"Oh, I think my husband may object," she said, turning to go back to her work.
"Husband?" Lord Corische's brown eyes moved beyond her and settled knowingly on Edwan-fragile, fierce Edwan, who was tightly poised, ready to jump over the bar.
"This is not the time, my lord," Rashed said quietly.
A long moment passed. Then Corische nodded to Teesha, stood, and left without a word. Rashed got up and followed.
That night in bed, Edwan begged her to pack her belongings and slip away with him.
"To where?" she asked.
"Anywhere. This isn't over."
The small northern village was her home, and she foolishly insisted they stay. Two nights later, a local farmer that Edwan once quarreled with over the price of bread grain was found stabbed to death behind the inn. When Lord Corische's men came to investigate, they found a bloody knife hidden under Edwan and Teesha's bed. Rashed was there, seemingly overseeing the search, yet all he did was enter, sit at a table before the hearth, and wait. When the knife was brought out by Corische's soldiers, neither surprise nor anger registered in his transparent eyes. He simply nodded shallowly, and the guards proceeded as if their orders had already been given.
Teesha was too stunned to cry out when soldiers dragged her husband from the inn in shackles. She saw Rashed's eyes, and how empty they were, except for a twitch she couldn't be quite sure of before it was gone again.
Before Teesha could lunge after Edwan, a third guard snatched her by the arms from behind. Lord Corische then entered the inn and stood patiently in front of her, waiting for her to give up her struggling.
For the first time, Teesha began to believe his crude appearance and rough speech were a disguise to mask some hidden self. There was no life in his face, no feeling at all.
"What will happen to him?" she whispered.
"He will be sentenced to death." Corische paused. "Unless you come to the keep with me tonight."
Had she been stupid or just naive? She had heard stories around the inn about nobles and their abuses, destroying the lives of others without concern. She thought such tales were merely exaggerations.
"If I come with you, he will live?" she asked.
"Yes."
He did not let her pack so much as a spare dress. She was escorted outside to two bay horses held at the ready by one of Corische's men. Corische mounted one, and Rashed the other. Edwan was nowhere to be seen.
"Rashed is your servant as well now," Corische said. "He will protect you."
Rashed leaned down and gripped her under the arms. He lifted her in front of himself as if she were parchment. Although horror prevented her from taking note of the moment, it came back to her many times later. On that night she was still Teesha the serving girl, who loved her husband and believed life consisted of songs and spiced turnips, Teesha the serving girl who couldn't understand where her Edwan was or what was happening to him. Sitting sideways on the saddle, she leaned back and clung to Rashed's tunic as his horse jumped forward.
The ride to Gдestev Keep took forever. With no cloak, the freezing air cut through her dress. Rashed did not verbally acknowledge her presence, but after she shivered once, he rode with both his arms covering hers to shield her from the wind. Corische rode on ahead, with his remaining soldiers bringing up the rear of the procession.
And still there was no sign of Edwan. Had he already been dragged off to some damp cell?
The keep loomed ahead, and her fear shifted to her own fate. It was an imposing construction of stone, a squat and wide tower with a stable and guardhouse built against its sides. When Rashed lifted her down, she considered running but had no notion of where to go, and she feared what would happen to Edwan if she did run.
The inside of the keep looked as bleak as the outside. No welcoming fires burned, and the bitter wind was exchanged for the bone-chilling cold of air trapped within stone walls. No pictures or tapestries hung on those walls. Old straw covered the main floor. Stone steps running around the inner wall led to the unseen upper levels. The only furniture visible was a long, cracked table and one massive chair. Two small torches on the wall burned to provide light.
Lord Corische did not notice her chattering teeth and walked past her to lay his sword on the table. Torchlight glinted off his smooth head.
"Ratboy," he called out. "Parko."
The timbre of his voice dropped to an echoing, angry growl. Skittering, running feet on the stairs made Teesha unconsciously pull back behind Rashed. Two strange men-or creatures-entered the room.
The first looked like a street urchin, covered with dirt down to the surface of his teeth. He could have been a boy or a young man. Everything about him was brown except for his skin, which she glimpsed beneath smudges of grime. The second figure, however, terrified her instantly, even more than Corische.
An emaciated white face with bestial eyes that sparked in the torchlight looked as if it were carved from bone. Strands of filthy black hair hung down his back beneath a tied kerchief that she guessed had once been green. But it was his movements that frightened her most. Quick as an animal, he darted into the room, springing off the steps before reaching the bottom. He caught himself on the table and used his hands to propel himself around, smelling at the air.
His eyes settled in her direction, and he lunged across the room, stopping halfway, neck swiveling and craning as he tried to see her behind Rashed.
"You do not wait to greet your master?" Corische said coldly.
"Forgive us," Ratboy answered in a lilting tone. "We were preparing the woman's room as you asked."
His polite voice belied the hatred and mischief in his eyes. Parko dropped low to crouch on all fours and did not turn to face Corische.
"Woman," Parko said, nodding.
The numbness of Teesha's emotions faded as she looked about at the pit into which she'd been cast. These were the kind of men who served her liege lord? Where were the fires? Where were the guards and the casks of ale and the food?
Rashed stepped forward, exposing her to view. He crouched down to Parko's level.
"You cannot touch her, Parko. Do you understand? She's not for you."
The odd, gentle quality in his tone surprised Teesha.
"Woman," Parko repeated.
"He does not need your warnings," Corische said, removing his cloak, "and you forget your place."
Rashed stood and stepped back. "Yes, my lord."
Corische then turned to Teesha. "I am not cruel. You may rest for a night or two before taking up your duties."
"Duties? What are my duties?"
"Acting as lady of the keep." He paused for a moment, then laughed as if he'd finally understood some elusive joke. The sound brought Teesha's dinner to the base of her throat.
"If I am to be lord here," Corische continued, "I must have a lady, even a floor-scrubbing tavern wench like you."
That was her first hint that Corische harbored no desire to play lord of Gдestev Keep. Most feudal overseers were assigned fiefs as gifts from nobles wealthier than themselves or from their own liege lords. But what did Corische want from her? She knew nothing of ladies or playing at nobility. She looked again at Ratboy and Parko in confusion. If Corische surrounded himself with lowly creatures in order to feel more important, then why enlist someone like Rashed? And why bother with a woman to play at being lady of the house?
She was locked in a filthy tower room that night and left to shiver with no fire and only a thin, moldy flannel sheet as a blanket. No one came all the next day, but the following night, she heard the door unlock and was caught between relief and terror. Rashed entered with a tray of tea, mutton stew, and bread, and he carried a cape over one arm.
"It's freezing in here," she said.
"Put this on." He held out the cape as he set the tray on the floor in front of her. "The keep is ancient. There are no hearths, only a fire pit in the main room. I found wood and lit it. Some heat might rise, but do not go down there without the master or myself."