Riven (The Arinthian Line Book 2) (27 page)

“I’m sorry—” Bridget said quickly.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you, dear child. Speak up.”

“I’m sorry!”

Erika let go of Bridget and extinguished her arm. “There, that wasn’t so hard now, was it, sugar?” Her voice was light and sweet. She yanked a cloth from a pocket and wiped her hands, giving Bridget a mirthless smile. She then strutted over to her desk, muttering some arcane word. A drawer popped open and she dropped the key inside, removing a silver hand mirror. She made an idle gesture and the drawer shut.

“What’s with kids these days anyway?” she asked no one in particular, turning back to them. “No respect at all. Even the way they talk is improper and offensive.”

Augum and Leera exchanged the same look. This woman was nuts.

“I bet you’re from the academy. Runaways by the look of your rags, though if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear those were traditional apprentice robes under all that dirt.” She shook her head. “Filthy, icky children …” She began inspecting her makeup in the mirror, paying particular attention to her nose. Her ice blue eyes flicked over to them now and then, as if to make sure they weren’t getting any ideas.

“Definitely apprentice robes. Haven’t seen them in some time. Damn ugly, if you ask me.”

Leera put an arm around Bridget, who kept her eyes averted, hands shaking over the brazier. Augum was trying to think of how to respond, since he didn’t want to let on exactly who they were and where they were going. The woman was obviously a strong warlock, so they had to be very careful.

Erika lowered the mirror, tapping it idly against her thigh. “So how many stripes then, hmm? You
are
aware revealing your degree is a point of honor amongst us warlocks, are you not?” They only stared. “How about showing a bit of gratitude then, hmm? I could have easily kicked you out into that storm.” Leera opened her mouth to say something but Erika blithely carried on. “I’d guess you have a maximum of two rings, for if you had three, you would have known about the skeleton door trap.”

“We each have one stripe,” Augum said, figuring it was best to say something truthful. He lit up his arm with his hard-earned degree.

“Lightning—impressive, though you probably won’t make your second ring, kiddo, notoriously dangerous element and all that. Yet it has come to symbolize much, hasn’t it? What with the Lord of the Legion being a lightning warlock and all—” she said it without the slightest hint of irony, signifying to him she had no idea he was Sparkstone’s son.

Erika drummed the dresser with her fingers, earrings jingling away, stopping only to sing, “And I bet that—” (more drumming with her fingers) “—you are running—” (a final fast tapping flourish) “—from the Legion!” she belted out the last words as if announcing a prize they had won. “I really should have been a singer,” she muttered to herself, adjusting her robes.

Augum glanced at Leera, unsure how to reply. Bridget kept her head down, avoiding everybody. He decided to take a risk. “And what if we were, would you help us?”

Erika gave a coy smile. “Why should I, what’s in it for me? Hmm? It’s no easy thing evading the Legion nowadays.”

“You’re a fugitive too—?”

“Why of course I am, child! I am a
fugitive
though, not some …
squatter
.” She flashed Bridget a repugnant look.

He nodded, trying to play along. “So … why are you a fugitive?”

“Well, sweetie, if there’s one thing I despise, it’s filth, and the Legion is full of it. Why, as we speak, they have kids your age
raising
the dead, or at least trying to.” Erika made a face as if she smelled dung in the room.

Augum immediately thought of Robin.

“Anyhow, it’s just so gruesome, if you get my meaning.”

“Um, so … about your cellar—”

“—so when I told the local commander,” Erika continued on, ignoring him, “oh, who was it now, Commander Rims or something? Anyway, when I
politely
told him I wasn’t interested in mentoring some of his witless soldiers, ah, he didn’t exactly take it too well.” Earrings jingled along to the bobbing of her pasty head. “Yup, I was banished. On the run since. Now look at me, in some ancient tower trying to live decently, though truth be told, I’m better off than many of my noble friends are, put to work doing …” she curled her fingers and frowned, “things of a
ghastly
nature.”

A moment of dramatic silence passed. “So what about you, kiddies, what’s your story?”

Augum looked to Leera and cleared his throat, trying to come up with one. “Well, we were—”

Erika fake-yawned. “You know what? I don’t
actually
give a damn about a bunch of runaways or orphans or whatever gutterborn scum you happen to be, not unless you have a fortune of gold coin hidden amongst those mangy mules you have down there.”

