the Leathermines

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Laun ended up having several days worth of fever.  It was low for a day or so and then spiked as a huge rainstorm rolled over the land.  Laun was not sure if the hissing she heard was inside or outside her head and her mouth was thick so she could not ask.  The coughing stopped after the fever broke, letting Laun sleep for most of a day.

Three more came down with the same illness.  They all were tended to in Laun’s chamber to keep them out of the general population.  Unfortunately for Disa, she was one of them.

When Disa woke from her first restful sleep in several days, she found that roles had been reversed.  Laun was not well enough to leave the chamber for great lengths of time, but she was well enough that she was slightly restless.  She volunteered to look after the people who had been in the sickbed with her.

Disa sat up.  Laun was in the chair, a candle burning on the table.  The brasier was set with enough coals to warm the room and the kettle on it.  Laun saw that Disa was awake and carefully climbed around the others to get to Disa’s side.

A hand was on Disa’s forehead and Laun smiled.  “Feels like it broke and you are on the mend.”

The hand maid looked at either side of her at the other two who were still sick and in bed.  “I feel better, I think.”

Laun held out her hand and said, “If you are anything like me, you really have to go to the privy.”

“I didn’t until you said something.”

Disa was wrapped in a long robe and escorted by Laun on one side and one of the women protectors on the other.  She was feeling weak and did not want to admit it, but appreciated the help to the Privy.

It was colder in the corridor, and it was not just because she had been under a high fever and lots of blankets.  While the sickness had taken its course, the weather had turned.  It was not quite freezing, not quite snow.  It was very cold and miserable out.  Any heat left from summer was gone from the stones in the keep.

Disa was chilled by the time she got back to the chamber and did not resist when put into the bed again.  Laun gave her a mug of tea and sat on the bedding next to her until she finished it.  Disa let the covers get tucked in around her and was asleep again before she realized it.

Laun went back to going over the lists and papers and plans that had been piling up on the table.  She had missed more people coming into the household.  She had missed the river overflowing the banks and washing out part of the road.  She had missed the banns of the King’s wedding.  She had missed...too much.

But she knew that things were being taken care of.  She asked for written reports, to the chagrin of both Geralk and Gismar.  She had also asked Geralk to go over the journal and notes from the tapestries, which he agreed was some sort of code, but he was not sure what kind.  So more speculations, more papers, more drawings.  Laun was regretting admitting she could read.

Laun looked up and watched as one of the men turned in his sleep.  He was moving about every twenty minutes, regardless of how hot he seemed to be.  Laun did not remember him being in the chamber before and realized he was one of the men that Dougal had brought.

Well, Laun thought to herself, he was not being invited into the bed after recovering if that was how he slept.  She liked relative stillness.  At least when the sleeping part started.

It was going to be a while before anything like that was going to happen again.  She was recovering from the sickness, her legs still were weak and her back twinged if she did things that her body thought was stupid.  Laun hated the condition she was in.  Even helping Disa back and forth to the privy had almost winded her.

The Dance Master had proposed that, once the winter weather had settled in, one of the tourney tents be put up in the garden area and heated for practice.  Laun had consulted with several people, in person and on paper, and the plan seemed to be sound, except for Orgia pointing out that where he wanted to put the tent was over one of the vegetable plots and compost heaps.

The small fight that had broken out over that one suggestion really had sides drawn.  The protectors who wanted somewhere to practice that was not the Great Hall was on one side.  The people who worked the gardens and in the kitchens were on the other.  It was the first internal struggle of the household that Laun had to mediate.

The rain had been able to delay any action in the garden, and Laun’s sickness was not just an excuse.  The Lady decided that they both had valid points.  There were ways around almost all of the objections.

Laun had just about worked out how the tents would go into the gardens.  She was drawing a light line indicating where things would go, and a list of things that needed to be done when there was a scratch on the door.

Laun looked at her charges and none of them were disturbed by the scratching.  She got up and opened the door.  

It was one of the kitchen staff with several of the newer people following.  They all seemed to be carrying something.  Laun stepped back into the sleeping chamber as the people dipped heir fingers in the wintergreen tinted alcohol on the shelf, rubbing it around on all the skin they could reach.

