the Leathermines

Back to Chapter 6

If they had been any other couple in the land, Laun may have been in a great amount of trouble.  As it was, Marie and Markle were some of the most trustworthy Innkeepers in the region.  Having been smugglers connected deeply into the greyworld for decades, keeping their word and keeping silent was part of their reputation.  Laun would not know that, but she was in the best hands that side of King Dreng.

Markle sent one of the urchins that hung around the back of the Inn looking for handouts to one of the other large houses grouped around the crossroads with a message.  Only ten minutes later, a two-horse closed carriage was driven up to the back of the Inn.  A few words, and a few coins, were passed between the men and the owner of the carriage walked back to his home in the dusky light.  Markle and the housemaid set about the job of taking all the identifying items off of the outside of the dark brown carriage and to put more padding on the inside.  The Innkeeper checked to make sure there wasn’t anything hidden in the carriage as they went about their business, just in case.  It would not do to have the Lady Laun brought to a Noble court as a smuggler...  Markle smiled at that.

It was midnight when Marie woke Laun.  Lamplight and a steaming bowl of mutton gruel met the blurred eyes of the Lady Laun.  Laun sat slowly up and then, with help, turned to place her feet on the floor.  She ate the gruel at a pace that quickened as she woke up from her fatigue haze and realized that she had to get ready and out to the road and on her journey yet again.  The gruel was gone and the plain, cold water that was offered was downed within seconds.  Laun had a resolve, if not the body, to follow through with her duty.

“Marie-”

A shadow of a hand waved Laun to silence.  “I have your things ready and Markle will be taking you to Lord Falmir’s festival.  And a set of slippers, instead of your boots.”

Laun was not sure if she was ecstatic about not having to wear the boots or horrified that she could not walk easily on her own.  Her ambivalence brought forth a nod that, if she had seen Lady Hellon do it, would have seemed to her to be full of noble elegance.  From within, it just twinged her sore shoulders.  “Good.  The road has waited for too long for my body to catch up to it.  Thank you for everything, Marie.”  Laun had another tankard of water as Marie fussed over Laun’s hair and clothing and then declared Lady Laun dressed.

Standing was an adventure.  Laun felt most of her muscles complain as she stood in the small room.  She steadied herself with the back of the chair, dreading the throb in her shoulder turning into the sharp pain she knew was there.  She stretched slightly and found she was quite unsteady.  Marie and Disa were both at her side immediately when they saw she was in distress.

“Thank you.  I will survive, but I need to get on the road.”

With a person on either side, Laun was escorted out of the Inn and to the waiting carriage.  A sense of surprise did wash over her, but it was not enough to even make her pause as she climbed into the cushioned cabin.  The house maid climbed in with her and sat next to two chests on the other side of the cabin.  The horses stamped their impatience and Markle climbed onto the drivers bench.  An expert flick of his wrist on the reins and the horses pulled away from the Inn.

Though there was ample padding for Laun, she felt every part of the road as Markle forced the horses to go at an unwelcome speed without any lamps to show the way.  The housemaid held onto the chests, partially to keep them from landing on either of them, but to also have something to just hold onto in the bouncing cabin.  The crest that Laun had lived under for all of her life showed briefly on the end of one of the chests as they passed a small crossroads with torches lit at each corner.  It was just a glimpse, but the Green circle slashed with the bird talon was as much a part of her as her own maltreated skin.  It seemed appropriate, but Laun did not spend too much time thinking on it as the carriage went over yet another bump which threw her against the side of the cabin.

A journey which would have taken Laun at least three days on foot was taken in the expertly driven carriage by dawn.  Laun dropped off to sleep from exhaustion at some point, as did the house maid, and both woke a few minutes after the carriage had stopped moving.  There were crowd noises around the carriage, even at that early hour.  Laun tried to move and slipped down into the foot well, wedging herself in with the pillows and blankets that had been placed in the enclosed cabin to cushion her ride.  It hurt, but all she could do was laugh.

The housemaid roused and tried to help Laun up, entangling herself in the blankets and then finding she had to prop the chests up to keep them from landing on Laun.  As Markle opened the door into the cabin, what he saw was arms and legs and heard laughter from both of the women from inside.

“Don’t just stand there!  Help us, man!”  Markle carefully pulled and pushed and took out the chests and moved the padding as he could until Laun and her companion were able to disembark from the carriage.  Laun knew that the people around her were looking, curious at the late arrivals to the festival, but she could not stop laughing at the position she had gotten into.  The housemaid did look around and flushed, stopping any laughter that would bring attention to herself.

Markle put the chests back into the cabin of the carriage and shut the door.  “Lady, you will find Geralk in the second merchant’s tent.”  Markle vaguely pointed to a brightly colored tent a few paces away.

Still with a smile on her face, Laun nodded and held out a hand to the maid at her side for balance.  The workers around the carriage made a path for the Lady and she flashed a smile at all of them as she passed by.  One of the workers put down the faggots of kindling he was hauling on his back and drew back the entrance flap of the merchant tent for her.  Laun nodded to him and went in.

There were rows of draped tables, displays and sleeping merchants in this large tent.  The floorspace could have filled the inner courtyard at the castle...  Laun’s smile vanished.  She stood tall and looked over the stalls she could see from the wan light of morning coming in from the held opening.  Very little morning light came in thru the canvas it’s self and only a few guttering lanterns were in the space to cut the dark.

A gruff voice came from under one of the tables.  “We don’t open til market bell at ten.  Get out.”

Laun took a startled step and almost fell.  The maid was at her side instantly.  Laun sucked in her breath and steadied herself on the maid’s arm before saying, “I apologize for disturbing you, good merchant, but I am in need-”

“I am in need of another few hours of sleep, tramp.”

It was the housemaid who spoke next, the first time Laun had heard actual words out of her, saying, “You will not talk to my Lady that way, ruffian.”

The sharpness of the maid’s voice carried, waking many of the merchants, and their companions, who had been sleeping in their stalls.  It was at that point that Laun became uncomfortable with where she was and who might be in the tent.  “Perhaps he is right.”  Laun started to turn and used a phrase she had heard one of the visiting Ladies to the Salam-Dir lands would use.  “I am here at an hour only idiots and bandits keep. We-”

An aisle away, a familiar voice piped up with a, “Lady Laun?”

She was so relieved that Laun breathed out and almost fell over again.  “Yes.”  She was escorted to where the voice had come from and sat at the hastily uncovered stool in the stall.  Geralk had a robe thrown on with a twisted cord as a belt sloppily knotted in an obvious haste to clothe himself.  Grumbles from merchants around them settled down and at least a few of the companions amongst them took advantage of the extra awake time as the intimate sounds became more obvious.

Geralk patted the housemaid on the shoulder in recognition, saying, “Disa, I am glad you are the one who came with her.  You remember your training... I am assuming.”

The housemaid nodded curtly.  “I could not forget.”

Geralk turned to Laun as Disa stepped back into the aisle.  He rubbed his sleepy eyes and tried to look closely at the woman in front of him.  Yes, it was obvious that she was bandaged almost head to foot and was in pain, but the calmness that she projected was more than a front.  The uncertain jitteriness Laun had about her when they were at the Inn was gone.  The few days they had been apart had changed her.  And he could see the work of Marie in how she was put together, road tousled though she was.  He went to one knee and took one of the Lady’s bandaged hands.

“What shall I do for you, Lady?”

Laun looked around, seeing a few inquisitive faces peering at them from some of the other stalls.  “Dear friend, you know of my recent troubles.”  Geralk nodded.  “I hope that you have not spoken of this to anyone since we parted.”

Geralk swallowed without meaning to.  “I am afraid I may have mentioned a few things...”

Laun nodded.  “I thought so as I heard rumor at a homestead past the crossroads.”

“Travels as water...”  Geralk focused back on Laun.  “There is a saying that those of my profession sometimes use - Good information travels as pebbles, bad travels as water.  I have been thinking, Lady, and I might have a theory about where the trouble may be coming from.”

“So do I.  And we need to start with my people.  I need you to...  be beside me?”

Disa leaned in, “Advocate, Lady.”

Laun looked at the maid and appreciated her more than Disa could know.  “Thank you.”  Laun turned back to Geralk and continued with, “And we need to find where my Mast-  I mean where the wiseman Bregnan is.”

Geralk heard a subtle cough to one side.  “Yes, Pillar?”

A whisper between two people and then a man rolled out from under a draped display several stalls away from Geralk’s.  He stood, stretching and pulling up his deer skin breeches to cover what had almost popped out as he moved.  Pillar strode to the small gathering with a gait of a ghost, no sound and remarkably fast.  He loomed over Laun and then also knelt, taking her other bandaged hand.  As he spoke, he carefully unwound the cotton and linen strips.

