ashamed of her, Magda. She can hardly want me as a lover after all these years. But if she does not understand that I will always be her friend - then she is sillier than ever I thought her.”
“Don’t worry,” Magda reassured her, “you’ll see, she simply has something she wants to tell you privately.”
“But she ought to know I always respect her confidences,” Jaelle fretted. “I am really afraid she’s gotten herself into trouble of some sort - “
Magda shrugged. “I wouldn’t think so. If she felt free to leave the city and take all her horses, leaving poor Keitha to borrow mine - “
“What ?”
“Jaelle, didn’t you know?”
“No, all day I have been recopying some old archives for Mother Lauria. The paper on which they are written is disintegrating, because the ink they used in those days was so acid. They are only about a hundred years old, but they are falling to pieces. And I’ve nothing else to do here. So I’ve been shut up all day in the library - “
Briefly, Magda told the story.
“It’s really not like Rafi to be so thoughtless. What can she be thinking of?” Jaelle’s smooth forehead drew into lines of puzzlement. “I think I should go at once to the saddlemaker’s, Magda.”
“Tonight? You’re out of your mind,” Magda said. “Listen to the rain and wind out there!” It sounded like one of the summer gales which blow down through the pass from the Venza Mountains, striking Thendara with rain and high winds and sometimes, even in high summer, sleet or snow. Jaelle frowned, listening to the wind slamming the shutters against the windows.
“Whatever it is, Rafi is out in it.” She pushed aside the untouched piece of nut-cake on her plate and went toward the hall. Magda followed.
“You can’t go out alone in this weather on some hen-brained notion of Rafaella’s - “
Jaelle turned and caught her arm. “Come with me, then. I have a feeling that this may mean trouble, Magda - more trouble than Rafaella being jealous or wanting to play girl’s games.”
With a sigh of resignation, Magda nodded, and caught up the cloak she had so painstakingly dried. Camilla appeared in the hallway behind them.
“Going out? In this weather? Are you both quite mad?”
Jaelle told her what had happened. Her face was pale and drawn.
“Camilla, come with us. You are Rafi’s friend too.”
“As much as she will allow,” Camilla said. Sighing, she took down a battered old cape. “Let’s go.”
Wind and rain slammed into the hall as the three women went out into the night.
----
CHAPTER SEVEN
The rain poured down as the three women walked swiftly toward the marketplace. Magda was angry at herself for having allowed the hostilities between them to go on for so long. Jaelle’s small triangular face was hidden under her hood, but it seemed to Magda that she could see pale anger there.
Camilla strode beside them, gaunt and silent, and the rain sloshed in puddles under their feet and flapped their capes around their faces. The marketplace was empty, pools of icy water making a miniature landscape of lakes and small rocky shores. Stalls, tightly locked and boarded, rose like islands over those shores.
“She’s not here. The saddlemaker’s stall is closed,” Camilla said. “Come home, Jaelle, there’s nothing that can’t wait till tomorrow.”
“I know where the saddlemaker lives.” Jaelle spun abruptly on her heel, heading toward a dark side street. Camilla and Magda exchanged a single despairing glance and followed her.
Magda felt she would like to shake Rafaella until her teeth rattled. She was also angry at Jaelle, who was for catering to Rafaella by tearing off into the Old Town at this godforgotten hour.
The wind was icy, even through their capes, striking hard down the back of her neck. Magda spared a thought for Keitha, riding outside the city. But Keitha would be warm inside a house, with a good fire they would build up for heating water. Magda had never had the slightest wish to be
“Don’t worry,” Magda reassured her, “you’ll see, she simply has something she wants to tell you privately.”
“But she ought to know I always respect her confidences,” Jaelle fretted. “I am really afraid she’s gotten herself into trouble of some sort - “
Magda shrugged. “I wouldn’t think so. If she felt free to leave the city and take all her horses, leaving poor Keitha to borrow mine - “
“What ?”
“Jaelle, didn’t you know?”
“No, all day I have been recopying some old archives for Mother Lauria. The paper on which they are written is disintegrating, because the ink they used in those days was so acid. They are only about a hundred years old, but they are falling to pieces. And I’ve nothing else to do here. So I’ve been shut up all day in the library - “
Briefly, Magda told the story.
“It’s really not like Rafi to be so thoughtless. What can she be thinking of?” Jaelle’s smooth forehead drew into lines of puzzlement. “I think I should go at once to the saddlemaker’s, Magda.”
“Tonight? You’re out of your mind,” Magda said. “Listen to the rain and wind out there!” It sounded like one of the summer gales which blow down through the pass from the Venza Mountains, striking Thendara with rain and high winds and sometimes, even in high summer, sleet or snow. Jaelle frowned, listening to the wind slamming the shutters against the windows.
“Whatever it is, Rafi is out in it.” She pushed aside the untouched piece of nut-cake on her plate and went toward the hall. Magda followed.
“You can’t go out alone in this weather on some hen-brained notion of Rafaella’s - “
Jaelle turned and caught her arm. “Come with me, then. I have a feeling that this may mean trouble, Magda - more trouble than Rafaella being jealous or wanting to play girl’s games.”
With a sigh of resignation, Magda nodded, and caught up the cloak she had so painstakingly dried. Camilla appeared in the hallway behind them.
“Going out? In this weather? Are you both quite mad?”
Jaelle told her what had happened. Her face was pale and drawn.
“Camilla, come with us. You are Rafi’s friend too.”
“As much as she will allow,” Camilla said. Sighing, she took down a battered old cape. “Let’s go.”
Wind and rain slammed into the hall as the three women went out into the night.
----
CHAPTER SEVEN
The rain poured down as the three women walked swiftly toward the marketplace. Magda was angry at herself for having allowed the hostilities between them to go on for so long. Jaelle’s small triangular face was hidden under her hood, but it seemed to Magda that she could see pale anger there.
Camilla strode beside them, gaunt and silent, and the rain sloshed in puddles under their feet and flapped their capes around their faces. The marketplace was empty, pools of icy water making a miniature landscape of lakes and small rocky shores. Stalls, tightly locked and boarded, rose like islands over those shores.
“She’s not here. The saddlemaker’s stall is closed,” Camilla said. “Come home, Jaelle, there’s nothing that can’t wait till tomorrow.”
“I know where the saddlemaker lives.” Jaelle spun abruptly on her heel, heading toward a dark side street. Camilla and Magda exchanged a single despairing glance and followed her.
Magda felt she would like to shake Rafaella until her teeth rattled. She was also angry at Jaelle, who was for catering to Rafaella by tearing off into the Old Town at this godforgotten hour.
The wind was icy, even through their capes, striking hard down the back of her neck. Magda spared a thought for Keitha, riding outside the city. But Keitha would be warm inside a house, with a good fire they would build up for heating water. Magda had never had the slightest wish to be
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