They came in and changed out some of the bedding, the mugs, and brought a new kettle with tea.  Disa stirred when the sheeting over her was removed, but did not wake entirely up.  A platter with bites of food was set on the table over the papers Laun had been looking at.  She was both displeased and relieved when that happened as she really needed to continue working on the plans, and she really did not want to continue.

Laun thanked those who had come, making sure to recognize each of the new people individually by name.

One Hundred and Thirty Five.

Laun felt she could not keep up.  So many people now, and a good chunk that she had been only recently introduced to.  It was different when it was a household of people she had been around most of if not all of her life.  Now, a good third of the people within the walls and under the protection of Salam-Dir were not sworn to that banner.

Some things had to change.  The tower had to have people in it if more may come.  There just were not enough spaces in the keep.  The farmer’s huts were unprotected.  The castle tower had to be well enough for the winter to be used, even with the shifting of the stone.  Laun had been thinking hard about that for quite some time and had come to a decision.

She ate a few fingerfulls of the sliced meat wrapped around the aging cheese and got up.  She dipped her fingers in the wintergreen alcohol and winced when it found small cuts on the back of one hand.  She talked briefly with the protector at the door about the people inside and then started towards the tower.

It was really quite a brilliant design.  Four levels all connected with the keep, the top level having the roof of the corridor below as an open walkway protected with low crenellations.  It had started to be a patrol spot in the last few weeks, even in the rain.  The core of the tower was a chimney, the open fire in the low corridor and the stairs winding their way around it.  There were small vents off the main chimney to smaller fireplaces in the walls and all of them helped to heat the entire tower.  Even in the coldest of winters, Laun remembered the floors being warm on the stairs, only a blanket between her and the stone of the chimney as she sat leaning against the warmth.  She was not the only one who took advantage of it, sometimes a crowd gathered so thick that you could not easily step up the stairs.

There was just a small fire in that fireplace as Laun went up to her Lady’s room.  There were people with Geralk in the library, the voices calm and obviously going over lists of stores in the bright light spilling from under the door in the room.  Another fire was in the second-floor landing fire alcove facing her Lady’s room and she could see reflected light from the third landing above.

Laun went into Lady Hellon’s room.  It was late afternoon, dark and rainy outside.  Darker inside.  Laun propped the door open and found a candle on a sideboard and went to light it in the fire in the hall.

The candle sputtered slightly as she made her way back into the room.  She lit several other candles in the room and sat on a large hope chest that was at the end of the stripped bedstead.

The floor was warm.  The chimney system was doing its job.  Laun looked at the place she knew there was the hidden space.  She could not see the seam or latch in the dark.  She looked at her reflection in some of the panes of glass in the various windows.

She looked at herself.  She had changed.  Her hair was longer.  She was wearing clothing that covered her from throat to floor.  The flickering light in the room showed that she was getting fat from not moving like she used to.  The roundness in her face was not unpleasant, it just was the first Laun really noticed it.  She stood and walked towards the window.

Past her reflection, Laun could see points of wavery light.  The courtyards below had covered lanterns that lit some of the wetness around them.  Outside the walls, Laun could see a lantern going down the road away from the keep.  And a small point of light somewhere in the woods.  She imagined that it was summer and the vista included Lady Hellon’s Hill and the field right before the fishing stream.

And then she refocused on her eyes.  Looking at her.  The reflection unmerciful and not hiding any flaws from the woman looking at her.  Woman.  Not girl.  At the beginning of the summer, she had been a girl.  A slave, yes, but a girl with few cares.  Now she was a woman, the cares of her position starting to wear on her.  It had already changed her.  And she had not been entirely well physically since the sickness from the poison.

Laun put her hand over the face that was looking back at her.  She could not turn away from the window, but she could not look at herself any more.  The glass had a ripple in it and was cold.  She could feel the rain hitting on the other side.  The glass was sucking the heat out of her hand and the cold made her hand start to hurt.

She turned and looked at the room around her.  It was three times the size of the chamber she had hosted many people in over the last month or so.  More light in the day, but also exposed to the winter winds that were starting to push down from the North.  The hiding space that she could stash things in...though she was not sure what.