“I know Bregnan.  At least I used to, Lady.  He has changed over the last few years since he became the favorite of Lord Falmir.  I have not been able to speak to him for more than a few minutes before he either brushes me off or is called away to the Lord’s business.  Lady!  What have you been doing-”  Geralk shook his head, stopping the dark man from continuing.  Pillar’s eyes continued to flick from bandage to bandage and odd bump to odd bump under the pale linen tunic until Laun’s voice caught his attention again.

Lady Laun spoke, quietly and deliberately.  “He brought death to my land.  He lured Lord Salam-Dir and possibly others into thinking he was just theirs and brought death to their doors.”  Laun pulled her unwrapped hand out of Pillars’ and looked at it in the dim light.  “If he was the messenger, then there had to be someone to write it.”

The anger that slid out with her words silenced those around who could hear her.  Laun stood, her pain there but dismissed.  Disa came forward and the Lady Laun Salam-Dir spoke softly but strongly to her maid.  “I need my head wardsman and chatelaine.   And my scroll case.”

Laun could almost see from inside her mind that a part of her had taken over that had been dormant, yet groomed by the Lady Hellon.  She was Lady Salam-Dir.  She would protect the people who called that land home.  Geralk had primed her memory the night they had talked at the Inn.  The Lady Laun remembered more and more of the things that Lady Hellon had seemingly idly prattled on about when Laun had been chosen to accompany the Lady.  The dancing had been her job, but the Lady Hellon had favored the lowly slave Peach with knowledge of the nobility.

Pillar stood and took the unwrapped hand in his again.  “Lady, I have a salve that can help-”

Geralk stood and with a smile on his face said, “Made of calves urine and goat turds.”

Pillar also smiled and gave as well as he took, saying, “Yes, but your love life has nothing to do with this.”

Several chortles and a full, throaty guffaw came out from the stalls around them.  “Well, that’s it!  If we can’t get any more sleep, we might as well get an early start on the day.  It is the last one of the festival, after all.”  The first merchant who Laun had spoken to stood up and went to the tent flap, propping it up for more light to come in.

In the sudden commotion that showed that every merchant in the tent was awake, Geralk and Pillar took a moment to exchange low words.  Laun could not hear anything over the clatter and talk of the merchants around her, but could imagine Geralk telling a brief truth or two to the other to catch him up in what he may need to know.

More light came in as more door flaps were propped up and lanterns were lit.  Pillar turned back, about to say something to Laun and stopped.  He took a moment to form words and all he could come out with was, “Lady, what lands do you come from?”

“I am Lady Salam-Dir.”

Pillar shook his head.  “I could have sworn- Sorry.  Just this damned hour you woke us up at, Lady.”  He walked back to his stall and gently lifted an edge of the drape over his display to peer under.  A feminine giggle drifted out and Laun could hear, “Not until I get my tunic on-”

Laun had Disa at her elbow again.  Laun did not even realize that her maid had gone and back until the scroll case was being presented to her.  The boiled leather was cleaned of the blood and silt but felt heavier than she remembered as it had hung at her back.  She opened it and found that more parchment and vellum sheets were rolled in the cylinder.  Laun found that with the condition of her hands she could not actually pull out the documents and handed the container back to Disa.  Geralk moved the table’s drape aside and cleared a space on his table.  Several blank sheets padded the document Laun was after, though there were some sheets of parchment that had writing on them that Laun paused to look at.

“It looks like I own you, Disa.”

Disa looked down and nodded.  “Marie thought it would be more...convincing.”

“You are not a slave.”

“I am an indentured servant, Lady.  Have been for...several years.”  Disa put a finger on the document Laun held.  “You hold my life in your hands.  Treat it well.”

“I hope at least as well as you have already helped me.”  Laun took up the sheet that gave her the title of Lady Salam-Dir and looked at it in the lamp light that was brightening the merchants tent.  The Green Circle and Talons ripping through that circle was on the top of the page, surrounded by a gnarled tree design.  The words were there, her signature was there as well as Lord Vami’s.  The Illustration down the side was also of tree branches and leaves and...something else.  Laun held the parchment up to the lamp light and could see some sort of a design that had been there before the branches and leaves had been painted on.

There was little time to wonder about it as a few people started to come into the open merchants tent looking to purchase things on this last day of the festival.  Laun had Geralk and Disa put the papers back into the case and Laun carefully put the long strap over her head and shoulder to keep it safe across her chest.  “Geralk, where are the people of Salam-Dir in the Festival grounds?”

With a few words to one of his neighboring merchants, Geralk covered up his stall again and escorted the Lady Laun out to her carriage.  Just a nod to Markle from the merchant and the carriage door was open.  It was slow going as more of the festival goers and the workers from Lord Falmir’s land were up and about.  Being slow, it was not as jostling of a trip as the earlier one had been, but tears welled up several times in Laun’s eyes when she was bumped by the wall of the cabin.

As they had gone through the festival grounds, large tents housing households had gone past.  The Salam-Dir group had been able to secure one of the guest homes on the property for the Festival.  Laun pushed the cabin curtain aside and saw a few familiar faces as the carriage came to a halt.  Curious as to whom had come, several of the servants came out of the fenced yard and waited for Markle to come down from his driving bench.

First Geralk then Disa came out of the cabin of the carriage.  With them on either side, Lady Laun was helped out of the carriage.

“Peach!” The call came from one of the wardsmen in the yard.  He dropped the arming harness he was fixing and started towards the carriage.  Recognition went across the faces of the other slaves and servants and many were happy to see her.

Laun tried to remember names through her pain-fuzzed head as she started to walk slowly forward.  She half-smiled when she recognized him.  “Fount, I have news that I cannot repeat in public, yet.  Where are wardsman Edgar and chatelaine Orgia?”

The wardsman stopped just inside the fence and actually looked at the woman in front of him in the morning sunlight.  His grey eyes opened fully to take in what was before him, his overly long black hair needing to be pushed to the side to clear his vision.  The last time he saw her several weeks before, she had been a slave girl practicing a dance routine dressed in just her peach colored skirt and a smile.  Her hair had been long and free, her limbs floating in time to her flawless steps.  The enchanting creature that he had shyly longed for since his father had sent him to ward with Salam-Dir.  The one who had teased him until he found he could not but talk with her.  The one dancer who he sought out when they were not busy just to be around her, even if they could not be together.  The woman in front of him now was dressed head to toe in a subdued linen, her hair pulled back in an elegant braid and twist, wraps of bandages showing on her hand and a shadow in her eyes that darkened as she took each unsteady step.  She was no longer the entertainer who was unattainable.  She seemed to have turned into a noble with a burden only she could hold.

“What-  Please, can I help?”  Lady Laun transferred her hand from Geralk's to Fount’s as she stepped into the yard that was the temporary lands of Salam-Dir.  He smiled slightly at her touch.  He was about to surprise most of the people around him as he was usually a shy and quiet youth, even though he was physically strong.  Fount pointed to one of the slaves that was standing in awe of the change in the slave girl known as Peach.  “You, go get Orgia.  Denis?  There you are.  Go to the practice field and get Edgar.  Now!”  If there was one thing that being the son of Helmic had taught him was that you had to take possession of the moment or else your power was lost.

A rush of feet in many directions enlivened the household as Lady Laun and her entourage were slowly escorted into the front room of the guest house.  A brasier was brought in with a water kettle on it while Laun was seated on a padded bench.  Several more benches were brought in from other parts of the building and the group all had hot tea before Orgia came in.

The chatelaine of Salam-Dir was older than most of the members of the household and had the most power, other than the Lord himself.  Orgia kissed her fingertip in reverence and remembrance of the Lady Hellon.  She tasted the yeasty flavor of the dough she had just been pounding and went to wipe her hands on her apron when she entered the front room.  The servants had accommodated the guests well and the group was seated with a morning refreshment already.  Orgia felt proud of how things were run.  Then she saw the stern look on the faces, wardsman Fount kneeling beside a Lady who seemed to be the focus of the group.

The calm face looked up at Orgia from the steaming tea and softened.  Orgia was stunned as she realized who the Lady was.  The little slave girl she had taught to clean vegetables and rabbits was seated as a noble holding court. “What is this?”

Laun did not stand.  She did not shrink away.  She did not look away.  The Lady Laun simply said, “Orgia, I ask for hospitality until the news I bring can be told to both you and Edgar.”

The chatelaine curtsied before she realized she had done so.  She flushed, but the calm presence that the slave girl had made her obey the simplest of noble constructs and traditions without question.  Orgia looked down and saw that she was still in the middle of wiping her hands on her apron.  She finished getting the dough off her hands and busied herself with making sure that every one of the group had hot tea.

