Lady of weeds, p.14
Lady of Weeds, page 14
part #2 of Lady Series
Carys nodded, and left him to the company of Miss Allen, stepping rather more quickly toward the cottage than she had left it. Perhaps it was the swiftly cooling air—perhaps it was the relief of seeing off both visitors and the thought of a peaceful evening to come.
She returned to the cottage to find Eurion sitting by the fire, his quilt curled around himself and a hopeful look on his face. There was a rustling by the fire as she brushed the sand from her feet, then Eurion threw himself at her with a glad chuckle, his arms wiry and tight.
“I missed you, Lady!” he said, steadying the stagger he had caused.
“I’ve been with you this past hour or two,” said Carys, shaking out the folds of her skirt with her one free hand. The other, caught between herself and Eurion, she worked free once she had rid herself of sand, and used to tug him away by the ear.
“You talked with Aled for such a long time, and Miss Allen was with us,” he said, unabashed. “Can’t we have Enfys over for company if we’re to have company?”
“I had no idea you were so fond of her company,” Carys said. “I’ll remember to invite Enfys to visit when I go to market next.”
Eurion spluttered a laugh. “I don’t know why Miss Allen says you don’t laugh.”
“I don’t.”
“You were laughing just now.”
“Nonsense.”
“Not on the outside,” explained Eurion. “On the inside, where it makes your eyes soft and warm.”
“Is that why you were sulking by the fire earlier? You missed me?”
“I wasn’t sulking. It’s just that I didn’t get the chance to show you what I made.”
Eurion’s voice was faintly reproachful, and Carys responded to that reproach before she thought about it.
“Aled didn’t understand why you were unloading the seaweed from my cart. I was explaining.”
“Why should you?” Eurion demanded, standing up straight in his indignation. “It’s not your concern if he’s confused. He doesn’t have a right to your explanations.”
“No one has a right to them,” Carys said, faintly amused.
“Lady, I know you don’t like to see people in pain if you can help it, but don’t you think that’s going too far?”
Carys took the kettle from fire with distinctly more clatter than she’d intended. “What nonsense!”
“Why did you save me, then?” asked Eurion, following her to the fireplace. “You don’t like the bother, but you can’t leave people hurting.”
“You have memories I need.”
“About that ring? Yes, but Lady, you didn’t know that when you brought me home! You could have left me there, or taken me up to the village.”
“Anything that washes up on the shore—”
“It’s yours,” nodded Eurion, settling back happily in his blankets to gaze up at her. “But I still say that you don’t like to see people in pain, Lady.”
Carys looked at him coldly. “If it is so, is it any of your concern?”
“No, but Lady! Why should that old man have the right to know anything about us?”
“There’s nothing about us to know,” Carys told him, repressively. Much to her relief, the water barrel was empty when she went to fill the kettle. She could escape into the cool night air to the well and back again.
“Where are you going, Lady?”
“Water.”
“Look above the barrel lid,” suggested Eurion, rocking back and forth with his arms wrapped around his knees and a particularly beaming smile.
Carys put the lid back down in its proper place and found behind it a rounded hole, from which protruded a piece of piping like a spigot with a small patch of blue on the top.
“What’s this?” She flicked the spigot with her finger. “Why have you made a hole in my wall?”
“That’s the thing I was going to tell you!” Eurion’s eyes sparkled at her. “Touch the blue bit, Lady!”
“Why should I?” Carys asked him, but she was curious.
Under his intent gaze, she touched one finger lightly to the blue circle. There was a brief gurgle; then water came pouring out in the smooth, continuous kind of flow that she had only ever seen in the houses of the magically inclined or the very rich.
She touched it again, wary of running out of the water that was suddenly so abundant, and asked in astonishment, “How did you do that?”
“You should pat me on the head and tell me I’m clever,” said Eurion, looking particularly pleased with himself. “When I remember how to do it, I’ll make it run hot, too.”
“This is magic?”
