“When you find a moment, ask Sezarre for some green oil, will you? I want some of the first pressing, do you understand? I know Gar has some and that’s the best.”
Wondering why the topic of conversation had suddenly turned to condiments, I nodded my understanding nevertheless, turning to find something else to look at. “The flavor is so much better.”
“Ryshad!” Laio half laughed and half gasped. I looked around to see her blushing, unmistakable even given her complexion. “I didn’t think you mainlanders went in for that kind of thing!”
I looked at her uncertainly. “What do you mean?”
Laio rubbed a hand over her mouth, smiling now though her eyes were still startled. “What do you mean?”
We looked at each other for a moment, the noise of the revelry below invading the silence of the room.
“We prefer the first pressing of green oil for dressing fresh vegetables,” I said cautiously. “What do you use it for?”
“Keeping ourselves from pregnancy!” Laio giggled, hands cupping her face. “I want a bit more time to think about having a child now I’ve seen what Mahli’s had to go through!”
Caught off guard like that it was my turn to blush and I cursed as I felt the heat in my cheeks.
“So what do mainlander women do,” Laio’s eyes were bright with mischief, “to keep themselves without child?”
I ran a hasty hand through my hair. “I don’t know.” I quelled a sudden memory of the pot of salted cedar resin my father had given me in his workshop, together with some very straight talking, the day after I had laid my first whiskers on Misaen’s altar.
Laio moved closer and laid a hand on the bare skin of my arm. The hairs rose like a hound’s at her touch. “Come to that,” she purred, “what do you mainlanders do—”
A loud knock interrupted her and Sezarre stuck his head around the door. “The tree-planting will be done at moonrise,” he said to Laio before ducking out again.
The thread between us snapped. “I’ll want the blue gown with the feather-patterned wrap,” she instructed me briskly. “I’m going to wash my hair.”
Not sure whether I should be cursing Sezarre or blessing him, I obeyed and was pleasantly surprised to find I was also allowed plenty of time to wash and dress myself in a new green tunic and trousers that Grival brought by, a gift from Mahli apparently.
As the last half of the greater moon rose over the distant horizon, the black stone of the keep grim in the cold, bluish light, I followed Laio down the stairs and into the inner garden at the heart of the residence. I kept close to her, alert for instruction or reprimand as the air was thick with expectation and a sense of ritual, slaves from the household lining the walls, silent and respectful. Laio moved to stand next to Gar and I exchanged a fleeting glance with Sezarre. He tilted his head a finger’s width and I saw Kaeska on the far side of the garden, Irith standing behind her, swaying slightly, mouth slack, no spark of life in his eyes. The Elietimm stood next to her, hair startlingly white in the night, his jaw set as he stared at me, unmistakable hatred crackling across the distance that separated us. I touched Laio’s shoulder and leaned forward slightly.
“I know,” she murmured. “Wait.”
A stir ran through the waiting assembly as a far door opened and Shek Kul entered the garden, Grival beside him carrying a silver bowl draped with a silken cloth.
Laio tilted her head back a little to whisper to me. “That is the—” she struggled for the right words in formalin, “it comes with the baby, nourishes it in the womb.”
“Afterbirth.” I was very glad I was not Grival; my determination to be long gone from here before Laio found herself brought to child-bed instantly doubled.
Shek Kul was dressed in a plain green tunic and, working without ceremony, dug a deep hole in the rich earth in the middle of a stand of five trees of varying heights. Grival emptied his burden into it and then one of the gardeners brought a new sapling, which Shek Kul planted with a surprising air of competence, firming down the black soil with a large foot. The gardener bowed low and spoke to the Warlord, who shot a startled and unfriendly glance at Kaeska. Her eyes were fixed firmly on the ground and I saw Laio bridle as she observed this exchange.
Gar turned her head to catch my eye. “The growth of the tree will guide us as to the health and nature of the child. Its leaves will be used in divination.”
I nodded, hardly about to say I’d seldom heard anything so improbable.
Laio stirred again and as Shek Kul wiped his hands on a towel proffered by the steward, she took a pace forward. A discreet ripple of surprise ran through the assembly and Laio lifted her chin, by every measure a Warlord’s lady.
“My husband, just as you do your duty to protect our new son, the hope of the domain, I must act to counter a grave peril that nests in our midst like a venomous snake.”
Her clear voice echoed around the tall stone walls and Kaeska’s head snapped upwards, her eyes wide, whites stark in the pitiless moonlight as she stared at Laio in horror.
“I accuse Kaeska Danak of suborning sorcery, to further her plans to kill our son and to regain her status as First Wife with a child born of enchantments.”
There was no triumph in Laio’s voice, none of her earlier glee, simply an implacable ring of truth. The hiss of indrawn breath all around us was followed by murmurs of consternation from all directions.
Shek Kul raised a hand and the throng were silent as a grave. “These are capital charges that you bring.” He spoke directly to Laio as if no one else were present. “What is your proof?”
Laio gestured backward over one shoulder. “The word of my body slave.”
All eyes were instantly upon me and I stood, motionless, expressionless, as my mind raced, wondering what would happen next.
Shek Kul looked back at Kaeska and then studied me as the entire gathering held its collective breath.
“I will hear this case at sunset tomorrow,” he announced finally, tossing the towel to Grival and striding back inside the residence as the crowd erupted into a frenzy of speculation. I struggled to keep Kaeska in view as Laio led the way back to the stairwell. This was not at all what I had expected.
“What happens to Kaeska?” I looked around in vain for guards or Household slaves. “Where will she be held? Where is the Warlord’s dungeon?”
Laio halted on the stairs and turned to look down at me.
“Kaeska will not be detained in any way.” Her tone was puzzled. “The household guard will be on alert, that will be sufficient to dissuade her from anything foolish.”
“Why ever not?” I demanded. “What is Shek Kul thinking of? Now she knows we’re onto her, she has a night and a day to work whatever malice she wants!”
“Not with every eye on her, knowing she is accused,” commented Sezarre, rather to my surprise. “Anyway, Shek Kul is hearing the case as soon as possible, at the very start of the day following the accusation.”
Of course, one of the many peculiarities of Aldabreshin life is the way they measure each day from sunset to sunset.
“Even the lowest slave is entitled to know of what they are accused, to be given time to prepare a defense,” Laio said tartly, “in the Islands, at least.”
“It may be that she takes her chance to flee.” Gar was looking thoughtful. “That might be preferable.”
Not from where I was looking, it wasn’t. I cursed under my breath in exasperation as I followed Laio up the stairs. There was just too much I didn’t know about this unholy place, their bizarre customs and peculiar notions. I was going to have to rely on Laio’s guidance and I didn’t like that idea one little bit.