Paladin of Souls - Lois McMaster Bujold [90]
“You must be exhausted,” said Lady Cattilara, whose eyes had widened more than once during Liss’s account. “Such a frightening ordeal!”
“Oh, but I love my task,” said Liss cheerfully, slapping her dirty tabard. “People give me fast horses and get out of my way.”
Ista’s lips twitched up at this. Reason enough for joy, indeed.
But at least it appeared that she hadn’t let Ferda go off on a fool’s errand, for all that he had missed Liss on the road. And that she could hope that by the time he reached Maradi, he would find his bear-ridden brother and his conductor safely in the temple’s charge there.
Liss, attempting to follow her horse as Goram led it away, made little excusing bows in all directions.
Ista said smoothly, “When my handmaiden has seen to her mount, she will be in need of a bath, as I was. And, I pray you, a loan of clothing as well. Her things were stolen by the Jokonans along with mine.” Actually, Liss’s extremely scant wardrobe had mostly been in her saddlebags. But Ista judged that Cattilara’s ladies’ noses were in the air at more than the reek of horses and sweat from the lowborn, high-riding girl.
“And fodder, pray you, dear Royina!” Liss called over her shoulder.
“It shall be worthy of your great ride, the fame of which shall reach Cardegoss itself in my next letter,” Ista promised.
“So it is quick, it may be anything you please!”
LISS WAS A LONG TIME IN THE STABLES, BUT AT LAST SHE PRESENTED herself at Ista’s new quarters. Cattilara’s ladies, local petty lords’ daughters who had nearly fallen over themselves for the honor of serving the dowager royina, were clearly less taken with the chore of serving Liss. But a bath Liss had, under Ista’s firm eye, in between snatching bites from the tray of bread, olives, cheese, and dried fruit, and sloshing down cup after cup of lukewarm herb tea. Her rank riding clothes were sent off with the servants to be properly washed.
Cattilara’s castoffs suited Liss’s height and age much better than they did Ista’s, even if they were a trifle too generously cut in the chest for the riding girl. Liss laughed in delight and awe, waving about one trailing, delicate sleeve, and Ista smiled at her pleasure with the unfamiliar richness.
One person’s delight in Liss was unalloyed; the medical acolyte finally had someone to assume the care of Ista’s hurts so that she might return to her neglected temple and family. Liss hadn’t finished drying before the acolyte finished her tutelage, turned over a supply of bandages and ointments, gathered her things, received a suitable vail from Ista for her pains, and scampered off for home.
DINNER THAT AFTERNOON WAS PRESENTED IN A SMALLER CHAMBER off the courtyard of the star fountain, and proved to be an almost entirely female gathering, under Lady Cattilara’s dominion. No chair was left ritually empty.
“Does Lord Arhys not dine tonight?” Ista asked as she was seated at the marchess’s right hand. Or ever? “I should think his tertiary fever would worry you.”
“Not nearly as much as his military duties,” Lady Cattilara confided with a sigh. “He has taken some men on a patrol toward the northern border. My heart will be in my mouth till he returns. I am in agony inside with terror for him when he rides out, though of course I smile, and do not let him guess. If anything ever happened to him, I believe I would go mad. Oh.” She covered her gaffe with a sip of wine and held her cup up to Ista in salute. “But you understand, I’m sure. I wish I could keep him by my side forever.”
“Is not his superior military craft a part of his”—admittedly appalling—“attractiveness? Hobble him, and you risk killing the very thing you admire in the attempt to preserve it.”
“Oh, no,” said Lady Cattilara seriously. Denying, but not answering, the objection, Ista noted. “I do make him write to me every day, when he is gone. If he forgot, I should be quite cross with him”—her lips turned up, and her eyes sparkled with laughter—“for a whole hour at least! But he doesn’t forget. Anyway, he