Herb-Wife (Lord Alchemist Duology) (25 page)

"Or
she," Iathor noted, thinking of Talien.

"Or
she. But whatever happens, it cannot be justified that I was warned.
And besides," Kessa said more lightly, tugging at her gloves to
straighten them, "I read quite poorly, sounding each word out.
With three other people in the room, I could hardly've kept it
secret. And that's if one of them didn't read it over my shoulder."

Iathor
doubted that, but her tone didn't seem intended to convince him. "I
suppose if the person's insistent, we'll see the note again, perhaps
delivered to me." Iathor tried to straighten his own sleeves.

"Or
it might've been a prank to fluster me before the ceremony, and make
me look even more stupid and brutish." Kessa took him by the
wrist and adjusted his sleeves.

"You
looked neither." The buff of her vest and over-skirt was enough
to soften the jar between the white layers of dress and her darker
skin. Iathor said, "You looked as elegant as any woman here, and
more dignified than half. There've been ceremonies where the young
bride and groom spill the water on each other, or try to set fire to
someone's ribbons, or deliberately bump into each other . . ."

"And
if I'd done any of that, you'd have called me a silly vixen and
resigned yourself to my frivolity?" She fixed his other sleeve,
then wrapped her hands around his arm so he could lead her off.

Her
words were uncomfortable, despite her mild tone. He winced. "Mayhap."
I want to love my wife, even if it doesn't start as a love-match.
He couldn't yet say that. Instead, as he led her out of the nook, he
said, "But that would've been a different Kessa altogether."

She
was silent a moment, while Dayn and Brague slipped into position
behind them. Iathor walked vaguely toward a knot of alchemist gray,
visible through the moving guests.

Finally,
she said, "Not a Kessa at all, even if I'd known to come to you
when I was just a street-brat, and grown up running through your
halls. Mocking one's own wedding is . . ." She
hesitated. "It spends coin a barbarian's bastard doesn't have."

Iathor
wanted to turn around right then, despite being hardly three paces
from his guild members, call for his carriage, and find some way to
shower that coin of the heart upon her. And after, get them both
dance lessons and learn enough to shame the high nobles' daughters
and wives and anyone else who sniffed at Kessa.

He
kept walking and realized he was scowling only when Master Iste
looked at him with alarm and said, "It can't be that bad, Master
Kymus." Then he glanced at Kessa.

Iathor
nearly frowned more, but smoothed his expression. "A passing
annoyance. Master Iste, may I present my wife, Lady Kymus?"

Iste
chuckled and swept a bow. "I hope my stints of tutoring won't be
held against me, Lady Kymus."

"The
tutoring, or the accusation I was flirting with Dayn, Master Iste?"
The quaver in her voice belied the tart, vixenish words.

The
others in the group chuckled as Iste winced theatrically. Iathor
snorted. "Kessa, may I present Master Iste Zertheluse, Master
Coty Balamea and his wife, Zethi, Masters Aleran and Regeth
Kimath . . . And I thought I saw your wife, Dulsia,
earlier, Regeth?"

Regeth
shrugged. "We started talking alchemy and she went off to
commiserate with the other women. I'm surprised we didn't drive Zethi
off, too."

Zethi,
only slightly less round than her violet-eyed husband, wore a
sweeping gray and green dress that went with her strawberry blonde
hair. She smiled. "Alchemy fascinates me, Master Regeth.
Besides, I like listening to my husband talk." She bobbed a
small curtsey in Kessa's direction, and her voice was either friendly
or filled with politeness. "A pleasure to meet you, Lady Kymus.
Please, call me Zethi."

Kessa
ducked her head. "Thank you. And I'm far more used to just
'Kessa,' please."

Aleran
asked, "So, Master Kymus, is your brother shunning us, or simply
lured away by the charms of that girl in the blue dress?"

Blandly,
Iathor said, "Miss Talien Irilye can be very charming. I hear
he's visited her often."

"Perhaps
there'll be another wedding, soon," Iste said.

