The Still by David Feintuch Page B

“Please. Don’t toy with me.”
    A look of surprise. “Why, my lord! Humility, at last?” He seemed pleased.
    “He’s my ...” I couldn’t say it aloud. “You know who he is.”
    “Me?” He seemed shocked. “Some lout from the town, I suppose. Kerwyn hired him; I’ve nothing to do with it. As long as he’s gentle with the horses.” He eyed me sternly, as if to make his point.
    “They searched my room.”
    “I heard the commotion. They came here twice, the day of my lady’s funeral.” Was the burial already two days past? I thought of Mother, below the earth, and shivered.
    He waited. “Was there else?”
    “I, uh, no ...” I thought to demonstrate my gratitude. “No, sir.”
    This time he positively smiled. “There’s hope for you yet, Lord Rodrigo. Just one thing ...”
    “Yes?”
    “Don’t loiter about the stable. You never did it before, and you’ll attract attention.”
    He was right. Disconsolate, I climbed wearily to the nursery.
    The door was ajar; with trepidation I walked in, unbidden.
    The old lady was at her table, her cheese and bread untouched. Her eyes seemed even more sunken than before. I lowered myself to the squat bench, ran my fingers along the splintered plank on which I’d been fed, spoon by spoon, by the crone who now sat dazed.
    “Pytor would be done with his meal.”
    I jumped at the cracked voice.
    She eyed the sun. “He’d be chafing to go out and play.”
    “I’m sure he’s well. Soon, we’ll ride to visit him.”
    “Oh, my Pytor.” She rocked, clutching her knees. “Lord of Nature be kind.” Her eyes were closed.
    “I, uh, have news.”
    “From Verein?” Rheumy eyes found mine.
    My lips moved, but no sound emerged. “Of Elryc.”
    Her gaze fastened on my face, but she said not a word.
    “He’s nearby.” I waited for a reply, but had only her fixed stare. I had to make sounds, to break the awful silence. “In the castle.”
    She stood. “Take me to him.”
    “Are you mad? They’re searching. The moment they see you—”
    “They’ve been here, and gone.” Her fingers drummed the table. “Has he food?”
    “Yes.” Whatever stableboys eat. I hadn’t thought to inquire.
    She glared. “Who else knows?”
    I hemmed and hawed, not quite willing to trust her with my secrets. “Nobody—well, one man. And a boy, but he’s too frightened to—they’re to be trusted.” I yawned.
    She spat. “No one’s to be trusted. Get Elryc clear of them, or kill them both!”
    “Hester!”
    “Don’t Hester me, you foolish whelp. If Margenthar takes him, it’s his life. Doubt you not!”
    “I can’t go about murdering—”
    “Then I will. Tell me the names.”
    “It’s not come to that.” I eyed her with new wariness. I’d never realized how protected we boys had been, under her vigilance.
    “You’ve always been the stupid one. Now you’ll be the death of your brothers!”
    “As will you, unless you keep your voice low!” We glowered in mutual hostility. Stupid? Had I not saved Elryc’s life, daringly marched him across the courtyard to safety in full view of all?
    “Good day, Nurse.” My tone was sulky.
    “Keep me appraised, day by day.” She pointed a crooked finger. “Or I’ll seek you out.”
    I made my escape, wandered disconsolately through the castle. Perhaps Rustin would come today. If he didn’t appear by the noon meal, I’d walk down the lull and fetch him and Ebon both. I’d—no, I couldn’t get out the gate, now it was manned by Uncle Mar’s men.
    What a nightmare life had become: Mother gone, Pytor taken, Elryc in hiding, and I myself restrained like a hawk on a strap.
    I must be crowned. Only then could I turn events.
    No one had told me what date the Council had fixed for my coronation. I braced myself, put on an affable face, sought out Uncle Mar in his chambers.
    He was gone to Verein, expected back the day after the morrow. No, he hadn’t left a message. I stalked out, barely able to keep from slamming doors in