Aimee paused thoughtfully. "The good Lord Je'Reint once said that—"
"Paulo," I said, interrupting before the girl's good-hearted affection for the whole world—and her frank admiration for Ven'Dar's deposed successor—drove another stake into poor Paulo's heart. "A perfect time for you to join us."
"Master Paulo!" As with every visitor, Aimee jumped up to greet the newcomer as if he were the one person in the world she had been yearning to welcome. Three balls of yarn rolled from her lap to bounce and unwind themselves in colorful disarray across the floor.
"My lady. Mistress Aimee." Paulo bowed to each of us, allowing no hint of either awe, admiration, or hopeless dejection to touch his voice. From the leather pack hung over his shoulder, he brought out a single folded sheet of paper and gave it to me. "I've only the one today, ma'am."
Knowing that Paulo and Aimee would forgive my rudeness, I read Karon's letter right away. Two short paragraphs. Nothing he hadn't said five times before. Even his handwriting was listless and straggling. Blinking away the pricking in my eyes, I stuffed the letter in my pocket and turned back to the others.
Paulo had retrieved Aimee's yarn, the colorful mass looking odd in his hard, bony hands. "Here, miss." He thrust the tangle into her graceful fingers. "Sorry. I seem to have made a mess of your thread."
Aimee frowned, plopped the yarn into her basket, and wagged a scolding finger at Paulo. "Never try to fool me, sir, thinking a blind woman cannot see the truth of her own mistakes. My friends know better."
Paulo's breath stopped, and his cheeks paled as if a headsman had just raised an ax aimed at his neck. Though his lips worked, they produced no sound . . . until Aimee covered her mouth with her hand and broke into merry laughter. "I'm sorry," she said, after a moment. "You are just so serious and so very kind . . . and I am a terrible, wicked tease . . . please, come sit and rest yourself from your journey."
Though his face told me he might prefer to bury his head in the cushions piled in the corner of the room, poor Paulo sat down in a straight wooden chair across the low table from Aimee and me. Setting her basket aside, Aimee poured a cup of cold saffria from a pitcher on the table in front of us and offered it to Paulo. A peace offering, I thought, though she could not see that he took the cup with his eyes fixed somewhere in the region of her gold-link girdle and thus could not observe her smile of apology. She tilted her head as if searching or listening, and, after a moment, bit her lip uncertainly.
I went to their rescue. "Paulo, Aimee and I were just discussing the Lady D'Sanya. Has Gerick mentioned her true talent?"
"No, ma'am. He's not said anything about it. And I guess it's not a thing you go and ask right out."
"You're exactly right, sir," said Aimee as she returned to her seat and picked up her basket. "To question a person's true talent is to imply that the person's worth is somehow defined by his abilities at sorcery, which of course it could never be. There are so many qualities of more importance." Rarely had I heard Aimee so earnest in her opinions.
"So what is she then?" I asked the world at large.
Paulo frowned thoughtfully. "She's no Horsemaster. That's certain. She fixed Nacre's leg weeks ago all right, but he's been bothered about it since."
"It's not just that the leg is tender?" Though I cared nothing for Lady D'Sanya's skill with horses, Paulo's observations were always valuable. And I wasn't about to say anything to discount him in front of Aimee.
"No. He's just … not himself. Not by a league or ten. He's gone vicious. That's why I've come here in the middle of the week. To bring him back and find another. I sent my Stormcloud with the young master to Maroth, and I thought I could coax Nacre back to himself. But it's no good."
"I've few enough horses in my stable, and they're mostly carriage horses or plodding nags suited only to carry a petrified rider around her little paddock," said Aimee, offering her pitcher again. "But you're welcome to any of them. And if none suit, I'll take you to Master Je'Reint's stables—the finest in Avonar. We can surely find you an excellent mount there. My lord is so generous. He's taken me to his house many times and offered whatever service I need since my sisters moved away. I'll be happy to arrange a visit if you'd like. I'll take you there myself."
"That would be fine, mistress. Really fine." Given the look on his face, one might have thought she had offered him the sun from her silver platter and then told him he couldn't have it after all. He refilled his cup and set the pitcher back on the tray.
"What other news, Paulo? Is Gerick back from Maroth? Three weeks, it's been."
"I've not seen him. Last I heard, the Lady was still away from her house."
"And Karon …" .
"He says he's not managed to write further on his work nor any more than the one letter. Says he gets distracted too easy, but not by anything that's worth writing about." Paulo's face reflected the worry that accompanied any mention of Karon nowadays. "Things are not right with him, my lady. Though it's a risk to have me sneaking in, he seems to pick up a bit while I'm there. But he's not right."
I knew things were not right with Karon. His letters had dwindled in number and length and substance as the weeks had gone by. I ached for his loneliness and isolation, and without Gerick there to test him, I couldn't even know what was natural and what might be caused by the strange enchantment under which he lived. "He says your visits have been the best thing in his life, Paulo. You must have found something interesting to talk about."
When Gerick began spending so much time with D'Sanya, Paulo had taken it on himself to visit Karon, saying he would sneak through Karon's private garden, so as not to risk anyone inquiring about "Master K'Nor's" new visitor. But what had begun as an occasional hour had expanded into daily visits, so we'd seen little of Paulo for the past weeks. Karon's letters said that he and Paulo were having some useful discussions that were the first things to keep his attention since he'd been at the hospice.
"We pass the time. Talk a bit. Not much as would be interesting to anybody else." His gaze followed Aimee, who stood at her sideboard cutting slices of cake and setting them on small plates. When he noticed me watching, he colored and looked away. "He's a deal lonesome since the young master's been away. I'm sure he'll pick up when my lord comes back."
Ven'Dar had told us about the Zhid attack on Gerick and the Lady. Gerick had sent only a brief description of it along with his warning message about the consiliar. If he hadn't needed us to forward the message on to Karon for him, he'd likely not have told us anything.
Since then, Gerick had sent only one brief note from Maroth, saying they had seen no more signs of Zhid interest in the Lady, and that D'Sanya had kept him so busy, he'd had no time to investigate anything. Life has changed for me, Mother , he'd written. I've learned things about myself I never imagined. And I've come to understand so much about you and my father and how you've been able to survive all that's happened to you. Whatever comes of all this, I hope to be the better for it .
Karon was intrigued by the Lady's determination to teach Gerick to enjoy himself—an unexpected echo of a wish the two of us had shared for five years. He said I wouldn't recognize our son's manner. I've seen Gerick pleased or satisfied in the past , Karon had written a week or two before Gerick left for Maroth. And when he has joined with me, I've felt his care and love as if they were my own emotions. But never until these past weeks have I seen him happy. When he comes in from his time with her, he exhibits no trace of the burdens he has borne all his life. Though I fear for what we may yet unearth about this woman —and truly those fears lessen every day—I cannot regret Gerick's discovery that he can be happy or my witnessing it before I have to leave him. The paths of life are truly marvelous .