Paladin of Souls - Lois McMaster Bujold [33]
Dy Cabon poked his head through the door and said, “Ah. Lady. Good. I’ve been seeking you.” He heaved his bulk within. Ista hadn’t seen him since they’d arrived, she realized, not even at the evening services. He looked fatigued, gray and puffy under the eyes. Had he been up late in some forced study? “I request—beg—some private audience with you, if I may.”
Liss looked up from where she’d been peering over Foix’s shoulder. “Should I leave you, Royina?”
“No. The correct thing for a lady-in-waiting to do, should her mistress wish private speech with some gentleman not of her immediate family, is to place herself out of earshot, but within sight or call.”
“Ah.” Liss nodded understanding. Ista would never have to repeat the instruction. Liss might be untutored, but five gods, what a joy it was to finally have an attendant with all her wits about her.
“I could read to her, in this chamber or the next,” Foix immediately volunteered.
“Um . . .” Dy Cabon gestured to a table and chairs visible through an archway in the next room. Ista nodded and passed in before him. Foix and Liss settled back into the cozy window seat.
More discussion of their holy itinerary was due, she suspected, and tedious letters to be written thereafter apprising dy Ferrej of their planned route. Dy Cabon held her chair, then edged around the table to seat himself. She could hear Foix’s voice begin to murmur in the next chamber, too softly to make out the words from here, but in the cadences of some strong, striding narrative stanzas.
The divine tented his hands on the table before him, stared at them for a moment, then looked her in the face. In a level tone he asked, “Lady, why are you really on this pilgrimage?”
Ista’s brows rose at this utterly blunt beginning. She decided to return straight speech for straight speech; it was rare enough in a royina’s hearing and ought to be encouraged. “To escape my keepers. And myself.”
“You have not and had not, then, any real intention to pray for a grandson?”
Ista grimaced. “Not for all the gods in Chalion would I insult Iselle or my new granddaughter Isara so. I still remember how I was chided and shamed for bearing a daughter to Ias, these nineteen years ago. The selfsame brilliant girl who is now the brightest hope the royacy of Chalion has had in four generations!” She controlled her fierce tone, which clearly had taken dy Cabon aback. “Should a grandson come, in due time, I shall of course be very pleased. But I will not beg the gods for any favor.”
He took this in, nodded slowly. “Yes. I had come to suspect something of a sort.”
“It is, I grant, a trifle impious to use a pilgrimage so, and abuse the good guards the Daughter’s Order lends me. Though I’m quite sure I’m not the first to make holiday at the gods’ expense. My purse shall more than compensate the Temple.”
“That does not concern me.” Dy Cabon waved away these pecuniary considerations. “Lady. I have read. I have talked to my superiors. I have taken thought. I have—well, never mind that now.” He drew a breath. “Are you aware, Royina—do you realize—I have found reason to think, you see, that you may be extraordinarily spiritually gifted.” His gaze upon her face was deeply searching.
Found reason where? What garbled, secret tales had the man heard? Ista sat back; did not, quite, recoil. “I am afraid that is not so.”
“I believe you underestimate yourself. Seriously underestimate yourself. This sort of thing is, I admit, rare in a woman of your rank, but I have come to realize you are a very unusual woman. But I believe that, with prayer, guidance, meditation, and instruction, you might reach a pitch of spiritual sensitivity, of fulfilled calling, that, well, that most of us who wear our god’s colors only dream about and long for. These are not gifts to be lightly cast aside.”
Not lightly, indeed. With great violence. How in five gods’ names had he come by this sudden delusion? Dy Cabon’s eager face, she realized, was afire with the look of a man seized by a grand idea. Was he picturing himself as her proud spiritual mentor? He would not