She shrugged. “We’ll delay. They’ll laugh at the Bamarre sluggards. Her Mistress-ship will be criticized for our slowness.”
“Who will criticize her?”
“His Master-ship will, in front of everyone.”
“Will she hit you if he does?”
Mama smiled grimly. “She’d pay dearly if she did. She’s already going to suffer for striking you. She’d think it strange if I didn’t do something.”
Really? “What will you do?”
“This morning’s pottage will be much too salty.”
“She won’t hit you for that?”
“I can add worse things than salt.” Mama’s smile widened. “It isn’t easy to find a new cook in a tiny village.”
A mosquito’s revenge.
An idea began to form but dissolved before I could grasp it.
Mama continued. “His Master-ship will blame her. His tongue is venomous. I’m a fool, but I pity her.”
Mama could be kind. I was glad to learn that about her.
“A double fool,” she added, “because I pity him, too.”
“The magic tablecloth makes pudding.”
She put down her knife. “It will taste good?”
“Delicious.”
Annet came back in, and Mama asked her what she thought.
“Mama,” I said, “I’ve eaten many tablecloth meals. They’re wonderful.”
“Beg pardon. I asked Annet.”
I’d been a Lakti again. “I’m sorry.”
The two of them said, “To apologize makes you good.”
What came next? “To forgive makes you wise.”
Mama nodded, not Lady Mother’s slow, important nod, but a nod nonetheless.
I waited for my sister to give her opinion.
“Let her. We don’t have to eat it, and it will save time.”
I’d use the tablecloth in our cottage, because her Mistress-ship’s kitchen would be too risky. Since there wouldn’t be as many people in the cottage as at the feast I’d have to start and stop the tablecloth several times to get enough pudding, but I didn’t mention this, because I expected it to still take only a few minutes.
After Annet showed me how (nothing to it), Mama set me to scrubbing beets, carrots, parsnips, and onions in the sink while she and Annet served breakfast—and came back laughing over the salty pottage.
Annet wrung her hands in fake distress and imitated Mama. “‘Perhaps I confused the measuring cup with the measuring spoon. Silly me.’”
I forced a smile. The castle Bamarre must have laughed at us exactly this way.
The idea that had chimed before rang again and then faded.
Mama set me cutting the vegetables I’d washed into chunks to be roasted with the pork. Using my soldier training with a knife, I got the knack quickly and enjoyed making each bit exactly the same size as every other bit.
Shortly before noon, I left for the cottage. Inside, Poppi hunched over his worktable, sewing by dim light through a parchment-covered window. Drualt sat across from him, stitching too. Both jumped up when I came in. Baka welcomed me as if I’d lived there her whole life. Drualt also looked happy to see me.
I loved him already.
“Are your mother and sister all right?”
Poppi shouldn’t be afraid whenever his family left the house—another reason to free the Bamarre.
But was he a coward?
“They’re fine.”
“Then why did you come back?”
“My niece said I could use the tablecloth to make pudding because otherwise it will take too long.”
What if he told me not to? It would be too late now to start the pudding. Maybe I was acting like a headstrong Lakti, but I didn’t wait for him to say anything, just picked up my satchel from the floor by the stack of our three pallet beds.
Baka growled. I froze.
We heard hoofbeats. I dropped the satchel as if it were on fire.
A fist hammered on the door. “Open! Or we’ll break it down!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
POPPI STOOD UP.
They might notice if I was near the sack when they came in. I ran to the fireplace bench and sat.
Drualt faced the door, looking eager. Poppi crossed the cottage, moving deliberately, not rushing, which made me proud. No coward, but he must have been regretting taking me in. He raised the latch.
The door swung open. A soldier stepped aside.
Lord Tove and Lady Mother, wet but regal-looking, entered. I couldn’t see from here, but they must have traveled with soldiers. Might Willem be among them?
At the sight of my former parents, I felt both chilled and fevered. I gripped the bench to keep from fainting.
