The Adorned (22 page)

The Count had not called for either of us. But then, the nobles of Blood and Sword were busy in Council, apportioning the spoils of peace.

When supper came, we’d be gathered for it, well-dressed and polite. Then we saw Tallisk. He was cool and civil, speaking to Yana of household matters and asking Isadel to pass him the salt.

To me, he said nothing. When we met in the halls, I would nod to him and say “sir,” or “Master Tallisk,” even, and he would brush past me without even a nod in return. I felt like an unwelcome guest in his house.

What had gone on here, while I was away? I asked Yana at last, shying up to it.

“Well, nothing, as far as I know,” she said. “I barely saw Tallisk while Doiran had his holiday. We didn’t even eat together. Then Isadel came back a little while before you did, and here we are now.”

“I’ve not done anything,” I said. “I don’t understand.”

Yana gave me a long, searching look. “Best not to probe too deep in this, Etan,” she said. “Tallisk can be changeable in his moods. In a few days, he’ll forget about whatever quarrel he’s imagined with you.”

It was not so simple, and Yana knew it. I don’t think that I imagined the lie of omission writ on her face. Neither were Doiran or Isadel much help to me. I made up my mind to have the tale directly from the source.

I chose my time that night, after supper. Tallisk had wiped his mouth and risen from the table without a word. I watched him for a moment. My food lay on my plate, unappetizing, and I pushed it away. “Excuse me,” I said, and stood.

“Etan.” There was a warning tone in Isadel’s voice.

I raised my eyebrows. “Yes?”

“Don’t.”

I feigned a smile. “Don’t what?” Without waiting for an answer, I walked out.

She followed me and put her hand on my wrist. “Etan, if you’re going after him...” She shook her head. “You’ll only make it worse.”

“Oh? How could I do that?”

“It will get better.”

“You said that before, and Yana as well. It hasn’t.” I shook her off.

“Etan!”

I wheeled around. “
What?
”

Her eyes narrowed. “Suit yourself, then. You dig your own grave.”

With that, she turned back into the dining room. My hands curled; my heart was pounding. I went upstairs.

The door to the atelier was closed. I stood before it a moment, silent. Maybe Isadel was right, I thought, maybe I would just make things worse. But I could not do nothing. If I had offended him, I would try to make it right.

I knocked on the door, softly first, then louder, to make sure I was heard. There was no answer.

I stood there for a moment. Then I took a deep breath, and I opened the door.

Tallisk was bent over his desk. In the summer heat, he’d shed his shirt. His hair clung to the back of his neck. I saw his tattoos. Some had faded with age—waning moons, curling lines of script, a curved sword—and some were still dark and vivid. Unlike mine, all of them were unmoving, inked without the benefit of Blood. They seemed to shift nonetheless, with the twist of his muscles. It caught at something in me, seeing them like this; I remembered when he had come to me on the eve of my first display. But I swallowed it; I had business here.

“Sir?”

He went very still when I spoke. “I did not give you permission to enter.”

I licked my lips. “Sir, I know, I am sorry. Please, may I speak with you?”

He turned around then. A blue star was inked on his collarbone, coiling snakes on his stomach, and other marks—they were the faded and scratched record of his apprenticeship. He spread his arms, as if he were an Adorned, showing himself for a patron. “Well?”

I stepped closer, forcing my eyes to the floor in a suitably demure posture. “Sir, have I done something to offend you?”

He laughed, a short bark. “Is
that
what you want to know?”

I bit my lip, saying nothing.

“Get out.”

I remained there, standing as if chained down.

“Get. Out.”

“Sir, please.” I breathed deep, looking up at him. His eyes were flat and cold. “I just wish to know what I’ve done. And how to set it right.”

He walked to me with wide strides and grabbed the back of my neck. His grip was hard, almost painful. He turned me around and marched forward, forcing me out. “I have no patience for sordid little schemes. Play them in my house, and you’ll soon find yourself out of it. Understand?”

Bewildered, I twisted in his grip. “No! I—I don’t understand—”

He saw something in my eyes, then, that got through his anger. He peered down at me, frowning. “What do you call your game with the Count, then?”

