rained for so long and now it’s a beautiful day, and if there’s trouble that’ll be fine, because you can bring your knife. I’d like that; it’ll make me feel safe.”
He sat up, angling his head so that it would not knock against the slanted ceiling. “Oh, very well,” he said gruffly. “But only if I get to choose where.”
“Yes,” I said, too excited by his forgiveness to point out that he always chose, on the rare occasions when we left the brothel.
I did not like going out into the city. Most of the girls did; sometimes they argued over which of them would get to have a free day, when the fair came. (Once two of them returned from the fair with torn clothes and bloody scratches on their cheeks and arms: they had fought each other for a length of satin ribbon. The Lady took away the ribbon, and their wages for the month.) I had no desire to see such things. Until Chenn arrived, I had given little thought to the world beyond the courtyard.
It was a bright world Bardrem led me into, that day. I stood outside the brothel’s door and blinked at the sunlight, and at the stone and wood of houses and shops, all of them washed by rain. “Come on,” said Bardrem, who was already picking his way through the churned mud of the street. “Let’s go before someone sees us and claims there’s work to do.”
I followed him. At first I kept my eyes on the road, which was rutted with wheel tracks and footprints and scattered with deep, murky puddles. But Bardrem soon guided me from this path to another, which was cobbled, and I looked up as I walked. I did not recognize the houses here. They had two storeys and intricately carved shutters painted in colours so bright that I blinked again. There was more colour, too: tapestries and rugs hanging from high-up windows, drying in the sun.
At least I won’t see my mother here
, I thought, and remembered our table and our old, dirty rushes and the walls that had leaned in to squeeze my breath away.
Bardrem walked very fast. “Where are we going?” I called once, and he only waved at me over his shoulder. The street began to climb, and I gasped with exertion, bent over a knot in my side, but I was determined to keep up. I focused again on my feet (my shoes were sodden and stained; the Lady would be angry) and saw everything else peripherally: a black dog curled in a doorway; a line of people holding empty baskets, waiting outside a barred gate; two little girls rolling a ball between them. I wheezed up a flight of twisting stairs and ducked beneath a low archway—and then I straightened and stopped, because Bardrem had.
“Here,” he said. “Look.”
I thought,
But there’s nothing to look at
. After all the streets, all the houses and courtyards, we were standing at the foot of a wall. Its stones were reddish-gold and threaded with ivy. I was about to say something puzzled to him when he took my hand and placed it against a stone and said, “Look
up
.”
The wall stretched on and on, higher than any wall I’d ever seen. Its top seemed to hang against the sky. There were notches in it, there, and fluttering from these notches were banners of silver and green, stitched with patterns I could not make out.
I looked back at Bardrem. “The castle,” I said, and he nodded and smiled the smile he used when his mind was on words, not on what was before him.
“The castle,” he said, and laid his hand beside mine. “Just the north wall, but I can still feel it all—can’t you? The towers and the great halls and the people. The music and the feasting.”
A bird called and I looked for it, found it wheeling in the blue above the battlements. It was very far away, and I could not see its features, but it cried out again and I thought,
Eagle
, and caught my breath.
“There’s also truth in there,” I said. “About Chenn.”
Bardrem narrowed his eyes at me.
“About what happened to her before she came to us,” I continued, “and maybe even what happened to
He sat up, angling his head so that it would not knock against the slanted ceiling. “Oh, very well,” he said gruffly. “But only if I get to choose where.”
“Yes,” I said, too excited by his forgiveness to point out that he always chose, on the rare occasions when we left the brothel.
I did not like going out into the city. Most of the girls did; sometimes they argued over which of them would get to have a free day, when the fair came. (Once two of them returned from the fair with torn clothes and bloody scratches on their cheeks and arms: they had fought each other for a length of satin ribbon. The Lady took away the ribbon, and their wages for the month.) I had no desire to see such things. Until Chenn arrived, I had given little thought to the world beyond the courtyard.
It was a bright world Bardrem led me into, that day. I stood outside the brothel’s door and blinked at the sunlight, and at the stone and wood of houses and shops, all of them washed by rain. “Come on,” said Bardrem, who was already picking his way through the churned mud of the street. “Let’s go before someone sees us and claims there’s work to do.”
I followed him. At first I kept my eyes on the road, which was rutted with wheel tracks and footprints and scattered with deep, murky puddles. But Bardrem soon guided me from this path to another, which was cobbled, and I looked up as I walked. I did not recognize the houses here. They had two storeys and intricately carved shutters painted in colours so bright that I blinked again. There was more colour, too: tapestries and rugs hanging from high-up windows, drying in the sun.
At least I won’t see my mother here
, I thought, and remembered our table and our old, dirty rushes and the walls that had leaned in to squeeze my breath away.
Bardrem walked very fast. “Where are we going?” I called once, and he only waved at me over his shoulder. The street began to climb, and I gasped with exertion, bent over a knot in my side, but I was determined to keep up. I focused again on my feet (my shoes were sodden and stained; the Lady would be angry) and saw everything else peripherally: a black dog curled in a doorway; a line of people holding empty baskets, waiting outside a barred gate; two little girls rolling a ball between them. I wheezed up a flight of twisting stairs and ducked beneath a low archway—and then I straightened and stopped, because Bardrem had.
“Here,” he said. “Look.”
I thought,
But there’s nothing to look at
. After all the streets, all the houses and courtyards, we were standing at the foot of a wall. Its stones were reddish-gold and threaded with ivy. I was about to say something puzzled to him when he took my hand and placed it against a stone and said, “Look
up
.”
The wall stretched on and on, higher than any wall I’d ever seen. Its top seemed to hang against the sky. There were notches in it, there, and fluttering from these notches were banners of silver and green, stitched with patterns I could not make out.
I looked back at Bardrem. “The castle,” I said, and he nodded and smiled the smile he used when his mind was on words, not on what was before him.
“The castle,” he said, and laid his hand beside mine. “Just the north wall, but I can still feel it all—can’t you? The towers and the great halls and the people. The music and the feasting.”
A bird called and I looked for it, found it wheeling in the blue above the battlements. It was very far away, and I could not see its features, but it cried out again and I thought,
Eagle
, and caught my breath.
“There’s also truth in there,” I said. “About Chenn.”
Bardrem narrowed his eyes at me.
“About what happened to her before she came to us,” I continued, “and maybe even what happened to
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