Passion Play (27 page)

“Tired but in good spirits, my lord.”

She thought Kosenmark looked exhausted as well. There was a languid quality to his speech and faint smudges darkened his eyes. Lord Vieth had invited Lord Kosenmark to a formal banquet next week. Judging from the increase in visitors and correspondence, Ilse guessed there would be more to this affair than just music and delicacies.

Once he finished dictating, Lord Kosenmark reviewed the letter and nodded. “Good. Bring the fair copy to me later for a signature. I’d like all these letters posted today. Speaking of today, did Berthold mention the time for our session with the tailor?”

“This afternoon, my lord. It should be the final fitting, according to Maester Hax.”

“The gods grant us mercy, I hope so.”

Ilse hid a smile. She had observed one fitting and knew Lord Kosenmark and Maester Hax were to have very fine costumes, but the process proved trying to them both. An artistic man, the tailor had been most particular, saying that the cloth had to fall just right, both standing and in dance.

“You are laughing at me,” Kosenmark observed. “Or my tailor.”

“Never, my lord.”

Kosenmark eyed her suspiciously, but confined himself to waving her away.

Ilse dispatched the letters and reported back to Maester Hax. “Am I wanted now?” he asked.

“Not yet,” Ilse said, temporizing. “He signed the letters you asked about earlier, and I’ve sent them off. And I let him know when the tailor comes today.”

“Good. And the thank-you letters?”

“Done. Gone. Sir.”

“You’ve left me nothing to do,” Hax said, smiling faintly.

I wish I could do that,
Ilse thought. Hax had subsided into his chair and was resting his head on his hands. He and Lord Kosenmark had met until late the previous evening, and she expected they would do the same tonight. “You promised Mistress Hedda that you would work fewer hours.”

Hax made a noise in his throat. “Save me from inquisitive women. Did you spy on us?”

“I listened, sir.”

“Did Hedda ask you to?”

“No, but—”

“But you are worse than Lord Kosenmark. What happened to that shy girl from three months ago?”

Ilse smiled. “She is here, listening to a stubborn man who is trying to distract her.”

He lifted his head and eyed her narrowly. “You are too clever sometimes. And since you insist, would you please fetch Mistress Denk’s quarterly report for me? I promised Mistress Hedda that I would not climb the stairs so often.”

“What about Mistress Raendl’s accounts? Would you like those, too?”

“Yes. Those, too. Take your time coming back.”

By the time Ilse completed her tasks, Hax had gone from his office, leaving behind a note that he was in his rooms, and would she meet with him after noon. A new batch of letters had arrived as well, among them a letter and package from Lord Dedrick Maszuryn. Ilse took those at once to Lord Kosenmark, who received them with an especially warm smile.

“Stay,” he told Ilse. “The letter might require a reply.”

The package proved to be a collection of antique maps. Lord Kosenmark scanned them with obvious pleasure, then broke the letter’s seal and scanned its contents quickly.

Ilse could almost tell what it said by the rapid changes in his expression—from pleased to concerned and then to none at all. Kosenmark’s fingers tightened around the paper.
Not good,
she thought.

Kosenmark glanced up from the letter. “There will be no answer,” he said softly, and crumpled the letter in his fist. “Go. Find something to do. So will I.”

Ilse did not wait for him to repeat the order. At the door, she dared a backward glance. Kosenmark was staring out the windows, his fingers tapping a restless pattern on his desk.

*  *  *

LORD KOSENMARK CANCELED
all his appointments that afternoon, including the tailor’s. Ilse and Maester Hax were together in Maester Hax’s office, reviewing the week’s schedule, when a runner brought them the news. Hax read the message in silence then released an audible sigh. “Not good,” he muttered, and folded the note in quarters.

His words made an uncanny echo of Ilse’s earlier reaction. She must have made an involuntary movement, because Hax looked up with a frown. “Curious, Mistress Ilse?”

“No, sir. Just concerned.”