The walls seemed bare to Laun.  The tapestries that were in the sleeping chamber mostly came from this room.  More people would be able to sleep in Lady Hellon’s room...

No.  She had to stop thinking like that.  If she were to move to this room, it would be her room.  Lady Laun’s room.  Perhaps a little more proper of a room.  But then again, she still slept the best with multiple people around her.  She smiled, thinking of some of the people she fell asleep against, and woke up next to.

The smile faded as she thought of the newer people.  She had to be more careful in who she chose to be with.  Yes, there was something about being with different people, welcome them into the household in more ways than one.  But... Laun was thinking of a comment she overheard when one of the new people, Sanreas from the Capitol City, had said when he thought she was out of range,

“Who do I pay the gold to to share that whore’s bed?”

It had hit her as squarely as Helmic had.  Even with recovering from being sick, she had not waited to respond to his comment to his drinking partner.  The drinking partner stopped smirking and his eyes had gone wide.  He turned and would not respond to the man.  It took most of the rest of the people around him turning away for him to turn and see Laun.

She had just been standing behind the man.  Her head tilted slightly to the side as she looked at the back of his head and then into his eyes when he turned.  She was flanked on either side by several of the protectors and one of the nobles.  She was just looking at him, not approaching, not accusing.

The man was not sure why she was just looking at him.  Several things went through his head, most of it slushed around by the ale he had been drinking.  But he became scared as she just kept looking at him.  He lifted his tankard and offered her some.

Laun smiled.  “No, thank you.  Though I am thankful that you would share with me something that I have provided for you.”

He was not quite sure what she was saying, or trying to say.  “It came from that hogshead...” motioning to the keg on the sideboard.

She did step forward and held her hand out to him.  “I am not sure we have been officially introduced.  I am Laun Dresden, Granddaughter of Dreng Hawkwell and Lady of Salam-Dir.”

His eyes had gone wide.  He had hit the floor with his knee and his head was bowed.  He had been tended to for a wound when he was brought in.  He had seen her once or twice, but the elixirs that the healers gave him had made him miss her importance.  His brain had remembered how she touched people, how she had come to him and talked to the healers and touched his cheek.  He had remembered her as she gathered people around her, rumor being that she was quite a find in bed.  He had heard the term mistress of the house and had misinterpreted it.

Her delicate fingertips stroked the top of his head.  His eyes were on her feet, the house slippers poking out from under the thick robe she had on.  One leg was partially out, lines of scars going up the calf where the skin was exposed.  Her hand went under his chin, the scars on her palms and wrists shining in the firelight.  Her hand had gently pulled his face up to look at hers.

She was fatigued.  She was unsteady on her feet.  She was calm.  She was just looking at him.

“Forgive me... I didn’t know...”  The words were slightly slurred but he was really trying to get out an apology.

She smiled.  “Now you do.”  It looked like she wanted to say something else, but she just stood up straight and was escorted out of the room, slowly as she touched each person she met, talked to them and smiled at them.

Laun did not see as the man sat on the floor, spilling what was left of the ale.  She did not see Edgar standing over him.  She did not see the man being afforded the assignment to clear all the dishes and trenchers from the Great Hall that night.  She did not see that he had spent the night tending to the boars and sows, feeding the old bread trenchers to them.  She did not see how many of the household shunned him.

She did see him in the reflection of the window as she had been contemplating how the room may be reclaimed for her.  She steadied herself on the window sill and slowly turned.

He went to one knee and waited.  She looked at him.  The man who’s insult had hit so hard the night before.  She had not forgiven him last night.  She had wanted to rip him limb from limb.  She paused, listening.  She heard the crackle of the fire in the hall and the occasional pop from the wicks in the room.  There were voices that drifted from the tower and corridors.  She could hear his breathing, as if he had been running until just then.

She did not hear anyone else in the hall, did not see anyone else in the hall.

“You are Sanreas.”  Not a question.  A statement.  Flatly said with little emotion.

“Yes, Lady Laun.”  A pleading.  A wish.  As much emotion as could be put into three words.

Laun stood away from the window, her back tensing.  She breathed in slightly and tried to relax.  It was not working.  She moved away from the window and sat again on the large chest at the end of the bed as it was the only sitable furniture in the room.

