her instruments 02 - rose point (27 page)

Hirianthial canted his head, smiled. “You are the Queen’s White Sword now, Olthemiel. I will follow your lead.”

The approval that washed over him from the soldiers watching was as tangible as a wind off the ocean, bracing and bright as salt. He could taste it, wear it like a cloak; it was lined in the peach-pale shimmer of Olthemiel’s gratitude to be honored, and to have his authority bolstered when it would have been so easy to tear him down. So it went, among the Eldritch, even here among this confederacy so different from the rest of society. But he had never subscribed to such pettiness, and would surely not begin now. Hirianthial issued him the short bow all Swords made their captain before training and took his place among the ranks that assembled to join them.

The drills done by the Swords were as old as Settlement. Running them made Hirianthial realize they were another form of meditation; he was not long into the forms before he felt the heartbeat throb of his own power fade away, granting him access again to the great calm of the universe. He breathed through the joy of it and seeped into that deep quiet. It was the only thing that saved him when they paired off to begin the paired drills. His feet had moved him into position, and memory had bowed him in the traditional salute to his partner before beginning. It did not occur to him until his opponent attacked him that he had put himself in a position to duplicate the circumstances on Kerayle.

That calm gave him the heartbeat pause he needed to stay his reflexive response. The shattering strength of the blow he pulled—its physical expression but a thin shadow cast by the mental attack he had to fight to arrest in full—felled him, and the entire room halted. Olthemiel sprinted for him. “My Lord!”

“A passing spell,” Hirianthial said, panting. The dizziness was overwhelming; he had not expected it, and it had been a very long time since he’d battled nausea like a stripling new to training. “Being off-world has changed me. I should perhaps sit on the bench for a time.”

“Of course!” Olthemiel said, solicitous, and nothing would do but that he escort Hirianthial there.

He did not mark the time. He spent it exhausted from the effort of having not lashed out, dismayed at the raw sensitivity of his skin and nerves, and acutely aware that he was crippled. Men among the Eldritch carried the weapons and fought on behalf of their families, for it could be no other way with mortality rates so high for women in childbed. One answered insult on the dueling field; patrolled the family land for wild things that needed slaying; meted out justice to those who’d earned it and did battle with those who would take what they wanted in violation of laws both tacit and formal. The eldest male member of the family who was still hale bore the family swords, holding them between violence and the almost inevitably female holder of the seal and all the wealth it implied.

He had trained since before he’d left dresses to bear swords. Even having left the seal to Araelis, he still carried Jisiensire’s weapons, and everyone would expect him to be the defender of Jisiensire’s honor. With Liolesa conniving to start a fight, it was folly to think he’d be able to avoid drawing them.

And the first time someone lunged for him....

Hirianthial ran his hand up the back of his neck until he found the dangle’s ties at his scalp. The bell Irine had braided into it shivered, and he flinched.

The practice ended and the company disbanded. It was Beronaeth who approached him then, with Olthemiel following at his shoulder a few respectful paces behind. Hirianthial looked up at them, eyes narrowed, still resting his hand on the back of his neck.

“My lord,” Beronaeth said, hesitated. “If I speak out of turn, prithee tell me. But I am the man charged with counseling the injured, and you have the reactions of a man who has been in a terrible battle. If there is anything I might do to aid you, I am at your disposal.”

Surprised, Hirianthial said, “Thank you. I will consider your offer.”

Beronaeth bowed and withdrew. Olthemiel stayed long enough to say, “You are welcome here at any time, sire.”

How good it would be to belong again—and yet he was no longer one of them. Because it would have been rude to say so, Hirianthial answered, “I am honored by the invitation, Captain. Thank you.”

Nevertheless, he waited until the rest of the company was done before using the changing room himself. He left the barracks out of sorts and thought to seek Reese, to keep his promise to her that he appear daily. But when he arrived, he was not greeted by her, nor did Felith open the door and announce him. Irine let him in instead, and her aura was a complexity that disarmed him. Then she spoke and disordered his mind entirely. “If you’re looking for Reese, she’s gone to the library.”

“She’s done
what
?”