“Don’t be. I say that for your own peace of mind.” He closed the schedule book with a firm thump. “I’ll talk to Lord Kosenmark when he’s calmer. Tomorrow, most likely. In the meantime … read a book, play chess with Nadine or Josef, go for a walk into town.
I
shall take a nap, since nothing else can be done today.”

He stood with a groan. Ilse bit her lips against any offer of help. That would only make him more prickly. She would have to send another message to Mistress Hedda and hope that Hax did not find out. He disliked any interference.

Sighing to herself, she returned to her own office and tried reviewing her accounts—they needed no review. She started a new inventory, but that, too, was unnecessary make-work. She had no desire to listen to Nadine’s teasing, no matter how charming, nor to Josef’s ever-changing stories about his past. She was not in the mood to be entertained.

When the library, too, proved unsatisfactory, Ilse retreated to the kitchens. At this hour, only Janna and Rosel were at their workstations, and none of the scullions were about. Even so, there was a sense of soothing purpose about the place—the sharp scents of freshly ground pepper, the yeasty smell of baking bread, the clatter of spoons and knives and other implements.

More soothing than when I worked here, she realized with an inward laugh.

Kathe sat at the makeshift desk, writing out lists of supplies for the coming week. “You look out of sorts,” she observed.

“Maester Hax has given me a holiday.”

“Oh, what torment for you. What’s wrong?”

Ilse glanced around the kitchen. Janna and Rosel both pretended to be absorbed in their work, but she could tell they had overheard Kathe’s greeting. Kathe followed the direction of her gaze. “I have some errands to run,” she said mildly. “A few items that I should attend to myself. Would you like to come with me? Just wait a moment while I fetch a few things.”

A few things turned out to be a purse of coins and a market basket. She and Ilse left the house by the back door, and continued through the gardens into the neighborhood beyond the pleasure house. It was a bright sunny day. A cool breeze blew in from the harbor’s direction. A good day for a walk, Ilse thought, then wondered how many of her errands were simply a means to get her away from the pleasure house, while Maester Hax and Lord Kosenmark met about Lord Kosenmark’s private activities.

“So tell me,” Kathe said. “What is wrong?”

Ilse shrugged. “It’s not me.”

“Then it must be Maester Hax. Or Lord Kosenmark. Or both.”

Ilse gave another shrug, thinking she had said too much already.

“I saw Lord Kosenmark earlier,” Kathe said cautiously. “Anyone could see he was in a foul mood. And I heard from Mistress Denk that he canceled his appointment with the tailor this afternoon. Then you come to me, all glum and distracted. If I were guessing, I would say that Lord Kosenmark received unpleasant news from Lord Dedrick. Am I right?”

Ilse nodded. “Though I don’t know what the news is.”

“Hmmmm.” Kathe glanced around, but they were alone in the lane. “Most likely, Lord Dedrick wrote to say he cannot attend Lord Vieth’s banquet—possibly more—and that Lord Kosenmark is severely disappointed.” She sighed. “It’s not the first time. Either Lord Dedrick quarrels with Lord Kosenmark, or Lord Dedrick’s father forbids him to visit. The effect is the same.”

“It seems an unhappy kind of love,” Ilse said, thoughtfully.

“They do make amends, eventually, but you’re right. If I were to love someone, he would have to be a great deal more restful than Lord Dedrick. What about you?”

“I don’t know. A friend once told me I should marry a scholar.”

“A scholar? No, too quiet.”

“I like quiet.”

“You do, and you don’t. You like quiet for reading, but I think you would want a lover who also makes you laugh and think. Someone with a spice of danger, even.”

Shadows and light. The image of Theodr Galt appeared in her mind, and she shivered.

“What about Lord Kosenmark?” she asked hurriedly. “When did he first meet with Lord Dedrick? Was it in Duenne?”

“Ah, no. They met here, in Tiralien, at a dinner party given by Lord Dedrick’s father. Baron Maszuryn sometimes curses that invitation, but I don’t.” Kathe fell silent for a few moments, her gaze on the paved street, apparently absorbed in memories. When she spoke again, her voice was subdued. “I was nine when Lord Kosenmark came to court. I remember what a wild reputation he had that first year. A disappointment with his cousin, they all said. Well, it was the same here in Tiralien. He refused all his father’s letters. He stayed at home. Eventually Maester Hax persuaded him to accept a few invitations. But then Lord Kosenmark met Lord Dedrick and things improved. So for all their quarrels, I thank Lir and Toc for Lord Dedrick.”