Markle came in from putting the carriage and horses away in the temporary paddock and stood behind Laun.  He had put on a simple black tabard over his traveling clothes, making him seem more formal, and making Orgia feel a wave of dread go through her innards.  The chatelaine offered a mug of tea to the man and, as he accepted, she recognized him as the Innkeeper of the Crossroads Inn that they had watered the horses at when they had traveled to the festival.  And the maid at Laun’s side was the housemaid that had served them from the Inn’s kitchen.

Faces peered into the windows and house servants went past the archway into the front room multiple times before finally going on with their errands and chores.  Interest in the group was coming to a head even before Edgar came in leading many of the other wardsmen from the practice they had been at.  The noise of the armor and the hearty talk between them stilled as they saw the group waiting for them.

Laun held out a hand and several supporting hands were offered.  Fount had the pleasure of helping Lady Laun off the bench.  He stayed knelt at her side as Laun took off the scroll holder and gave it to Disa.  Disa opened the case and expertly took out the scroll from the Lord Salam-Dir.  Lady Laun motioned to Geralk who stood and took the sheet from the maid, holding it as to display what was written on it.  Laun was having a hard time saying anything as tears of grief welled up and caught the words in her throat.

With a deep breath to clear her throat and her head, Lady Laun said, “I bring news that changes all that I know of the world and will bring uncertainty and confusion to everyone here.”  Tears flowed down Laun’s face but the tenor of her voice was clear, if a little soft.  “First, I bring news of the death of our Master, Lord Vami Salam-Dir.”

Some in the room gasped, some called out, “No!”  Yet others seemed stunned to a silence unknown to them before.  Head Wardsman Edgar took a step forward and stopped.  Laun steadied herself on Fount’s shoulder, feeling the bandage slip on a familiar wetness as she did so.

“I also bring word that others have died, and not quietly as our Lady Hellon did.  We here at this festival are what is left of the people of Salam-Dir’s lands.”

Orgia felt the wave of dread overcome her, first sitting on the end of a bench and then needing to be held up by several of the servants that had come in at the exclamation from those in the room.  More and more people were crowded around the windows and in the archway than there really had a right to be.  A mourning wail softly started from several of the women in the room to be softened by the raising of Lady Laun’s scarred, unbandaged hand.

“I am the only one that was left alive.  Our Lord had some warning and appointed an heir.  The parchment has his signature...and mine.”  Lady Laun expected that Edgar would contest this declaration or that Orgia would disclaim Laun as a fraud.

Neither happened.

The mourning wail continued and underscored what the Lady Laun Salam-Dir said next.  “I also bring word of Lord Helmic the Black and his household.”

Fount almost stood, tilting Laun with his start.  She stumbled sideways and was caught by many hands.  She felt weak, but the pain and fatigue was nothing to what she had to do to protect her people.  She took her hand off of Fount’s shoulder and raised her arm, letting him get to his feet.

Laun looked into the grey eyes under the unruly hair.  She could see the pain already there, making her heart even heavier as she touched fingertips to his arm and said, “Yes.  Lord Helmic the Black is dead.”

Fount felt a rock form in his stomach, heavy and sharp.  He had not left the last encounter with his father on good terms.  He had hoped to have words with him at the Festival, but when his father had suddenly left the gathering several days before, Fount did not have that chance.  That chance would never come.

Laun turned to the rest of the gathered household and continued with, “As is everyone he had left at his keep.  Edgar, do you know who the head wardsman for Lord Helmic is?”

Edgar took a moment to think.  His Lord was gone.  Lord Helmic was dead.  Perhaps his own father, Lord Jeral was-  Edgar focused again on his new Lady.  “I know him.  Lady?  Lady... Peach?”

It was the first smile Laun had given anyone in the room.  The gentle, graceful entertainer that they all knew was still there and many broken hearts were warmed by that smile.  “I have my own name, not the one the Dance Master gave me.  I am Laun.  Lady Laun.”  She sighed.  “And I need to sit.”

A swirl of people around the suddenly light headed Lady Laun allowed her to sit on the padded bench without falling over or paining her wounds more than a twinge.  The smell of cured hide and a hand holding a small ceramic cup appeared beside Laun.  Pillar had ghosted himself into the gathering and held out a draft of a medicine he had made for her.

Laun found she had Pillar in front on one side, Geralk at the other.  They were imposing in their own way, but somehow, Laun found it comforting that there were people there that wished to help her.  Though, she knew that help would come with some sort of price.  That would have to be negotiated, later.  Lady Laun drank the slightly bitter cup and handed it back to the now well dressed Pillar.  The taste reminded her of some of the tonics that the Dance Master would give her as she trained, a comforting feeling with the bitter taste.

The deerskin breeches were now under a beaded deer skin tunic with the design of a wave along the cuffs in those beads.  A single braid in his hair held an ornamented twig and feather that floated against his chest when he moved.  Even Laun realized that Pillar was a shaman, not just a merchant, then.  A wild wiseman that traded his knowledge for coins.  That was how he knew Bregnan.  Laun understood more.

Edgar was able to work his way through the servants and slaves that had appeared to help their new Lady.  He stood a pace away from his Lady and saw that she was in pain.  The wrappings he had thought were just gloves or decorations showed themselves as lightly pinking bandages holding the young Lady together.  The shadow in her eyes, a haunting look that he had not seen from across the room, made Edgar’s heart skip a beat.  She had seen the death that he as a warrior was trained for and yet had never seen himself.

“With your permission... Lady Laun, would you rather retire to the room we had held for his Lordship?”  His voice rumbled above the noise of those around Laun.

Orgia seemed to come around at the mention of something she could help with.  “It is ready for you, Lady.”

Laun nodded, but as an acknowledgement, not an agreement.  “I cannot rest.  Not until what has happened has been righted.  And I think we have very little time.”

Geralk still held the scroll which caught Lady Laun’s attention.  “I know this is presumptuous, but I need all of the head wardsmen and the chatelaines or whomever the other missing Nobles left in charge of their people here.  They may know more, and if they don’t, they need to know what we do.  And if there are heirs.  Something is happening that is really bad and I don’t know if we can stop it.”

Edgar turned and started to shout orders to the other wardsmen in the room.  Each was assigned a different household to visit.  Fount stepped forward and claimed Helmic’s household to visit and started off even before the orders were fully out of Edgar’s mouth.  Half the people in the room ran to their various destinations, clearing out enough room for the ones left to move about.

Orgia was recovered enough to start busying people with the household chores.  A table and other furniture were brought in for the Lady’s use at the chatelaine’s direction.  Pillar had a few words with her and her eyes brightened.  She nodded vigorously and bodily placed one of the house slaves at his side.  The slave nodded at some sort of direction given to him by Orgia and led Pillar out of the room.  The chatelaine started to fuss a bit over the Lady Laun until Disa pulled the cloth that she was about to put over Laun’s shoulders out of her hands.  Disa excused herself from her mistress and had words with Orgia.

“I do not wish to offend, Chatelaine Orgia, but you do not know what our Lady has been through.  She has barely made it this far with what she has done and has been done to her.  I am sure that Wiseman Pillar asked about healing herbs and such for the obvious wounds on our Lady’s hand.  He does not know the extent of her wounds as I do.  She will need to have her bandages changed before she is seen by any of the other wardsmen - I can see that she is bleeding again from the sword wounds.”

Orgia’s eyes went wide.  “You are right.  I am offended, but need to be.  Someone I do not know is taking care of the person who is now my Lady.  What may I call you?”

“Disa.”

The name sounded familiar to the chatelaine.  “You are not the daughter of-”

“I am no one’s daughter, chatelaine.  The only one who has claim to me is Lady Laun who holds my indenture parchment.”  Disa shrugged and pulled on the sleeve of her tunic to show a brand.  “Without indenture, I am dead.”

The death sentence was clear on the skin of the maid.  One could be bought from the gallows, but without the ownership, she would be put to death as soon as it was found out she was masterless.  Orgia put her fingertips on the brand and then pulled the sleeve over it.  “Then she has someone who will be at her side to fight.  I fear we all need to be there in the days to come.”

The two women had come to an understanding.  The noble blood that was in Disa would not be brought up again, and Orgia knew that the maid had Laun in her best interests.  Markle appeared at Orgia’s side and waited until the women had finished before speaking up.

“Chatelaine, I must depart from here soon.  The chests that Lady Laun came with are in the-”

Orgia turned and snapped her fingers.  A servant appeared and waited as Orgia said, “This man needs to have Lady Laun’s things brought in now.  Up to the Lady’s room and unpacked.”  Markle bowed and followed the servant.  “You.  I need enough water heated for a bath for our Lady.  And you-”  The chatelaine had completely shaken off the shock of the news and took control of the household again.