“I can do more than this!” he said. “But I thought you’d like this best. It wouldn’t have taken so long, but Miss Allen came over very early, and she would keep interrupting me.”
Carys touched the piping once more, gingerly, and wondered that she hadn’t seen the bit that was laid outside. She had had that piping for a very long time, stacked behind some of the firewood against the time when she might have the energy to run it down to the well and the money to purchase herself a Contraption pump with which it would work.
She filled the kettle from the piping and left it running to fill the barrel, then hung the kettle once again.
“You did well,” she said to Eurion, and laying one hand briefly on his head as she passed back into the kitchen. It wouldn’t pay to leave that water running without an eye to it; Carys didn’t care to have a flooded cottage.
Behind her, Eurion said jerkily, “Lady, before, with Miss Allen—when you came into the cottage—”
Carys saw the reflection of her small, amused smile in the kitchen window and thought she beheld the face of a stranger. That face she saw was not the dark, sea-lashed face she was used to seeing reflected; it was lighter and somehow more human than she had come to think it. The sight startled her a little, and she said absently to Eurion, “No one will object to you kissing Miss Allen, but you should do it outside. People talk.”
“I wasn’t kissing Miss Allen!”
“There’s no need to explain yourself to me,” Carys told him, still amused. “So long as you’re well behaved, there’s no reason for you not to walk out with Miss Allen.”
Eurion’s voice, sharp with indignation, said, “I think you’re purposely misunderstanding me, Lady!”
“Am I so?” Carys asked lightly, waiting by the water barrel. Sometimes it was easier to speak with Eurion if she didn’t have to look at him. There was a directness to his gaze and an earnestness to him that was hard to face sometimes. “Well, comfort yourself with the thought that Miss Allen seems to like you a great deal.”
“Lady!” complained Eurion. “It’s unfair of you to say things like that and not look at me!”
“The barrel is filling,” she told him. “If you want to swim, swim in the sea; I’ve to make sure it doesn’t overflow.”
There was a brief mutter from behind her, but when Carys at last touched the spigot to stop it again, wondering at the ease of it, Eurion was silently hugging his knees and gazing at the fire. That was a relief, and Carys felt herself free to prepare their evening meal without being pinioned by his eyes.
* * *
When the soup she had prepared began to smell and look as though it was ready, Carys swathed herself in her old yellow shawl and sat down with Eurion in front of the fire to warm herself. The shawl was a relic from a past owner of the cottage, but it was still as big and warm and useful as ever.
Eurion shuffled closer. “I feel cold, Lady,” he said mournfully.
“There will be sleet tonight,” Carys said. “Perhaps snow on the village. Bring in more firewood next time you go out; I’ll keep the fire high tonight while we sleep.”
“Yes, Lady!” he said, and immediately got up to fetch firewood.
Carys watched him go, frowning. Was he unwell again? He seemed to be very eager to huddle in front of the fire tonight.
Still, he didn’t look sick when he came back in, just subdued, so Carys ladled a bowl of soup for him and waited to see him wrap his hands around it before she got her own. It brought a slight warmth of pink to his cheeks, and Carys was satisfied enough with that to turn her attention to her own soup.
Eurion remained thoughtful and silent as they ate, but when Carys set their empty bowls on the hearthside, he leaned against her just as he was accustomed to, his back hunched to tuck his head into her shoulder. This time she felt the coolness of his arm against hers, even through the shawl, and frowned.
She untucked the right side of the shawl and wrapped it around Eurion’s shoulders; and then, when she felt the way he shivered, instinctively tucked him closer to her with that arm.
He didn’t object when she put one hand up to feel his forehead, but he did murmur, “I’m not sick, Lady. Just cold.”
“We’ll see,” said Carys, tucking the front edge of the shawl more securely around his neck. “I’ll not take you to market this coming week.”
To her surprise, that made him tilt his head up at her with bright eyes. “Really, Lady?”