“Gone to the library,” Irine repeated. “Felith needed a book and she insisted on going along. Araelis gave her a map and told her it should be safe enough since the library is next to the Queen’s wing and all your enemies are over on the other side of the palace—”

“Araelis?” Hirianthial said, fighting dismay. “Has been
here
?”

Irine folded her arms, and something in her aura was as powerful a warning as any he’d ever received. “Yes... yes, she has.”

“The Captain...”

“Isn’t exactly upset at you,” Irine said. “But I wouldn’t waste any time doing damage control. If you take my meaning, Lord-cousin-to-the-Queen.”

“Araelis,” he growled.

“I liked her,” Irine said. “But don’t take it wrong if I say she reminds me of some of my mothers.”

“The characterization is apt,” Hirianthial said. “If you’ll pardon me?”

“Please, get going,” Irine said with a lopsided grin. “Before she talks herself into a temper.”

Reese was not in fact angry. There was no earthly way she could be angry when confronted with Liolesa’s library.

“Oh, my,” she whispered, staring up the shelves. The smell alone gave her shivers. She wandered from one side to the other, stepped onto the dais and paused, feeling the unexpected give of the raised floor beneath the carpet—was it wood? Then drifted off it again and back among the stacks, through shafts of sunlight too weak to be responsible for the warmth rushing through her at the sight of such treasure. “How many books do you have?”

“I would not know, my Lady,” Felith said, nervous and disguising it poorly as she sought the etiquette book she’d said she needed to coach Reese through the presentation. “I have not known anyone to undertake a count, though I presume there is one somewhere.” She picked a slim volume down and turned to face Reese. “Lady? This is the book. We should go, you should not be seen....”

“But we just got here!” Reese said. “Who’s going to come all the way over here for anything? You’ve seen the size of this place, Felith. Blood, you should know it in your bones, you’ve lived here long enough! Besides, if anyone shows up I can hide behind a shelf or something.”

Felith sighed. “As you will.” A little more kindly, “It is a magnificent collection. Not as large perhaps as the Cathedral’s, but quite respectable.”

“If a library this big is ‘respectable’ for Eldritch, you’ve gone a long way toward redeeming your annoying habits,” Reese said, drifting through the long slanted columns of sunlight. She stopped in front of one shelf and reached for a book, paused. “Can I….”

“Of course,” Felith said. “A library is hardly useful if not used.”

Reese took the book down and balanced it in the crook of her arm while she leafed through it: creamy parchment pages, inscribed with glossy ink that was ever so slightly raised on the paper, ink that smelled like a memory of something more pungent. The chapters started with beautifully illuminated capitals, leafed in silver that shone when she tilted the book toward the sun. She swallowed, fought tears and tried not to feel ridiculous. “Blood, it’s beautiful. Are they all like this? I bet they are. But they can’t be. Handmade? Hand-painted?”

“It is how it is done here,” Felith said.

Reese looked up at the shelves, over her shoulder at the rest of the library. She tried to calculate the amount of work it must have taken to create all these books by hand and failed. The Eldritch lived hundreds of years, but even so.… “Wait. These are all unique? Do you make copies?”

“There may be one or two of each book,” Felith said. “But it’s rare to make more than a handful. The creation of a book is a laborious process.”

Which made everything in this library so expensive that most people couldn’t afford to keep one. “You mean… almost no one has books.”

“No,” Felith said, and amended, “The nobility typically keeps them. Among the good families, the libraries are made available to the tenants for borrowing. Some families hoard theirs, however, and do not permit them to be lent.”

Reese looked down at the work of art in her arms and tried to imagine a world where books were a luxury only the very rich could afford—and only the very generous would share. How poor her life would have been had she not been able to read! Her monthly romance subscription was almost twenty years old now. She’d never skipped a month in all that time. Was there some Eldritch peasant somewhere, wishing her life was better, without even the meager escape she could derive from an afternoon reading?

The lack of good plumbing was bad enough. The lack of lights and heat. But no books?

How did these people live like this?

The creak of the door opening caused Felith to gasp. Reese stepped behind the shelf and peeked out, then sighed as Hirianthial entered, shutting the door behind him. Walking back around the shelf she said, “Is it true? Books are for the rich?”

