for you
, he told the shade of Cella.
I hope you know how much I cared about you
. Then he leaned against the wall, narrowed his eyes and waited.

E
LDA DECIDED SHE
would have supper
with the children. Saraid could not be left on her own, even with Gilder and Galen and the familiar maidservant. The child had barely moved all day. The twins, boisterous even at their quieter
moments, had been tiptoeing around her, unnerved by her hunched silence.

It wasn’t that Saraid had lost the power of speech. She had accepted the breakfast offered her on a tray with a whispered
thank you
, testimony to Eile’s rigorous training in good manners. She had murmured to Sorry on and off during the day, little songs and rhymes. Elda took the three children out to the garden in the afternoon, thinking it would not hurt Saraid to stretch her legs and breathe fresh air. The twins were more than ready for some exercise and ran off along the paths with their ball. Elda sat down on a bench, easing
her back. It would not be long before her baby arrived. Gods, she hoped it was a girl.

Saraid climbed onto the bench beside her. The little girl sat close, right up against Elda’s side, her doll pressed tightly to her chest. Elda could feel her shivering as if chilled to the bone. She put her arm around the child. Down the garden, Gilder and Galen were trying to skip stones across the pond, as
they’d once seen Dovran doing. She kept a watchful eye on them, not wanting to deal with wet clothes.

“Are you all right, Saraid?”

“Mm.”

“Sure?”

“Mm.”

“You know last night? When Faolan found you in the woods?”

“Feeler find Sorry.”

It was more than she’d offered all day.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Faolan found Sorry under a bush. She was in her lovely blue dress, the one Eile made for her.”

Elda felt the small body tense; looking down, she saw Saraid’s lips tighten. She knew the signs. This was a child holding back a secret, something she dared not tell.

“Saraid, do you know where Eile went? And Derelei? Will you tell me?”

The lips pressed together. There was the smallest shake of the head.

“It might help your mama, Saraid, if you can tell us what you know. If Mama’s hurt or lost
or…” It did not bear thinking about, the possibility that Eile—
Eile
—might be a traitor, a spy. “Or if Derelei went off somewhere and he’s cold and tired and wants to come home… You should tell me, Saraid. You could help Derelei come home.” Privately, Elda was holding out less and less hope of that occurring as the time passed. Alongside her own sturdy boys, Derelei was like a single violet growing
next to a pair of thorny rosebushes. A breath of wind might carry him away. How could such a waif survive even a single night out in the woods alone? “Saraid?”

But Saraid’s lips remained firmly shut. They sat a while longer; Dovran came down to greet them and went away again on his patrol. He looked drained and weary. Then the twins began to argue about the ball, a frequent cause of disagreement,
and it was time to go in again.

On the way to her own quarters, Elda stopped by the chamber Eile shared with Saraid, for the little girl would need a nightrobe, clean smallclothes, her own comb and mirror, and there might be other familiar items she would find comforting.

“Don’t touch Eile’s things,” Elda warned the twins. “Sit on the bed, the two of you, and wait until Saraid and I have what
we need.” She opened the storage chest, looking through its meager contents, hoping Eile would not mind.

“Other dress,” said Saraid. She had a little box of her own; it rested on the small table by the bed. She opened it and lifted out a minute pink gown and a length of silk ribbon. The twins clambered along the bed, craning to see.

“Yes, of course, fetch Sorry’s things, too,” Elda told Saraid.
“You’ll be sleeping in our chamber again tonight. Do you want your gray gown…?” Her voice faded
while, in the background, the twins kept up a commentary on the pros and cons of Sorry’s wardrobe. Elda rose to her feet. She looked around the chamber. The story had got about quickly, spread by those girls who were attached to King Keother’s cousin. Eile had been seen going out. She’d actually been
seen taking the king’s son beyond the gate and down the track toward Serpent Lake. It was difficult to believe; they’d have needed to travel fast to evade the search. They’d probably have had to go by boat, down the freezing waters of the lake. Yet there, hanging neatly on a peg, was Eile’s outdoor cloak. And there, placed precisely together in a corner, were Eile’s outdoor boots.

Elda felt suddenly
cold. “Saraid?” she asked. “Where is your warm cloak?”

Saraid scrambled down from the bed and came over to point into a corner of the chest. There it was, tidily folded, a brown woollen garment Elda had seen many times before. “Of course. What about your boots?”

Saraid looked down at the soft kidskin boots she was wearing, which were stained from their journey on the forest floor.

“Not those,
sweetheart, your big boots, the outside boots.”

Saraid went to the bed, peered underneath, reached and drew out a pair of sturdy small boots in good leather. “Going outside?” she asked. Her voice was suddenly small and shaky.

“No, Saraid, not now. It’s nearly suppertime. I just needed to know where to find them. Now, I’ve got your nightrobe and comb and a fresh gown for the morning. Gather up
Sorry’s things and we’ll go and put them away in our chamber. I expect Papa will be home soon, boys. And Faolan.” She glanced at Saraid.

“Feeler home.” The little girl spoke on a sigh.

Thank the gods, Elda thought, that Garth would be back by suppertime, whether with good news or bad. It had been hard to take in the possibility that Eile was not
what they’d thought her. Perhaps that was not
because Eile had cleverly duped them all, but because it simply wasn’t true. Maybe she should go now, and let the king know what she’d discovered. She eyed the three children, Saraid pale and withdrawn, Gilder and Galen grubby from their adventures in the garden and starting to get fractious with hunger. They were in no fit state to go anywhere but into a bath and then straight to supper. Out in the
hallway, she looked about for someone to call, someone who could take a message to the king, but there was nobody in sight. With a sigh, Elda headed back to her own quarters; this would have to wait.