Untalented (11 page)

“My deepest apologies, Highness. I’ll send for new bedding. If you will excuse me, I have other duties to attend to.” She gave the smallest bow that courtesy required, and beat a retreat to the door. Martezha took a sip of the tea. The superior smirk turned to sudden fury. She hurled the cup at Saroya.

“It’s not even warm! Do you know what cold tea will do to my voice? You stupid cow—if you made this cough worse I’ll have you flogged. I’m supposed to sing for the governor tonight.”

Tea dripping from her face, Saroya fumbled in her pocket for a cloth and mopped the tea from the floor, picking out the broken shards of the cup. Her breath rushed through her nostrils. She struggled to curb her bitter response. Martezha’s hand slammed down on the sideboard.

Martezha turned to the handmaiden. “Tell Master Guffin that I won’t tolerate this—this Untalented trash in my presence.” The girl scuttled away, head bent. Martezha sneered at Saroya. “If I ever see you here again I’ll make your life miserable.”

Saroya ripped her gaze from Martezha’s manicured fingers and the ring adorning that hand. She returned Martezha’s jade stare. Something inside her snapped.

“You and I both know whose life will be miserable when the truth comes out.”

Martezha drew back as if bitten. “Get out of my sight.”

“With pleasure.”

Saroya gathered the tray and what was left of her dignity and left the room, refusing to hurry. The page took in her damp skirt and grinned.

“Warned you, didn’t I? Better take my advice, next time.”

Saroya didn’t bother telling him there wouldn’t be a next time. Martezha would follow through on her threat. Saroya’s presence was a constant reminder of Martezha’s lie. It made Saroya’s plan to get into the Builder’s Guild all the more urgent; Martezha would soon drum up some excuse to dismiss her from the castle staff. Her position here was too precarious.

Saroya caught her breath at the foot of the guildhall’s staircase. Was she late? Getting the free day to attend Nalini’s induction ceremony had been simple, but good luck finding proper attire. It took her all morning to locate someone in the castle willing to lend her a decent dress. A part of her wished she wouldn’t find one—an excuse not to go.

She tucked behind her ears stray strands of hair, disarrayed from her hurried trot across the city. She couldn’t afford a barque ride. To her own dismay, she couldn’t resist comparing her borrowed linen dress to the fine silks of the other guests. A matron in rich furs sniffed and pulled her small daughter away from Saroya. Clean linen or not, the smell of manure defied all purging attempts from her hair. Saroya lifted her head and marched after the matron’s family through the arching doorway. She had done her best and Nalini wasn’t one to care much about silks.

Saroya let her curiosity at her first foray into a guildhall lead her about the atrium before she entered the auditorium for the ceremony. The marble floor cooled her feet through the thin soles of her sandals. Scattered about the area, large urns cradled exhibits of healing herbs, their therapeutic properties listed on small placards. Sculptures of famous healers throughout history lined the wall to the left of the entrance, some shown applying a poultice to or bleeding an ailing patient, others holding minerals or herbs. Saroya frowned. She could do all that. What made them so special? On the right wall, a mural depicted the sacrifices made by the healers during the Great Plague three hundred years ago.

At the far end, three arches led to various wings of the guildhall, the guild crest prominent atop the middle arch. Nalini had told her that the left hallway led to the healers’ quarters, and the right to the research and teaching rooms. Saroya followed the stream of proud parents and robed healers to the middle arch. There an administrator asked to see her invitation then directed her to the guildhall’s auditorium. Saroya took a seat on a stone bench.

For all the grandeur of the large hall, the Healer’s Guild kept the ceremony itself simple, even though it reminded her of everything she was not. The guild candidates mounted the stage and took places behind a podium. Saroya spotted Nalini in the second row—her tiny frame just visible. The master healer made a short speech and, one by one, called each of the new apprentices to him. He led them through the Healer’s Oath then placed upon each right middle finger a ring sealing their lives to the guild. Saroya had never seen anyone so happy as Nalini when the ring encircled her finger. Saroya ached for the day when a guild might accept her too. Nalini returned to take her place with the inductees, and Saroya spotted her scanning the crowd. Saroya waved and Nalini smiled back in recognition. A shadow crossed Nalini’s face. Saroya wasn’t certain why.

Back in the atrium, its tables now heaped high with food and drink, Saroya grabbed a goblet of cider from a server and hunted through the crowd for Nalini.

She found her in animated conversation with another new healer. Nalini kept craning her neck as though looking for someone. She noticed Saroya approaching and grinned.