“Well, uh, no, we don’t …”

“Wait a moment. Are those Dramask—?” Erika marched forward in such a way the trio instinctively recoiled. Her brows arched. “Really now? You can relax, darlings, I’m not your headmistress.” She snatched one of the blankets off Leera, who opened her mouth to protest. For once, Augum had to elbow her, masking the noise by clearing his throat.

“What’s that, dear—?” Erika asked absently, studying the blue and green striped blanket.

“Oh, I was just about to say that, uh … that I agree, uh, that these are Dramsuck blankets.”

Erika gave him a look like he was an idiot. “
Dramask
, honey, and yes, they are indeed. A shame the Legion plans to storm into Tiberra. Dramask is the jewel of the northeast, a truly beautiful city. Puts Blackhaven to shame many times over, let me tell you. Where did you say you got these?”

He was about to reply when she waved her hand. “Never mind already, I don’t frankly care. Do you have one with red stripes?”

“Um … we’ll have to go check.”

“ ‘We’? What do you mean, ‘we’, kiddo? I haven’t had company here in …” she waved absently then frowned. “Well, all right, I’ve never had company here really. No one to enjoy my fine china, no one to taste my exquisite cooking, and no one to sit at my glorious ebony dining table. Do you realize how difficult it was importing and getting all this stuff in here with nobody but little old me to do all the arcane dirty work? A lady should never have to lift her own table. Not even arcanely.”

“Uh …”

“Exactly—so don’t even think about running off, or I’ll set my pet on you. I expect courtesy from the lot of you rabble kids. We’re going to have a proper, civil supper.”

“Your pet …?” So there
was
something in that cellar …

“You’re quite the daft one aren’t you? Cute, but daft, and I don’t have time for daftness. Get me the red blanket and come right back. I’m keeping the missies here. They can help me prepare the feast. We’re going upstairs, mind you, so be sure to go through the next door up. Run along now, boy, go, shoo …” she waved her fingers as if chasing away a dirty stray dog.

Servants

Augum raced down the tower stairs, tiptoeing the last portion to avoid waking Erika’s pet. He shot through the oaken door and frantically searched through the barrel of remaining blankets. The blizzard roared in full force now, the cold absolutely blistering.

Unfortunately, there were no blankets with red stripes left in the barrel. Frustrated, he began heading back when he spotted one on his palfrey. He snatched it, replacing it with an additional two blankets per horse. He also left them some beef biscuit to chew on. He then concealed the rucksack with their stuff before making his way back upstairs. He had decided, for safety and theft reasons, to leave Blackbite behind. He hoped that decision would not haunt him later.

As instructed, he passed the bedroom they had found the orb in and went into the room above. It was a splendidly decorated round dining room with a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, its many candles flickering. The right wall had a preparation area with a cooking hearth, trestle harvest table, and shelves full of spices, flour, and herbs.

Bridget and Leera were already hard at work baking and cutting, pink aprons strung about their necks, faces tight with anxiety. When Erika wasn’t looking, he saw them sneak a few bites.

His mouth watered. He longed for some real food.

In the center of the room, surrounded by eight exquisitely ornate dining chairs with royal blue seats, stood an elaborately carved ebony dining table. Fine silver candelabras sat on top, as well as pearly bone china, gilded flatware, and the finest crystal goblets and tumblers he had ever seen. There was a single velvet-curtained window at the back of the room.

He gaped at all the luxury, wondering if this was what Castle Arinthian looked like before being looted.

“Don’t just stand there, boy, put this on—” Erika threw him a fine crimson belted tunic. It looked like it came from a noble. He gladly pulled it over his robe for the added warmth. She herself had disposed of the fur-trimmed red robe in favor of a rose-colored, finely pleated square-necked dress.

Erika pinched his cheek. “Oh, darling, now you look so handsome! You remind me of my dear nephew.” She batted her long lashes and dabbed at her eyes as if there were real tears there. “Ugh, I do miss that little brat, I do.” She composed herself and grimaced. “Why don’t you have a seat and polish my flatware, young man.”

She shoved him into the captain’s chair at one end of the table and handed him a rag and a particularly lavish set of golden flatware, not unlike the set they saw in Ley. She then hovered over to Bridget and Leera.