Laun had asked for maps of the kingdom and they were spread over the table in front of her.  Geralk, or another of the people around her, would bring the different parchments close to her for her to look at and then place them on the table until they overlapped to create an almost to scale map of the kingdom.  Some of the land was not represented, enough was there to help with what Laun wanted to know.

Laun had found that almost all of the maps had been drawn to show off the land that was in the center of the map, not to show actual landmarks or distance.  With the drawings interleaved, some torn to do so, the map before them was as good as Laun would need for the meeting with the people from the other households.  Over ten nobles held lands in the kingdom. Laun was embarrassed to tell anyone that her numbers were not good and she needed prompting to know how many there were.  The rest of the land was in the Kings’ name and connected the granted lands together.  Villages and cities were marked, but seemingly randomly as one piece of map would have a large city but the connecting may only have a few of the smaller villages drawn on.  The criss-cross of lines marked a web that all led to the capitol city, but even that important landmark was represented by a tankard, not a map.  Laun stood and leaned over the many-leaved map, her palms leaving streaks of blood as she supported herself.  She followed the traces of roads and lands and used her own blood on her thumb to mark the place the bandit’s hole was.

Many of the names she recognized from gatherings and stories Lady Hellon would tell her.  Sons from the different nobles, landholders and not, were warded to other nobles to help keep the peace that the King had brought to the Midlands decades before.  Fount, Edgar, even the small Keller who followed the older wardsmen as a puppy, were from different households to learn from and protect each other.  This connection between all the households, along with marriage, held the nobles at arm’s length from conflict and had forged true friendship between many.  And if what Geralk said was true, most of those landed nobles were not at the Festival, having been seemingly delayed or having gone back to their lands on some errand or other.

Salam-Dir was along the Western side of the Midlands Kingdom before the Kings land and border with the foreign kingdom of the Myrned people.  The only landed nobles further away to the West from the Festival at Lord Falmir’s land was Lord and Lady Uetoi, more North and along the river road.  Laun remembered Lady Uetoi from a gathering several years before.  She was brash, opinionated and yet, when Laun had sat next to Lady Hellon at the noble women’s lunch on the hill, Lady Uetoi had a kind word and a wicked wink that made the dancer Peach blush at the time.  Lady Laun did not want to think it, but knew that they had been taken out first.  It would have taken too much time to get to and from the bandit’s hole, and would have brought more attention to the bandits to go from one side of the kingdom to the other without a plan such as that.

On the other side of the Kingdom, past the capitol and the lands that Falmir held, the Eastern nobles were spread out a little bit more.  More names that Laun recognized from stories, some she had danced for.  One of the wardsmen around the table put his hand on one map and bowed his head for a moment before turning back to Lady Laun.  Laun saw the gesture and asked, “Have you heard of or from your parents in the last few days?”

The young man wiped his nose on his sleeve and shook his head.  “Mother sent a missive a month ago saying that the Lamas harvest was going to be very good and nothing since.  I don’t even remember seeing any of their vassals, now that I think back over the festival.”  He looked at Lady Laun and blinked back the tears that glistened at the edges of the lashes.

Nodding at him, Laun looked at the other wardsmen still there.  Each one said almost the same thing, accounting for five other landed households.

Twelve land holders represented at the table.  Seven known to be dead, or at least not heard from at the Festival over the last few days.  The group soon to be flushed by those that had abruptly been summoned to the Salam-Dir hold at the Festival.

Disa was at Launs’ elbow, whispering, “Word has come that not only are many of the other households sending representatives here, there will be a Kings’ agent.”

One of the closer men heard and became grim.  Laun looked at Disa and then Geralk.  Without having to ask, Geralk bent forward and said in a low tone, “A representative who reports directly to the King.  I wonder who informed his Majesty...”  The glint in his eye belayed the innocent look he gave her.

Disa leaned in closer and said, “Lady, if you are to receive a King’s agent, may I suggest cleaning up and changing your bandages at least?”

Laun nodded, this time in agreement.  “Please, any information that any of you can think of, please write down and,” turning to Geralk, “do what you need to to delay more of the word getting out.”

There were bows around the table, some with surprised looks on their faces as Lady Laun had to be partially carried from the room and a red spot on her shoulder grew on the pale linen as she went past.

A room that was quite a bit more appointed than the almost-bare front room held Orgia, Pillar and many of the house servants, all waiting for Laun.  A padded stool awaited her and Orgia lifted the hem of the long tunic for Laun to sit directly on the stool.  The tunic was gently pulled off over her head, uncovering the layers of bandages that held the poultices and salves to Launs wounds.  Pillar shook his head and started to unwrap the bandages that had discolored from the wounds beneath them.  The shoulder was the worst and as the air played over it, Laun closed her eyes and clenched her jaw momentarily against the pain until the slap from Lord Helmic made it’s self known.  It was barely a green and yellow area on her jaw at that point, but it still hurt.  Laun looked at the sewn wound on her shoulder and felt faint.

Yes, there was some blood coming from it, but it had been dealt with a little too late and a yellowish liquid was also coming from the hot slash.  Pillar shook his head again.  “Hold her.”

Laun fainted as a grayish powder was sprinkled on the wound and the pain overwhelmed her.  The rushing sound in her ears and the pulsing light coming through her eyelids at each wound treatment kept her under for almost an hour.  The rest was needed, though restless, as the wounds were worked on and then re-wrapped.  Laun was cleaned and pampered without her knowledge until she found herself in a bed propped up amongst pillows.  

She had a soft, billowy robe on, a cover of rabbit over her legs and new bandages on her hands and feet.  The curtains were drawn across the windows enough to block direct light on Lady Laun, but open enough to allow some of the sparse summer breeze through.

Activity both stopped and started as it was noticed that Lady Laun was awake.  Disa spoke first.  “Lady, the other households have representatives waiting for you.”

“The-”  Laun’s mouth was dry.  A tankard of water was at her hand before she asked for it.  After a swallow, Laun tried to speak again.  “The King’s Agent?”

“No, Lady.” Orgia stood and put down the sewing she had been doing.  “We have been telling the others that we are awaiting him before having the meeting.  Evidently, he wanted to have luncheon before coming here.”

Laun looked towards the window again.  It was just on Noon.  This day had gone by fast.  Yet there was so much still to do, if anything could be done.  Laun could tell that she was not going to be getting out of that bed for a while. She looked around the room and was glad that it was one of the larger rooms in the guesthouse.  The meeting would have to be there.

Pillar leaned in and pulled the rabbit over her legs a little farther.  “If you wish to have a message sent down to the gathering-”  Laun looked steadily at the wiseman, bringing his patronizing speech to a halt, and came to a decision.

“Geralk still has the scroll.  I want it with me.  And try to get some of the extra things out of here.  We will be meeting here, not in the front room.  And I need my Mast- damn it.  I need my arming harness.”  Laun closed her eyes and tried to sit up more in the bed.

Pillar coughed at her side.  “Please do not move, Lady.  You may rip more of your wounds back open.”

Laun shook her head and continued to move.  Hands were there to help and prop her up until she nodded and opened her eyes again.  Another pillow helped to support her and Laun felt better being upright.

“I was a dancer,” Laun said to no one in particular.  “I am now a Lady, the landed noble of Salam-Dir.  You are all people of that land as I, so your knowledge, your opinions, are valuable to me.  The training I had was for the entertainment of others, not the mastering of them.  Some of the things I will say will be hard to hear, but I know something is going on past us and ours.  If you have something to say, do not keep it behind your hand.  Tell me.  Speak up so all can hear.  And pass that to all who are under the crest of Salam-Dir.”  Laun gazed from servant to slave as she spoke, lingering longest on Orgia.

A murmur went around the room and bowed heads followed her eyes as she looked over her people again.  Her people.  Laun still was not sure what to do with that feeling of helplessness that hit her whenever she thought of the people who were no longer with them.

A scratch on the door announced a small house slave.  He went over to Orgia and whispered to her.  “Lady, I have just been informed that the King’s Agent has arrived and is making small talk with the other households.  Shall I send him up?”

Laun looked around, seeing the warriors harness near her on the bed.  She touched the brass emblem.  “In just a moment.  Does anyone here actually know how these things work?”

A small giggle erupted from one of the serving girls.  Disa also smiled and helped Laun.  In just a few minutes, the top part of the harness was around her chest, the bright emblem of her land and title glinting in the sun from the drawn-back curtains. The straps needed to keep the buckle on her were then covered with another blanket of rabbit skins around her shoulders, the soft fur tickling her ears.

