Dagger's Edge (Shadow series) (10 page)

“Then perhaps it is worthy of its wearer,” Urien said smoothly. “Until supper, then.”

Jael stood watching after him for a few moments, then sighed and closed her door, wondering dismally what she could possibly wear to supper. Maybe it was time to call in Mother’s seamstresses and see what they could make up new for her. Maybe—

Jael shook her head, flopping onto her bed. Mooning over finery and blushing! Soon she’d be dropping handkerchiefs and giggling and darkening her eyelashes. What in the Mother Forest’s name did she think she was doing with Urien anyway? Certainly she was enjoying the attention, but what was she hoping for? Even if she wanted to marry him and become the lady of a large merchant family—an abysmal thought—there was no chance at all that her parents would ever permit her to marry a merchant and priest who would, in all probability, soon be returning to another city. Not marriage, then.

A few nights’ passion with a handsome, romantic nobleman from a far city? Jael sighed disgustedly at the idea. Did she really want Urien in her bed, or was she merely that desperate to prove that she
wasn’t
a child? And prove it to whom, Urien or herself? Her mind might be curious, but her body wouldn’t care if she waited twenty more years for her first tumble.

“Jael!”

The whispered voice came from Jael’s window, and Jael was surprised at the face peeping in.

“Tanis?” Jael hurried over. “What are you doing here?”

“I sneaked away from the temple,” Tanis admitted. “They dismissed all the acolytes, anyway, while the priests are all locked in rooms arguing. I wanted to come and apologize for scolding you like an old grandmother in the market. It’s not your fault that—well—”

“—that everything goes wrong all around me,” Jael finished. “Well, it is my fault in a way, even though I don’t mean to do it. That’s all right, Tanis. I seem to sour everybody’s milk at some time or other. I’m just glad you’re not still angry with me. I don’t have many friends. Don’t you want to come in?”

“No, I’ve got to hurry back to the temple before I’m missed,” Tanis said with a sigh. “And tomorrow High Priest Urien is going to be looking through all the temple records, so I’ll be busy all day carrying scrolls back and forth. But do you want to go to the market tomorrow evening?”

“All right,” Jael said eagerly. An evening of Tanis’s lively, undemanding company was just what she needed. Then she remembered and sighed. “I probably can’t. I’ve got to go to the Heartwood the next morning for this elven ritual, and Mist will likely have me meditating all evening or something. Can we go when I get back?”

“Of course,” Tanis said. “Any evening that High Priest Urien doesn’t have me digging through the temple archives.”

“What do you think of Lord—High Priest Urien, anyway?” Jael asked him.

“I don’t know.” Tanis frowned. “I was almost relieved when he came. I was worrying that the temple would be thrown out of the city, I suppose. And he knows everything about how to run a temple, I think. But he’s—I don’t know. Somehow I don’t like him.”

“Why not?” Jael pressed, surprised to find herself bristling a little.

“I don’t know,” Tanis said, shrugging. “It’s like when you bite into a meat pie and the meat’s spoiled, but the spices hide the flavor. At first you don’t notice anything, and then you can’t figure out why the pie doesn’t taste right. And the next thing you know, you’re spewing your guts out in the privy.”

Jael had to laugh at that.

“I don’t think Mother quite likes him either,” Jael confessed. “I don’t know why. I think he’s been very friendly and polite.”

“He certainly wasn’t polite with Ankaras,” Tanis said wryly. “He got so angry I thought he’d lock us all up in the

cellar. He has all of us doing menial work now, while he and his priests do all the rituals and make the decisions.”

“Well, he’s Ankaras’s superior, isn’t he?” Jael asked. “Doesn’t Ankaras have to obey him?”

“We all do,” Tanis said with a sigh. “Well, I’ll meet with you when you get back, then.”

“All right,” Jael said, wondering a little at Tanis’s attitude. From what she’d seen at the temple, Ankaras had seemed a very harsh master indeed. She couldn’t imagine Urien, however angry, being so severe.

Because the early autumn weather often necessitated Jael drinking potions and herbal teas, Jael always kept a kettle and water near the fireplace in her room. Now she filled the kettle and heated the water, shaving some of Urien’s tea into the water to brew, sniffing pleasurably at the aroma as the heat of the fire warmed her through.

