Herb-Wife (Lord Alchemist Duology) (51 page)

I
want to go back to my wife and cry on her shoulder.
Iathor pulled
his coat around himself and tucked his feet against the Fervefax
Stone beneath the bench.
I may have lost my brother.

But
it would be unfair to let Kessa know how much it hurt. She might
think he blamed her, as if she'd made her own blood half-barbarian.
She was troubled enough, and Iathor didn't want to add untrue guilt
to her heart.

Perhaps
it was just an immediate reaction to the argument, and he'd be calmer
when he finally returned.

Chapter
XXXIII

T
oday . . .
I find if I am wife or concubine.
Kessa sat in the bedroom, the
curtains parted on the high-placed windows, and watched light snow
drifting down. Yesterday, Iathor'd returned grim and needy, both.
He'd said he'd given his brother three days to make his social
apologies and pack for travel, and gone to talk to Thioso to ask for
assistance should matters prove . . . difficult.

Then
he'd latched the doors and held her tightly. Kessa supposed he'd been
claiming a husband's rights – a demand that should've upset
her, but tinged with clinging need that'd made her willing to
cooperate despite discomfort. And after, when he realized he'd made
her sore without any shared completion, he'd petted her hair and
back, putting his mouth to her breasts till the urgency let him set a
wrist between her legs (with no fingers to make her skin crawl) till
her own writhing stole away frustration.

Even
that'd seemed more determined, more serious to him, than prior
beddings. Not that she'd
so
much experience with his moods,
yet, but he'd not been smugly pleased afterwards. More a grim
satisfaction, with his deliberate kisses against her ribs, as if he'd
proven something to the spirits.

It
should've frightened her. Forced. Swamped, drowned by him and his
needs. But those emotions were only tinges, diluted in worry for him
and a twisty satisfaction that
she'd
been the one he'd sought,
and not some courtesan.

Loving
someone who wasn't family apparently made her stupid and confused. Or
perhaps confusing.

She
wished Iathor'd decided to stay after all, and be distracting as well
as bewildering. Instead, he'd gone to lurk in the palace waiting
rooms, to receive news soonest. At the time, she'd nearly shoved him
out the door herself, to cut the flow of promises: it wouldn't matter
if the Princeps named her concubine, he'd found an academy in Aeston,
he'd move to the Kymus barony till the Princeps tired of Iasen as
Lord Alchemist, he'd not let anyone look down upon her . . .

Behind
her, the door opened. Kessa turned to look through the sweep of her
hair, glad of the diversion.

It
was, surprisingly, Bynae. The girl clutched her hands together.
"M-m'lady?"

Kessa
tried to shake off how strange that sounded from Bynae. It wouldn't
be something to endure forever. "Yes?"

"I . . .
I . . ."

"Monster
or not, I'll not devour you in my marriage-cousins' home and get
blood on the rugs. What's so dire that you'll talk to me?"

"It's,
ah . . . my sister. I've word. She needs me."

Kessa
looked up at the snowflakes, falling past the glass panes. They were
indistinct points of light against the gray; outside Incandescens
Stones lighting them as weak sunlight couldn't. "She sent word
to you, not your parents?"

"There's . . .
a boy. A young tribesman. It's some quarrel. She doesn't want them to
know. Mother'd tell father Thon, and he'd be furious she was with a
full-blood."

And
you're betwixt and between enough, bleached barbarian, not to tell –
just like any other sister, pale of skin and hair.
"It's
snowing enough, you'd need a carriage or buggy to get very far."

"I-I
know. M'lord Kymus . . . He took the carriage in with
m'lord Daleus. M'lady Joniacae's buggy is still here. I . . .
need your help."

Unexpected.
And a distraction indeed. "All right." She stood. "I'll
get dressed. Tell Dayn, please?"

There
was a rustle, probably Bynae bobbing a curtsey. "Yes. Yes,
m'lady. Thank you."

Kessa
dithered over her limited selection of clothing, and finally picked
the green-and-gray dress again. Quality enough to pretend to be
someone important, with enough freedom of movement (and not her
favorite colors) that she'd willingly take it to wherever Bynae's
sister was.