Pillar positioned himself at the head of the bed and whispered to Laun while looking placidly towards the door, “Good theatrics.”

“I am an entertainer, after all.”  Laun tried to relax as she heard footsteps coming towards the room.  Her chin was up and her hands crossed lightly on the fur over her legs.  Her face was calm, belaying the pain that was starting in her hip at the wound there.  Geralk came through the door first, escorting the King’s Agent to Lady Laun.

“May I present Lady Laun to you, Duke Bertrem.”  Geralk had put himself between Laun and the door until moving away to the opposite side of the bed as Pillar.

The Duke paused, an eyebrow the only thing that showed that he was slightly confused, though intrigued with the woman in front of him.  The short, bright green cape he wore over the fine tunic and breeches was trimmed with winter white ermine, the King’s fur around the King’s color.  “I was given word that you have news that perhaps the King may need to hear.”  He bowed and stood, waiting.

She looked frail, covered in furs and propped up in bed.  The King’s Agent had the beginnings of a condescending smile on his face until the Lady of Salam-Dir spoke.  Laun’s voice was strong and carried with it a sense of authority as well as urgency.  “Thank you for coming on such short notice, Duke Bertrem.  I hope it was not too much of an inconvenience.”  He flushed slightly as she continued.  “I bring word that many of the landed nobles of the kingdom are dead or presumed dead, along with whatever household was with them at their keeps.”

The Duke shook his head.  “This cannot be so!  I myself have spoken with many of the nobles this Festival.  Who do you say you represent?”  The light off the brass emblem did not show the actual crest well.

“I represent myself and my people.”  Laun motioned to Geralk.  “Please present his Grace with the document.”

Geralk unrolled the parchment carefully and walked it over to the King’s Agent.  The Duke read it, partially out loud, getting more uncertain as he reached the signatures.  “- and titles of Lord Vami Salam-Dir until and beyond... the revenge?  ...of his wrongful death? Laun and-”  He looked up from the scroll, but did not give it back to Geralk.  “Lord Vami is dead?”

“I have to say yes.  I wish I didn’t.  And I know that Lord Helmic the Black is also.”

The Duke, strong and tall as he was, paled and wavered where he stood.  A stool was under him as he sat, not looking to see if anything was there to stop his fall.  “This cannot be!  Who are- NO.  How do you know this?”

Laun paused before saying in a slightly quieter, yet sharper voice, “My Master hid me from the bandits as they came through the door and he died fighting them.”  A gasp from Orgia echoed what many of the servants felt.  “I then went to Lord Helmic for help.  He did not believe me, sent me away and as I hid from them, the bandits struck again, killing all left inside.”  Laun closed her eyes and swallowed.  “Though they did take trophies to...  pleasure themselves with.”

A sob came from another of the servants.  Laun placed her hand on the emblem at her chest.  “I followed them, I do believe the term is harassed them, and made my way here.  My wardsmen all have lost contact with their family households while at the Festival.  I know of where the bandits who attacked my Master and land are holed up-”  Laun looked at Geralk and wiggled her thumb before the hand fell back to her lap.

The Duke stood, throwing back the cape to free his arms.  He took a step towards the bed, hesitated when met with menacing looks from the two men on either side of Lady Laun, and the dagger eyes from Disa.  “May I approach, Lady?”

She opened her folded hands and started to shrug.  The motion pained her and her hand went to her shoulder.  Pillar instantly pulled the rabbit throw away and uncovered the bandage to show that it was bleeding still.  The Duke stood his ground and tried to process what he saw.  Part of a warriors arming harness with the Salam-Dir crest on it, discolored with blood, but clean, taken off the woman in front of him to have access to a wound that matched where the discolored leather was.  A face that was familiar yet a stranger telling him that his oldest friend in the nobility had been slaughtered, though a good death in trying to protect this Lady Laun.  More nobles being slaughtered than that.  And it looked like this Lady Laun had been active in her own defense, too.

If it hadn’t been for the sunburn and minor bruising on Laun’s face, the paleness from her pain might have been more evident.  She felt the world start to swim again and she clenched her jaw and her fists.  “No!  I will not faint again!”  She took large breaths that cleared her mind and some of the pain.  The world steadied, Laun grounding herself on Orgia standing at the foot of the bed with a worried look frozen on her face.

“Lady, are you well enough to continue?”

In a moment that dissipated many of the doubts of people in the room, Lady Laun said, “I must or my people will not be protected.”  A more noble sentiment had not been heard from many of the nobles for years.

The Duke put his hand over his heart.  “I shall talk with the King.  The Festival is over today and this mess can be cleaned up after the closing ceremonies.”  Before Laun could speak again, Duke Bertrem was out the door and calling for his horse.

“Too late, I fear...”  Lady Laun hissed out while Pillar was cleaning the shoulder wound.  She looked at Geralk and said, “You may not want to know me soon.”

The merchant shook his head.  “Lady, I would not trade... well...  I would not give up this for anything.”

Laun smiled a little bit and called for the other household representatives to be brought in.  There were chests and such taken out, benches and stools brought in, the curtains pulled back all the way to let the afternoon sun in and food and buttered ale set on a platter on Laun’s bed.  She gratefully ate apple slices as the wardsmen, chatelaines, ushers and seneschals of the various households were packed into the room.  Some almost backed out of the room when they saw a woman partially exposed while the wiseman was working on her wounds but were pushed in by the others behind them.  Servants and slaves wedged themselves through the guests and out of the room to try to let more people in.

One of the wardsmen stopped when he saw Lady Laun on the bed, but not in modesty.  He whispered, “Mother?” but was pushed forward and, as he was closer, realized that she had a striking resemblance, but was not, could not be, his mother.

Women were fanning themselves and the men were wiping their foreheads on their sleeves in the afternoon summer heat.  The closeness of all the people was becoming scented with sweat and impatience.  A vole could not have squeezed into the room.

Laun looked around, fear in her heart and on her face.  The nobility and calmness that had taken her over was gone like a shadow into the night.  All these people knew what it was to be a noble or to be in charge of others.  Laun had only been on the other side, taking directions and being led by the Lord and Lady, Dance Master or just about anybody else in the Salam-dir household.  She had friendships that had died with the people, only a few remained, but that was not leadership or nobility.  She felt as though there was someone she felt she missed from a long time before who tried to teach her, but could not fully remember him, time fading memories, and not helping her focus right then.  Pillar finished wrapping the shoulder wound again and stepped back leaving Laun alone in the middle of the bed, and in the focus of the room.

Lady Laun found that she had her hand to her face, covering her mouth and the deep breaths she was taking to keep herself under control.  The hand slowly fell, landing next to the other hand on her lap.  Both hands gripped the rabbit fur, the softness comforting, but not giving Laun a strong thing to anchor to.  The room was becoming restless and she had to speak.

“I apologize for needing to receive you all here in this room.  Downstairs would have been larger, but, as you can see, my wiseman will not let me out of bed at the moment.”  Laun gestured towards Pillar who nodded at Lady Laun and then the crowd.  “Many of you have talked to each other and to Geralk while waiting.  We had to wait for the Kings Agent before we could meet, as the King will need to know about what I will tell you-”

“Who are you?”  One of the wardsmen in the back stood with his arms crossed and his feet wide apart, taking more room in the crowded room than he needed to.

Lady Laun nodded and put up a bandaged hand.   “Yes, again, I apologize.  I am Lady Laun.  I am the Lady of Salam-Dir.”

Rumbles and confusion started and Geralk took the opportunity to call out in a strong voice over the rising din, “Our Lady speaks the truth.  And she needs to tell you more.”

There were still a few grumbles, but many of the voices stilled.  “Thank you.  My Lord Salam-Dir was killed in a raid on our lands and keep at the beginning of the Festival.  My Lady Hellon had just died and he was to grieve as the household that could travel came here.  I was the only one to survive.  I went to Lord Helmic the Black’s to gain assistance and...  He-”  Laun’s voice faltered.

“Are you saying that they are both dead?”  The voices that started to wash over Laun were loud and nothing this time would calm them.  That was when Lady Laun remembered that the Duke still had the parchment.  The one that named her as the heir to Salam-Dir.  The only thing that gave her any authority.  But they did not know that.  They should not know that.

It took several angry minutes for the room to quiet again.  There was arguing, name calling and a few unneeded gestures that should have made Lady Laun upset.  It just made her smile.  For, even though the tempers were hot and there was a sense of distrust thick in the room, no one had tried to leave.

As the volume level went down, Laun took in several large breaths in preparation for what she was about to say next.  “You need to go home.  Now,” Lady Laun yelled at those in her room.