“Look at you! Castle life is treating you well!”

Saroya blushed and decided not to mention her borrowed clothes. This was Nalini’s night, after all.

“What about you? You’re a full-fledged healer now.”

“Not quite yet.”

“But tonight—”

“Tonight we all became members of the guild. But I’m not allowed to set up practice on my own until a master gives his approval. Maybe as much as a full year from now.”

Nalini tried to peer around Saroya without appearing to do so.

“Look, if you’d rather I not be here, just say so.”

“No, no, it’s great to see you, Saroya.”

“Are you waiting for someone? You seem distracted.”

Nalini shrugged, and ignored the question. “Are things all right for you at the castle? Martezha’s not giving you a hard time, is she?”

“Martezha. Fah!” A change in subject seemed in order. “Are you allowed to show me around the guildhall?”

Nalini gave a little hop and grabbed Saroya’s wrist. “Allowed? I’d love to. Come on.” She extracted them from the group clustered around them and headed down the left-hand hallway. After a maze of marbled corridors inset with oaken doors, she arrived at a door three down from the end of a corridor and flung it open.

“This is my room.”

Saroya peered inside. Nalini spun around with her arms outstretched. Fragrant herbs hung from a planter by a large window, books and parchment lay strewn on the desk, and shelves of medical tomes covered the walls.

“No roommate?” Saroya didn’t want to think about how long she’d wait before she got a room all her own.

“No, the guild believes all members need a quiet place to study. You should see the library.”

“Nalini.”

“What?”

“You’re hiding it pretty well but I can tell something’s bothering you.”

Nalini turned to the window. Had she pried too hard? Nalini’s shoulders shook. Saroya hurried over. Nalini looked up at her, lips quivering, liquid pooling in the corners of her eyes.

“They didn’t come.”

“Who didn’t come?”

“My parents. What did I expect—the whole builder thing …”

“It’s a long way to U’Veyle from Galon Ford.”

“They didn’t even send a note. Nothing. None of the U’Veyle Ferlens showed up either.”

Saroya hugged her friend.

“Nalini. You’re the best healer the Cloister ever taught. It would be pointless for you to even try to be a builder. If your parents can’t see how wonderful you are at healing, then they don’t deserve you.”

“It just hurts.” Nalini’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Why can’t they be proud of me?”

Saroya looked over her handiwork with a critical eye. She compared the letter sitting on the table in front of her, ink still drying, with the one on the bench. The calligraphy matched well, the signatures indistinguishable, with only a small squiggle out of place in one of the curlicues. Most casual observers wouldn’t give it a second glance.

She blotted the parchment, then packed up her writing implements, giving the paper a few more moments to dry. The quiet corner she’d found in the library remained empty. Anybody coming in would see a girl taking notes about the book in front of her. And she had—it just wasn’t her only project for the day. She felt a twinge of guilt at faking a signature, but if all went as planned, no one would ever know.

She put the parchment into her leather letter holder and turned back to the book on the stand,
A History of the Veyle Plague Years
. She riffled through her notes. Her quest to find the mysterious Veshwa led her in strange but interesting directions. None of the castle servants she discreetly probed admitted knowing anyone named Veshwa. It was not a common name; if Veshwa had been a servant of her mother’s, it had not been during her tenure as queen.

She sent a letter to the doyenne in Adram Vale asking about Veshwa and whether anyone knew the story of her ring. Who had left her there as an infant? Her mother? This Veshwa? Had she been dropped off anonymously or had the Adepts spoken to whoever carried her there?

While waiting for a reply, she set out to learn more about House Roshan, her mother’s maiden House. Tales of bravery in battle or service to the realm littered the history of Veyle; Houses like Dorn had made a name for themselves by defeating the attempted invasion of U’Veyle by the Ileggi when plague losses still weakened the city three hundred years ago. Unlike most current noble Houses, House Roshan’s lineage stretched back even before the plague. Many of the Houses of the time shouldered the blame for the plague, their families killed by rioters if the fevers hadn’t reached them first. Roshan, though decimated by the plague, survived the purge. The book she perused was not clear how.

Saroya scribbled notes about other books she should look into, then packed up her papers and headed back to the castle. Her next free day wasn’t for a week but she needed to be well rested and mentally prepared or her plans would fail.

Saroya wiped her moist palms on her tunic and checked that she was still presentable. Then she gave the door a sharp knock. Everything hinged on appearing confident and assured. She pushed the door open at the answering “Enter!”, threw back her shoulders, and strode into the room.