“Yes,” Dorrin said. “That was perfect. Thank you. And to prevent their distress while they’re still so confused, I think you’d better continue with it for another day or so.”
“As you wish, my lord,” the cook said. “Lucky it’s just the children. Wouldn’t have enough if it was to hold down that many adults. Trader hasn’t come through yet this year.”
“Trader?”
“The one brings us this and other things. Gnurtz comes from far away somewhere.”
Something else to worry about.
“And for your dinner, my lord? You haven’t said what you want. And if I could know what you need for tomorrow, that would help … those soldiers you brought with you have their own supplies, they said …”
Dorrin looked around the kitchen; all the cooks and helpers stopped at once and stared at her. Through her worry, kitchen fragrances finally reached her awareness.
“What are you preparing for the children and yourselves?”
“For the children, my lord? Their usual supper: milky porridge, rusks, a honeycake. For the servants, soup and bread.”
She remembered the taste of milky porridge and rusks from her own childhood, the hard toasted crusts of bread softening slowly in the milk. Honeycakes, hard as wood, to suck on while waiting for the maids to warm the beds with coals in a pan. If they were annoyed, your bed would be ice-cold in winter.
“I didn’t dare put on a haunch of venison for your own dinner, my lord, without your telling me, but I could do a steak—”
“Soup and bread will do well tonight,” Dorrin said. “And cheese.” Though the cook seemed honest enough, it might be well to eat what the servants ate for a while longer.
The cook looked surprised, but nodded. “And for the Captain out there?”
“The same,” Dorrin said. “Dinner for two. Soup, bread, cheese.” The soup, now that she was aware of the fragrance, smelled delicious. She walked over to the hearth and sniffed, then smiled at them all and went to find Selfer again.
The funeral escort had just returned; Selfer sent them to the stables to put up the animals. “And be ready for inspection in a half-glass,” he said.
“Inspection … again?” one of them asked.
“Inspection any time,” Selfer said, in a tone that stiffened them all. “At least twice a day until you meet the requirements of a decent militia. I expect those boots to shine.”
The Phelani bit their lips not to grin, and led off at a brisk pace. Selfer turned to Dorrin. “Courier’s well on his way. Seli will report on the situation in the vill when that lot are cleaned up.”
“I think they’ll do,” Dorrin said.
“With some training,” Selfer said.
“Oh, yes. My relatives never liked their servants to learn too much. Easier to control the dull and incompetent, especially the ones with weapons.”
“People treated that way become sly in self-defense,” Selfer said. “How are you going to teach them honesty at their age?”
Dorrin shook her head. “I can’t. But I can reward honesty; greed produces whatever brings reward.”
“I hope so,” Selfer said. “What did you learn in the kitchen this time? Are we having a real dinner, or more bread and cheese?” He rubbed his stomach and put on a pitiful expression.
“Bread and soup and cheese,” Dorrin said. “I left it too late for the cook to put on a roast. Tomorrow, Falk’s grace, we’ll have real food. And I need to see about supplies for the cohort and the militia, too.”
“I don’t know about the house pantries,” Selfer said, “But the granary has plenty of grain and no sign of rodents. Sacks of dried beans, as well. I think one door is for a root cellar but you said not to open any doors without your checking them.”
“Tomorrow I’ll go with you,” Dorrin said, “though if the cooks can enter a door, it should be well enough. I did hear from the head cook that Haron’s wife’s chamber has a hidden vault with a box of herbs—or poisons.”
“What are you going to do about that boy Restin?”
“That man, I believe,” Dorrin said. “And if it is, I must kill him.”
Selfer looked horrified. “Kill a child?” Then he shook his head. “But—if he’s not really a child—”
“Exactly,” Dorrin said. “I don’t want to believe they’ve done anything so vile as kill a child’s soul to give a man a fresh body. But the family rolls—the page I can see with mage-sight—makes it clear they were transferring Verrakai to other bodies. An adult mind in a child’s body, with full adult mage powers, would be incredibly dangerous.”
“How do we know it was just once?” Selfer said, scowling. “Is there anything you know of that would prevent someone taking body after body, living … how long?”
“I don’t know,” Dorrin said. “I thought of the same thing. I’m sure if it were possible, someone would try it.” Bitterness rose in her throat, nauseating. How could anyone engender children just to use them so? “But whether that is possible … I don’t know, and I don’t know how to find out.”
“I suppose,” Selfer mused, “it’s no worse to do it to your own family than to strangers. At least it’s not hurting outsiders.”
Rage blinded Dorrin for a moment; she fought it down, thought her way through what he meant. “I thought it was worse,” she said finally. “Family loyalty … but I see what you mean. It cannot be right to bear children just to destroy their futures … but the family so vile deserves to lose its own, not impose that loss on others. Though they have, at least some of the time. One of them is a merchant in Valdaire.”
“Anyone we’ve dealt with?”
“I’m not sure,” Dorrin said. “All it says here is merchant—not the merchant’s name. And a moneychanger in Vérella.”
“Vérella! That’s not good at all. And no name?”
“No. But if we look for the moneychanger the family used there, I would expect to find him.”
“Only men?”
“No. But mostly.” Dorrin sighed. Exhaustion weighed her down. Her own, or imposed by that boy upstairs? “This is a long, deep plot,” she said. “I never realized that as a child. That they valued cruelty and power, yes—but not this way.”
“Not all of them,” Selfer said. “You’re not like that.”
“I hope not,” Dorrin said.
“And there might be others, even here. Another girl like you among the children.”
“Or boy,” Dorrin said. She sighed again. “I have to believe that. I have to look for that, as well as the evil.”
“But couldn’t you bind this boy’s magery and send him under guard to Vérella?”
“If he confesses, when I confront him—but I don’t see how I can risk it. Us. The entire domain. If I fail here, the prince and Council will have every reason to invade, raze the entire domain, and kill everyone Verrakai has touched. Innocent people will die, and Tsaia itself could be torn apart.”
“Do you really have any doubt that you can kill him? A mere boy of nine winters?”
“Oh, yes. If he is Carraig, then he’s no mere boy. He is older than my father was, and had training and experience in the use of his magery for decades before he transferred into this boy. And if he’s still older—if Carraig himself were invaded—he may have generations of experience, and power much greater than mine. I have not been able to think of any stratagem he will not have imagined. That’s why I want you to remove all Phelani troops from the house—”
“That’s crazy.”
“No. If his magery defeats mine, your danger is extreme. You must fire the house and all in it, then ride as fast as you may to Vérella. Or—wait—send a squad to Kieri, in Chaya.”