Even though tempers were heated before, another raise in both the voices and the temperature in the room was noticeable.  Lady Laun looked from person to person, seeing the confusion and rage on all of the faces.  She turned, carefully, to Geralk and Orgia beside him.  “How can we get them to calm down?  No one left, but this is-”  Laun was drowned out by two of the wardsmen turning and starting to shove each other and the people around them.

Disa had the answer.  She picked up two metal bowls and started to clang them together.  It got the attention of the close people and as people quieted down, the rooms’ noise became tolerable.

“You are the representatives of your households.  None of you have heard from your Lords and Ladies for most of the Festival.”  She looked at Geralk and he briefly nodded in confirmation.  “If you do not believe what I am saying, go and see for yourselves.  And go now.  Leave some of your household here for closing ceremonies if you must, but you have to leave, now.”  

The room had quieted enough that Laun did not have to yell to continue with, “This is up to you, as it would have been up to your Masters.”

Several of the Wardsmen looked at each other and tried to move out of the room.  Laun relaxed and felt that she had done as much as she could.  The guests started to push their way out and in just a few minutes, most had left.

Edgar came to Lady Laun’s bedside with Fount beside him.  Edgar made a perfunctory bow, leading the other wardsman to do so, before saying, “Lady Laun, several of the runners have come back from non-landed nobles with similar news.”

Geralk leaned over and said, “Most of them live in the capitol city or govern the larger cities.”

“This is overwhelming.  Who would want them gone?”

One of the other household’s wardsmen had come back into the room and was at the foot of the bed.  “Lady...”  He bowed and did not raise up until she nodded to him.  “May I talk to you, Lady?”

Geralk crossed his arms and the form of Pillar was suddenly beside the wardsman.  Lady Laun barely had to raise her hand before the two men relaxed.  “We shall not be alone.  Do you still wish to talk with me?”

He nodded.  “Lady, I am Dougal, head man from Lady Hilna’s household.  I am son of Countess Tressa.”

Laun was intrigued with the lineage of the young man at the end of her bed as the names were familiar, but she could not immediately place who they were.  The others around her seemed to be even more impressed and the chair that was suddenly at the side of her bed for him surprised Lady Laun.

When Dougal sat, he leaned forward and looked into Laun’s face, taking in the color of her hair, the color of her eyes, the skin that was pale before the sun and bruises.  Laun was doing something similar, looking at the weathered mid-twenties face framed with helmet-short dirty brown hair.  His hazel eyes seemed to darken almost to black as he said, “Lady, has anyone told you that you look like, well, my mother?”

Pillar nodded, his hand cupping his chin while looking at Laun intently.  Geralk smiled and Orgia leaned on the bed to get a closer look.

Some of the artlessness that Laun still had showed through as she said, “I have never met your mother, that I know of.  Shall I take it as a compliment?”

“Lady Laun, my mother died at the birth of my second brother four years ago.  She never had a daughter.  And neither had my Uncle.”  He leaned back slightly.  “Or so we all thought.”

Laun was slightly confused.  “I was born to a slave.  I was brought up a slave and if it was not for this turn of events, would still be a slave.”  The pain in Laun’s hip spiked and her heart was racing as the others peered at her.

Orgia sat on the edge of the bed and turned slightly away from her Lady.  “Your mother was bought by Lady Hellon when she was sold by her family.  Lennie was already showing with you when she was brought to the Keep.  She never said who your father was.  She shamed her parents and they got rid of her.”

Laun saw Disa turn away and her shoulders shaking slightly.  It confused Laun as several of the servants’ offspring had been without knowledge of the true father and it never seemed to be an issue in the household.  “Why should my birth be a shameful thing?”

Orgia looked at her broken fingernails and picked at dirt and dough that may have been under them.  “If your mother hadn’t been so tight lipped about your father, it might not have been a problem, but she had just turned fifteen when she was discovered to be with you...  And she had been part of the noble family of Dresden, the ambassador from Midlands to Rosemond to the East.”

Fount nodded.  “I remember when I was about to ward with Lord Vami that mother told me not to talk about certain things, and to not talk with certain people.  That included your mother... And you.”  Fount looked down and backed half a pace away from Edgar’s side.  Laun could not tell if it was his old shyness or something else.

Lady Laun looked from concerned face to concerned face and was getting more and more confused.  “But what does that have to do with your mother and uncle?”

No one seemed to want to say anything, though Laun could almost hear the tension snapping at each of them.  Dougal finally broke the silence by saying, “My uncle is Lord Falmir.”

Laun felt as if the bed had dropped out from under her for a moment.  “No.  That can’t be.”

“It is.  Lady, you truly know nothing about your father?”  Dougal asked.

Laun could only shake her head.  She could not hear anything else that those around her were saying because of the rushing in her ears and the internal voices that were shouting at her.  Pushed into a title she did not want, but would uphold for her Master was one thing, even if frightening on it’s own.  Being told that you not only were of noble blood, but possibly the blood of the king in her was more than she could handle all at once.  

She found that she had her hands over her ears and was yelling, “No!  Out!  Leave me be!”

They all left, murmurs between them as the door quietly swung closed.  Laun, frightened of what was going on around her, became more frightened with what suddenly was going on inside her.  A few thoughts had been wandering through her mind during her journey of how to provide crops and livestock for the household when she barely knew her numbers.  Now, there was a possibility that she was nobility on both sides of her blood with duties and such ties she knew nothing about.  She tried to ignore the pain of her feet, her cuts, her bruises and the sunburn that seemed to all be screaming at her at once as she pulled pillows from in back of her and lay as flat as she could on the bed.

The ceiling had patterns reflected from things in the room and the curtains moved slightly at the mid-afternoon breeze causing the patterns to change subtly.  Laun could feel the leather straps of the arming harness next to her and the fur of the rabbit cover was still over her legs.  Noises from outside the open windows flowed and ebbed as the last day of Festival started to come to a peak.  A few footsteps in the corridor outside the room seemed hushed as they passed by and a few low voices would move to the door, silencing as they came abreast.  All these things outside of Laun did little to ease her internal discomfort.

Laun rolled onto her side and felt how stiff her muscles were.  She had not practiced her sword dance yet that day and felt that if she did not get out of the bed right then, she may never be able to.  Pillar may be a wiseman, but Laun knew her own body.

As Laun pushed herself up on the side of the bed, a sparrow lit on the window frame.  It’s little head tilted and looked around the room and at Laun with sudden movements of it’s head.  It gave out a long, warbling call and flitted out of the room again.  Unfortunately, that distracted Laun enough that her hand slipped on the rabbit fur and her injured shoulder landed on the side of the bed frame on her way to the floor.  Laun could not help but call out in pain.  Disa was immediately in the room.

The handmaid was at Lady Laun’s side, holding the injured arm and trying to get the rest of Laun’s body back into bed.

“I need to move around.  I am too used to moving to let my body stagnate like this.”  Laun used Disa to pull herself back up and onto the bed, her feet on the floor.  She felt slightly unstable with the layers of bandages and the slippers on her feet, but it was better than the strain that she had been feeling on her hips and back by not moving at all.

Moving around the room did not last long and Laun was seated on a chair after just a few steps.  But it had felt good to move.  The oversized robe did not help and Laun started to take off the flowing garment.

“Lady?  What-”

“Disa, I am hot, I need to move and I do believe I need to find a chamber pot.”

The last thing mentioned was the first thing dealt with.  Lady Laun had to deal with Disa fussing over her as she relieved herself into the oversized tin cup.  There were cloths that were used to wipe, there were hands to help disrobe and there were clucking sounds as Laun started to stretch.  But through the duty and concern, Laun could see the beginning of a tear at the corner of Disa’s eyes.

“You were sobbing...”

Disa put down the robe on the end of the bed and leaned on it.  “I have a similar story, Lady.  Only I knew the nobility that were my family before it was taken away from me.”  Disa looked away, but Laun could see the tears flowing down her maid’s face in profile.  “There is nothing I can do for myself, but if I can help you to rise to where you should be, I will.”

Laun was cradling her injured shoulder while trying to bend to the side.  “Disa, you can do that, if you want.  But please do not do anything that will make it more difficult for yourself.  I can take care of myself...  For the most part.”  Laun put a hand on Disa’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Lady.”  Disa straightened up and went to embrace Laun.  She paused, looking at all of the bandages on Laun, not knowing where to touch.

“Oh, everything hurts!  Just hug me!”  It was the first meaningful close contact she had with anyone since before her Master died and the first real consolation she felt in a week.  Yes, it did hurt, but it was worth it.  As they pulled away, Lady Laun said, “And... I give you permission to do that whenever you feel the need.  I think I will need it, too.”

