Chapter 17 #2
“Of course,” said Rhianne. “Along with everything else. When the Hundred are together, it’s…
like a performance. It started after the Great Revolt.
For their protection, at first, from rival Houses, but then, eventually, it became tradition.
Exhibition.” She’d lowered her voice to little more than a whisper.
“It’s stupid, really. Lots of standing around. ”
“Wait,” I said with creeping trepidation. “What do you mean, ‘Along with everything else’?”
“Tours of the island. Musical evenings. Cards, dice. Formal dinners, dancing, readings…”
“What about our chores?” I knew I looked panicked. But it wasn’t only my chores I was worried about having time for.
“Oh, we’ll be expected to keep up with those, too. When they’re sleeping or bathing.” She quirked a bronze eyebrow. “Why d’you think Miss Haney’s been so frantic? And Tigo working extra time in the gardens? Because he knows he’ll have so little now.”
Unseen, I dug my nails into my palms. I’d hoped now that the Cormorants were here, everyone would be distracted seeing to the guests and I’d have more opportunities for sneaking around. Instead, it seemed, I might not have any at all.
“That does seem stupid,” I said in a forced monotone, and followed her up the steps into the keep.
—
Vercha led us through to the room she’d called the snug, where a fire crackled cheerily in the grate, and the wolfhounds, who’d been basking in front of it, shot up and bounded around the visitors’ ankles.
I was acutely conscious of the clock’s loud ticking.
I needed to get to the culverhouse. Today.
“I can’t tell you how gratifying it is to see your faces,” said Avrix Cormorant, throwing himself into a chair. His sister stayed standing, peering from the windows. “And that crossing—the sea breeze, the view over the bay…I feel rejuvenated already.” He grinned at the siblings.
The Cormorants’ Orha lined up along the wall, beneath a portrait of a Shearwater ancestor.
Their movements were practiced, almost automatic.
Clearly, the twins were social people. I followed Tigo and Mawre’s lead, joining them on the opposite wall.
Rhianne padded over to murmur into the hearth—I was sorry I didn’t have her excuse to sidle off.
As Vercha poured tea, the other siblings took up positions on the couches.
“It was snowing when you were last here, wasn’t it? Do you remember?” Emment leaned forward, a glint in his eyes. “You accidentally caught Father with a snowball meant for me.”
“My gods,” Avrix said. “I do remember.” He laughed, a rich peal that seemed to warm the room.
Morgen was patrolling, inspecting the portraits. As she stopped in front of me, my skin went taut.
“This one’s new,” she murmured, gazing at me. Her skin was flawless, glowing in the firelight, her eyes dark pools ringed by thick lashes.
Vercha had come up behind her with her tea. “Corith’s just wonderful,” the Shearwater said sweetly. “Our housekeeper says she’d be lost without her.”
“What happened to that grizzled old lady you had?”
“Muiry? Oh, she got sick, poor lamb. Went to a brewery in Lanniton, I think. Somewhere she could sit down and work.”
Morgen made a sympathetic noise as nausea clawed its way up from my belly.
“We had a terrible time last month, before Corith,” Vercha said, not even lowering her voice. “The first girl they sent…” She glanced behind her. “Well, let’s just say that was a short-lived placement.”
The atmosphere in the room cooled, turned brittle. Llir threw a knifelike glance at his sister as Emment’s jaw clenched and his teacup rattled.
“You sometimes get duds,” Morgen said airily.
My eyes flashed to her. I was coiled like a spring.
“Well, in any case,” the Cormorant continued, clearly sensing she’d trodden in murky waters, “this one looks hale enough, if a little skinny.” She smiled at me. “I wish you every happiness here.”
“Great gods,” came Avrix’s voice. He was lounging in his chair, patting one of the wolfhounds. “Leave the poor girl alone, will you, Morgen? She’s not a new painting.” He shot me a small wink.
Despite myself, I felt a flicker of gratitude. It had taken everything I had to remain impassive; I wasn’t sure I had a shred of restraint left.
“Now, look,” Avrix continued, jumping up and staring out into the bay. “We simply must get back out on that water—and take advantage of this excellent weather. What do you say we meet down there tomorrow and give your father’s sailing boats a spin?”
Morgen clapped and circled the couches. “Not just a spin—a race. I demand it. Let’s see how your Orha measure up!”
“We can take the dogs out,” Catua said with a grin. “They love a splash around.” The hounds’ tails thumped.
Renewed anxiety crept back in, chasing the wisps of relief from my midriff. Sailing. That was the Floodmouths’ purview, though Mawre and the Cormorants’ Gustmouth would help.