His eyes followed her, but he did not make a move to stand or talk without being talked to.  He had gone to his knee just inside the door, his foot out in the hall.

Laun looked at him over the footboard of the bed as she leaned her arm on it.  He was becoming more unnerved by her silence, and she was savoring it.  She found she was starting to smile and wiped that from her face, putting one hand on her chin to cover the lapse.

Sanreas was wearing the same thing he had been the night before.  Perhaps a little muddier around the edges, and Laun could recognize the scent of the pig manure anywhere.  It seemed...appropriate.

Laun was feeling sadistic but a wave of sadness went through her, softening the way she was thinking of the man.  “Sanreas, tell me of your home.”

Of all the things Lady Laun could have said right then, that was the farthest from what he had been expecting.  His eyes left her, and went to the embroidered favor on his belt.  He fingered it, the small flower design dirty and ripped in one place.

He looked up and said, “My Lady, I come from a minor noble house from the Capitol City.  When I was old enough to ward, my mother was the only family I had and I could not go off to a landed household.  Such as this.  Arrangements were made and I warded with another noble household in the Capitol City and my mother was installed in the house with me.”  

He shifted and both knees were on the ground and he sat on his heels.  “The Dothny household was our home for the last six years.  They were never family, just a place to live and be taught.  But my mother was always there and she was my home.”  He reflexively kissed his fingertips.

“I am sorry for your loss.”

He refocused and realized he was making a common reverential genuflection to the dead.  “Thank you.  In some ways...  I am glad she did not live long enough to see this coup.  She died of the hardening about six months ago.  It was...hard for me.”

Laun saw his barriers start to fall and crack.  “Please, tell me of her?”

A tear went down the side of his nose.  “Lady...  She would not have understood.”  He motioned around him.  “This household.  You.  But, she did bring me up better than I was last night.  I-She was very traditional, would not even talk to someone unless they had been introduced to her by a ranked noble.  So many times, I would...  I teased her for being such a stadge.  For holding my reins so tight.  She... I...”  More tears followed.

Laun held out her hand towards him.  It took a moment for him to refocus on it enough to realize that it was being offered.  He half-scooted along the floor until he was kneeling at Laun’s feet, her hand clasped in his and being pressed to his lips.  His eyes were closed tight and the tears were still somehow coming out.

She let him hold her hand for a count of ten breaths and then placed her other hand on his cheek.  He looked up, the redness in his eyes very clear to Laun in the candle light.  She used her thumb to wipe some of the tears from under his eye and she could feel him press into her palm.

“You were able to say farewell to her, and that is good.  Most of my household were not so lucky.  We buried our people when most thought it would be a simple Festival and back.  You know how hard it was winning your way to this keep and castle.”  Laun took her hand from within his and put it on the other side of his face and held it.  “You are unique in this household.  You are a noble, a warrior, a guest.  You bring talents and knowledge no one else has.  You have been welcomed and tended to and healed.”

Laun straightened up and dropped her hands.  She saw his head tilt and jerk up as he momentarily followed one of her hands and found that he did not have that support any longer.  The look of melancholy pain was replaced by pure fear.

“L-Lady?

She just looked at him.  He was still young, the ale had loosened his tongue and he had not really known who she was.  The tilt of her head was part of her thinking, but it unnerved the youth at her feet.  She saw him swallow, hard.

“Sanreas.  If your mother had heard what you had said last night, and about whom, what would she have done?”

The look on his face was one of pure terror.  “Oh, Gods!  It would have been worse than slopping pigs.”  He sat back and looked at his hands.  “More likely than not, I would have been strapped on my back until I couldn’t move.  She would not tolerate language like that...  And about a noble.  She would have made it impossible for me to stand or walk properly for a week.”

“Something like that had crossed my mind.”  His eyes flashed up to hers, but saw the smile and he relaxed.  “Be aware that We are at war.  We do have a looser household than most, but that is to use all of our people to the best that they can offer.  You have refuge here, but you have to work for your trencher now that your wounds are healing.”

Laun stood, Sanreas holding his hand out to steady her.  She motioned and he stood in front of her.  He was taller than she, but not as wide as most of the men she had been around in the last few months.