Laun stretched and did a slightly modified form of the sword dance she had been working on since leaving the Keep.  Disa had been able to find a handle from a cleaning implement that had broken and Laun was able to use that.  The sword would be just too heavy to lift.  The stick also let her do some other moves and stretches that the sharpness of the sword would not let her do.  Disa watched and was fascinated by what Laun was doing.

“It is just - uh!  Dance.  With a pointy - oof!  - thing.”  Laun let her arms flop to her sides.  “I think that is enough for now.  I feel as though I can move without falling over at this point.”  Disa took the stick from Laun and helped her Lady to the chair once again.

“As far as I am concerned, you should not be moving with the amount of injuries you have.”

“I’m starting to agree with you, but my people cannot be left undefended.  Who would be in charge?  Who would take the lands if it had not been me?”

Disa shrugged.  “Most of this is new to me, Lady.  Except for my own infraction, I have only ever seen and been the usual...”

Laun perked up a little.  “Please tell me, if it isn’t too much for you, why you were forced into indenture?”

Disa put the broken handle near the door.  “I-”  She looked uncertain for a moment.  “I was tricked into stealing something by the man who was to be my husband.  He convinced me that it was my birthright, I took it and he let me be caught.  He took my title and inheritance without ever having to actually marry me.  A perk of being in the inner privy of Lord Falmir.”

Laun nodded.  “You do not have to say anything else.”

Lady Laun stood, slowly and carefully.  She only had bandages and slippers on and was finding that, even in the afternoon heat, she was starting to get a chill.  “Perhaps I should go and see what is happening in the rest of the household.  Hiding in here forever is not an option.”

Disa picked out a long, blue tunic and an embroidered girdle from the few things that had been sent ahead for Lady Hellon before she died.  The tunic went over a white skirt and it took a few stitches to bring in the fabric of the girdle to Laun’s form.  Laun was not quite satisfied with it and had her maid dig through the chest of Lord Vami’s things and found a chest piece of hammered brass with the talon crest on it.  The bottom tied around her waist over the girdle and there were two large pieces of amber on thongs that went over her shoulders weighing it down to keep it in place.  It was not exactly comfortable, but Lady Laun felt more complete.

The servants almost scurried at the sight of Lady Laun coming through the house.  It was quietly announced that she was out of her room and all of the men who were in the front room around the map were bowing as Lady Laun came through the archway.

“Oh, please stop that!”  Some of the wardsmen looked confused but all stood up at her chiding.  A place on a padded bench was offered and, even though Laun did not want to accept it, she sat and smiled at the man who had vacated the space for her.

“Lady, are you well?”

Laun fully felt the smile she gave them.  “I am not well, but I am better.  As you all should know, wounds do not heal as quickly as we all would like.”  There was a positive murmur around the table and through the room.

A cup of hot tea was at her hand before she even knew she wanted it.  Orgia disappeared back into the crowd before Laun could thank her.  Several of the wardsmen, some from Salam-Dir, some not, looked at each other and started to talk at once.  After some hesitant back and forth, Edgar was the one that spoke for them.

“We have a list of the nobles that seem to have left the Festival, did not come to the festival or we know died within the last few months.”  Edgar passed two sheets of rough pulp paper over to Lady Laun.  “There are over thirty on that list, including many of the heirs that should have taken over for the Lords and Ladies of the landed nobles.”

Several handwritings were on the pages.  Lines and different marks joined the names, some showing a strong familial line for about ten of the names.  Numbers were next to some of them and it took a moment for Laun to realize that they were dates - death dates.  Lady Laun knew that many of the wardsmen around her were from the families that were listed, the grief barely contained on their faces.  Brothers who had been warded to different families found themselves around this table and went to each other for comfort.  The faces showed a dispassionate attitude, but the actions talked of the grief shared.

“Have the landed nobles...”

Geralk nodded to the unfinished question.  “Only two of the landed nobles, other than our host for the Festival, are still known to be here at the gathering.”  The merchant pointed at two lands on the hodgepodge map of the Midlands that were close to the Eastern edge of the kingdom.

“They are still here.  Where have they been seen?”  Lady Laun saw the glances between the wardsmen.  “Do you not actually know?”

Edgar shook his head.  “That is not it, Lady Laun.  They have been seen with the King.  King Dreng has just come to the Festival last night as he was receiving an envoy from Rosemond the last few days in the capitol city.”

The name of the other land being mentioned so soon after hearing it for the first time connected to her birth family made Laun jump slightly.  She waved away hands that went to comfort or steady her.  “Did our Rosemond envoy also accompany the King?”

A nod.  Laun did not know what to think.  “And who is currently our ambassador to Rosemond?”

“It is Heran Dresden.  He inherited the position from his father about three years ago.”  The wardsman from Uetoi’s land was the one who had spoken.  “He had been a ward with my Lord and Lady until about a month before his father was killed on a hunting expedition.”  His eyes darkened and he leaned back with one arm across his chest, the other going to his belt where an embroidered cloth hung.

So much death.  It threatened to overwhelm Laun again, but she breathed deeply and told herself that she would not let it.

Maps.  Lists of names.  Families and relatives and wardsmen that all interconnected the kingdom.  And all of it was new to Laun.  There were still gaps that she knew were missing and that was worse than any pitfall in real life.  But, she knew that she was upsetting someone else’s plans, the hidden pitfall for them.

She took the opportunity to look around again at the people around her as she sipped on the hot tea.  Layers of nobility, wardsmen, servants and slaves swirled around her.  Each had a role to play, and now that her role had changed, she needed to know what each knew, as much as she could.  But the questions she had would have to wait.

The sound of horses and a carriage came and stopped at the guest house.  A few voices urgently called and soon there were more people in the front room.  A space was created for the new people and a deference that made Laun nervous was afforded the men in the Blue and Red tabards.

Geralk spoke before the envoy could.  “Lady Laun, may I present the ambassador to Rosemond, Heran Dresden.”

Heran automatically bowed, though he looked like he actually hadn’t meant to.  Laun stood, using the table to steady herself, and made a slight curtsey, her stillness to keep the pain at a minimum making her seem quite noble.  Heran stepped forward and offered his hand to her.

There was an undercurrent that even Laun caught in the room.  A distrust and coldness seemed to sweep from the men around Laun towards the Ambassador and his entourage.  Laun noticed the uncomfortable way the liveried men stood and tried to not look about the crowded room.  She even thought she heard a stillness of breath from Geralk as he waited to see what she would do.

She recognized him from several visits from Lady Uetoi.  He was older, a touch of lightness indicating grey coming soon to his temple.  She had been sent to the kitchens or on some sort of household busywork when he was there.  She had always felt a coldness towards him from her Lady Hellon that had been barely covered by the Lady Salam-Dir's graciousness.  Now she knew why.

Laun carefully stepped forward and let Heran take her hand.  “It is always a pleasure to meet a King’s Man, Ambassador Dresden.”

There was a momentary hesitation as the Ambassador went to kiss Lady Laun’s hand through the linen bandages.  He had not met her eye directly yet, but he did so as he looked up from her hand, along her arm and to the calm face she presented.  He was stunned.

A moment of silence passed and Laun gently took back her hand and pressed the unwrapped fingertips to the bruise on her jaw.  “Has my skin started to turn yet another color?”  She smiled slightly and some of the tension went from those around her.  Lady Laun still stood and smiled, though there were things she would have liked to have said to the Uncle she had before her.

A stammer was all the Ambassador could get out.  “Lady-  Lady-”

Wardsman Edgar was the one who spoke next, “Sir, what may I ask is your business here with my Lady Salam-Dir?”

That seemed to snap Heran out of the stunned place he had been.  “I- I mean, our King asked that I escort you to him as he has wish to talk with you, Lady Laun.”  He stood fully upright and stepped slightly back.  “I shall wait with the carriage-”

“No need.  I am ready to go now, sir.”  Disa was at Laun’s side and barely was able to keep up to help support her Lady as Laun strode out of the room through the Blue and Red clad men.  There was no pause in the many others who followed Lady Laun through and out to the enclosed yard, leaving the Ambassador and his men to be last out of the building.

Horses from the stable of the guesthouse were being saddled at marked speed as the Ambassador’s group suddenly became quite large.  Laun allowed the groomsman at the carriage to help her up after Disa, Orgia and Geralk were all in the cabin of the carriage before her.

“With your permission, Lady...”  A nod of Launs head and Head Wardsman Edgar mounted a horse and was scanning the crowd around the yard as the Ambassador’s group fell into lines.  Several of the wardsmen mounted and were on either side of the carriage as the Ambassador mounted his own horse and let his steed get it’s bearings in the crowd.

