The Curse of Chalion - Lois McMaster Bujold [24]
“You are older, Betriz,” said the Provincara to her. “We thought you’d be a calming influence. Teach Iselle the duties of a pious maiden.” Her lips twisted. “As when Beetim the huntsman couples the young hounds to the older ones. Alas that I did not give your upbringing over to him, instead of to these useless governesses.”
Betriz blinked, and offered another curtsey. “Yes, my lady.”
The Provincara eyed her, suspicious of concealed humor. Cazaril bit his lip.
Iselle took a deep breath. “If tolerating injustice and turning a blind eye to men’s tragic and unnecessary damnations are among the first duties of a pious maiden, then the divines never taught it to me!”
“No, of course not,” the Provincara snapped. For the first time, her harsh voice softened with a shade of persuasion. “But justice is not your task, heart.”
“The men whose task it was appear to have neglected it. I am not a milkmaid. If I have a greater privilege in Chalion, surely I have a greater duty to Chalion as well. The divine and the good dedicat have both told me so!” She shot a defying look at the hovering Lady dy Hueltar.
“I was talking about you attending to your studies, Iselle,” Lady dy Hueltar protested.
“When the divines talked of your pious duties, Iselle,” dy Ferrej added, “they didn’t mean…they didn’t mean…”
“They didn’t mean me to take them seriously?” she inquired sweetly.
Dy Ferrej sputtered. Cazaril sympathized. An innocent with the moral advantage, and as feckless and ignorant of her dangers as the new pup the Provincara had compared her to—Cazaril was profoundly thankful that he had no part in this.
The Provincara’s nostrils flared. “For now, you may both go to your chambers and stay there. I’d set you both to read scriptures for a penance, but…! I will decide later if you will be permitted to come to the feast. Good Dedicat, follow after and make sure they arrive. Go!” She gestured imperiously. As Cazaril made to follow, her sweeping arm stopped in midair, and she pointed firmly downward. “Castillar, dy Ferrej, attend a moment.” Lady Betriz shot a curious glance over her shoulder as she was ushered out. Iselle marched head high, and didn’t look back.
“Well,” said dy Ferrej wearily after a moment, “we did hope they would become friends.”
Her young audience removed, the Provincara permitted herself a rueful smile. “Alas, yes.”
“How old is the Lady Betriz?” Cazaril asked curiously, staring after the closing door.
“Nineteen,” answered her father with a sigh.
Well, her age was not quite so disparate from his as Cazaril had thought, though her experience surely was.
“I really did think Betriz would be a good influence,” dy Ferrej added. “It seems to have worked the other way around.”
“Are you accusing my granddaughter of corrupting your daughter?” the Provincara inquired wryly.
“Say, inspiring, rather,” dy Ferrej said, with a glum shrug. “Terrifying, that. I wonder…I wonder if we should part them?”
“There would follow much howling.” Wearily, the Provincara seated herself on a bench, gesturing the men to do likewise: “Don’t want a crick in my neck.” Cazaril clasped his hands between his knees and waited her pleasure, whatever it was to be. She must have dragged him along in here for something. She stared thoughtfully at him for a long moment.
“You have a fresh eye, Cazaril,” she said at last. “Do you have any suggestions?”
Cazaril’s brows climbed. “I’ve had the training of young soldiers, lady. Never of young maidens. I’m quite out of my depth, here.” He hesitated, then spoke almost despite himself. “It looks to me to be a trifle too late to teach Iselle to be a coward. But you might draw her attention to how little firsthand evidence she jumped from. How could she be so sure the judge was as guilty as rumor would have him? Hearsay, gossip? Even some apparent evidence can lie.” Cazaril thought ruefully of the bath man’s assumptions about the witness of his back. “It won’t help for today’s incident, but it might slow her down in future.” He added in a drier voice, “And you might look to be more careful what