Night Bells

Chapter Two

  In which the young master obtains a piece of advice…

  She entered the room silently, as always, carrying a loaded laundry basket under her arm. Its contents included new sheets for the bed and freshly laundered clothes Lord Maslyn had worn earlier in the week. The boy moved to the back of the room to let her attend to her duties. A flurry of activity began around his bed as she turned back the coverlet and stripped the linens. All her hair was hidden underneath a starched white cap that tied under her slender chin. Her dress was very clean, neat, and every stitch was orderly. It was clear that she took great pride in maintaining her appearance.

  Jordis turned around and Lord Maslyn could see that she was, indeed, very pretty. Her lips sported a healthy pink glow and her eyes were the strangest grey. Lord Maslyn’s own eyes were a flat, muted brown just like his father’s had been. His older brothers had had the red-brown eyes of their mother. Jordis’ eyes looked wise and old—like an oracle’s. She stole a glance at him while she smoothed the comforter on his bed. Heat flushed Lord Maslyn’s young face and he turned away, hastily. A stifled intake of breath rang out in the room. The boy had startled her.

  “Uh—J-Jordis!” he said, unintentionally loud.

  Again, she looked up and then swiftly lowered her gaze as she curtseyed.

  “Yes, Lord Maslyn?” her response was schooled to be calm and friendly, though her white hands were clenched at her sides.

  Fluttery sensations invaded his stomach when she looked at him from beneath her blonde lashes, inquisitive. “What is wrong with me?” he thought to himself. Swallowing hard, he looked at her square in the face. She blushed, her skin turning the most beautiful scarlet color he had ever seen. Her face then reminded him of the red lanterns and the Night Bells. It made him nervous.

  “Um, Jordis, Can I ask a favor?” he managed.

  She looked genuinely surprised. Her shoulders relaxed.

  “If it pleases you, milord.”

  The boy’s eyes darted around. His mind scrambled for what to say next. He skirted to his bookshelf. He hadn’t thought through the plan that far, so he grabbed a book in a hurry. The spine looked like it was freshly bound and never opened once. Fabulous. An eager smile plastered itself onto his face when he turned around. She looked a little confused at his behavior. He held out the book to her and announced proudly,

  “I need some candles to read with at nighttime. The red lanterns are far too dim and the suns set so early, I haven’t been able to read at nighttime like I want. It helps lull me to sleep, you see.”

  The most skeptical expression darkened her pretty face,

  “I can see why you picked it. The Common Ailments and Treatments of Horses would put anyone to sleep.”

  Lord Maslyn thought, “Oh no! What book did I pull off of the shelf!?”

  He bustled in his mind for something to say so he wouldn’t rouse her suspicions. Suddenly, as if by a miracle, it came to him.

  “Well, it seems the guards are having trouble with one of their horses. I noticed outside the window and I was just wondering what might be wrong with it. There isn’t much to occupy my time up here.”

  He even believed it himself. It was a brilliant excuse to have such a ridiculous book in his hand. Curiously enough, he found that he did want to know what was wrong with that horse.

  “Oh. Well, I suppose that makes sense. The horse’s name is Sable and he’s a vicious nightmare.” She flushed again as she realized she had criticized one of her master’s horses. “I’m sorry, sir! I did not mean to speak ill of your property, milord.”

  “Jordis, I haven’t been outside this room in six years. I have no idea what my ’property’ consists of. You criticize as much as you like,” he reassured her.

  A real smile lit up her face this time. Lord Maslyn thought she seemed just as glad of the conversation as he was. He hoped they would talk again like this.

  “Well…candles,” she began. “I believe I can secure a few for you and a candle stand. You may want to hide them, though, when you’re not using them. I don’t know how Jori would feel about you having access to fire, no matter how small the flame is.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Lord Maslyn admitted. He was thankful she agreed to grant his request.

  “I can bring them later this evening after my chores are done. What will I tell Jori if he should see me?” she asked.

  Another flaw in his plan. It was becoming increasingly clear that he would have to think well on his future schemes. He thought about several options.

  “What if you told him that you forgot your laundry basket?”

  “No, that would be something I’d never forget.”

  “Well,” he tried again, “What if you said that you forgot the sheets from the bed? You just put fresh linens on, so it might make sense for you to walk out without the old ones.”

  “Hmm. Unless I come up with something better, that’s what I’ll say.”

  She went to the laundry basket at the foot of the four-poster and grabbed the old sheets, placing them on the floor in a pile. Her skirts swished in circular motions when she came around to the front. The young master leaned against the table and smiled at her.

  “I’ll do this for you on one condition,” she announced.

  “What condition is that?” he replied.

  “In the future, don’t call me, ‘Jordis’.”

  “Why not?” he asked, surprised.

  “I hate it. It was my grandmother’s name and she was the meanest woman I have ever met. I much prefer to be called ‘Arna’, which was my great-grandmother’s name. It’s my middle name.”

  He laughed, “Arna it is, then.”

  She turned to leave him and he touched her arm, gently. Again, those peculiar butterflies raced around inside his stomach. Again, she turned and blushed.

  “Before you go, I have another favor.”

  “Yes, milord?” she muttered, polite and reserved once more.

  “Please don’t call me that. I have a name I like best, too. I also haven’t heard it in a while. Please don’t call me by my title.”

  There was something desperate within him as he asked this. It looked as though Jordis—Arna—could be a potential friend in his bleak life. For some reason, it was vitally important that they be on familiar terms. There was intense hesitation in her eyes, but he could see that she was considering the idea. He hoped she would agree. He wanted to hear his own name.

  “What is your name?” her expression turned sheepish.

  “It’s Soryn. Soryn Jens Bialas Maslyn.” Hearing it aloud made him feel strangely brave for the night ahead.

  “That’s quite a name. One to be proud of I should think. Fine; I won’t call you by your title when we’re alone like this. I’ll bring you candles tonight so you can get on with The Common Ailments and Treatments of Horses. It sounds simply riveting…”

  She went to the top of the staircase and peeked over her shoulder to wink at him. In that moment, he felt keenly aware of all the time he had wasted in not talking with her all these years. Ever since the first morning he awoke in the tower, he remembered her being there. Never had they said anything more than, “good morning”, or other such empty pleasantries. It truly was a shame; she was a nice girl.