The last time I’d seen Lady Mother, she’d been weeping at the bottom of the tower, with Willem in a heap at her feet.
“I apologize for the intrusion.” Lord Tove’s benign mask smiled. “We seek a young woman named Perry.”
“Welcome.” Poppi bowed.
I had to curtsy, but I wasn’t sure my legs would support me. Using my hands, probably looking more ancient than the real Nadira before she died, I stood and performed a wobbly curtsy.
Drualt bowed with a flourish.
Lady Mother shut the door behind them, leaving their escort outside. She peered about, unaccustomed to the dimness. “You are Goodman Adeer?”
He admitted he was and introduced me and Drualt.
Lord Tove nodded. He took off his coat and laid it across our dining table, and with that seemed to take ownership of the cottage.
Lady Mother added her cloak to his. As always, she was more direct. “Where is Peregrine?”
Poppi said, “Begging your pardon, we haven’t seen her in fourteen years.”
Drualt, thinking quicker than either of us, said, “Is my sister safe?” He added, “I’d like to meet her.”
He could joke at a time like this?
“In truth, I’m worried about her.” Lord Tove sat on the fireplace bench next to where I stood. I smelled the ambergris in his beard. I used to love that smell.
Lady Mother stood by Poppi’s worktable, feet spread, hands behind her back in her surveying-the-troops pose.
“We had a disagreement,” Lord Tove said.
Poppi nodded. “Such things happen, begging your pardon.”
If I laughed, I’d give way to hysteria.
Lord Tove nodded, too. “Lady Klausine and I raised her to be brave and, I fear, not to consider the feelings of others, including her parents. In short, she ran off before I could assure her of my love. We don’t want harm to come to her.”
Poppi sounded genuinely indignant. “We’d never hurt her!”
“You haven’t seen her, either, Grandmother?”
More humor—I was the only one who could say with truth that I hadn’t, since the cottage had no mirror. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I shook my head.
Lord Tove extended his long legs. “People—the Bamarre especially, though I mean no disrespect—lie in gestures more easily than in words. Speak! Have you seen her?”
Poppi began, “Aunt Nadira—”
He didn’t know I was supposed to be getting over being sick! He might say something that Mama would contradict, because Lord Tove would certainly talk to her, too.
Fear created my voice. “Beg pardon. I’m dull from phlegm fever. I haven’t seen my great-niece.”
Mentioning the fever made me remember the pudding. What would happen if it didn’t appear?
“Then you should sit.” Courteously, Lord Tove made room for me on the bench.
I placed myself at the end, as far from him as could be.
“Goodman Adeer,” Lady Mother said, “where are your goodwife and your other daughter?”
Annet and Mama were fetched, which, I hoped, saved them from having to produce the pudding. His Master-ship and Her Mistress-ship, as well as the other Lakti family—the widow and her grown daughter—came as well. I stood again when they came in.
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How much space each Lakti took up! I’d never noticed before. No one stood close to anyone else, except the five of us crowded in the middle of the cottage, as if we were prisoners. The newcomers dripped on the floor, and the air reeked of wet wool.
Lady Mother let the other Lakti stay only long enough to satisfy their curiosity. She announced that any information they might have about me, Peregrine, would be rewarded and ordered them to leave.
Always gracious, Lord Tove added, “We’ll be quicker on our own. We don’t want to disturb the village or the goodman and his family any longer than need be.”
“The wife and girl were serving us our dinner. Are we meant to go hungry?” His Master-ship’s glare was prodigious. If his eyes had popped farther out, they’d have tumbled to the floor.
“Alas, you may have to get your own dinners this once.” I recognized the dangerous brightness in Lord Tove’s eyes.
When they left, my family moved apart a little, and I returned to the bench, as I thought a sick old woman would.
Lord Tove let in two soldiers, both male, neither known to me, and instructed them to search the cottage. If Willem were among the company, I was sure he would have managed to come in.
