Blood Red (9781101637890) (14 page)

Rosa took her seat on the padded stool in front of the mirrored dressing table. “My head is full,” Rosa replied, a little ruefully. “I had no idea from the stories in newspapers that Society was so complicated.”

The maid laughed. “It is, for those who are born into it, and more so for those who are elevated into it. It is more complicated for females than men. Men can and do overlook whatever differences in class, education, and rank they choose to. Women do not have this luxury, for the doyennes of Society will see to it that they pay and pay dearly, if they dare to transgress.”

Rosa wrinkled her brow at that, but a moment later, it became clear to her. These “doyennes of society” were no different at bottom than the leading dames among the gossips of her own village. Within that little “society,” their word was law, and the law was
respectability.
She
had escaped their tongues because the only times she appeared in the village she was dressed as demurely as any of the other maidens, she kept her eyes downcast and she spoke little. So far as the gossips knew, she was in service elsewhere—it was not wise to allow people outside the Bruderschaft to know you were a member. You could bring great danger on your family that way. As far as the villages were concerned, the only members of the Bruderschaft outsiders
knew
were Gunther and one or two of the eldest. The rest were shadows in the forest, people you knew were out there, but never glimpsed.

The professor had explained all this as best he could, but he had done so from a male perspective, not a female one. Possibly this was a side of Society he had not truly seen.

So, now thanks to the professor, Rosa had more tools to dissect Society with, and she saw that the queens of Society were like the female tyrants of the villages. Rosa understood that, and she understood why. In the rest of the world, the real power was all consolidated in masculine hands. It was even codified into law. Only in decreeing and enforcing the rules of etiquette and behavior did the women of Society have the opportunity to become “powerful,” though men could still overrule them. Power was power, and no matter how petty the power was, some people just
had
to feel they had it over someone else.

“So, I must be quiet and meek and polite to a fault,” she said, thoughtfully. “Well, it scarcely matters to me that some old harridan sees me as subservient to her.”

“That is your best battle plan, my lady,” Marie agreed. “Think what it is that most young ladies in Society are pursuing. Good marriages with someone richer or higher in rank than they are. They must put themselves forward without transgressing, or risk the ire of their families for not trying hard enough. But should
you
find yourself in need of functioning within Society—well, what is it that you will be there for?”

“Certainly not that!” she laughed, looking into Marie's face via the mirror. “Likeliest is that I will have strong need to keep myself from being noticed. I see what you mean. Because I do not need or want what Society is promising to an unmarried woman, there are fewer rules for me as well.”

Marie nodded, taking down her hair and brushing it with firm, gentle strokes. “If you are endeavoring to keep from being noticed, I recommend no powder or paint at all, and only the most simple and modest gowns of your wardrobe. You will be taken as lately come from school, and if you apparently have no fortune, will be of no interest to anyone. You may observe from the sidelines, among the wallflowers.”

Rosa sighed with regret, though she could see the logic and had come to that conclusion herself. If she were on the Hunt, as Fritz had been, her best defense would be invisibility. Absolutely logical—but she had been enjoying herself so very much being the center of attention tonight.

Marie pursed her lips, and raised her eyebrow. Rosa waited to see what witty thing the maid would say. Marie was proving to be highly entertaining. Rosa was quite certain that this was not the normal relationship between maid and mistress (even if she was only Marie's temporary superior) but she was also quite certain that the shrewd young woman would never behave like this with anyone who was not a fellow magician. Probably not even then, unless she had been invited to do so, as Rosa had invited her.

“You have proven yourself tonight to be a valuable and entertaining guest, and as you master Society, the Count will expose you to those who would be more critical of your behavior than this lot. Rest assured, you shall have plenty of opportunities to be the toast of gatherings as long as the Count is alive,” Marie said with a wink. “And probably well beyond that, as long as you are willing to come out of that benighted forest of yours.”

“The Schwarzwald is not benighted!” Rosa protested, stung at the implied insult to her home, and rushing to its defense.

“Any place where one cannot have a single meal without being stared at by beheaded beasts is benighted,” Marie replied with a shudder. “I shall never forget that so-called hunting party the Count attended with his mistress five years ago—it was hunting, in the sense of pursuing deer and boar rather than magical foes. It was being held by the Count von Willensdorf, and intended as a retreat for several powerful men and their mistresses.”

“Really?” Rosa blinked. “They do that?”

Marie nodded. “Generally, the wives are sent off to the spa towns to be pampered and fussed over, so that the men are free to enjoy a week or more of discreet dalliance in the company of other men and their mistresses. The Count's inamorata of the moment was someone who had never been outside a city, and had no idea what a ‘hunting lodge' looked like—and neither did I! Even the bedrooms had dead deer in them! Fortunately the lady had hysterics and demanded we all go home, and the Count has never again ventured to do such a thing.”

Poor Count,
she thought, then laughed at herself. Of course if the Graf actually wanted to go for a game-hunting trip of
that
sort, he could. All he needed to do was to go without his mistress, or find a mistress for whom such things were more to her taste. It wasn't as if he had to please anyone but himself!

“Well we are not in a hunting lodge, we are in the Count's manor. If this were anything but a party of magicians, I would now be telling you everything the other servants said in downstairs gossip, in order that you could learn everything I could glean about the other guests.” Marie continued. “That, however, is not necessary. Instead I will tell you what tomorrow's daytime entertainment will be. Have you ever played at Hounds and Hare?”

