Honor-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book III ]

18

After Padréc flew away, Diarmán led Uachi back into the shadowed house and into a musty bedchamber.

"Make yourself comfortable," he said. "I'll have someone bring you some water to wash away the travel-dust."

"I don't want—"

"You need it." Diarmán gave Uachi a pointed once-over. "Handsome you may be, but I recently realized that you smell worse than a room full of bird shit. I'll collect you on my way down to dinner." Without waiting for further argument, Diarmán turned on his heel and left Uachi in the strange bedchamber.

After spending some time looking around the room, Uachi sat down on the bed. It seemed that the sheets had recently been aired, but the whole rest of the chamber had a look and an atmosphere of splendorous neglect, as if the grandeur of ages past had been too much—whether in cost or in energy—for the family to maintain.

Uachi had never been one to desire luxury, nor to perceive it as merited when others had it. He even struggled now and then not to be resentful or amused at the luxuries Matei and Mhera enjoyed as emperor and empress, although they had taken pains to diminish the lavish levels at which the palace was maintained. Even so, he found being here in this faded room almost sad. Perhaps that was what he had seen in Diarmán: sadness. Beneath the man's bitterly amused facade, his love of jokes, and his easy manner was a young lord whose home was in decline. It was clear that there was a dearth of servants, and probably a dearth of money, too, and if what Diarmán had said was true, things stood to be unsteady once his grandfather passed away. Uachi wondered what had become of Diarmán's father.

Things had certainly aligned in Uachi's favor: to meet a man already on the path to Aólane to consult with the High Queen. Already on the path to the palace where Prince Koren and, if the rumors were to be believed, the archmage had been holed up. He wondered if Padréc would find Ealin and Uarria on the road and, if so, how far along the path they'd be. Koren and the archmage had been seen riding out into battle, after all, and Uachi had told Ealin as much; could she hope to come across the archmage elsewhere? Perhaps she had some intelligence that would tell her where to meet him. But it was a journey of many weeks, one that was challenging to measure precisely. Surely it would be better for her to find her way to the archmage's base and meet him there.

He wondered how the journey would unfold. Would he have a chance to find Uarria, save her, before Diarmán went to Coratse's home? If so, he would need to leave immediately to bring the princess back home. But if they were close to Aólane and the renegade prince...if they were close to the archmage, the man who'd ordered his brother's death...

A hesitant knock sounded at the door. Uachi looked up as the door opened to reveal a young blonde servant girl, a soiled apron over her dress. She was carrying a bucket. "M'lord?"

Uachi stood. "Not a lord, miss." He gestured to the pitcher and basin standing nearby on a washstand. The servant crossed the room, the bucket sloshing.

When Uachi had first lived in the palace, he had sometimes taken up the servants' burdens, carrying a bucket or a tray especially when he could tell they struggled. He had learned soon enough not to do it. It flustered them, hurt their pride, and made them anxious that they might get into some kind of trouble. So especially here, in a foreign house, he held his hands at his sides and watched as she poured the bucket of water into the pitcher, a task he could easily have accomplished for himself.

This work being done, the girl bobbed a curtsy and disappeared back into the hallway, only to return a moment later with a set of clothes.

"Oh, I don't need—"

"My lord Diarmán said I was to bring you these, and then take yours away to be washed, sir," she said. "I'll give you privacy and return at supper-time for the things to be washed. If you don't mind, sir, please just leave them there near the door."