“What did your wardmaster teach you that you can offer this household.”

He shrugged.  “The usual, I guess.  Sword and shield skills.  Hunting, on occasion.  Numbers and letters.  Horsemanship.”

Laun held out her hand and he put his arm under it.  She started to walk towards the door.  “Let us go see if Geralk or Gismar are still in the library.  I know they always need help.  And-” She turned as she stopped walking. “All the women of the house negotiate for themselves.”  She turned back and continued walking.

“Yes, Lady.”

As they passed through the door, Laun saw a figure leaning low against the wall.  Ali looked up and nodded to her Lady and was at their back as they went to the library.

Laun scratched on the door and the voices on the other side quieted.  “Yes?”

“This is Laun, may I come in?”

The door opened and Geralk went to peck Laun on the cheek before he saw others were with her, including the cob from the night before.  He finished the motion, continuing to her ear.  “What...?”

Laun giggled slightly, saying, “You know that tickles.”  Laun and Sanreas went into the room, Ali staying outside and pulling the door closed for them.

Laun stood.  There was no where to really sit and she waved away the seat that Gismar had been seated at.

“This young man needs to find an appropriate place to work in the household for his stay.  He is from the Capitol City and has the basic warding training.  He mentioned his numbers and letters, and I know you two are always complaining...”

Geralk put his hands over the belly he was getting back, the little silver bell on his collar falling from where he had been fingering it.  “We can indeed use the help.  So, Lady Laun.  You have forgiven him?”

Sanreas’ eyes went wide but that was the only change.  Laun turned to the youth and put a hand to his cheek.  “Only as much as his mother would have.”  She saw the flicker in his eyes.  “I cannot grudge at these times.  Put him to work.”

Sanreas took Laun’s hand and kissed it, his head bowed over it for a little longer than was perhaps necessary.  Laun nodded to the others in the room and left.

Ali was crouching against the wall, waiting.  Laun was able to reach over and tousle Ali’s hair before she got up.

“Lady, Orgia would like to know if you are well enough to eat at evening meal tonight.”

Laun took the offered arm and walked.  “Is there something I should know about?”

Ali shook her head.  “Lady, she just wants to know what you are up for.”

Laun was glad to have support going down the stairs.  She felt unsteady enough on the flat.  Going down the stairs was making her head spin slightly and she had to stop at the bottom to rest for a moment.

Ali held Laun around the shoulder for support until she stood straight.  Laun put her hand over Ali’s on her shoulder.  “Thank you.  I just can’t get well before something else hits me.”

“I-”  Ali moved with Laun down the hall.  “I remember the last practice you had before you fell ill.”

Laun turned her head slightly.  “What?”

“Many of the wardsmen and servants would hide and watch the dancers.  I...  Liked what the dancers did and always wanted to be one.”

“There is still time.”

Ali looked down the hall.  “If you say so, Lady.”

Laun stopped, pulling Ali to her.  “You can try anything you want.  Talk to the Dance Master.  He will-”

“Yes, Lady.”  Ali did not look convinced, but Laun was not sure what to do about it.

Laun continued walking and went to her sleeping chamber.  There were several protectors outside.  They smiled at Laun and she went inside.  Ali stayed outside and stepped to the other side of the corridor.  Laun dipped her fingers into the wintergreen and rubbed her hands together.  She moved the tapestry and saw Pillar was seated in her usual chair.

Laun moved to the edge of the bedding and looked in.  There were still the three that had been there when she left.  “Any change?”

Pillar nodded.  “Disa is more lucid more often, but it will still be a day or so before she is well enough to leave the room on her own.  Greig is still under high fever and I have started to wet him down with the wintergreen to help keep his temperature down.”

Laun moved the curtain to the side and looked at the last person.  “And Deis?”

Pillar looked grim for a moment.  “The coughing has stopped, but there is a lot of fluid in his lungs.  I really don’t know if he will make it through the night.”

There was nothing Laun could say or do.  She let the curtain fall back against its tasseled rope tie-back.  The look on her face was sad when she turned to Pillar.

“Is there anything...?  I mean, to make him more comfortable?”

