Shadowkill

3

The rooms were rich with dark wood, warm red-brown wood with umber streaks in, it, polished until it glowed with soul.

They crossed a short hall with closets, a kind of anteroom, and stepped into a sitting room with a soft, silky blue-green rug on the floor, backless benches instead of chairs, piles of cushions covered in rich damasks, in striped cloths and embroideries. Heavy drapes fell in gleaming folds over two windows opening to the north. On tall stands flanking the windows there were flowers in cloisonnй vases (Kizra pulled that word out of memory, startling herself-it didn’t seem likely a Labor Contractor would include it on his langua-tape. Who was she that she knew things like cloisonnй? She started tensing up again, then told herself forget it, doesn’t matter, isn’t worth a sneeze). It was a warm, cluttered, cozy room, filled with flickering shadow from the candle lamps in brackets on the walls.

She took an incautious step and slipped on the silky pile, waved her arms to regain her balance without kicking over one of the little tables with their litter of bijouterie.

Tinoopa caught her, steadied her. “Watch your feet, luv.”

“It’s like walking on ice,” she muttered. Her boots were worn and old, the soles smooth as ice. She lifted her feet and put them down with exaggerated care and thought about those boots. She hadn’t before, they were just there, she took them off at night and put them on in the morning and that was that. They were like cloisonnй, not something a Contractor would have provided; they must have come from the time she’d lost. Later, later, she told herself. You can think about it later. Keep your mind on what you’re doing. Tinoopa might be sleep-inducing on the subject, but she’s right.

The next room was a bedroom, larger than the sitting room, less cluttered. The bed was carved and fluted and draped with pale blue gauze tied up with pale blue silk ribbons. Matja Allina lay beneath a blue silk pouf with crisp white pillows tucked behind her. Her blonde hair hung straight over her shoulders; it’d been brushed till it shone. Her hands lay limp on the starched white sheet folded over the top of the pouf. All this delicate, delicious fuss did not become her; it made her look gaunt and drained.

Arring Pirs stood beside her, frowning a little; he wasn’t happy with this business or with them.

Matja Allina managed a weary smile. “I commend these women to your notice, Mi-arring. The elder is Tinoopa, the other Kizra. They have given me ease and enjoyment where I expected none.”

Arring Pirs bowed. “I am obliged, chapa.” His voice was deep and slow, a perfect voice for a stained glass hero.

Kizra glanced at Tinoopa, bobbed a quick curtsy a second after the Shimmarohi finished hers.

There was a touch of amusement in Matja Allina’s shadowed face; her eyes opened a hair wider. “Yes,” she said. “I hadn’t expected such a fortunate dip in the pool, but I mean to use it now that it’s shown its head.” She spoke slowly, her voice dragging. Arring Pirs bent over her, whispered urgently. She touched his face, shook her head. “Now,” she said. “I want them established in place before I come downstairs tomorrow. You’ll do that for me?”

He kissed her fingertips, straightened up. “I will do it, Mi-matja.”

She closed her eyes a moment, then turned to him again. “Help me shift a little, I’ve got an ache building.”

When she was more comfortable, she said, “Aghilo, come here.” She clasped the little woman’s hand. “Listen, my dear, no one can or will take your place with me. Do you understand that?”

Aghilo nodded.

Matja Allina settled back on the pillows. “Yes. Young Kizra there is a gifted musician, Mi-arring. Is that not so, child?”

Kizra stared at her hands. “That’s for others to say, Matja Allina.”

“Well, I do say it.” She paused, closed her eyes. “Your music was a joy to me, child. I wish you to play for me each night, it relaxes me and gives me rest. Tinoopa.”

“Matja Allina.”

“Yes. You’re a strong and capable woman; I don’t ask what brought you here, though I suspect someone found you entirely too capable. I need people I can trust,” she smiled up at Aghilo, squeezed her hand, “more people. There are too many about who don’t want this baby born alive. I dare trust neither doctor nor midwife. Anyone could be bought or coerced or work against me for the pleasure of it, people being what they are. If you and Kizra give me complete loyalty and intelligent service for the next year, help me birth the boy alive and see that he stays alive, I will have your Contracts voided and I will do my best to send, you offworld anywhere you wish to go, with a stake to keep you while you look about for work. Not a large stake,” she added cautiously. “We’re cash poor, our wealth is the land and what grows on it. Mi-arring, do you second me in this? Let it be said.”

“Mi-matja, your will is mine in this. If you’re sure…”

“Yes. Besides, what choice have we?”

“Very little.” He shook his head, his gilt hair shimmering in the half-light. “Jirrilscadad dropped by last week while you were gone. He brought his two youngest daughters.” There was a dry distaste in his voice. “I had to sit through string plucking and coos and blushes and giggling until my hide itched. Once the boy is born, though…” He bent and touched her hair, forgetting for the moment everyone else in the room.

Matja Allina sighed, turned from the two beside her to the two at the foot of the bed. “Well?” she said. Tinoopa snorted. “Need you ask?”

“Yes. I do need.”

Tinoopa bowed her head, spread her arms and spoke with more care and formality than she usually bothered with. “I agree to serve you with mind and body in wholehearted loyalty for the term of one year in return for the voiding of the Labor Contract and your good will for the rest of it.”

“I see you have some understanding of the dangers involved. Good. Kizra?”

“I agree. Same as Tinoopa.”

Matja Mina relaxed, closed her eyes, the bruises under them and the fatigue lines on her face more pronounced than ever.

Arring Pirs tapped Aghilo’s shoulder, pointed at the door.

As if she could see through closed eyelids, Matja Allina said, “No. One last bit. The chapa Tinoopa is to have full authority as sub-Housekeeper. Let Polyapo keep the title Ulyinik…” She stopped, turned to them at the foot of the bed. “That means Mistress of the House. But don’t confuse that with Mistress of the Kuysstead. I am the Matja.” She coughed, waited while Aghilo bent with a warm, damp towel and wiped her face. “Leave her the Name, Mi-arring, but nothing more. Make that very clear to her and everyone else. I’m tired to death of her sniping and incompetence. Establish the chapa Kizra as my personal companion and servant, under no one’s orders but mine. Make that clear also. Especially to Kulyari who has already shown her spite. Will you see to this for me, Mi-arring?”

“With pleasure, Mi-matja.”

Kizra caught a grim satisfaction in the words. Obviously Pirs was not all that fond of his niece.

“Um, Aghilo love, see that they have clothing and supplies suitable to their status. And rooms in this wing. And see that Kizra has the arranga with her at all times from now on.” She opened her eyes. “Meals and a hot bath for each. I believe I heard someone saying she’d KILL for a hot bath.”