honey cakes.” I knocked again and called, “Nanny Blan?”
Strange , I thought. It was not like her to leave the Royal Apartments. She said there was no need to. She had everything she wanted as long as she had me.
I moved slowly into her room, which was big enough for only a single cot and a dresser. It was unusually tidy—though Nanny Blan insisted on keeping my apartments spotless, her own room was always a mess. The bed was made. There was nothing to tie the room to her: not a sprig of rosemary from her nosegay, not a ribbon or a headscarf dropped on her way out. She was a mere residue.
The jingling of bells made me turn. My mother’s messenger Piebald stood in the doorway with his hands in his belt. His face was ruddy and the bright colours of his tunic made it seem redder still. He rocked on his heels. “Highness, the seneschal sent me to check Harryet is to your pleasing,” he said, indicating the girl. Then to Harryet he said, “You will do whatever the princess tells you, understood? You are the princess’s companion now.”
Harryet’s big blue eyes darted between me and my mother’s messenger. “Yessir.”
I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile then to Piebald said, “Where is Nanny Blan? Where are her things?”
Piebald smiled. “Hasn’t anyone told you?” he said.
“Told me what?”
Now he chuckled. “I am surprised no one mentioned it.”
I stamped my foot. “Will you get to the point?”
“All right, princess, all right. No need to get feisty. Your mother says if you are old enough to choose your own staff then you are too old to have a nurse. Madam Blan has been sold to a family in Elea Bay.”
My heart stopped. I could see only pinpricks of light and a great dark tunnel opening in front of me. “But I…She said nothing, and we agreed…” I looked around me, hardly believing it could be true. “But I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”
Piebald shrugged.
“But I…I don’t want her to go.” A single tear wriggled down my cheek.
Piebald snickered. His voice was like vinegar on a fresh wound, “I am so sorry , highness. I imagine it must come as a terrible surprise. Is there anything I can do?”
When I did not respond he turned to leave then, remembering something, turned back. “Also, your mother wanted me to tell you, she found a satryx in your room.”
“That’s Stax,” I said, finding my voice. “My father gave her to me.”
“Stax, you say? A pet?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that is a shame.” His eyes gleamed with delight. “She had it exterminated.”
Days passed, one after the other, a succession of marching hoplites off to die, and still the pain sat heavy in my chest. My small self, always the victor, rejoiced in it. My defiant self was defeated, angry and full of self-loathing. I buried the memory of Nanny Blan’s hands stained with turmeric. I chose to forget the way she dropped into her native tongue whenever she was impassioned. I pushed away thoughts of her kneeling at my shrine but praying to the god of the mountains. In time, the part of me that knew and loved Nanny Blan shrivelled like a severed lamb’s tail, the stump left to scar.
Even though whenever I passed her room I felt a lump grow in the back of my throat, even though I could not speak her name and even though I would never, never forgive my mother for what she had done, in time I was able to laugh without guilt. I was thankful that the gods had given me friends and I prayed that those same gods would stop my mother from taking them away too.
The bird arrived not long after my twelfth Name Day, when Harryet was eleven and Hero was ten, in the winter of 2994 AB in the Tibutan reckoning, my mother’s twenty-fifth year on the throne. We were in the kitchen, a long immaculately clean domed building lined with shelves holding every imaginable ingredient in clay pots or copper jars. A woodfired oven took up much of one wall. A low, recently scrubbed table ran the length
Strange , I thought. It was not like her to leave the Royal Apartments. She said there was no need to. She had everything she wanted as long as she had me.
I moved slowly into her room, which was big enough for only a single cot and a dresser. It was unusually tidy—though Nanny Blan insisted on keeping my apartments spotless, her own room was always a mess. The bed was made. There was nothing to tie the room to her: not a sprig of rosemary from her nosegay, not a ribbon or a headscarf dropped on her way out. She was a mere residue.
The jingling of bells made me turn. My mother’s messenger Piebald stood in the doorway with his hands in his belt. His face was ruddy and the bright colours of his tunic made it seem redder still. He rocked on his heels. “Highness, the seneschal sent me to check Harryet is to your pleasing,” he said, indicating the girl. Then to Harryet he said, “You will do whatever the princess tells you, understood? You are the princess’s companion now.”
Harryet’s big blue eyes darted between me and my mother’s messenger. “Yessir.”
I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile then to Piebald said, “Where is Nanny Blan? Where are her things?”
Piebald smiled. “Hasn’t anyone told you?” he said.
“Told me what?”
Now he chuckled. “I am surprised no one mentioned it.”
I stamped my foot. “Will you get to the point?”
“All right, princess, all right. No need to get feisty. Your mother says if you are old enough to choose your own staff then you are too old to have a nurse. Madam Blan has been sold to a family in Elea Bay.”
My heart stopped. I could see only pinpricks of light and a great dark tunnel opening in front of me. “But I…She said nothing, and we agreed…” I looked around me, hardly believing it could be true. “But I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”
Piebald shrugged.
“But I…I don’t want her to go.” A single tear wriggled down my cheek.
Piebald snickered. His voice was like vinegar on a fresh wound, “I am so sorry , highness. I imagine it must come as a terrible surprise. Is there anything I can do?”
When I did not respond he turned to leave then, remembering something, turned back. “Also, your mother wanted me to tell you, she found a satryx in your room.”
“That’s Stax,” I said, finding my voice. “My father gave her to me.”
“Stax, you say? A pet?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that is a shame.” His eyes gleamed with delight. “She had it exterminated.”
Days passed, one after the other, a succession of marching hoplites off to die, and still the pain sat heavy in my chest. My small self, always the victor, rejoiced in it. My defiant self was defeated, angry and full of self-loathing. I buried the memory of Nanny Blan’s hands stained with turmeric. I chose to forget the way she dropped into her native tongue whenever she was impassioned. I pushed away thoughts of her kneeling at my shrine but praying to the god of the mountains. In time, the part of me that knew and loved Nanny Blan shrivelled like a severed lamb’s tail, the stump left to scar.
Even though whenever I passed her room I felt a lump grow in the back of my throat, even though I could not speak her name and even though I would never, never forgive my mother for what she had done, in time I was able to laugh without guilt. I was thankful that the gods had given me friends and I prayed that those same gods would stop my mother from taking them away too.
The bird arrived not long after my twelfth Name Day, when Harryet was eleven and Hero was ten, in the winter of 2994 AB in the Tibutan reckoning, my mother’s twenty-fifth year on the throne. We were in the kitchen, a long immaculately clean domed building lined with shelves holding every imaginable ingredient in clay pots or copper jars. A woodfired oven took up much of one wall. A low, recently scrubbed table ran the length
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