She
put on the man's coat, with its hidden apothecary of potions. If
there was a quarrel involving fists, healing preparations would be
needed. If there was trouble . . . Kessa walked her
fingers along the vial-tops. These two, the paralytic Iathor'd once
used on Kessa herself, thinking her a suspicious young man prowling
around her own shop. This one, Kessa's own sleeping powder. Last in
the row, a sliver of Igni Stone; last in the other side's row, the
brew to kindle it to flame.

Better
not burn down bits of the city, even if there's need of a diversion.
She pulled her cloak around the coat. The extra warmth would make her
happier on the buggy-ride.

As
she settled the cloak over the coat and got her outdoor boots on,
there was a tap at the door. Kessa called, "I'm clothed."

Dayn
slipped in, wearing his own coat. He came and knelt to help with her
second boot. "M'lady, is this wise?"

The
chain of reasoning was very clear: Bynae, Viam, Iasen. But to admit
she knew that chain would admit she suspected Iasen was a true
threat. And that . . . could bring too many questions.
Even if Dayn sympathized, he was still Iathor's dramsman, unable to
keep secrets if directly asked. Airily, Kessa said, "I suppose a
family quarrel is trouble to interfere with, but you'll be there, and
Joniacae's driver. And, well." She tugged at cloak and coat to
show the vials within.

"I
hope she's telling us . . ." He hesitated,
covering by standing and offering her a hand up. ". . . everything,
m'lady."

"If
she is, and we doubt her, then I'm no better than her prior
employer."

Dayn
sighed. "This is ill-timed, m'lady."

"Since
when are personal matters well-timed? Dayn, if she's telling us the
truth, she
won't
have anyone else to turn to. It'd be cruel to
refuse her."

"Let
me go alone, then, m'lady. You could stay here. It should be safer."

She
reached into the coat and pulled out a vial, the deep purple
paralytic within. "And if things go bad, can you use one of
these safely? Or my sleeping powder?"

"
I
am not carrying m'lord's heir."

It
was a sensible argument. Kessa put the vial away. Slowly, she said,
"But if I don't go, Dayn, who will I be? Someone who sits and
waits for other people to do things for her?" After the times
she'd gone and helped her siblings? "If I stay . . .
Something's going to break."

"M'lady,
I
mislike
this."

"Well . . .
I've done patrol with you, and Brague, and Iathor. You know I was
crèche-raised. If we're prepared . . . I won't say
'what could happen,' for that's tempting the spirits. But I
can't
stay here, brooding, without being someone else. Bynae's got no
reason
to lure us into a dark alley to be robbed, does she?"
She pressed her fists together under the cloak, caught between bad
choices that risked her safety or her heart.

After
a pause, Dayn said, "I wish I knew. M'lord hasn't said I should
override your judgment, m'lady, but . . . If I say to
keep behind me, or to run, you will? And not risk yourself, or go
running after arsonists, when I've orders to
protect
you?"

She
grimaced at his slumped shoulder. "I'll take that bargain. Just
don't forget I've vials of my own?"

"Indeed,
m'lady." Dayn looked as if he'd like to run his hand through his
hair, or put his fists on his hips. "Still, I find it odd her
sister could send word, but not come herself."

That
did niggle. Kessa, under no servant's constraints, folded her arms.
"While I ask after Lady Joniacae's buggy, perhaps you can ask
Bynae? She's so nervous around me; how could I tell if she were
concealing something, or merely upset?
I'd
be upset, were my
sister in trouble I and my brother couldn't fix." It'd be more
maddening than even this waiting.

"I'd
like to get an address from her. If we don't return in time, someone
could
send
word to the watch."

Kessa
glanced at him sidelong. "You're worried."

He
wasn't looking at her. "It's my job, m'lady. Bynae's not
dramsman to anyone. Her allegiances are unknown."

"Surely
to her family." Kessa frowned more. "Mayhap we should go
even if you think she's misleading us. She's got family to be
threatened."