There was time for a leisurely bath before supper, and by the time Jael had found something suitable to wear from her scanty wardrobe, only her growling stomach marred her mood. A last cup of hot, sweet tea somewhat soothed her hunger, and for once she did not have to rush down to supper.

Shadow and Mist were already there, as were Mother and Father, chatting with Lord Urien. Urien appeared completely at his ease, despite being the only full-blood human in the room. He smiled delightedly when Jael entered the room.

“Good evening, Lady Jaellyn,” he said, taking Jael’s hand and turning so that his back was to the others. “I was thanking your parents again for allowing you to help me find a house. It is most kind of them, and of you, it being such a tedious job in this weather.” He grinned and winked deliberately.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Jael said, grinning back and joining in the game. “I’d rather look at houses than go to fighting practice, at least.”

There were still candles at the table instead of light globes, and now Jael was sure that Mother and Father had delayed replacing the light globes because of her. To Jael’s relief, however, no place had been set for Markus or Mera, probably because of their behavior the night before.

“So you didn’t find anything suitable?” Shadow asked. “What about the two houses on North Street I saw yesterday?”

“We saw one of them,” Urien said. “It might suffice, but I’d prefer to see the other before I make my choice.”

“Who owns the western house, the one with the blue glass windows?” Jael asked her parents. “You know, the one with that awful gargoyle statue on the roof.”

Shadow laughed.

“That used to belong to Numan, the merchant who sold statuary to the temples,” she said. “I once heard he put that gargoyle on the roof because he couldn’t sell it. I was in that house once. It’s a fairly comfortable place, and there’s a nice hidden cache behind a stone in the hearth for your valuables.”

“And how did you manage to learn that?” Mist asked Shadow, grinning.

“Well, why do you think I was there?” Shadow joked back. “To tumble that snag-toothed old corpse?”

“Aunt Shadow used to be Guildmistress of the Guild of Thieves,” Jael explained to Urien.

“Oh, my.” Urien bowed. “I am honored, Guildmistress.”

“Retired,” Shadow corrected. “Aubry’s the one you have to deal with now. Although he’s got more respect for the Temple District than I ever did, I admit.”

“Then I will in turn admit that what you say is a relief,” Urien chuckled. “My poor temple has little enough wealth to sustain it that I’m afraid we can afford few ‘donations’ to the Guild.”

“Isn’t that a little odd, an impoverished temple to a mercantile god?” Mist asked confusedly.

“Baaros’s blessings are meant for His worshippers, not for the luxury and comfort of His priests,” Urien said patiently.

“Most priests, being from mercantile houses themselves, have some private wealth to use for their personal comfort, but the temples themselves are funded by the offerings of the worshippers.”

“An interesting system,” Shadow said thoughtfully. “Most temples supposedly don’t allow their priests to keep personal wealth, but feed and keep them out of temple funds.”

Urien smiled, but his explanation of temple economics was interrupted by the arrival of the servants bearing platters of food. Urien escorted Jael to the table, and when Jael was served a plate of plain boiled greens, she was afraid that Urien would request the same for himself out of misplaced gallantry; fortunately, Urien hesitated, but finally helped himself to the venison roast.

Shadow had heard most of the news about the Temple of Baaros from Donya and Argent (and likely from Aubry as well), but she didn’t seem to mind hearing it again from Urien. Jael toyed with her greens—only two meals and already she was heartily sick of the taste—and ground her teeth. At least Aunt Shadow wasn’t actively flirting with Urien. Jael was privately of the opinion that there was probably no man in Allanmere who could withstand so formidable an assault. Jael glanced down surreptitiously at her still almost-flat chest, wiry legs, and rumpled tunic, and sighed disgustedly.

As Urien sipped a last goblet of wine after the meal, however, he said casually, “With your permission, of course, High Lord Argent, High Lady Donya, I asked Lady Jaellyn if she might be so kind as to show me the castle gardens after supper. I had only the barest glance through the window of my room, but it seemed to me that the colors of the leaves at this time of year must be truly beautiful.”

Donya frowned, the beginnings of a scowl lining her forehead, and even Argent looked doubtful; Jael was starting to fume when Shadow laughed merrily.

“So tell me, Doe, when did you and Argent decide to become jailers instead of rulers? For Fortune’s sake, Jael’s old enough to decide for herself to go for a walk in the garden with a handsome fellow. If you frown one more time, I’ll tell everyone here at the table about our first night in Fernwold, when you and that—”

“All right. All right,” Donya said hastily, her cheeks flaming.

