Days of Air and Darkness - Katharine Kerr [38]
“Oh, hush, child.” Caffa smiled vaguely in her direction. “Of course you do. You poor thing! Here you are, eighteen and not even married, and perhaps it’s just as well, of course, considering what your poor dear mother has to pick from, but still! I’m so glad she finally listened to reason and sent you to me. Poor dear Maemigga.”
Sevinna curtsied again, but her heart was aching. She felt like a charity project, some farmer’s widow plucked from poverty and given a decent place in the kitchen. Her mother’s marriage was the big scandal of the gwerbret’s clan; Maemigga had loved her land-poor tieryn so much that she’d ridden off on her own one night and married him before her family could stop her. By the time the gwerbret had caught up with her, she was so obviously no longer a maiden that his grace could do nothing but formally approve the match and make sure that Obyn never forgot what he owed him, either. To the children of this love match, the gwerbret and his wife had always been kind—very, very kind—as Caffa was now, smiling as she studied Sevinna like a bit of cloth on which she planned to embroider.
“Baba,” Caffa pronounced, “surely you can lend Sevvi some of your dresses until hers are ready. We have guests tonight at dinner, you see.”
“Handsome guests?” Babryan said with a grin. “Of course, Sevvi. Mine are yours. We’ll look through and pick one out.”
“Good child. But truly, you lasses must stop thinking of little things like a man’s looks. Most good-looking men are so horribly vain—well, Sevvi dear, your father’s an exception, truly, but he’s the only one I’ve ever met—and anyway, it’s things like steadiness and kindness that matter in a marriage, not curly hair and blue eyes.”
“Of course,” the three girls chorused.
“Oh, I know!” Caffa waggled a playful finger at them. “I was your age once, wasn’t I? But it’s time for all of you to think of the things that matter. We shall have lots of nice chats now that Sevvi’s here.”
When Lady Caffa turned away, Babryan rolled her eyes heavenward, and all three girls broke out giggling.
Dinner that night was a splendid meal, as every meal seemed to be in the gwerbret’s palace. The gwerbret and his family ate at a carved and polished table near a hearth inlaid with Bardek tiles. On the other side of the enormous hall, a warband of two hundred men sat listening to their own bard. Servants in spotless embroidered clothes silently and gracefully served four elaborate courses, starting with a vegetable aspic made in colorful layers as intricate as the tiles and ending with an apple cake soaked in fine mead. While Sevinna desperately tried to mimic her cousins’ delicate manners, she watched this guest, who, or so Caffa had made clear, had been invited expressly to look over the gwerbret’s unmarried niece. Although his title was simple, Lord Timryc was one of the king’s own equerries with a large holding of land near the Holy City itself. He seemed a pleasant enough fellow, about thirty, with sandy-blond hair, a prominent chin, and undeniably kind eyes. Every now and then, he would look Sevinna’s way and smile at her, a gesture that flustered her so much that she would bury her nose in her water goblet. When at the end of the meal the ladies retired to their hall, Sevinna was profoundly glad to be gone.
Caffa took the girls to her own hall, a vast round room where Bardek tapestries hung at intervals on the walls and cushioned furniture stood in profusion. The servingwomen lit candles in silver sconces, then sat down on cushions near the mistress’s chair.
“Well, Sevinna dearest,” Caffa said, “he seems a very nice man. Not too young, of course, but his first wife died in labor, you see. He’s been consolidating his position at court, and a man like that can hold out for a good match. But anyway, I think we shall arrange a little riding party tomorrow.” She glanced at Wbridda. “Now Bry, if you mind your manners and that tongue of yours, you may join us and bring your little falcon.”
“My thanks, Mam,” Wbridda said. “Don’t worry, I won’t get in the way. He looks dull to me.”
“Now