“In most parts of the world,” he said after a hesitation. “Lady—“

“They’re so beautiful,” Reese said, pained. “How can I love them for being beautiful when I know almost no one can appreciate them?”

His hesitation became more pronounced, and his voice gentler. “Should we cease to make beautiful things because not everyone can have them?”

“No,” Reese said, looking up at him. “But this is different. Books are like people. They can be beautiful on the outside and it’s wonderful when they are, but what counts is the inside. And the inside of a book can be communicated in a dozen different ways, and cheaply enough that everyone can have access. And everyone should. They’re books!”

“I know,” Hirianthial said. “And God and Lady willing, one day soon it will be so, even here. But it is not yet, and there is much to do between now and then—“

“And I want to be part of it,” Reese said. The moment she said it, she felt the truth of it, so large it was too big for her skin. “I want to help. I can, can’t I? That’s why I’m here.”

Hirianthial’s pause this time….

“Unless,” Reese said, backing down, “you don’t want us here.”

“No,” he said. “No, that’s not it at all. But I would not expose you to—“

“To what?” Reese said. “What could possibly be worse than what we’ve already been through? Slavers, pirates, drug lords… they shattered Sascha’s arm, they assaulted you, they broke my ship.” She drew in a breath because she was trembling and said, “They used me to commit murder.”

“And you wish to continue?” Hirianthial asked. “I cannot guarantee matters here will not devolve into such darknesses.”

“I don’t know,” Reese said. She closed the book and gently set it back on the shelf. “Maybe it’s time to take a stand somewhere.” He was looking at her, she could feel it. Self-consciously she ran her thumb down the rust-colored leather spine.

“Captain… about Araelis and anything she might have told you—“

Reese turned and set her back to the shelves. “It was a lot, and I’m betting she didn’t ask you about it first. I’m sorry about that. I should have told her to stop.” Another pause in his breathing. She wondered how often she would surprise him. “Not what you expected me to say, I guess.”

“No,” he admitted. “I expected that you might be cross.”

“Because you keep secrets?” She shook her head. “Who doesn’t? Besides, we never asked.”

“You never asked because you sensed it would discomfit me,” he pointed out.

“Yes. It was still a good reason not to ask. Our curiosity isn’t more important than you being ready to talk about something.” She looked up at him. “Can we agree to just… move on from here? I won’t bring it up. You can assume I know things.”

“I… if you wish,” he said. “It would probably be easiest.”

“I figured,” Reese said. “I can’t speak for the twins or Kis’eh’t, though. Bryer hardly talks, but the other three might have questions. Or might not. Araelis was… forthcoming.”

“I feared she might be,” he said, rueful.

“Look, just... forget about it, and I’ll do my best to do the same.” Reese glanced at Felith, who was standing by the door trying not to fidget and failing. “I should get back before I give the Queen’s maid an attack.”

“For good cause,” Hirianthial said. “To be seen together without a chaperone would be....” He paused, then laughed.

“What?” Reese asked, trying not to notice how much she liked seeing him laugh.

“I was beginning to say ‘entirely inappropriate for a man and a woman,’ but I am rather hoping I’ll be considered too ungentlemanly to be sought by a woman who cares more for the opinions of the court than for the truth... and you would probably find the entire concept ridiculous. You do, do you not?”

Reese snorted. “You can just tell the idiots that if we’d wanted to fornicate we could have had a six-month orgy with or without three other people.”

“Only three?”

Was he teasing her? He was! She grinned. “Well, Kis’eh’t’s never shown any interest and Allacazam doesn’t have any parts. I can’t figure out Bryer so I thought it would probably be a dice roll whether he’d want in.”

“The idea is appalling,” Hirianthial said.

“Probably to him too.” Reese laughed. “Come on, before we scandalize Felith any more. Look, her cheeks are pink.”

“No fear, Lady,” Hirianthial said. “A properly reared lady’s maid does not eavesdrop. Is that not right, Felith?”

“Pardon me, my Lord?” Felith said, curtseying hastily with the book tucked under her arm.