“No no no, not like that, you silly little girl.” She shoved Bridget out of the way. “Ugh, must I do everything myself? Shyneo.” Her hand burst in flame and she broiled the meat. It served to show her advanced spell knowledge, for no 1st degree warlock could cook with Shine.

“Now don’t you dare drop it,” she said, handing it to Leera. “Wrap it up. That’s it now, that’s a good doggie.”

“Not your dog,” Leera muttered.

“What did you just say?”

“I said I’m not your dog.”

Erika stepped back and looked Leera up and down. “I won’t have some ugly servant girl talking back to me!” Her hand burst with rings as her voice turned into a low growl. “You’ll do the work and you’ll do it quietly, or I’ll throw you in the oven and have your friend
roast
you.”

Leera reddened, nodded quickly, and redoubled her efforts right along with Bridget, not even daring to look at one another.

We have to get out of here, Augum thought just as the window shuddered. Yet it’d be suicide in this blizzard. They’d simply have to wait until it died down.

“Freckles needs an attitude adjustment, wouldn’t you agree, dear boy?”

He stayed silent, pretending to be very busy with the last of the flatware. She leaned in close, her flowery perfume clouding his mind and making him want to gag.

“You missed a spot. Here, boy—do it right!” she shoved a butter knife at him, pointing to a hardly visible speck. He polished it away with the cloth as she gracefully took a seat at the head of the table.

“What are you looking at, freckles? Back to work! It’s a wonder your mother even kept such an ugly child around. Just look at your nose, ugh, really! You mark my words, girl, no boy will ever like you. You’ll forever be somebody’s filthy little servant. You’re gutterborn ugly with even uglier gutterborn parents, aren’t you? I bet your ugly parents are dead. They were so ugly they took their own lives, didn’t they? Or did they take their own lives because of how ugly
you
were?”

Silent tears began streaming down Leera’s cheeks. She sped up her work.

Erika turned to Augum with a simpering smile. “There should be some kind of rule, you know? Disallowing ugly girls from attending the academy, that is. Though—” she chuckled and leaned back, “I never really got along with girls. They should have all been expelled—except for me of course.”

“I think her nose is pretty,” Augum mumbled, shrugging.

Leera half-glanced over, beet red.

Erika’s eyes narrowed. “Servants are like rats—you don’t talk about them. We’re going to have a civil, proper supper, and that means the foul bratty missies have to serve and prepare.
You
, my-dear-boy-that-reminds-me-of-my-noble-nephew, are my guest of honor. So—” and she gave him a cold smile, “enjoy yourself. I’m sure you’ve been thinking this entire time anyway that the girls needed to serve you supper sometime, haven’t you, sugar?”

“No, definit—”

“Oh, come now, precious, you can level with Auntie Erika …” She leaned forward, placing her chin on her fists, ears jingling. He was really beginning to detest that sound. “Admit it—you like having the girls wait on you, don’t you? It’s the first thing a husband should learn, you know—how to put his servants to good use, and how to put them in their place when they step out of line.” Her face changed, as if she was reliving something in her past. Bitterness crept into her voice. “Girls
need
to know their place, especially the ugly ones.”

All he wanted to do was grab the girls and get out of there. Well, maybe let Leera punch Erika once in the nose, if she could get away with it. Bridget would probably like a turn too, for that matter. He decided the best thing to do for now, though, was to change the subject.

“Would you mind if I asked what happened in the burned room below?” He braced as Erika only stared at him for a moment.

“Very deft, my dear boy, very deft indeed. A conversational pivot worthy of a noble in the king’s court. To answer your question, sweetie, it was like that when I got here. Truth be told, I haven’t stepped into that room since I laid eyes on it. You understand of course—it’s simply filthy.” Her head snapped to Bridget and Leera. “How is that soup coming along!”

“Almost done—” Bridget said, while Leera muffled a sniffle. Both girls were frantically working away.

“You are to address me as
m’lady
. Is that understood, my little lowborn squirrel?

Bridget kept on working as she answered. “Yes—I mean, yes, m’lady.”

“Good. Just because you think yourself cute with that pert little nose doesn’t mean you may take liberties.” Erika turned back to Augum, raising an arched brow. “See that, my dear boy? You must command women. Women are put on Sithesia by the gods to be
commanded
. Now you try it. Go on, Nephew, command them to bring the soup here.”