“What game?” Did he mean what Lord Loren had asked me to do—had I gone wrong, trespassed some code? How could he
know?
A sour panic rose in my throat. “I—I thought I had done well with him. He requested me—”

“So you think to jump at the chance to have more of him?”

I blinked at him; I was lost. “More of him?”

He released his grip on me and looked away, as if he were ashamed. “If you wish to leave me,” he said, and there was a strange catch in his voice, “tell me to my face.”

“
Leave
you? Sir—what have I done, to make you think so?” I laughed, almost despairing. “I depend on you entirely. What’s an Adorned without an artist?”

“It is not my art that seems in demand.”

“It is to me,” I said, then bit my tongue.
That
meant nothing, in the greater scheme.

“Etan.” He was still avoiding my gaze.

“Yes, sir?”

“Did you ask Count Karan to purchase your bond from me? To make you his consort?”

I could only gape at him. “What?”

“Did you, or did you not?” He looked up, and I almost stepped back at the sight of his eyes. “Answer me, and gods curse you if you lie.”

“No, of course not.” I nearly laughed again. “Why would I? Why would
he?
”

“He might do, if you offer him more than mere
art.
”

I shook my head. “Sir, it is not true.”

“Swear it,” he said, his voice low. I was suddenly aware of how close he still stood to me—not touching, but very near to it. “Swear it, Etan.”

“I swear it,” I whispered.

He let out a long breath and lifted his hand. He did not quite touch me, but I felt his knuckle brush an errant lock of hair away. “If you swear it...then I believe you.”

A shiver went through me, half relief and half something else entirely. For a long moment I stood quite still.

Then, with a sudden jerk, he pulled away. He cleared his throat and went to put his shirt on. He tied it at the throat, obscuring his starburst tattoo. “I am sorry, Etan.” It cost him, to say this; I could tell, and I almost smiled. “This was a mistake. She must have been mistaken.”

“She—?”

But suddenly I knew who
she
was. No wonder she had not wished me to say anything. My teeth clenched, and I felt a thrill of coldness, an unfamiliar anger.

“Never mind,” Tallisk said. He cocked his head, looking at me curiously. It was amazing, I thought, how quick his anger had gone—it was as if it had flowed into me. “It is late, Etan, and I have work to do.”

“Yes, sir.” Another time, I would have tried to linger, but my anger demanded satisfaction. I descended the staircase in a kind of haze and turned into the library. Isadel was sitting there, legs crossed, a book resting on her knee. She looked up at me and raised an eyebrow. She saw everything—she knew. “Well,” she said, “I suppose it’s out now.”

“
Why?
” It was all I could say. My knuckles were white as bone.

“Why?” She laughed. “Come on, Etan, you aren’t stupid. I can see how things are turning to your advantage. Did you know the Count told me that I was his
second
choice? In so many things lately, it seems.”

I went still. It was like him, I thought. He would not mean it callously, but neither would he think to spare her feelings.

“He is growing bored,” Isadel went on, “and if I do not do what I can to retain his interest—”

“So you thought you’d get rid of me.”

She threw back her head and scoffed. “Get rid of you? As if Tallisk
would.
I thought I’d buy some time, some more Adornment for
me.
” She stood, slamming the book shut, and gestured at me with it. “Though likely enough it would do you a favor if he
did
, in the end.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Her smile was lethal. “Ask him about Arderi Finn sometime,” she said. “Ask Yana or Doiran, if you don’t dare ask him.”

My brow wrinkled. “Who is Arderi Finn?”

“He’s you,” she said, touching the book to my chest. “In a year’s time. If you’re not careful.” She breathed out loudly and laid the book down. Her shoulders sagged. “Are you going to tell him?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I’m not like that.”

“Not like
me
, you mean.”

“I suppose so.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” she said, and turned away from me.

Chapter Thirty-Four

It was the tail of summer now, trailing into autumn, and I had once again started to enjoy the baths Tallisk mandated. I stepped out of the steaming tub and dried myself, sighing with languid satisfaction. A few droplets of water clung to my skin. I admired my newest Adornment, turning this way and that to see it: a thin vine, festooned with minute bright flowers.