“I thought you would be disappointed.”
“No,” he said, shuffling his legs closer. “You’ll come home early, won’t you?”
“As soon as the seaweed sells,” agreed Carys, watching the flames expand in their warmth.
She didn’t remember falling asleep, but Carys woke in warmth and contentment to gaze at an unfamiliar section of fire-lit ceiling. Her shawl enveloped her, the fire bright at her feet and her right side still more cheered with a living warmth that snored slightly in her ear.
Carys would have disentangled herself and gone to bed, but the fire didn’t need tending, and her attempts to roll Eurion away and out of the shawl resulted only in a half-awake Eurion who mumbled nonsense at her and didn’t move at all.
He smiled, warm and content, and murmured, “I’m glad you’re human, Lady. You’re warmer these days.”
Carys settled her head back down on Eurion’s blankets and said softly, “I was always human,” although she wasn’t sure it was exactly true.
“No,” mumbled Eurion. “Once, you were an angel.”
Chapter Nine
A scattering of snow dusted the doorstep when Carys left the cottage the next morning, tiny frozen particles that clung to her unfamiliar shoes and dampened the sand enough to make that cling to her shoes, too. There was ice in the bitterly cold wind, but Carys was already prepared for it, and she stepped into the sleety morning without a grimace.
If she had changed her mind and thought to take Eurion with her to the market that afternoon, there was no chance of it now. It was far too cold for him to be wandering out and about. For a moment, she thought about turning back and waking him to tell him not to go out gathering firewood or any such thing, but she had taken a great deal of care not to wake him when she got up this morning, disentangling herself from blanket and arms alike, and she didn’t like to wake him now.
Still, there was an uneasiness in her mind that made her hesitate; and, having hesitated, hasten her steps to make up for lost time on the shore. It wasn’t likely that the selkies would trouble themselves to be early on such a cold, grey day, but Carys knew the dull anxiety would build in her until she was on the shore as she ought to be, and walked a little more quickly. The thought that either of the men she had met this past week could be back on the shore occurred to her, too. She would certainly have to speak with Enfys once again.
The question was, thought Carys, stepping lightly from sand to snow-wet rocks, whether she would need to bring along anything with which to pay for the information she sought. Her last offering to the old woman would normally have seen her through several bouts of questions and other small inconveniences, but Enfys had given them a package of food when they were there for market, and that could have tipped the balance again enough to make the old woman comfortable demanding another pearl.
Her eyes already scanning the seashore for seaweed and interlopers alike, Carys caught sight of Steele some way away. He waved at her but she ignored him, her eyes moving on to check for Ma Yong Hwa. He wasn’t in sight, which both relieved her and made her wonder. She had seen the brightness of interest in his eyes as they ran for their lives across the rocks—interest despite the danger they were in—and she had expected him to return.
Steele didn’t approach her again until she was nearly finished for the day. It was an easy day’s work along the shore, and he must have been watching and waiting for the right time, because he approached just as Carys was beginning to load the handcart with her small crop. This time, his sword was already sheathed, but he stepped silently enough across the rocks behind her that she knew he was trying to frighten her, and that was irritating.
She allowed him to do all the creeping he wished to do, and contented herself with the sour satisfaction of not startling when he slapped the side of her handcart and bid her a hearty good morning.
Carys threw a look up at the sky. It was about noon by her reckoning. She said, “Good afternoon.”
Steele may have twitched slightly, but he said with the same level of joviality, “A slow morning for you, I see.”
“Not so slow,” Carys said. Dealing with the selkies was bad enough; dealing with Steele was enough to make every day a busy one. She didn’t like the crawling feeling he gave her.
“Did you chance to find anything along the shore these past few days?” he asked.
“Nothing more than seaweed and a few jewels.”
His eyes fastened on her face more quickly than a snake seizing a mouse. “Jewels?”