Pillar stood and gathered Laun in.  His deer hide tunic smelled of herbs and salt and his sweat.  He was warm and tall and blocked out the sight of the people sick in her bed.  His arms were surprisingly strong and held her against his chest for several minutes.  He finally spoke into her hair, saying, “We can help, but sometimes we cannot save.  It is the hardest part of being a healer.”

Laun nodded into his chest.    She pulled away sightly and spoke into his leathers.  “Do we wait until there is death before mourning or start when it looms?”

He kissed the top of her head.  “We celebrate the life that was led and the life that is left.  Cry if you must, but let the souls go if they will.”

Laun leaned in, touching her forehead to his chest.  “It is so hard...”

If possible, the arms around her tightened for a moment.  He then loosened his embrace and stepped back a little.  “You have been mourning all those who were left here when you were saved.  I have seen how it weighs you down.”  He lifted her chin.  “Yes, you have been thrust to the top of this household.  But, please, by the Winds and the Great Dragon, do not let those who went before blacken your heart.”

She wanted to let go of the shades that were always there, but all she could do was nod at the shaman.  “Shall I stay and help you keep watch?”

He shook his head, the braid and feather moving to in front of his shoulder.  “Go and be with your family.  I will watch over them, whatever happens.”

“Thank you.  You and your wife have been so helpful.  We would not be in such a good shape as we are without you two.”  She put her hand on his shoulder.  She turned and went out, pausing briefly to dip her fingers in the wintergreen and rub her hands together.

There were still protectors in the corridor, but some had changed.  Her chamber door had become one of the meeting points for the protectors, information being disseminated through the ranks and to their Lady.  They all nodded to her, some touching her shoulder as she touched theirs.  Ali was still there, waiting.

Laun wondered to herself as Ali fell into step beside her, offering an arm for support, when Ali was ever in the stable.  There were so many mounts at that point that they were rotated through, the scaffolding on the tower being used as a secondary shelter during the rains.  Laun suddenly was uncomfortable with the attention, and time, Ali had been giving her.

They made it to the Great Hall, Laun pausing for a moment to collect herself before walking through.  She had a smile on her face and tried to have a light step as she went from person to person in the gathering room.  The tables were moved around slightly, the household map draped across one table and onto the floor.  New marks had been made, but Laun could not see what from where she was.

She greeted and touched shoulders and accepted a tankard of cider as she walked through.  A few people took more time to talk, mentioning concerns brought up by the impending winter.  Laun took the information as presented and mentioned others in the household who may be able to help with the concerns.  Some people mentioned how well she looked, one of them added, “for one who has been laid low for a week,” when her eyebrow went up.  She accepted it all and made it through and to a seat near the kitchens.

Ali did a bow/curtsey and went back through the crowd.  Laun had a bread trencher placed before her as the table was set for the evening’s meal.  She smiled at the kitchen staff who were handling them, they smiled back and went to the next table.  It was a darker bread for the trencher that night.  It smelled of molasses and rye.  Rye, something they had not gathered that harvest.

And molasses.  The molasses came up from one of the lands near the South once a year.  And she smelled...

Laun got up and tried to not rush as she went into the kitchens.  She did smell them!  “Oranges!  And lemons!”  Laun found Orgia’s face in the flow of the kitchen staff.  She went to the older woman’s side and grabbed her, almost upsetting a pot of something on the hearth.  “Oranges!!!”

Orgia stepped back and let someone else take her place.  “We had relief supplies come in this morning.”

Laun was dumbstruck, but was able to come out with, “How?”

Orgia took them out of the path of the servers who were about to take the platters out.  Laun waved and they stopped.  “Where did it come from?”

The chatelaine looked at her food stained apron for a moment before looking openly at Laun.  “We have set up a small steading in the far farmer’s huts as a trading post and small Inn for some of the travelers along the road going North.”

Laun flashed back to the very late night gathering she had overheard part of.  “And?  I was going to be told, when?”

The chatelaine shrugged.  “You were sick.”

Laun laughed.  She smiled widely and took a few oranges from one of the platters being held by antsy servers next to her.  She led the servers out and yelled, “Grandfather!  Catch!”

