“I was afraid you wouldn’t come. Father’s doing his accounts tonight, and Mother’s over at Aunt Denya’s. They’re working on the consorting quilt for Jaired.”
“He’s getting consorted?” Rahl couldn’t imagine anyone putting up with the hot-tempered Jaired, especially since Jaired wasn’t the brightest copper in the wallet.
“It’s sort of a secret. With Coerlyne.”
“She’s…”
“I know, but…he’s been seeing her for a long time, and Father and Mother finally gave in.”
Rahl had the feeling that Coerlyne and Jaired might be having an addition to their soon-to-be family somewhat sooner than might ordinarily be the case. “We might as well sit down.” He gestured.
“I brought an old blanket. The bench can be hard, and it’s dirty.”
Rahl took the blanket, folding it twice and laying it on the wood. Then he gestured for Jienela to sit down.
“You always make me feel special.”
He settled beside her. “That’s not hard. You are.”
Carefully, oh so carefully, he brushed her with just a touch of order. Doing that, he’d discovered, not only left the girls with fairer and smoother skin, but also tended to make them more receptive to his caresses.
“Did I tell you that you’re beautiful?” Rahl let his fingers caress Jienela’s hand, then brushed back her long brown hair, his fingertips barely grazing her long neck.
Her eyes dropped shyly. “You’re kind, Rahl, but I’m not beautiful, not like Ermana.”
“Beauty is more than blond hair and blue eyes.” He smiled warmly, then added, “A kind heart and a welcoming smile are more beautiful. Every time you smile, I want to smile back.”
“You must tell all the girls that.”
“I haven’t told a single one that.” He hadn’t, and Jienela did have a nice smile. Besides, he tried to tell the truth about each girl. Truthful was always best, especially on Recluce. After all, they each were special in different ways, and there was no reason not to let each one know her best features. He squeezed her hand gently. “Your smile is special.”
For a moment, neither spoke.
“What did you do today?” he asked. “It had to be more interesting than what I did. I just sat at the table and copied, and thought of you.” He had thought of her, if not all that often.
“I helped Father in the morning, culling the fruit buds that were too crowded or wrong, and then worked in the house and barn with Mother.”
“At least you got to move around.”
“You don’t just sit there and copy all day, do you?”
“Not all day.” He laughed quietly. “I did go out to the shed and check on the next batches of ink, and I cut some rushes for Mother.” He squeezed her hand gently once more, then leaned forward and brushed her cheek with his lips.
“We’re too close to the house,” she whispered. “Let’s go up to the corner of the orchard. The grass is soft there, and you can still smell the pearapple blossoms. Father won’t hear us there.”
“Are you sure?” he asked softly.
She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, gently. “Very sure.”
He stood, giving a hand to Jienela. Then he lifted and folded the blanket over his left arm, before offering his right to her. As they walked up toward the corner of the orchard, Rahl moved easily and confidently. He had a solid feel for where things were in the dark…as well as for other matters.
III
Rahl wasn’t too late getting home, just late enough that his parents were already half-asleep and relieved that he had returned. He’d gone to bed happily, with pleasant memories of the evening-and Jienela. It had been her idea, even if he had encouraged it subtly.
The next morning he was up as usual-just one moment before his mother was about to yell. He had to gulp down breakfast-gruel and bread-then get on with his chores. Finally, he made it to the workroom, where he settled into copying Tales of the Founders.
“Might be better if you got up a mite earlier,” suggested Kian. “Your mother was reaching for the spare frying pan-the big iron one. And you were supposed to spar with me before we got to work. You’re still not good enough with that truncheon, and there are times when a man needs to be able to defend himself.”
“Yes, ser.” Rahl hadn’t realized about the frying pan, but he sensed his father was telling the truth about it and his sparring. Why did they always want more? It wasn’t as though he were a child anymore. He was up in time, and he worked hard. He did his chores, and he didn’t complain, yet whatever he did was never quite enough. He pushed back that retort and concentrated on the copying before him.
The morning was long and uninterrupted. Not a single person came by, either to have a letter written or to purchase anything. Rahl was more than ready when his mother called.
“Dinner’s ready!”
He still was careful to clean and rack his pen, cap the inkwell, and close the copy of Tales of the Founders from which he had been copying.
Dinner was far heartier than breakfast had been or supper would be. There were chunks of mutton in brown gravy and roasted potatoes, and freshly baked bread. Of course, there were dandelion greens and winter roots, but the roots didn’t taste bad in the gravy, and the greens were fresh.
Rahl only managed two mouthfuls before his mother cleared her throat.
“Rahl?”
“Yes, Mother?” He didn’t like the feel behind the way she’d pronounced his name.
“Alamat’s niece Quelerya said you didn’t go to Sevien’s last night. She saw you going through Dhostak’s orchard.” Khorlya looked at her son. “I’d hate to see you get tied up with Jienela. She’s pretty enough, but she’ll have nothing. The orchard’s barely large enough to support Dhostak and his family, and she’s got two older brothers. Word is that even the younger one’s going to be consorted before long-and to Coerlyne. Drover’s daughter, and she doesn’t so much as have a single copper penny to her name. And Jienela, she’ll not have much more than that, not with those two good-for-nothing louts they call her brothers. Three families’ll have to live off that orchard, four if you count Dhostak and Aryla.”
“She is pretty,” Rahl admitted, “but I don’t intend to get tied up with anyone now. I’m too young to take a consort.” Why were they always nagging him about a consort?
“Intentions are all well and good, Rahl,” interjected Kian, “but actions count more than intentions, and there are grass stains on the cuffs and sides of your trousers.”
Rahl managed not to flush.
“There’s enjoying being young,” added Kian, “and there’s stupidity.”
“It’d be stupid to have to consort a girl with nothing,” said Khorlya.
Left unsaid was the point that his father had little enough. Scriveners seldom did, especially those who did not work for the Council in Land’s End.
“A girl’s looks fade fast in life,” continued his mother. “So you’d best find one with something other than looks. It’s better to find one with coins for a dowry, but even one who’s hardworking or one who can help with your scrivening would be better than Jienela. She’s sweet, but she has little enough in the way of brains and less than that in coins.”
Rahl understood all Khorlya was saying. He generally agreed with her, and he had no intention of consorting Jienela. He just wished his mother would stop hammering him with her words. She didn’t know when to stop.
“It only takes once to trap a young fellow,” Kian added.
Not in this case, thought Rahl, especially since he’d been careful and counted the days since her time of the month. He still had some time to enjoy her favors. Rather than argue or reveal anything, he just nodded and took a swallow of the weak ale, enjoying it since they often did not have it.
Despite the hearty meal, Rahl was more than glad to leave the table and follow Kian back to the workroom and the copying table. He settled himself on his stool and opened the book from which he was copying.