Rosa laughed with delight. It had been one of her favorite childhood “games”—although it was as much training for her position in the future as it was a game. “Of course! Who hasn't, among our kind?”

“The Count would like you to provide a real challenge to the adults, and play the Hare for them. Markos will be the Hare for the children. Whichever group catches their Hare first, wins a prize.”

Now, by this point, Rosa had walked or ridden over nearly every inch of the Graf's grounds since she had arrived here, and she beamed with glee at Marie at this news. This was going to be great fun!

She didn't know how familiar Markos was with the property, but he would be leading the children a chase, so not knowing it well would only give him a little bit of a handicap to make it a fair contest.

Marie smiled back. “I thought you would like that,” she said. “The Count will announce it at breakfast. It is a good thing that you decided to retire early—you are going to need your sleep!”

Rosa was prepared for the surprise, dressed in her Schwarzwald gear, when she came down to breakfast. The Graf smiled at her with a twinkle in his eye when he saw her and recognized that Marie had told her what was to come. When all the guests had assembled for breakfast, and knives and forks were busy, he stood up and called for their attention.

“My good friends,” he said. “For your edification and enjoyment, I have organized a competition of Hare and Hounds, divided between the children and the adults. Markos Nagy will play the Hare for the children, and our good friend Gunther will supervise the children's group to help them if they become truly stuck. Rosamund von Schwarzwald will play the Hare for the adult group, and I expect her to challenge your tracking abilities. If anyone wishes to sit the game out, I will provide a fire-scrying overview of the progress of both groups.”

The enthusiasm with which this announcement was met left no question as to whether anyone was going to remain behind. “The children will be mounted, and I have had ponies brought up for them,” the Graf continued, when the hum of conversation had stilled a little. “The adults may have the choice of being mounted or going afoot. I expect you to work together this morning on your Hunting Party and strategy, and selecting your Hunt Master. Gunther will help the children do the same. After luncheon, we will give the Hares their start, and the Hunt will begin.”

The prospect of doing something Hunt-like without the danger and risk of a real Hunt was almost always appealing to the magicians associated with White Lodges. It was the fellowship and challenge of the Hunt, without the prospect of someone dying, or the need to work with fellow mages you might not particularly care for. As a result, everyone except Markos and Rosa hurried through their meal and adjourned to the library for the adults, except for Gunther, who took himself to wherever the children were being assembled.

“Well, my lady,” said Markos, when the dining room was deserted by all but a lone servant, waiting for a signal that they wanted anything else. “What do you think our plan should be? I am very familiar with the Count's estate.” Although she knew he had gone to bed later than she, he looked just as well rested, and quite cheerful at the prospect of entertaining the children of the group.

“Ah good! I am as well. And you should call me Rosa, fellow Hare.” She smiled at him as she moved to sit across from him and cleared objects away from the tablecloth between them. “In that case, I think, for maximum confusion, we should deliberately cross our trails several times.”

Markos chuckled; it was the first time she had heard him laugh, and it was a pleasing, low-pitched sound. “That is an excellent plan. So . . . let us let this butter dish represent the manor, here—and let me outline the gardens with these knives.” He placed the dish, and between them, they soon had a tolerable map laid out on the table as they plotted their paths.

The servants were very patient about not taking away the breakfast things until they were finished—even though it was nearly lunchtime before they were satisfied. The Graf's estate was not only the palace and grounds, but included several hundred acres of farms, forest, grazing, and an entire village. There had been plenty for them to work with. By the time the chase was over, everyone should be weary.

They were able to join the others wearing satisfied smiles, which invoked answering smiles from some, rueful expressions from others. But everyone was ready; the others had taken the opportunity to change into clothing suitable for riding or walking across rough land. Which, as Rosa knew, was prudent. While Markos was not going to subject the children to anything like a punishing Hunt, Rosa had no such intentions, and there were plenty of places on the Graf's property that were nearly as wild as her own Schwarzwald.

“Rosa, Markos, are you ready?” the Graf asked them, when a light luncheon had been cleared away.

“We are,” Rosa replied, after a glance at Markos, who nodded at her.

“Very well. Rosa, your group will be riding, so please go to the stables and choose your mount first. You may leave as soon as you are ready.” The Graf gave her a little bow, and she ran off to do as he directed. She did wonder about Markos for a moment, and why the Graf had not directed
him
to choose a mount, but now was not the time for her to think about anything but her own Hunt.

There was a lively young Arab mare that was her favorite in the Graf's stables, but she passed by her stall and went straight to another—a big coldblooded hunter, a heavily dappled gray gelding. There were times when her path was going to double back on itself and she might find herself waiting in cover until the hunting party had passed. If that happened, she needed a horse that would blend into the bushes. With that dapple pattern he would look like sun on leaves.

One of the stable hands tacked the gelding up for hunting, and with a saddle for riding astride. The man knew better by this time than to offer her a sidesaddle, a mounting block, or a hand up. She mounted up on her own, chirped to the blunt-headed gelding, gave him a touch of the heel, and they were off. She left a clear trail at first, galloping down the Graf's beautifully manicured lane at a brisk pace, just enough to let the horse work off his initial impatience. Once the tree-covered lane reached a little stone bridge over a stream, she sent the gelding plunging down the bank of the stream and into the streambed. Willows overhung it on both banks; here it was part of the landscaping for the Graf's palace. She could not bring herself to think of so vast a building as a mere “manor.” But eventually, it would lead her into the part of the property where “grounds” became “farms and forest” without the need to find a gate in a fence or a wall.