immediately sent letters to the most skilled masons in Pirie. Fortunately, Peto had also foreseen my difficulty with them, and though I hadn't requested any money, he sent more than enough to cover the work.
A breeding wife should have her luxuries, I thought. I went upstairs and found Sagra working alongside Kashi, learning how Nimbus Castle was organized. I was happy to have her replace Marishka's servant. Kashi always seemed to watch me as if comparing me to my sister and finding me lacking.
"Now that you see how we live, you probably think us barbarians," I said to Sagra."
"No one who reads as much as you do can be called a barbarian," she replied.
I wondered what she'd think if she knew of the creature pacing the tiny room where my ancestor had kept his mistress prisoner. In truth, I'm not certain what I think of him myself, but I'm thankful Jorani is gone; he'd know in an instant what I'd done if he saw Arman.
The peasant boy, Emory, has changed subtly. He apparently has a need for blood-for the life it gives, perhaps? — and a certain sensitivity to light, but he is hardly vampiric. I think he may have still been dying when I gave him the potion, or perhaps the way he died made the effects of death more subtle.
In any event, it took his brother far longer to revive, and no one who sees Arman will ever mistake him for a breathing, living man.
waited until long after Emory left before returning to Arman's body. I did so because I wanted to see if Jorani had heard news of my visitor but if he had he didn't think to mention it. When all my servants were asleep, I bolted my door, took the potion from its hiding place, and stole through the secret halls to the little room. My fear of the crying ghost made me light every torch, though I've never heard that spectres are frightened of light.
Arman's body was white from loss of blood. I pulled up his shirt and saw that the wound in his stomach was deep. Had he not been dead, he would have been a strong youth, and quite handsome with his thick dark hair, long oval face, and wide-spaced eyes. I thought of someone like him serving me, rushing to fill my every need.
I confess I have never dealt well with male servants. There's an insolence running under their obedience, often thinly hidden. As I'd questioned Emory at length, he'd shown none of it. I doubted his brother would either.
I'd had Emory place the body on the bed. I sat beside it and opened the jaws-not a difficult thing since the body had lost its stiffness-and I poured a few drops of the potion down the dead man's throat.
And waited. And waited. Emory's resurrection had been swift; this would apparently take time. I poured just a bit more liquid into him and waited again.
I'd just decided to go find a book to read when the index finger of his right hand twitched once. Another hour passed. I went for the book. While I was in my room, I opened my door and told the guard in the hall that I would be sleeping late the next morning and did not want to be disturbed. I had decided that it was of the utmost importance that I be present when Arman woke, as if seeing me would bond us as a newly hatched duckling bonds to the first animal it sees.
When I returned, his mouth had closed, and his lips were wet as if he'd licked them. I called his name and got no response. I sat by him through the night.
Certain my absence would be noted if I didn't make an appearance, I went to my room, crawled into bed and rang for Sagra. "I'm so tired," I said. "I'm going to sleep in. Don't bother with breakfast."
As soon as she'd gone, I returned to my experiment. Arman's hands were in tight fists now. The wound in his stomach seemed less raw.
He woke just after noon. He kissed my hand the way his brother had done, then clutched at my sleeve pathetically as a small, frightened child might do. When I ordered him to let go, he obeyed immediately. No problem with his senses, I thought.
"I'm going to leave you now," I said. "Rest. Recover your strength. I'll return tonight."
He looked as if he were ready to cry, but no tears came. The undead, I'd heard, cannot cry, and I wondered if that was the reason. As I moved toward the door, he watched me intently, and I saw a hunger in his eyes, the need that his brother spoke of.
But there are prisoners below, commoners, friends of his. How perfect. How very perfect.
I returned to my room contemplating how best to move a prisoner from his cell to the room where I was holding Arman. As I opened the secret door in the paneling, I heard a light knock on my door.
I checked my skirts for dirt, smoothed back my hair, and opened the door. Kashi stood outside. I tried to gauge from her expression how long she'd been knocking, but could read nothing in it but curiosity over my stare.
"I was just going downstairs. What is it?" I asked.
She looked uneasy, and I wondered how much she suspected. I motioned her inside, closed the door, and stood in front of it, blocking her exit. With nothing to do but continue, she said, "Mow that Sagra is serving you, I wondered if I could be discharged from my duties. You hardly need two personal maids."
"Quite so. What would you prefer to do?" I asked.
"My village's midwife is getting old. She would like to train me." She saw my expression, and went on. "I don't have to leave immediately. I can stay on long enough to show Sagra everything she needs to know."
"You don't have to wait so long to go," I replied.
"No?"
She looked frightened as I took her arm and moved her toward the panel. She had been knocking on my door a while. Perhaps she'd even called my name, or tried the door and wondered why it was bolted.
"First I need your help," I said. I kept a hard grip on her wrist, and the natural respect of servant for master kept her from making any effort to break loose. I controlled her easily as I pulled her through the secret door and down the long tunnel to the hidden room.
I walked by memory through the darkness, conscious of Kashi's strained breaths. In a moment, she'd find the strength to scream. "Don't make a sound," I whispered. "Do exactly what I say, and I'll give you three months wages as severance. I want you to sit with a very special prisoner of mine. Talk to him. Keep him calm. See what you can learn from him."
"A prisoner?"
"One of the rebels."
"Here?"
"I need to win him over." I unlocked the door to the hidden room. Light streamed into the dark hall. I saw Kashi's eyes begin to water from the glare. Arman's back was to the sunlit window, so all Kashi could see of the boy was his height, his slender body.
I've brought someone for you," I said to him, then pushed the girl inside, locking the door behind her.
I knelt in front of the door and looked through a narrow opening in the center of it. Plates of food had once been passed through it to my ancestor's mistress. I put it to a different use as I watched the drama unfold inside.
Kashi stood close to the door, her hands fluttering nervously as she decided what to say or do. Finally, she took a tentative step toward the boy. "Why are you here?" she asked.
He shook his head.
Another step toward him. "Are you hurt?"
Ah, yes, he was that.
"I can help you." She took his hand, and moved him around so he faced the light.
saw her expression change from doubtful confidence to utter terror. She let out the scream she'd managed to stifle in the passage. The fear she'd displayed in the passage was nothing compared to this, the high-pitched sound rising, extending so beautifully. The walls were thick, lined with earth. No one would hear her, no one but me.
She rushed to the door and pounded on it, then saw the little hole. Kneeling, she spied me looking in and reached her hand through the opening, clutching for my hand.
"Please," she begged. "Please. I won't tell anyone. I promise. Please!"
"Of course not," I replied and brushed my fingertips over hers, giving her just a moment of hope before Arman pulled her away.