Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [48]
When it was done, I felt different. It was true, the long hours of solid labor—and the ravenous appetite it had given me—had given me a measure of strength. For the first time in almost a year, I felt at ease in my own body. I even grew to relish the lassitude and deep muscle-ache of fatigue.
It was more than that, though. It was a sense of pride and accomplishment, and a truer grasp of the workings of the estate, the division of labor and profit that made it all function to sustain its folk. I found myself inexplicably interested in knowing.
And then, too, there was Katherine.
Once the field was cleared, Phèdre suggested mildly that I might resume my studies, at least for a portion of each day. For as long as I had summered at Montrève, Phèdre had always welcomed the Friotes—and indeed, any of the crofters' children as might be interested—to attend lessons at the manor.
It was always different, depending on the day. There was a Siovalese scholar in the village who was well-versed in the basic elements of grammar, rhetoric, logic, arithmetic, and geometry, and she often came. Other times, it was a master musician, or an astronomer, or an engineer. Those times were more interesting, although I did enjoy the study of logic.
The best times were when Phèdre played tutor.
She taught us what Delaunay had taught her—the art of covertcy. One day, when Charles and Katherine and I were all in attendance, she blindfolded all of us and bid us wander the manor estate for an hour's time. We were to report back on all we had observed while deprived of sight, including each other's doings.
I will own, I had an advantage. I had long since memorized the layout of the manor house and the surrounding area—it was the sort of memory game that Phèdre and I played often. And I had more practice than the others with moving in stealth. There is a certain trick to it, walking on the balls of one's feet.
Also, I knew them.
I knew Charles would make a beeline to spy on the maidservants in the laundry. Katherine… Katherine, I thought, would make for the gardens.
I made an audible exit toward the front of the manor, then changed course soundlessly, heading for the kitchen. There I hovered in the doorway, listening and sniffing the air. I marked the rattle and clamor of luncheon dishes being scrubbed in a pan. It was too early for the aromas of dinner cooking, but I could smell sage and onion. I could hear the damp thud, slap, and roll of dough being kneaded, and the steady sound of a knife chopping. Root vegetables, I thought; carrots or turnips.
"One of her ladyship's games, is it?" Although I couldn't see her, Richeline's voice held a smile. "Are my youngest at it as well?"
"It is and they are," I said, edging my way through the kitchen, trying not to bump into anyone. On the far side, there was a door onto the herb garden. "You won't tell them you saw me, will you?"
Richeline laughed. "Go on, and stay out of my kitchen! And mind you don't trample my herbs."
Outside, I stood for a moment, basking, turning my blindfolded face toward the hot sun. The rear courtyard of Montrève was a delightful place, even unseen. I knew its configuration by heart. Richeline's herb gardens nestled comfortably against the manor walls.
Beyond was the well, and the laid-slate square where Joscelin and I often sparred. Flower gardens surrounded the area, bringing forth a profusion of blooms in every season. There were footpaths through them, set with simple stones.
I picked my way to the square, mindful of Richeline's herbs. Once I felt smooth slate beneath the soles of my boots, I stood and listened. It was easy to detect Katherine. Her skirts rustled. I heard her exhale softly as they caught on a flowering shrub, and the rasp of fabric as she tugged them loose.
Smiling to myself, I set out on a course to intercept her.
Silent and stealthy, I removed my boots. It was easier to move quietly in bare feet, and I could feel my way unerringly. I crossed the slate