“A love to fill in the gaps and insufficiencies of life,” Ilse murmured. She had once hoped to find such a love during her yearlong visit in Duenne. Someone to laugh with, as Kathe put it. Someone … like a friend, as Baron Eckard once said. Lord Kosenmark, at least, had found such a love, in spite of his own peculiar situation. She wondered what kind of place Lord Dedrick held in Kosenmark’s shadow court.

“You should see your face,” Kathe said. “I would give a dozen silver denier to hear what you were thinking just now.”

“Nothing,” Ilse said quickly. “Just considering whether we should take the long path to market, or the short one.”

“Oh, the short one,” Kathe said. “I dare not leave Janna and Lys alone for long. Talk about quarrels!”

The conversation turned easily to gossip about the kitchen girls and then the courtesans and then what Kathe’s mother had said when she found the fireplace littered with plum pits after Nadine’s visit. Once they reached the market, Ilse helped Kathe with choosing spices, then they continued to the wharves, where Kathe picked out fresh fish for Lord Kosenmark’s supper that evening. “I shall have to make a special effort,” she said. “It’s all I can do for the poor man.”

The bells were ringing quarter past four as they returned to the pleasure house. Kathe left Ilse for the kitchens. Ilse was heading for the stairwell when she met Lord Kosenmark, who was striding through the back halls. His hair was matted with sweat, more sweat streaked his face and shirt. He must have just come from an extra session with the weapons master.

Kosenmark paused in mid-stride. For an uncomfortable moment, he stared at her with flat golden eyes, reminding Ilse of a hunting cat as it considered its prey. Ilse stepped back, startled. Kosenmark blinked as though he had just recognized her. He nodded stiffly and continued past.

Ilse let out a shaky breath. If he were this unhappy in love, what must it have been like when he had no one at all?

The next morning Maester Hax summoned Ilse to a private conference. “Consider what I say to be a warning for the coming weeks. It has to do with Lord Kosenmark’s private affairs, but since it affects our dealings with him, I would rather you knew than blundered, or worse, spent your days speculating.”

He paused and rubbed his eyes. Wordlessly, Ilse refilled his cup with more tea, adding a spoonful of honey, the way he liked it. Hax took the cup from her hands, but he gave the tea a wary look, as though he suspected Ilse of secretly adding medicine to it.

“Lord Dedrick wrote Lord Kosenmark to announce his departure from Tiralien,” he said. “At his father’s command, he will be absent the entire season, assisting his brother with managing the family estates. This, we are given to believe, will instill a sense of responsibility and duty in Lord Dedrick.”

“And keeping him from Lord Kosenmark. Why doesn’t he refuse?”

“Money. Family feeling. The chance his father might disown him. I do not know. Perhaps Lord Dedrick is weary of battling his father. Whatever the cause, I advise that we not discuss the matter further, especially not in Lord Kosenmark’s hearing.”

“He will notice.”

Hax sighed heavily. “Yes, he will. However we cannot help that.”

“Will Lord Kosenmark still attend Lord Vieth’s banquet?”

“Yes. He has obligations that override personal preferences and moods. Happily, he seems to recognize those obligations. After some discussion, that is.” He sighed again and tapped his ink-stained fingers together, as though contemplating the subject. “And speaking of obligations, let us return to business,” he said after a moment. “Tell me of Mistress Denk’s request for renovations.”

That night, Ilse lay in bed, listening to the faint metallic notes from Lord Kosenmark’s new instrument—the one with velvet-covered hammers and metal strings. The instrument had proved popular, and now composers all over Tiralien were competing to write pieces for its unique tone. Whoever played it tonight was a skilled musician, playing swiftly and with a marked expression that brought out the loveliness of a very complex passage.