“Nothing large,” she said, storing away for later the thought that after all, it was things and not a person that Steele was after. Oddly, that thought didn’t make her any less determined to keep Eurion out of his sight, if possible. She stored that thought away for consideration later, too, and added, “A few pearls, a ruby or two. You’ll have to describe to me anything you expect to have returned.”
“And you don’t promise to return all that you find,” nodded Steele. “Indeed. That seems fair.”
Carys was quite well aware that it wasn’t fair—at least from Steele’s point of view. From her own it was perfectly just; everything that washed up on the shore was hers by right. That previous owners of those goods didn’t find it fair, she was quite well aware.
Good and just people, she was also well aware, did not consider it fair. “Does it?” she said, and went back to loading her cart. “I can’t stay to speak with you. I’ve work to do. If you’ve anything to say to me, speak quickly.”
“Perhaps you could look for me if any diamonds happen to wash up on the shore,” he said. He bowed and said, “I won’t keep you,” without waiting for her answer.
Carys was grateful for that. She wasn’t certain whether she would have agreed or not, and it was good that Steele was apparently likewise unsure. Diamonds didn’t often wash ashore; they weren’t found in Sunderman mines, and any import of the precious stones came via the Top Edge Sea from the dry, desert lands across the sea. Carys had seen very few of them in her life, though she had heard they weren’t so rare in Eppa and Scandia.
As she approached the cottage that afternoon, the sun came out in a weak yellow that managed to warm despite its weakness, and Carys saw the flicker of light on metal that danced in the general direction of her cottage.
She frowned, eyes pinioning the source, and huffed out a reluctant laugh. She was certainly unsettled by Steele; the flashing of sunlight on metal was only Eurion, practising his swordwork in front of the cottage.
Either he had been practising a great deal, or he had once been a very good swordsman: his motions were fluid, effortlessly precise, and disciplined, and if Carys was not very much mistaken, he wasn’t so much caught up in his efforts that he didn’t know what was happening in the world around him. He knew she was approaching, and he was showing off for her benefit.
He stopped his practise just as she dropped the handles of the cart, and came to dance around her instead, his eyes as bright as his hair in the sunshine.
“Lady, you’re home!”
“As you see,” Carys said dryly. “Why are you out here in your shirt?”
“I had more on, but I got hot,” explained Eurion, but he propped his sword casually against the cottage to wriggle back into the coat he’d left folded on the doorstep. “Shall I load the cart for you? I’m not tired!”
“Why are you in such a good mood today?” asked Carys. She didn’t say yes, but neither did she say no to his question, and when he began to load the cart beside her, she didn’t shoo him away, either.
“I just feel happy today,” he said blithely. “Did you see me practise, Lady? Aren’t I good!”
“If you think so, I don’t see why you should need my opinion on the matter,” Carys said.
Eurion gurgled with laughter. “Is it because I’m so sure of myself, Lady? But if I think so, shouldn’t I be honest?”
Carys smiled faintly. She hadn’t noticed Eurion being anything but honest since she’d known him—whether or not that honesty was appreciated or sought. “Keep loading the cart,” she said, opening the front door.
Eurion didn’t appear to mind that she hadn’t answered that question either; he only smiled at her and kept hefting bales of seaweed onto the cart. He appeared shortly after she hooked a pot over the swinging arm to begin dinner, and hung on the back of one of her kitchen chairs to watch her as she gathered ingredients for the same.
When a light snow began to fall gently outside the window again, and Carys finished chopping vegetables, Eurion, following a silence unusual in its length, said, “Lady?”
“What is it?”
Eurion seemed to sigh, and said reluctantly, “If the old man offers to pull your cart for you, you should let him do it.”
Carys threw him a look but didn’t reply.
“Lady, it’s so cold out there,” said Eurion persuasively. “And won’t you be there and back more quickly if he pulls it for you?”
“Stir the pot every so often to stop the stew sticking to the bottom,” Carys said, filling the teakettle from the new water spiggot. “Stay inside tonight; it will get cold.”