I put on my robe, went upstairs and dressed. New clothes had been purchased for Isadel and me—light summer clothes in the current fashionable colors. Tallisk had presented them without comment, though Isadel’s eyebrows had risen at the gift. He was usually not prone to unthrifty generosity.

A heavy knock rang through the house; I started for a second, then peered out the door. Yana answered, then came back holding an envelope. “Only a courier,” she said, seeing my curious face and grinning.

Isadel emerged from her room, still bleary-eyed. She had been at a display the night before for a Southern merchant’s birthday. “What is it?”

Yana grinned up at her. “I’ll let Tallisk answer that, shall I? After all, it’s addressed to him.”

Isadel went back into her room with an ill-tempered murmur, but she followed me to the kitchens for breakfast soon enough. Doiran made a kind of nutty porridge, rich with honey, and strong tea from Suramm: one of the spoils of peace.

I’d half forgotten the message already, after breakfast, but I was reminded of it soon enough. Tallisk summoned us to his atelier, Isadel, Yana and I, and bade us sit, holding the note in his hand.

“What does the Count say?” Isadel asked. She’d noticed the seal; I had not.

“Something we will all be interested in, I think.” Tallisk quirked his mouth in something like a smile. “Count Karan has requested you both for a display, less than a month from now.”

Isadel shifted. The Count had been at Council, and then away on some business, since his last feast at Fevrewood. I could tell, though she kept a studied neutral expression, that this news was welcome to her. “In his home, or away?”

“In his home. It is for the celebration of his engagement.”

“Engagement?” Isadel laughed unsteadily. “Surely this is a jest. Either yours, sir, or his.”

Tallisk shook his head. “It’s no jest. Vasan is her name: Lady Kateya Vasan. An ancient family, apparently. One of the Northern lines.”

Isadel raised her chin a little. “Very ancient indeed, no doubt.” Her voice was dry, almost crackling, like kindling waiting for a spark.

“They will send further detail when the feast is arranged.” Tallisk looked down at the letter again. “There’s one more thing. They seek to grant a betrothal gift to our household.”

Yana laughed. “This lady takes her obligations seriously. I wouldn’t think the Count would do that on his own.”

I frowned. “A betrothal gift?”

“A tradition, among the Blooded.” Isadel’s voice seemed to come from far away; I thought that she was quoting. “A generosity, bestowed on those who have provided some boon or service to the household of the affianced.”

“Just so,” Tallisk said, and then he grinned. “They are sending a barrel of wine tonight, from her estates in Aril.”

“Aril?” Yana whistled. “The best. I had a glass once—that’s all I could afford! And they’re sending an entire barrel?”

Tallisk seemed pleased as a well-fed cat. Out of all the extravagant things they could have sent, I thought, this was the best: he would never turn his nose up, nor take offense, at a gift of fine wine. “We’ll have it breached tonight,” he said. “With supper.”

* * *

Tallisk was good as his word; the barrel was rolled into the outdoor cellar under Doiran’s supervision, and the wine poured generously with our supper. I had never drunk so much, I thought, not even feasting. Tallisk’s hand was loose on the carafe, refilling our glasses and his own at every opportunity.

After our meal we sat a while, sleepy and replete. Tallisk left the table first, then Isadel. Doiran stood to clear our plates, even he swaying a little. I climbed upstairs, slowly, the staircase sea-unsteady under my feet. I heard scuffling, shuffling noises above me, and I smelled something sharp and half familiar. It was incense: a dusty temple smell. It mingled with the aftertaste of wine on my tongue, a strange and queasy mixture.

It came from Isadel’s room, that smell.

I knocked on her door softly. “Isadel? Are you all right?”

Another shuffling sound, and then a half-swallowed, hitching sob. “I’m coming in,” I said, and opened the door.

She was kneeling, by her nightstand. An effigy of the Lord of Stars was set there, and the incense was lit to him. I had never seen it there before. She turned to me. There was only the barest trace of tears on her face.

“There was no need to barge in,” she said.

“I was worried.”

“I know.” She stood and made a quick obeisance to the effigy.

“I never thought you pious,” I said. The words sounded clumsy even to my own ears.

“My faith is not for display,” she said, smiling slightly. “I owe my Lord much. He gave me beauty, so I had some coin to spend in life. Sometimes, I must remind myself to be thankful.”