"I
can hope," Iathor said. "What alchemical matter was so
deathly boring as to drive away your wife, Master Regeth?"

The
answer had to do with trying to make a dye that would change hue in
warmth, to measure the heat of forges or ovens. Iathor asked if he'd
investigated the composition of various alchemical Stones, and the
conversation swung back to alchemy and nothing social. Coty added
suggestions, being an expert on the brews that dyed living things –
his own indigo eyes were from a brew that had stained his finger- and
toenails as well, in an early experiment. (And his wife did indeed
seem content to merely listen to the conversation.)

As
that was either winding down, or simmering into a resolution to go
find the palace workroom, Herbmaster Keli descended upon them. "
There
you are. Master Kymus, let me borrow your wife. Also, I'm told to
make sure you eat something, but not too much something."

"I'm
sure one of the servants will come by with a tray . . ."
Iathor looked around, then looked at Kessa. "Do you wish to be
borrowed?"

She
lowered her eyelids to smile at him. "I'll be fine."

"Mm.
Dayn will stay nearby." He kissed her forehead. "Herbmaster,
please make sure
she
eats something as well."

"Indeed
I shall!" Keli herded Kessa off.

While
Regeth, Coty, and Coty's wife drifted off to find Regeth's Dulsia,
Aleran, Iste, and Iathor sought refreshments; the city-prince had
provided those as well as space, though Iathor suspected he'd
enlisted the earls and richer counts as well. Once they'd spotted a
servant with a tray, Iathor was singled out for congratulations by
Baron Usth. The alchemists moved on, and Iathor found himself
accepting the well-wishes of various nobility – with various
degrees of sincerity. The lack of attention from young, marriageable
women (or their parents)) was an agreeable change, though apparently
enough of them felt slighted to give him cold glances and whisper
behind their fans. (Mystifying; why would they've
wanted
the
draught?)

It
was refreshing when Baron Rhaus castigated him for passing over his
daughter Jonae (now Iontele), some twenty years before, only to take
up with a barbarian wench. The novelty palled when the man shook a
finger at him and said, "Those filthy rats breed just like
vermin. You'll be feeding your staff's kin, soon enough."

Coolly,
Iathor replied, "Even if that were likely, there are potions for
that. Good day, Baron Rhaus." He stalked off to look for Keli
and Kessa. The annoying cape
did
flutter well at that pace, he
thought, though he'd have to ask Brague – who'd the better
view of it, a few steps away – to be sure.

Before
he found the Herbmaster and Kessa, he found his brother.

Iasen
wore grays dark enough to verge on mourning black, which made his
skin sallow. He leaned on one of the pillars that supported the roof,
theatrically tragic. To Iathor's disgust, a selection of noble sons
and daughters stood around him, some looking sympathetic. Talien
leaned on the pillar as well, slightly further around, and held a fan
so only her eyes showed.

Iathor
closed his eyes briefly, and tried to remember autumns with two young
brothers chasing each other in the garden and gathering the best
fallen leaves to be pressed or burned for luck. Washing cats who'd
walked through alchemical powders. Pelting each other with snowballs.

Then
he opened his eyes and walked toward his brother.

Iasen
watched him warily, an expression more similar to Kessa's than he'd
likely appreciate knowing.

Iathor
stopped before him. "Iste would've given over the rings if you'd
gone to him, at any time before the ceremony. I sent you a letter."

His
brother turned his face away, presenting a cold profile. "I want
nothing to do with that mongrel."

"My
wife, Iasen." He tried to make it a mild correction. "You
needn't like her, but letting this come between us . . ."

"You're
the one who threatened to disinherit me. I don't know what hold that
cur has over you–"

Iathor
held up his hands, and held onto his temper. "I regret what I
said to you – but I've a duty to her as well, Iasen."
I
shall defend.

Iasen
still wouldn't look at him. "You'll see what duty that lying
vixen is worth, soon enough. Like as not she's got a whelp hidden
away already, or drowned it. She's no innocent, no matter how much
white lace she wears."