Her throw was not as strong as she wanted, but it made it over half the way from the kitchen door to the table Dreng and his bride were seated at.  Someone caught the orange and tossed it further.  It went through several hands before it came to the intended receiver.

He didn’t bother to peel it or cut it.  Dreng ripped it in half and pushed the pulp of one half into his face as he presented the other part to Bett.  A cheer went through the Great Hall and a mood that had been deep in the grey and rain suddenly was lightened with the prospect of the citrus and other new food.

As the food was being sent around the room, Fount slid in next to Laun.  She stuck a wedge of orange into his mouth when he opened it to talk.  Laun was being so very happy that they had at least some different food that she did not catch to begin with that Fount wanted to talk to her.

He chewed and swallowed and before she could put more food in his mouth he leaned to her ear and said, “May I talk to you outside?”

Laun tried to keep the smile on her face as she grabbed her trencher piled with orange pieces and chicken meat and followed Fount to the door that led to the courtyard.  She touched a few shoulders on the way, but everyone was focused on the food as she went through.

Her face dropped the happy facade as they left the crowd.  They were by the closed entrance that was barely keeping the rain out.  “What do you need, my love?”

Fount shook his head, a few droplets flying off the ends.  “I am being concerned for you.  Are you well to be up...?”

Laun tried to look at Fount in the face, the lantern behind him giving a good shape of his scruffy hair but nothing good of his actual features.  “You needed me to come here to ask that?  What is going on?”

Fount leaned in and kissed her, making the trencher start to tilt.  He felt some chicken fall on his foot and backed off.  “Sorry.”

Laun righted the trencher but kept looking at Fount.  “You never have been forward with your words, but still - Fount, what is wrong?”

His hand went to her neck and pulled her towards him.  His hand was slightly chilled and damp which both felt good on Laun’s skin as well as wrong for being his hand.  She held the trencher out to the side and he moved in to kiss her again, slower and deeper this time.  He pushed her back and she found the wall supporting them.

A hand took the trencher from hers.  Laun could not move to see who it was, but she did not have to concentrate on keeping it level any more.  She focused just on Fount, feeling the need that he had to touch and be touched, something they had not been able to do for over a week.  It was not the most private of places, but most people were in the Great Hall and not paying attention outside the confines of their own trenchers.

Laun had to push Fount away to be able to catch her breath.  She coughed some and was leaning on both the wall and the man in front of her for support.  “I missed you, too.”

Fount had a better light on Laun than she had on him.  He looked at the darkness under her eyes and the paleness that was on her rounding cheeks.  He held her face and wanted to kiss it more, but he could tell that she was almost spent, even if she did not know it.

“May I escort you back into the Great Hall?”  Fount held out his hands to her when she nodded.

Laun looked around and Ali was holding the trencher.  She was standing between the Great Hall and the two lovers, providing a little shield.  Laun reached out and put her hand on Ali’s shoulder before going into the Great Hall.

Laun was escorted back to the place she had been at.  Fount crowded himself in beside her, straddling the bench.  Ali placed the trencher back in front of Laun and was able to slip away before Laun was able to thank her.

The mood was good.  The mood turned slightly rowdy.  Two of the protectors started to get ‘better than thou’ with each other.  Tables were cleared and a small space was created for the two.

It turned into a wrestling match.  The two had started out saying that each of them were able to run from the keep to the trading post and back faster.  Since it was raining, and they were both slightly drunk, they started to both claim that they were the best swordsman in the protectors.  No one would give them swords, and the women would not give them staves.  So, they wrestled.

The matching was almost comical.  Seemingly, there wasn’t anything even about it.  Venn and Silar were both fairly small of body, but Venn had long legs and Silar had long arms.   The power they had were in different areas and Laun could hear many people talking around her that in wrestling, it was the legs that counted.

Venn had been at the Salam-Dir household for the last several years and Laun remembered him being able to run up and down the tower and to and from her favorite picknick place one day as Lady Hellon had been forgetting things she wanted and he had been assigned to her that day.  He must have made seven trips without showing signs of being winded.

Silar had come in with Dougal and had instantly been put in with the protectors.  Laun had only glimpsed some of his practicing before she had been bed-bound.  He was able to wrap around shields unexpectedly, tagging his opponents almost every time.