While Lord Tove and Lady Mother stood on either side of the fireplace, one soldier went to the pallets, where he cut apart the mattresses, including mine, which we had just stuffed a few hours before. I hoped the fleas would migrate to him. The other soldier went to the cupboard.
My parents and Annet had dulled their expressions, but Drualt looked about to erupt. He couldn’t! I was sure Lord Tove seethed with rage, too, and Drualt might not survive setting him off.
What could I do?
Not do! Words! Was there something I could say?
“Drualt?”
He whipped his head around to me. “What?” Furious. A challenge.
My parents heard the fury and turned to him.
A good Bamarre and a sweet boy, he added, “If you please.”
“Er . . . Can you recite a ditty to keep our spirits up? I can’t think of any. My brain must still be fogged.”
He shook his head so hard his tassel flicked back and forth, then said, “Beg pardon.”
Mama started reciting,
“Five in a hut crammed together
While the winter weather . . .”
Poppi and Annet joined in.
“Made a mule turn to leather
At the end of her tether . . .”
Drualt’s face relaxed, and he recited, too.
“And the folks didn’t know whether
To laugh or cry alone or together . . .”
I nodded, since I didn’t know the words.
“Till their noses tickled a red feather
And they all sneezed together.”
Ah! Something to do. I tickled my brother, who let out a shout of laughter.
Meanwhile, a soldier picked up my sack from the floor next to my pallet and spilled the contents on the floor, including the tablecloth and the magic boots Lady Mother had given me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
MY HEART STOPPED. The tablecloth seemed mere linen, but the boots!
Lady Mother picked one up and held it out. “I wonder that you keep such worn-out footwear, Goodman Adeer.” She smiled at the absurdity of the Bamarre. “Look, Tove. The sole is flapping.”
She’d protected us! And squelched any interest Lord Tove might have had in my sack.
Poppi said, “Poor people don’t discard anything that may be patched, Lady.” His eyes flicked to me.
He’d given me away!
Lady Mother’s eyes found mine, too. I didn’t know how to look, so I smiled at her.
Her face froze in horror. She’d recognized my smile—I’d given myself away!
Then she frowned, seeming puzzled. I could almost hear her thoughts: Perry could have the same smile as the great-aunt. They’re related. She couldn’t be her own great-aunt.
Had Lady Mother told Lord Tove about Halina?
She wouldn’t have if she hoped to protect me.
The ransacking of our small cottage didn’t take long. When the soldiers finished, Lord Tove told them to search Poppi’s and Drualt’s clothing. Then he opened the door and called in a female soldier.
“Search the women.”
Oh, no! When my purse was emptied, both Lord Tove and Lady Mother would recognize my little knife, which he himself had given me when I was eight. The brass handle was a representation of a hawk’s feather.
The female soldier, also a stranger to me, began with Mama.
Lady Mother said, “I tire of waiting. I’ll search the aunt.”
Lord Tove raised his eyebrows, revealing that he didn’t entirely trust his wife. I tried to look old, sick, and as defenseless as he thought all us Bamarre.
“Stand, Goodwife.” Lady Mother faced me with her back to Lord Tove, which also blocked him from my view.
I stood. She had me take off my cap, as if I might have hidden I-don’t-know-what atop my scalp.
“Your hair is thin, Grandmother.” She returned the cap to me, patted lightly around my waist, the small of my back, up and down my legs, wherever I might have concealed anything worth noting.
As she bent down, I was able to see that Lord Tove had lost interest in me. A dog lover, he was engaged in petting Baka.
“Your purse.” Lady Mother untied it from my belt and unknotted the drawstring. I heard a tiny intake of breath. “Look at me!”
My chest seemed to close in. I met her eyes. She was going to reveal my little knife!
“How do you come to have a silver coin?” Her voice was harsh, but her eyes were as soft as I’d ever seen them.
I felt Lord Tove’s attention.
Why might Nadira have such a big sum? Few Bamarre were rich, and I doubted any of my relatives were. What could I say?
