Melting Stones - Page 27/72

“I’m sorry.” I patted the animal’s neck clumsily. “I don’t blame you for being angry, either.”

Jayat didn’t trust my control over my body. He walked around the horse to make sure my feet were in the stirrups. Under the circumstances, I was kind of grateful. My feet seemed far away and not exactly connected to me. Once I was settled, he set Luvo’s pack on his own saddle, then put Luvo on it.

“Oh.” I felt like an idiot. “That’s how you got here.”

“Actually, I found him halfway down the road.” Jayat secured the pack to his saddle. “He ran after you. I was held up because I had to ready my horse and bring your gear.” He took down the lantern.

“Thank you,” I said. “And how did you know we’d need a light?”

“I didn’t. Your Rosethorn sent it with one of the boys from the inn. Is she going to beat you?”

We rode out onto the road as I goggled at his back. “Does your master beat you?”

“She did when I was younger and wouldn’t mind her,” Jayat explained, “or snuck off to go fishing. That’s what masters do.”

I sat back. I cringed as my hips told me I might think they had forgiven me for that afternoon, but they hadn’t. Jayat was right. My owner had beaten me when I was a slave, after all. Jooba-Hooba, who was going to be my first master in stone magic, would have beaten me. I bet he would have smiled as he did it. The lady, who tried to buy me for her house and her pet gang, would have beaten me. No, she would have had me beaten. She wouldn’t have soiled her hands with me. But Briar, who never hit me, kept me away from the lady and Jooba-Hooba.

And Rosethorn?

“She’ll set me to weeding acres of gardens for weeks.” I tried to sit more comfortably and failed. “Or put me in a small, hot room to cook up nasty messes that have to be stirred all the time. Or cook nasty messes part of the time, and dip candles part of the time. But she would never ever beat anybody.”

“But she seems so fierce,” Jayat said with awe.

“Have you ever made soap?” I asked. “Let me tell you, a temple needs a lot of soap. She’s quite happy to tell them you’ll make it all. You watch. I’ll be on my way to Winding Circle tomorrow, with orders to make soap and dip candles forever.”

9
How to Get Out of Trouble

The ground floor of the inn was lit up. I didn’t wait for Jayat to help me dismount. There was no point in trying to put it off. I slid out of the saddle, hung on for a moment until my body stopped cramping, then lurched inside. I ignored Jayat’s shout for me to wait while he saw to the horses. I didn’t want him to witness Rosethorn’s laying down the law to me. He was bound to hear some of it, but it would be nice if he wasn’t there for it all.

Inside, the important folk were seated near the hearth fire, as they had been the night before: Rosethorn, Fusspot, Oswin, Azaze. Other grown-ups from the town were there, too. Splendid. More witnesses for my disgrace.

“Well. Her Highness graces us with her presence.” Myrrhtide looked as if he’d just swallowed the Midsummer goose whole. “I suppose you’re just bubbling over with excuses, aren’t you? They won’t do you any good this time.”

Rosethorn looked at me and folded her hands on the table. There was no way to tell what she was thinking.

“I’ll go pack.” I headed for the stair, trying not to stumble. If she wasn’t even going to speak, I was in worse trouble than I thought. There was no point trying to explain when she was that angry. I may be silly and I may be reckless, but I know better than to make excuses. Sometimes I have to keep my mouth shut and take what’s coming.

And maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want to humiliate me in front of Myrrhtide. Perhaps she would task me in private, when she came up to bed.

“It appeared to me as if she were under some kind of compulsion,” Oswin said thoughtfully.

I froze with my foot on the stair, holding on to the rail. Why did Oswin stick his neb in, as Briar would say? If Rosethorn despised people who were supposed to obey and didn’t, she hated mages who couldn’t control their magic even more. I turned my aching head to glare at Oswin.

“Look at her.” Oswin talked as if I wasn’t trying to burn holes in his face with my eyes. “She’s pale and sweating. She was that way at midday. She was fidgeting then, too—unable to sit still. She gnawed her nails to the quick by noon today. They weren’t chewed at all on the way here from Sustree. Her lips are dry and cracked. She looks as if she had been taking poppy or was under a spell of compulsion—”

“Nonsense,” Rosethorn told him coldly.

Jayat came in. He put a hand under my elbow to help me stay on my feet. I tried not to lean on him too much. I have my pride.

“You told Dedicate Initiate Myrrhtide Evvy’s behavior is highly unlike her. Surely you’ll let her explain before you send her packing.” Oswin was mad-brained stubborn, to keep hammering with Rosethorn, Fusspot, and me glaring at him.

“He’s right.” Now Jayat had to pitch in. “I was with Evvy on the road up from the seaport. She’s been different today, and it only started after we left Oswin’s pond. On the road she acted like any girl—all right, one who’s really fond of sparkly rocks, but she was fun. She wasn’t short-tempered or, or strange. Dedicate Rosethorn, you acted yesterday as if she behaves that way all the time, as far as I could tell. If she was normal then, today she was someone else.”