Laun was not pleased when she was dragged from her seat into the competition as a judge.  She did not want to take sides in the rivalry, so it was fair that she be the judge.  She was placed on a bench with a mug of tea in her hand and an extra shawl around her shoulders.  The men had stripped down to breeches, the chill in the air seemingly not affecting them and they postured slightly.

Dougal came to Laun’s side and said, “Lady, would you like to make a wager?”

Laun put her hand on her cousin’s cheek.  “And how fair would that be?”

He laughed and nodded.  “You may be right, but then again, I know who is going to win.”  He winked at her and went back into the crowd.

Laun looked at the two of them.  Venn was not in his peak, but his legs were still very good.  His light brown hair was cropped to helmet length and she could see the scar on the back of his head where he had been kicked by one of the mules years ago.  He had such a hard head that it took an order from Lord Vemi to get him to lay still for it to get sewn up.  He had a little bit of a paunch starting, a thing that even his belly tightening stance was not covering.  His arms and shoulders were tan where his tunics did not cover, a light shower of freckles covered the rest of his skin.

Silar, on the other hand, had a deeper than tan that went all the way down.  The only things that marred the color were some lines of scars, some that looked ceremonial and some battle won.  His hair was also cut short and was a dark, almost black color.  His arms and shoulders were large, almost sculpted out of his muscles.  And the belly was not even close to going to pot.  He stretched and Laun felt a twitch in her own belly...

Laun closed her eyes and concentrated.  She calmed herself, focused on a bland facade and smiled at the men in front of her.

“Men, do you really want to do this?”  Laun saw a nod from each of them, the encouraging cheer from the crowd around her threatening to drown out anything she said.  She raised her hand and the volume went down, though the enthusiasm didn’t.

“Take positions!”  They looked as though they wanted to pummel each other, except for the smile both of them had.  Laun heard bets being taken behind her, Dreng betting an hour of work in the rain against an hour of kitchen work for his favorite.  She waited until the volume started to rise again and lowered her hand.  No one heard her say, “Begin!” as the cheer started instantly.

The match was over before Laun could bring her hand back to her lap.  There was silence as Venn was on the floor, gasping as Silar was on top of him, both knees on his opponent’s chest.  Venn slapped the ground to concede submission.  They disentangled and stood, grasping each other’s arm, palm to elbow.

There were a bunch of people who were disappointed in the outcome, Dreng being one of them.  The people who won seemed to be mostly from Dougal’s men.  Laun heard some good natured grumbling about having a fix on the match, but the overall mood was still good.

Laun stood and motioned to both of the men.  Even for having only been active for a few seconds, they both were panting, Venn holding his shoulder.  Laun put a light hand on each of them.  “That was amazing.  Silar, you are the winner of this match.  Now I know why you were dragged into the protectors.  Venn, I am happy that your head did not get cracked on the stone of the floor!”  She put her hand on the back of Venn’s head where his scar was and leaned in to say, “Not that it would have mattered.”  He shyly smiled and pushed Laun away slightly.

She moved back and said, “Are you satisfied with the outcome?”

They both nodded.  “I declare that Silar is the winner for this bout.”

It was loud and happy in the Great Hall.  Lucaris pushed her way through the people congratulating Silar and giving condolence pats on Venns back.  She poked his shoulder and he winced.  “What will I ever do with you men?  Come with me!”  If she had been any taller, Laun was sure Lucaris would have taken the protector by the ear while she was dragging him out of the middle of the Great Hall.

The mood and revelry kept going into the night.  Laun had a constant energy and was awake and participating until it was in the early morning.  Laun really did not want to go back to the room where there may be death lurking that night.  She forced herself to stay awake for a little longer than she possibly should have.  The fire in front of her was warm and the blanket that had been placed over her was wrapped tight enough that she was still sitting as her eyes closed.  She thought she still heard the singing around her, the laughter of someone next to her, the low talk of two people who were going to find a more private spot.

She opened her eyes again when she felt herself floating.  It wasn’t really floating, someone was carrying her.  Her head was against a shoulder, her arms bundled into the blanket.  She saw the ragged edge of black hair at his neck and closed her eyes again.

 

Onto the morning in Chapter 44