a bathing room of sorts had been set up near the kitchen so the water wouldn’t have to be carried so far. Wait—Lord Sharl had spoken of springs of hot water being found far below Allanmere that the mages had tapped and brought to the surface in various places in the city and in the castle, too. That must be what her foster mother had meant. Well, that would be interesting, at least.
Ria glanced around the room. It could have been anyone’s room, rather small and a little barren. There was no sign that anyone extraordinary had ever stayed there. Inelegant quarters for the future High Lady of Allanmere. But then, likely after her marriage she’d have other quarters, with Cyril.
That thought made her grimace. Marriage—and to Cyril, yet! Doubtless he’d want to do the man-woman thing, too, that the High Lord and Lady did in their rooms and that the servants sometimes came out to the stables to do secretly, unaware of Ria in the hayloft. The whole thing looked clumsy and uncomfortable to her, maybe even painful, although from what she’d seen, the servants certainly seemed to like it. Ria was curious enough to give it a try—someday.
Still, marriage to Cyril! She didn’t want to wear scratchy gowns and shoes and attend stuffy formal suppers and sit in audiences. She didn’t want to arbitrate boring land disputes or figure tedious crop inventories, and most of all she didn’t want to spend her days and nights inside stone walls instead of outside in the fresh air.
In a rush of daring, Ria dashed to the window and climbed up on the ledge. She could work her way along the wall of the castle and climb down the tumbled blocks of the tower easily enough, and from there the debris might hide her until she reached the inner wall. And then—
Ria stopped, shaking her head.
And then the peasants working on the grounds, clearing debris and mending the walls, would surely see her and stop her, and if they didn’t, the guards on the inner wall would. She’d never even tried making her don’t-see-me work while she was moving. Then she’d have to get through the northern part of the city to the outer wall. At the very least she’d be sighted crossing the broad expanse of bare land between the wall and the forest. The only possibility would be to make the journey on a night when the open land wouldn’t be lit by moonlight; Ria had learned, to her surprise, that everyone but she seemed pitifully unable to see in the dark.
And what if she reached the forest? Ria was no fool; she knew the elves of the border clans—likely Blue-eyes, as Lord Sharl had said—might welcome her onto their lands no more than they did her foster parents. But she thought it likely they wouldn’t shoot an elf appearing to flee from the human city, at least until they questioned her. Lady Rivkah had made sure that Ria and Cyril learned Olvenic, both the kind spoken in the eastern elven cities and the kind spoken by the elves near Allanmere, and even Lord Sharl had insisted on regular practice; one day, after all, they’d be negotiating with those elves in the Heartwood. The Blue-eyes just might listen to Chyrie’s daughter, might let her continue into the forest. Might even know where her brother could be found.
Maybe they’d even—
“There you are.” Lord Sharl leaned against the door frame. He was wearing his patched traveling leathers, liberally besprinkled with dust. “Rivkah said you probably wouldn’t stick your nose out of your room for some time. Come and see this anyway.”
Ria sighed irritably, but she followed her foster father through the halls of the castle to the west side, then across the grounds to the wall. The wall here was largely intact, as was the western tower when Lord Sharl led Ria up through it. The guard at the top of the wall bowed, eyes wide, when Lord Sharl emerged from the doorway.
“Look at that,” Lord Sharl said, turning Ria gently to face westward and indicating the view with a sweep of his
Ria glanced around the room. It could have been anyone’s room, rather small and a little barren. There was no sign that anyone extraordinary had ever stayed there. Inelegant quarters for the future High Lady of Allanmere. But then, likely after her marriage she’d have other quarters, with Cyril.
That thought made her grimace. Marriage—and to Cyril, yet! Doubtless he’d want to do the man-woman thing, too, that the High Lord and Lady did in their rooms and that the servants sometimes came out to the stables to do secretly, unaware of Ria in the hayloft. The whole thing looked clumsy and uncomfortable to her, maybe even painful, although from what she’d seen, the servants certainly seemed to like it. Ria was curious enough to give it a try—someday.
Still, marriage to Cyril! She didn’t want to wear scratchy gowns and shoes and attend stuffy formal suppers and sit in audiences. She didn’t want to arbitrate boring land disputes or figure tedious crop inventories, and most of all she didn’t want to spend her days and nights inside stone walls instead of outside in the fresh air.
In a rush of daring, Ria dashed to the window and climbed up on the ledge. She could work her way along the wall of the castle and climb down the tumbled blocks of the tower easily enough, and from there the debris might hide her until she reached the inner wall. And then—
Ria stopped, shaking her head.
And then the peasants working on the grounds, clearing debris and mending the walls, would surely see her and stop her, and if they didn’t, the guards on the inner wall would. She’d never even tried making her don’t-see-me work while she was moving. Then she’d have to get through the northern part of the city to the outer wall. At the very least she’d be sighted crossing the broad expanse of bare land between the wall and the forest. The only possibility would be to make the journey on a night when the open land wouldn’t be lit by moonlight; Ria had learned, to her surprise, that everyone but she seemed pitifully unable to see in the dark.
And what if she reached the forest? Ria was no fool; she knew the elves of the border clans—likely Blue-eyes, as Lord Sharl had said—might welcome her onto their lands no more than they did her foster parents. But she thought it likely they wouldn’t shoot an elf appearing to flee from the human city, at least until they questioned her. Lady Rivkah had made sure that Ria and Cyril learned Olvenic, both the kind spoken in the eastern elven cities and the kind spoken by the elves near Allanmere, and even Lord Sharl had insisted on regular practice; one day, after all, they’d be negotiating with those elves in the Heartwood. The Blue-eyes just might listen to Chyrie’s daughter, might let her continue into the forest. Might even know where her brother could be found.
Maybe they’d even—
“There you are.” Lord Sharl leaned against the door frame. He was wearing his patched traveling leathers, liberally besprinkled with dust. “Rivkah said you probably wouldn’t stick your nose out of your room for some time. Come and see this anyway.”
Ria sighed irritably, but she followed her foster father through the halls of the castle to the west side, then across the grounds to the wall. The wall here was largely intact, as was the western tower when Lord Sharl led Ria up through it. The guard at the top of the wall bowed, eyes wide, when Lord Sharl emerged from the doorway.
“Look at that,” Lord Sharl said, turning Ria gently to face westward and indicating the view with a sweep of his
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