Legacy of the Darksword - Margaret Weis [51]
Saryon and Gwen sat near the fire. Gwen was pale and silent, staring into the flames. Occasionally she would shift her gaze to the back part of the room, in part expectation, part dread. Saryon, ill at ease, suddenly stood up and began roaming aimlessly about the room. Just as abruptly, he sat back down. Joram was not present and I feared he might refuse to see Saryon at all, which would have hurt my master terribly. Then Eliza entered at almost the same time I did, although from a door opposite.
“Papa bids you welcome, Father Saryon,” she said, coming to stand before the catalyst, who rose to meet her. “Please sit down and be comfortable. Papa has gone to wash and change his clothes. He will join us shortly.”
I was relieved and I think Saryon was, too, for he smiled and gave a deep sigh before resuming his chair. Gwen stirred, at this, and said we must be hungry and she would fix the evening meal. Though Eliza had done a very good job of attempting to wash away the traces, I saw that she had been crying.
She said she was certain I would like to wash up, which was true, and offered to show me the way. I crossed the room to join her. We were both being watched by the teddy bear with the orange ribbon around his neck, who was seated in a small chair that must have been specially made for a child. Just at the moment we were walking past, the bear gave a lurch and tumbled out of the chair, landing on his nose on the floor.
“Poor Teddy,” Eliza said playfully. Picking up the bear, she dusted him off, kissed him on the top of his well-worn head, and settled him more comfortably in the chair. “Be a sweet Teddy,” she admonished, still in her playful tone, “and you shall have bread and honey for your supper.”
Glancing back at the bear, I saw Simkin smirk. Eliza led me into the sleeping quarters of the family, rooms which she told me had once belonged to the higher-ranking catalysts. These rooms were larger and much more comfortable than the narrow cells I had passed. She took me to one at the end of the hallway.
“Here’s where you will spend the night,” she said, opening the door.
A fire burned on the small hearth. The bed was covered with clean, sweet-smelling sheets, scented with lavender. The floor was newly swept. My knapsack rested near the bed. On the night-stand was a jug of steaming water and a washbasin. Eliza told me, where to find the outbuildings.
“No need to hurry,” she said. “Papa is bathing and taking his evening swim. He won’t be ready for at least another half hour.”
Like her mother, she was pale and preoccupied. The only time I’d seen her smile was when she was playing with Teddy and that smile had faded quickly. She was about to leave when I stopped her.
Since we had time, I typed on the notebook. Tell me more about Teddy.
Her smile returned. “I told you how I found him in the old nursery. I took him everywhere with me—he went with Papa to tend the sheep, with Mama to work in the garden or wash the clothes.
“You’re going to think this is silly.” Her cheeks flushed faintly. “But I seem to remember Teddy telling me stories—all about faeries and giants, dragons and unicorns.” She laughed self-consciously. “I suppose I must have made them up myself and told them to Teddy, though I Have the oddest impression that it was the other way around. What do you think?”
I don’t remember what I responded. Something about lonely children having vivid imaginations. What could I say? It was not up to me to tell her the truth about Simkin!
She said that this must be true and started to leave, but paused, just before she shut the door. “Now that I recall them, some of those stories were quite horrible. Tales about duchesses sneezing their heads off and the heads landing in the soup and earls being buried alive by mistake and faerie queens who took men captive and used them as slaves. What a morbid little imp I must have been!”
Laughing again, she left