My family seemed to cease breathing.
“Er . . . I . . . Begging your pardon. Er . . . I found it in the road.”
In two steps, Lord Tove stood before me. “You lie to my wife?”
“Er . . . begging your pardon . . . it’s true.”
“And you took it? When it didn’t belong to you?” He drew back his arm and punched me, catching the side of my face and my ear. The tassel dug into my skin. My neck jerked.
Someone gasped.
Poppi said warningly, “Drualt . . .”
My ear felt on fire. I fought tears.
And rage. I could punch him back. My attack would be unexpected. My muscles tensed. Freedom for the Bamarre!
Lady Mother said, “Grandmother, the truth is safer than a lie.”
Her voice calmed me. I unclenched my fists.
“How did you come by it?” she asked.
Let me cry rather than attack, since I’m a Bamarre. I sobbed into my hands. Mistress Clarra taught her students to live to fight again. Dignity didn’t matter.
“Let me see the purse, Klausine.”
My little knife! In a minute he’d know me. I looked up, tears still streaming.
Lady Mother gave him the purse. I glanced at her face but couldn’t read anything there.
Lord Tove undid the drawstring, which Lady Mother had retied, and emptied the contents into his hand: three copper coins, the silver, and my snail shell. Lady Mother must have taken the knife and saved me.
“Where is your little knife?” he asked. Everyone, whether a Lakti or a Bamarre, carried one.
I swallowed. My face hurt so I could hardly think. I sensed Lord Tove’s impatience. If he hit me again, I didn’t know what I’d do.
“I lost it?” I wailed. “I don’t know”—Nadira might not know to call him Lord—“er, Master? Er, Sire? Er, Sir?”
Lady Mother asked me when I’d noticed the knife was gone.
I decided to answer everything in a questioning tone. “Just now, Mistress . . . Lady? Yesterday?”
“When did you find the coin?” Lord Tove softened his voice, as if his victim could be wo
n over. “Nothing bad will come of telling me.”
I knew how to shrug as a Bamarre, having watched Annet for years. “The day before yesterday? Tomorrow?”
“Near here?” Lady Mother said.
“Not far? Very far? Tell me what to say, if you please.” I felt a spark of pleasure in my playacting.
They asked me more questions before giving up. Lord Tove took the coins and returned my purse, with the snail shell back inside.
The soldiers went on searching. I sat with my head bent. The tears dried as if they’d never been, but the rage smoldered. I recited Freedom for the Bamarre again and again in my mind.
Finally, the soldiers finished and were sent out. Lady Mother told us that she and Lord Tove would be camped along the road west of the village.
He said, “Perry may still be on her way to you, or she may send a letter.” Then, to my astonishment, he knelt! “She is as dear to me as the breath in my lungs. We’ve trained her in arms—”
Lady Mother broke in, “—and to be hardy and cautious.”
It was a message. Take care. The pain in my ear would remind me.
Lord Tove stood again. “But she’s young and may not always be able to tell an enemy from an ally. Please, if you can lead us to her, do not hang back. You’ll be returning her to those who love her most. You’ll be relieving yourself of danger as well.”
The threat inside the sweetness. My family wouldn’t miss it.
They’d been right not to want me.
I’d been selfish to stay.
Lord Tove hadn’t finished. “I doubt this will matter, because I see how worthy you are, but I will reward you with a purse of gold coins merely for information, if it leads to her recovery.”
Would my family get rid of me and become rich?
“And, Grandmother, counsel your relatives. Everyone will benefit if Perry returns to us. You’ve discovered the foolhardiness of defiance.”
I licked my lips. “Master, I’ve never been defiant in my life.”
“Good.” He flung on his cloak. “I’ll rely on you.”
They left.
Without them, the tiny cottage seemed large and empty—and a wreck, with mattress straw everywhere, crockery out of the cupboard, pots and pans scattered, Poppi’s thread in a jumble, bolts of cloth unspooled on the floor.