“A shame,” Argent added, patting Donya’s arm and smiling at her, “it would have made interesting listening. Nonetheless, Lord Urien, Shadow is right. Thank you for your courtesy, but Jaellyn is quite old enough to answer for herself. I might add that there is a lovely view of the sunset on the west walk. Come, my dear, I’d like to consult with Mist about Jaellyn’s potion.”

Jael hadn’t really expected that Urien would make it known to everyone that they were going to go walking; it made her feel a little shy as she took Urien’s arm and showed him which corridors to take to reach the garden door at the north side of the castle. They were fortunate that supper had been early; it being early autumn, there was little daylight left so late in the afternoon.

Jael had always loved the castle gardens. Exquisitely carved statues had been commissioned for it, and exotic trees and flowers had been brought in by merchants from distant countries, planted and trimmed artistically, and, where necessary, individually tended with selective weatherproofing spells. Several of Allanmere’s underground springs had been magically tapped and directed to feed several stone fountains. Mother had told her that some parts of the garden were centuries old, dating back to the reign of Ria the Fey. Most of the garden had been destroyed during the Black Wars, and later rulers had neglected it, but High Lord Adren, Jael’s great-great-grandfather, had restored it, and Grandmother Celene had made it her special hobby.

The garden fairly sparkled with magic, and Jael was always careful to touch nothing but the stone benches and bowers where those visiting the garden could take their rest.

Ordinarily the trees would still be green this early in the autumn, but the past few days had been unseasonably cold, and many of the trees displayed a rainbow of brilliant color.

“This is lovely,” Urien said. “Where is this west walk that your father mentioned?”

Jael had known immediately what Argent meant when he recommended the west walk. A small stand of trees had been planted on a slight rise so that the sun seemed to set into the trees, not the city wall. A small bower overgrown with moondrop vines had been placed for just this purpose, and the view included one of the sparkling fountains.

“What a pleasant place,” Urien said, smiling and motioning to Jael to sit beside him in the bower.

“Father built it for Mother before I was born,” Jael said, sitting down. She grinned. “I think it was so she’d spend more time sitting in the garden instead of practice fighting with the guard captains while she was pregnant.”

“And are you a warrior like your mother?” Urien took Jael’s hand, turned it palm up, and traced a finger gently across her palm. “You don’t have the sword calluses.”

“Me, a warrior?” Jael laughed at the idea. “I’m studying, of course, but I doubt that I’ll ever be any good at it. If my weapons master doesn’t give me something to trip over, my own feet serve just fine.”

“Not a warrior, not yet a mage, neither elf nor human,” Urien said sympathetically. “How frustrating that must be for you.”

“Aunt Shadow would say I have sore feet from walking the dagger’s edge,” Jael said wryly. “But that’s common in Allanmere these days.”

“There is nothing common about you, Lady Jaellyn,” Urien corrected gently. He raised her hand and deliberately kissed her fingertips, sending shivers down Jael’s spine.

“You—uh—don’t have to call me ‘lady,’“ she said. “Most of my friends just call me Jael.”

“Jael is a child’s name,” Urien murmured. He brushed his lips over her fingertips again. “You are a lovely young woman, not a child...Jaellyn.”

He leaned forward slowly, his eyes on hers, giving Jael plenty of time to draw back if she wished to. Jael did not draw back, although her heart was beating fast and she shivered slightly as his cool lips touched hers. She waited for her heart to sing, her body to come alive—

Nothing.

Urien did not press her beyond that first kiss, and a faint frown troubled his eyes as he took her other hand, holding them between his own.

“Have I offended you?” he asked softly.

“No, oh, no,” Jael said hurriedly, searching her mind for some plausible excuse.
No, it’s just that I’ve never been kissed before.
Not that one.
No, it’s just that nothing happens when you kiss me. Uh-uh.
“No, I guess I just keep expecting Mother to coming running down the path to see what I’m doing.”

“Of course.” His smile was so understanding that Jael was horribly embarrassed, sure that he could see right through her feeble pretense. “And we must not alarm your parents, or they might not allow me to see you again. Come, there’s little light left. We’ll go back now, and your mother will be pleased.”