Arne shook his head. Such deviousness was not part of the peer’s nature—nor of the new prince’s, either. “The peer had to decide quickly what to do with Deline, and I have long needed an assistant.”
“Learning all the things the first server’s assistant has to know will be a slow process. What if she gets impatient?”
“She will. She will also get bored, and edgy, and weary, and everything else that discontented people feel. Remember—until today, whenever she felt any of those things she could call for her horse and go for a wild ride, or a hunt, or jump obstacles, or spear a porkley that someone else would have to haul back to court and prepare for dinner, or order her guard to race with her. Or she could change lovers. Or she could order her servers—and the peeragers, too—to play whatever game appealed to her. Now she will sit at a workbench doing one dull task after another until she is told to go home to a meager supper. Her sanity may be tested severely, but she will do her best to control it. She knows this is the only opportunity she will ever have to redeem herself, and a single complaint from me will end it. The peer her mother very much wants her to succeed, but the peer will never again listen to her excuses. If I tell her Deline is making a nuisance of herself, she will remove the nuisance.”
“If the peer lives. What about the new prince?”
“She may be an agreeable surprise to all of us. If she is willing to work, and learn, and accept advice, the Peerdom of Midlow might have a future none of us would have expected. She will have to grow up quickly, though. Would you tell the other villagers about Deline? It will take time for her to become accustomed to life as a one-namer, and it will take time for us to get used to her. Ask people to treat her politely even if she is rude. Ask them to keep offering friendship to her even if it is spurned.”
He talked with Wiltzon and several others before he returned to Deline. He found her standing by the window with tears in her eyes looking out at the cold gloom of the village’s garden common and the dark mills beyond.
She turned on him with fierce resentment because he had surprised her in a moment of weakness. He pretended not to notice. “You know where the first server resides. Report to me there at dawn. We will discuss the day’s work and plan your schedule.”
She nodded resignedly.
“Gretley will bring you some supper and help you decide how you want to take your meals. There is community dining for single people and those who aren’t householders. If you decide to join, the community kitchen will draw your rations, but everyone who eats there takes turns preparing the food and helping with the cleaning and chores. If you don’t care for community dining, you can arrange to eat with a hospitable family—Toboz the sawyer and Midrez his wife are willing to have you on a trial basis. If you eat with them, Midrez will draw your rations for you—but you still would be expected to help prepare the meals and clean up afterward. That is the rule among one-namers, and it is the only way you can learn to do things for yourself, so you should offer to assist people at every opportunity.
“Suppose I decide to draw my rations myself?” she asked defiantly.
“You can whenever you like, but then you will have to do all the work of preparing the food and cooking it yourself. It would be best to wait until you have learned how. And even when you think you know how, it would be wise to wait until you have your own kitchen or can arrange to use someone else’s.”
“I see.” Deline turned to the window and looked again at the cold gloom of the common. “There doesn’t seem to be much happening here.”
“A great deal,” Arne said with a smile, “but one-namers keep their happenings private. Come to my house first thing in the morning, and we will plan your schedule.”
Arne slept lightly, as usual. While he slept, his mind sorted through his responsibilities for a long procession of tomorrows and busily arranged and rearranged the multitide of details he had to keep track of.
He awakened suddenly. There was someone in his bedroom—an astonishing occurence. No one barred doors in Midd Village, but neither did anyone prowl about at night. A server with an urgent message would have called his errand from the street door.
A cold hand touched his face. Then the blanket was pulled aside and the weight of another body settled into the bed.
Deline’s voice said, as her arms encircled him, “It is time to plan my schedule.”
12. DELINE (2)
They floated from darkness into the brightly dawning new dae, Deline the imperious, demanding princess, he the obedient subject; and then, in a dazzling reversal, he the lordly conqueror, she the humbly submissive slave. They remained long abed—remained there until a court server arrived to demand Arne’s attention.
Arne told himself Deline was friendless and lonely, she had desperately needed to forget her shattered her life for a few hours, and the incident really meant nothing at all. Her passion seemed genuine and limitless, but of course she’d had many lovers. That was the custom with peeragers. Most one-namers quickly settled on a life-long partner; few peeragers ever did. There were other differences. No village girl had ever made love to Arne the way Deline did, but in their most enraptured transports, when he murmured every tenderness at his command, she remained silent.
The court server brought a bundle of messages and requests that had accumulated during the days of upheaval. He also brought a verbal message from the new prince. She wanted to see the first server that afternoon if he could spare the time. The phrasing was so unusual that it took Arne a moment to recognize it as a command.
He sent his customary formal assent and sat down to deal with the other business, going over each request carefully with Deline. Most concerned items that were in short supply at the court because there had been no recent deliveries. A train of wagons would be needed to correct the deficiencies. Wagons and drivers had to be assembled from all of the one-name villages. He showed Deline how to write the requisitions and explained what was supposed to happen at their destinations.
When this work was completed, they ate a late meal at Arne’s dining common, ignoring the curious stares of the attendants, and then he took Deline to Farlon the potter. Farlon gave her a workplace beside those of the two prentices he was training, and he began a lengthy discourse about clay. Deline fingered the samples gingerly, holding them as though she feared to soil her fingers. Her attention had been caught by a pot that was miraculously arising from a prentice’s wheel.
It was the ideal place for her to begin. She could fashion simple things at once, and the complexities of the craft could be left until she became interested. The pot so fascinated her that she didn’t notice when Arne left.
He busied himself with a number of petty chores. He checked the maintenance at the mills—all of the machinery was old, and it broke down frequently if it wasn’t properly cared for. He also made certain the orders from the court were being handled properly and supplies of meat and flour were being distributed again throughout the peerdom. Food reserves had been depleted while the lashers were guarding the village. He saw that his own private food cache was well stocked. By artfully juggling records, he kept a secret store of food in a stone shed at the rear of his garden. Old Marof, working quietly in the dead of night, wheeled bags of grain and an occasional haunch of beef or mutton to the shed in his barrow. An increasing amount of food had gone that route in recent years, but few villagers knew this. Those who did neither asked nor wanted to know what became of it. As in the past, some found its way into secret reserves the League of One-Namers maintained all across the Ten Peerdoms, but most went to Egarn’s team—his helpers took whatever supplies were needed, entering Arne’s garden at night through the concealed door in the wall.