"You
wrong her, Iasen. Good day to you." He turned and walked away
before he lost his frayed impulse to mend things with his brother.

Perhaps
it was time to find Kessa and go home.

He
eventually discovered a side-room with Dayn standing at the door.
Within, Kessa leaned forward on the arm of a couch while Laita rubbed
one of her feet. Keli, Nicia, and Viala occupied the other chairs.
That the conversation stopped when he entered . . .
was understandable. The pause seemed to stretch longer than he was
comfortable with, until Kessa turned her head a little to look at him
through slitted eyes. Through her arms, she mumbled, "I had
food."

"Good."
He went to perch on the corner of the couch; kneeling beside it would
be painfully difficult in the thigh-high boots. As the murmur of
conversation picked up again, he asked, "Would you like to go
home now?"

"Home."
Kessa said it thoughtfully. "Home isn't a place."

"I
hope you've not discovered a calling to Wind. It would be
inconvenient." Especially if she ran off with the priest, who
was likely still dancing with matrons and widows.

Kessa
pulled her foot back under her skirts. "No. Earth and Rain. And
soft carpets, I suppose. Or better shoes for the walking." She
shifted so her sister could help her get the slipper back on. "Thank
you, Laita."

Laita
patted Kessa's ankle. "Of course." She looked up at Iathor.
"Kymus, you make sure she gets off her feet."

"I'll
do my best." He stood and held his hands out while Kessa tried
to decide which of them to glare at. Laita's smirk won her the glare
and a mock kick as Iathor helped Kessa up.

Keli
also came to give Kessa a hug. Then she did the same to Iathor,
disconcertingly. "Don't listen to the idiots and their gossip,"
she said, then, "Will you be taking Viala home with you? My
carriage will be crowded . . ."

Much
as he'd have preferred to be alone with Kessa, the Herbmaster had a
point. "I think we've room in mine. Viala, are you ready?"

The
girl hopped up and bobbed her curtsey. "Yes, m'lord." She
turned to Nicia. "Thank you for helping us get down here!"

Nicia
hugged the younger maidservant. "I wanted to come as well! And
with mother out there, I'd an excuse, even though I'm too young yet."
She went and hugged Kessa tightly, before dipping a curtsey to
Iathor.

Laita
took her hug last, and with only something whispered in Kessa's ear.
They parted with reluctance.

Then
Kessa took his offered arm, breathed in, and straightened to a lady's
dignified pose. He therefore squared his own shoulders, pretended his
own feet weren't aching in the stiff boots. In the hallway, he told
Brague, "We'll be going as soon as we've paid our respects to
the city-prince. Could you take Viala to the carriage?"

Brague
gave a formal bow. "I'll see to it, m'lord."

Finding
Prince Tegar and his wife was easy enough, after he asked directions
of one of the wandering guards set to keep chaos, drunkards, and
assassins in check. Iathor waited until the dance ended, and bowed.
Beside him, Kessa took the cue to curtsey.

The
city-prince snorted at them. "Evaded dancing, and now you're
slipping out before midnight? It's barely past sundown, Kymus."

"I
fear the occasion has tired my lady wife unduly, your Grace,"
Iathor said.
At least, tired her feet.
As Kessa obligingly
drooped, he continued, "If I may take her home, to rest?"

Prince
Tegar snorted. "What do you think, Ceren? Should I let him
escape?"

The
red-haired woman leaned on her own husband's arm as if she were as
newly-married as Kessa. "Well, I suppose if he wants to. You
didn't stay out till midnight either, as I recall."

"Ha!
True." He squeezed her arm closer to his side, since she clung
too tightly for him to hug her around the shoulders. "All right,
off with you two. Guard, an escort for the cause of all this
celebration."

After
appropriate bows, they followed the designated guide through halls
and doors and an occasional room, till they got to the final
side-door. Iathor took Kessa's cloak from Dayn, to wrap around her
before he donned his own.

Outside,
Jeck and the carriage waited, with Brague jumping off the back to get
the door.