“It’s settled, then,” said Avrix, sitting back down. “Now. Where are those pastries you promised us?”
—
As the day crawled by, Rhianne’s prediction bore out.
The Shearwaters and the Cormorants sat up late that evening, reminiscing about capers past. It seemed it had been a few years, at least, since the families had spent a long stretch together, and they were clearly keen to make up for lost time.
When the guests began to yawn and we were finally released, my spine was throbbing from standing to attention and my ears were stinging from the ring of laconite.
I wanted nothing more than to fall into bed, but I hadn’t forgotten my contact’s warning: “If I don’t receive that note, this deal is off the table. ”
An eternity seemed to pass once I returned to the tower and waited for my fellow Orha to fall asleep, but at last the final lamp went out, and I stole silently back up to the castle.
All was quiet as I wound my way up North Tower, darkness mantling the steep spiral stair. The autumn chill had seeped through the walls, and my shivers made my rushlight’s glow flitter eerily.
The circular culverhouse was musty and shadowed, scant moonslight spearing in from a hole in the ceiling. As I entered, I heard the susurration of feathers and could just make out black humps in the darkness, pairs of sharp, beady eyes trained on me.
My heart thudded dully as I took out my note, onto which I’d carefully translated my code, and hurried over to the recess marked The Veil. The “K” I’d etched on the note stood out sharply, and I wondered what it stood for, what my contact’s name was.
The crow watched me attentively, shifting its dark bulk. It knew to expect morsels of bread on arrival and was clearly impatient to receive its reward, but as I fastened my message to one scrawny leg—
The scrape of a sole from behind me reached my ears.
Whirling, I saw the outline of a figure in the doorway, faintly lit by their own candle. I nudged the crow frantically, whispering, “Go!”
With a beating of huge black wings, it took off, streaking up out of the hole into moonslight. I reared back. Behind me, the figure dropped their light, the flame extinguishing, the candle rolling.
My own rushlight still glowed faintly, and by it, I saw a striking face, warm brown skin, dark eyes stretched wide.
“Hello,” came one of the well-heeled voices I’d been forced to listen to for several hours earlier.
Avrix Cormorant, dressed in a night-robe.
“He-hello,” I stuttered, heart galloping, gazing at him through the thick gloom.
A smile lit his features as he took me in. “I’m sorry for surprising you. What a place to get a scare!” His eyes flicked upward. “Creepy, isn’t it?”
I offered no reply, stepping back to make space. The culverhouse wasn’t exactly roomy. As he moved inside, he had to stand close.
“Couldn’t sleep myself,” he said, still sounding apologetic. “Never can the first night away from home. I thought I might as well post our letter to Mother, given I was wide awake anyway.” He smiled. “What’s your name? I remember you from the snug.”
Despite my horror at being discovered, and my racing thoughts—how would I explain this?—I couldn’t help feeling a flicker of warmth. He was looking at me with genuine interest, not the cool, predatory regard of his sister.
“Corith,” I said. “The Shearwaters’ Floodmouth.
I—” My mind grasped desperately for something.
“Everything’s been so hectic today, I didn’t have a chance to get here until now.
I—I had a letter to drop off, too.” Well, that much was true, I thought.
“For my friend. She has a placement down south. We write to each other, and I owe her a message.”
Avrix looked pained, his brows dipping down.
“That’ll be our fault, I expect,” he said gently.
“I’m sorry we’ve lumbered you all with more chores.
” He glanced at my clothes; I was still in my livery.
“Must already be quite the load, with five in the family.” He paused. “Lots of laconite to polish, too, yes?”
My thoughts snagged, panicked. But he couldn’t have known. “Yes,” I half whispered, managing a smile.
“Got to be annoying. All that buzzing.” He grinned as he spoke, tugging an envelope from his pocket. “Well, I’d really better get this off to Mother, or she’ll think we capsized and send out a search party.”
Though my pulse still thumped like a drum in my ears, I felt a warm curl of amusement. “Here,” I said, bending to pick up his candle. I lit it using my rushlight’s flame and handed it to him, hoping my fingers weren’t trembling.
“Thank you,” he said, dark eyes on my face. “Will you be sailing with us tomorrow?”
“Of course,” I said reluctantly. I’d forgotten about that.
“Then I shall look forward to it even more,” he replied, quirking an eyebrow. “Good night, Corith.”
“Good night,” I forced out, stepping past him, revelling in the heady relief at my escape that almost—but not quite—banished my jangling nerves.