"Mayhap
I should go alone, if so."

"Mayhap
you should get a
watchman
, if so! Or some watchman's son,
small enough to wear my cloak." Kessa sighed fiercely. No
watchman would listen to their paranoia, and trying would take time
they mightn't have. "Blight. Let me find Joniacae."

Joniacae
was in the warm, well-lit basement workroom, painting smooth stones
with . . . (Kessa sniffed the air) . . . the
coating for Frigi Stones. Later, they'd be sunk into vats outside,
full of snow and ice, so they could release an entire winter's worth
of cold for the summer or in food-pantries. "Lady Jonie?"

The
woman looked up. "Lady Kessa?" she asked in return.

Kessa
made an exasperated noise at herself. "I need to borrow your
buggy again. Bynae says there's some family trouble, and she's
nowhere else to turn."

"Oh,
that's a shame. Do you think you'll be gone long?" Joniacae was
at least as sympathetic as if a pet had broken its leg.

Kessa
would take whatever concern she got. "It depends on what address
she gives, I suppose. Hopefully we'll go somewhere, get someone, and
leave again. Mayhap I'll get another maid."

"I
never realized cousin Iathor was so fond of taking in strays,"
Joniacae said; while Kessa suspected that applied to
her,
too,
the tone of voice was fondly amused enough that she didn't feel like
taking offense.

"He's
a far kinder man than one would think of a Guild's Master,"
Kessa said, and bit down on anything else.
Stupid, to speak well
of him and then be weeping over it!

"Hm."
Joniacae made no comment on what she might've seen. "Well, if
the weather hasn't turned impassable, go pick up the stray. Perhaps
leave an address, if Iathor returns soon? He might want to follow, if
it's good news."

"A
good idea. I'll leave it in our sitting room, if that's all right?"

"Perfectly.
Could you hand me that cloth, there? This preparation didn't thicken
enough, and it's dripping."

Kessa
handed over the fabric, taking a deeper sniff near the pot.
"It's . . . overcooked, a trace? It smells
smokier than the other evening's mix."

"Blight.
Probably is. So tricky to get the fire to just the right temperature.
Well, they won't last quite as long, but they should be good for a
few months, and we may be able to put them in a tight cask in the
river, so they'll be ready for midsummer.
Any
Frigi Stone
should sell, then."

"You
don't think they'd make baby gifts?" Kessa said, falsely
innocent.

"Oh,
dear, surely you'll have the child near the leaves' turning? Though
it's true, if summer's hot . . . Ietra never liked
being outside when she was big from pregnancy. But we'd not send
Stones that won't
last
. Really, Kessa." Joniacae snorted.

"Sorry,"
Kessa apologized, insincerely. "If we get back in time, can I
help here?" The thought of sitting, numbly watching the snow,
was now revolting. Terrifying.

"Of
course! Chatter or not, company makes the chore less dull."

That
was . . . hopeful. Like or dislike, Joniacae would be
polite, at least. Kessa bobbed a little, instinctively. "Thank
you – Jonie. I hope this won't take long."

"Safe
trip," Joniacae called after her.

Kessa
pressed one of the servants into telling Joniacae's driver, then went
seeking Dayn.

He
waited with Bynae in the sitting room, and had already written down
the address. Kessa looked at the paper. "Millwell warehouses?"

"They're
used to hold what the barges take downriver, mostly," Bynae
explained, not looking at anyone as she spoke. "Some are empty
in the winter, and one was damaged. My sister, she works near there.
It gives her an excuse to see her man. But he wants her to wed, by
tribe-laws and not priest-blessing, and she doesn't want to live in a
shack or tent. She's afraid that soon, perhaps tonight, he'll come
with friends to take her – but if she tells anyone, she'll be
in trouble with father Thon."

Kessa
shifted her shielded glance to Dayn, and the dramsman shrugged,
grimacing. Kessa translated,
Could be so, could be no.
She
didn't like the cost to some poor girl if Bynae was telling truth and
they didn't believe her. "How'd you find out?"