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Authors: Witch Blood (v1.0)
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wooing Janiavy.”
I said, “That seems to have proven futile, on both counts.”
Naiji nodded. “Komaki seems to think his daughter’s safety is a price worth paying. And Kivakali, while she lives, may keep my brother from marrying Janiavy, but she can’t stop him from being the Queen’s lover.”
“You’re very free with this information.”
Naiji glanced at Talivane, then said, “You’ll learn it all if you live with us. Anything I tell now may keep you from acting stupidly in the future.”
Talivane nodded. “I’ve little tolerance for stupidity.”
“It must be very difficult, being you.”
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “I think it would be best if you left us now.”
Naiji nodded agreement. She stood and stepped behind her brother’s chair to massage his forehead.
“The boy,” Talivane said, “will show you to your quarters. Chifeo, take Rifkin to the room that adjoins my sister’s.”
“Yes, master,” the boy whispered.
“See that all his needs are met.”
“Yes, master.”
“A bath might be a good start.”
“Yes, master.”
I said, “I don’t suppose you have little toy ships or ducks that float in the tub?”
“No, Rifkin.”
“Yet you assume all my needs can be met. Ah, well. Lead on, Chifeo.”
The boy took me back toward the library. He was quiet, probably overwhelmed by my wit. I was in no mood to talk. I had decided I despised Talivane and pitied Kivakali, though I did not know what to do about either. Naiji confused me, but my relationship with her was already shaped by my vow. It was best not to think about her at all.
The presence of the four captured Spirits in the dungeons disturbed me, as did the possibility that more might come. Or would Komaki give up on assassination and turn to attack? The thought of the Duke made me think again of his daughter, who seemed to deserve better than life had given her. Talivane’s opinion of his wife was obvious. I wondered what she thought of him.
“Here, Lord,” said the boy, opening a plain wooden door—which was, I realized, a luxury by Castle Gromandiel’s standards. Most of the doorways that we had passed had been draped with tapestries or animal skins to replace doors that, I assumed, had rotted away in the centuries since this castle’s prime.
“My name is Rifkin,” I said.
“Yes, Lord.”
“When I was your age, I kept a dog called Lord. I’d prefer you called me Rifkin.”
He stifled a grin. “Yes, Lor—”
“Woof,” I said.
It worked even better than it had at the dinner table. He laughed.
“Rifkin,” I said.
“Rifkin,” he agreed.
I stepped into the room. It was small, barely large enough to hold a sleeping pallet, but it was clean. The stone walls were bare, though an old rug, once red, covered most of the floor, and a sea-green quilt looked nice enough to have been Naiji’s. An elaborate door, carved with hunting scenes, was set into one wall. “That’s to Lady Naiji’s quarters?”
“Yes.”
I tried the latch. It would not lift. “You have the key?”
The boy shook his head. “Only Lady Naiji.”
“No matter. This’ll do.”
Chifeo nodded. He strode to a blanketed portal at the rear of the room and announced, “The bath.”
I looked in. A hot spring had been channeled to flow into a marble basin. The water departed through an enameled brass grill at the far wall. “This isn’t used for sewage, is it?”
He looked shocked. “No!” He pointed at a low stone seat covered by a wooden lid. “That’s the, ah...”
“The ah, eh?” I said. “A useful word to know in any language.”
He looked at me from the corners of his eyes.
“You’ve lived here long?” I asked.
He nodded warily.
“And you’re happy here?”
“I’m a witch.”
“That means you’re happy?”
“Here, yes. I remember Kondia. I’m happy here.”
“You fear Count Gromandiel?”
“Of course. He’s the mightiest of us all.”
“Really?”
Chifeo whispered, “He
I said, “That seems to have proven futile, on both counts.”
Naiji nodded. “Komaki seems to think his daughter’s safety is a price worth paying. And Kivakali, while she lives, may keep my brother from marrying Janiavy, but she can’t stop him from being the Queen’s lover.”
“You’re very free with this information.”
Naiji glanced at Talivane, then said, “You’ll learn it all if you live with us. Anything I tell now may keep you from acting stupidly in the future.”
Talivane nodded. “I’ve little tolerance for stupidity.”
“It must be very difficult, being you.”
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “I think it would be best if you left us now.”
Naiji nodded agreement. She stood and stepped behind her brother’s chair to massage his forehead.
“The boy,” Talivane said, “will show you to your quarters. Chifeo, take Rifkin to the room that adjoins my sister’s.”
“Yes, master,” the boy whispered.
“See that all his needs are met.”
“Yes, master.”
“A bath might be a good start.”
“Yes, master.”
I said, “I don’t suppose you have little toy ships or ducks that float in the tub?”
“No, Rifkin.”
“Yet you assume all my needs can be met. Ah, well. Lead on, Chifeo.”
The boy took me back toward the library. He was quiet, probably overwhelmed by my wit. I was in no mood to talk. I had decided I despised Talivane and pitied Kivakali, though I did not know what to do about either. Naiji confused me, but my relationship with her was already shaped by my vow. It was best not to think about her at all.
The presence of the four captured Spirits in the dungeons disturbed me, as did the possibility that more might come. Or would Komaki give up on assassination and turn to attack? The thought of the Duke made me think again of his daughter, who seemed to deserve better than life had given her. Talivane’s opinion of his wife was obvious. I wondered what she thought of him.
“Here, Lord,” said the boy, opening a plain wooden door—which was, I realized, a luxury by Castle Gromandiel’s standards. Most of the doorways that we had passed had been draped with tapestries or animal skins to replace doors that, I assumed, had rotted away in the centuries since this castle’s prime.
“My name is Rifkin,” I said.
“Yes, Lord.”
“When I was your age, I kept a dog called Lord. I’d prefer you called me Rifkin.”
He stifled a grin. “Yes, Lor—”
“Woof,” I said.
It worked even better than it had at the dinner table. He laughed.
“Rifkin,” I said.
“Rifkin,” he agreed.
I stepped into the room. It was small, barely large enough to hold a sleeping pallet, but it was clean. The stone walls were bare, though an old rug, once red, covered most of the floor, and a sea-green quilt looked nice enough to have been Naiji’s. An elaborate door, carved with hunting scenes, was set into one wall. “That’s to Lady Naiji’s quarters?”
“Yes.”
I tried the latch. It would not lift. “You have the key?”
The boy shook his head. “Only Lady Naiji.”
“No matter. This’ll do.”
Chifeo nodded. He strode to a blanketed portal at the rear of the room and announced, “The bath.”
I looked in. A hot spring had been channeled to flow into a marble basin. The water departed through an enameled brass grill at the far wall. “This isn’t used for sewage, is it?”
He looked shocked. “No!” He pointed at a low stone seat covered by a wooden lid. “That’s the, ah...”
“The ah, eh?” I said. “A useful word to know in any language.”
He looked at me from the corners of his eyes.
“You’ve lived here long?” I asked.
He nodded warily.
“And you’re happy here?”
“I’m a witch.”
“That means you’re happy?”
“Here, yes. I remember Kondia. I’m happy here.”
“You fear Count Gromandiel?”
“Of course. He’s the mightiest of us all.”
“Really?”
Chifeo whispered, “He
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