It was not a long ride to the sprawling manor house of Lord Falmir.  The festival attendees parted and looked after the large group until the press of the crowd pushed on again.  There were some wagons loaded with visiting households’ possessions pushing through the crowds, too.  Laun saw the crest of one of the of the other households that she had hosted just a few hours earlier on a draped banner on one of the wagons.  They were leaving, going to see what was left of the lands they had left a few weeks before.  Laun did not envy them what they may find.

The relative quiet as the group rode onto the Manor House’s grounds proper caught Laun’s attention.  The clear space around the imposing building was some of the only land that was not being used by tents during the Festival.  The different architecture of the manor house seemed to be somewhat out of place with the older buildings that were on the estate, but quite impressive as the group rode up to the sheltered receiving gate.  The colors of the King and Kingdom were interspersed with those of his son and the host of the Festival.  The bright green showed garishly against the dark grey and dark blue, though at the receiving gate, there were far more of the Kings’ men than Falmir’s.

Again, Laun waited for the others in the carriage to dismount before she came out herself.  Several of the green-clad servants came forward to help Lady Laun out of the cabin, Disa gently being guided to wait with Geralk and the other servants.  Edgar rounded up the Salam-Dir people and stood, a smile and slight wave from Laun keeping him from following.    If this was to not go well, she did not want him trapped inside with her. She pointed to a few people and they started to follow, the dark clad servants and the bright green servants flowing impassively with them. Ambassador Dresden offered his arm, Laun gratefully putting her weight on his arm.  She had a pain and tiredness that was becoming customary and annoying to her mobility, but she had a calm front as she slowly walked into Lord Falmir’s main house.

The ranks of servants were subtle as they parted and flowed around Lady Salam-Dir and the Ambassador when they started walking.  Another rank of servants trailed after the escorts and the Salam-Dir people that stayed with the horses were surrounded by the darkly clad household servants.  Another noble was inside the front receiving hall, waiting for Lady Laun, but seemed slightly perturbed that there were more people than what he expected.

The noble fiddled with the collar of his tunic, pulling the woven metal trim away from his skin just enough to keep it from scratching.  Linen and silk covered the man, a note of wealth in everything he wore.  It did not quite seem the right style for the man as the sun-darkened skin showed he was more used to hunting leathers than the finery of court garb.  His shoulders were broad, his stomach starting to become so also.  A touch of grey in his muddy red beard and along the edge of his close-cropped hair showed more of his age than the slight limp in his pacing or the hand that went to his swordbelt of habit, though there was no weapon there.

Though he was trying to look calm, the group that approached him overwhelmed his sense of decorum and he had to look away.  Laun glanced in the direction that the man was looking.  Past the servants that seemed to line the hall, Laun saw a striking mural painted on a plastered wall punctuated with lanterns in the various scenes, sometimes worked in as the lanterns being held by the people depicted.  

A stylized range of mountains with the various predator birds used in the nobles’ different emblems started out the painting.  The mountains flowed into a large map of the Kingdom of the Midlands that seemed to be one of the most accurate Laun had seen in her short experience with the lax cartography in the land.  A woodland scene with hunters and a large moose bordered the Eastern side of the map and it took Lady Laun a moment to realize that the moose’s head was truly a mounted head coming out of the wall in the mural.  There were several groups of people painted on the wall interspersed, all with the Midland’s crest above.  It looked like several generations of the Kings’ family with King Dreng and Lord Falmir both in the last group, the similar noses and hair striking in their appearance.

And on the woman Laun had recently been compared to.

As an entertainer, Laun had been around mirrors to help her prepare for entertaining, but she had never really paid attention to what she really looked like.  People were people and she knew she was not the most pleasing of the dancers, but not the least, either.  She had always been ignored by the wardsmen and guests and had come to expect to be just something somewhat pleasing as she swirled around with the other dancers.  It was only since she had come to the Festival that it seemed to make any difference what, or more to the point who, she looked like.  The face she knew well from the mirror was close enough to the woman depicted in that last group that she understood how eerie it could have been for Wardsman Dougal when he first saw her.  Laun tried not to stare at the woman with the three point crown painted in silver or slow down as she walked, but she did see her uncle glance up at the same painting with a flash of something she could not read across his face.

A courtly flourish of hand that seemed overly produced, and slightly foreign, came from the noble who was waiting as Ambassador Dresden and Lady Salam-Dir came within about ten feet.  “I greet you in the name of King Dreng and am instructed to escort the Lady to his Majesty.”  His bow flowed and he turned to offer his arm to Lady Laun.

Laun turned to her uncle and said in a low voice, “Heran Dresden, we shall need to talk later.”  In a louder voice, Lady Laun declared, “Thank you for your escort, Ambassador.  I shall note your courtesy to the King.”

Laun took the nobles’ offered arm, perhaps putting more weight on him than he expected.  He leaned and stumbled for a step, but as they walked, he smoothed his gait and matched his step to Laun’s.  There was a slight fuss behind Laun and, as she had seen nobles do at her Master’s home, the Lady Laun raised her hand and motioned forward, not turning to see what happened.  There were footsteps behind and the voices stilled as the smaller group was escorted by the ever present grey and blue dressed household servants, the King’s green only showing again as they approached the chambers where King Dreng had been installed.

The group had slowed as Laun’s breath quickened and her pain made it difficult to walk quickly.  The bandages on her feet were feeling tight in the slippers and a sharp pain went through her shoulder as she leaned a little too hard on her escort’s arm.  She sucked in her breath and stopped walking.

“Lady?”  The noble turned and took her other hand in his to help steady her.

Disa and Geralk pushed through the wall of servants and were on either side of their Lady.  Her arms were supported as she took several deep breaths.  The looks that Disa gave the servants that approached stilled them in mid-stride.

Lady Laun had a tear on her cheek as she straightened up.  Her voice was unsteady as she said, “Sir, I hope it isn’t too much further.  I am feeling...weak.”

The noble made a humphing noise and said, “Pardon me for this, Lady.”  Laun found herself in the air, the brass chest piece going askew as her arms were pressed to her sides and her knees draped over the noble’s arm.  The strong arms that held her pressed on the unseen wounds, but it only took a mere moment to get to the King’s chamber.  At least one of the King’s men at the chamber’s open door seemed surprised, but with a nod from the noble holding Laun, the group went in.

As is the wont of one of his station, the King had many people around him as he seemed to be doing nothing but looking out the window onto the dry garden courtyard.  Servants who were cleaning or moving things around were hardly noticed by the nobles who waited directly for the whim of their master.  The low murmur from the nobles calmed as the servants parted at the door.  King Dreng turned when he heard the group enter and cried out, “Malis, what do you think you are doing?”

The noble gently set Lady Laun down on one of the couches in the room and said, “Sir, what needed to be done. My Lady is in pain-”

“If I may attend to her, Majesty...”  Laun knew that voice and did not censor her distaste for the wiseman as she turned slightly away and a small grimace went across her face.  Bregnan, dressed in his usual plain, dark clothes, walked from behind a knot of nobles towards the couch Laun had been placed upon.

Geralk was the one who stopped Bregnan from coming closer than a few paces by bodily stepping in front of the wiseman and saying, “My Lady Salam-Dir shall wish to attend to King Dreng before her wiseman is to tend to her minor injuries, good sir.”  As if on cue, the form of Pillar flowed into the room and behind the couch to stand attentively to the Lady Laun.

Bregnan stopped, saw his competition at the Lady’s side and bowed his way back to the outer circle of people in the room.  The lowered eyelids on Pillar’s face mostly sheathed the daggers that would have shot out at the other wiseman.  Laun could feel the heat from Pillar’s anger and frustration even through the ornamented deerskins the wiseman wore.

The King saw all of the exchange, though it had seemed that he had been idly picking at something under his fingernail.  He waved at several groups of nobles and suddenly there was a rush of people to leave the chamber.

Lady Laun looked around the emptying room and saw that another mural was on the wall of this room.  A winter scene with a mountain and several deer was on one wall, the trees along the edges the beams that were holding up the walls.  The cool blues and greens that made the picture helped to make it a calm place after just a moment of silence.  King Dreng had several of his nobles with him and Lady Laun had several of her people with her.  They looked at each other.

“It says here-”  The King waved at a parchment on a reading stand next to him, “that we should consider Vami dead and someone else to be the Master - pardon me, Mistress - of the Lands of Salam-Dir.”

Laun nodded once and waited.  She did not know what was expected of her, but until she had an actual question asked of her, she was willing to have the King create his own scene.

King Dreng turned from the parchment and walked towards the couch Laun had been placed on.  He stood there and looked at her with an intensity that made her want to look away.  He had almost no hair with what was left around his pate cropped short to helmet length.  A robe of a dark red velour trimmed in winter ermine and golden thread flowed from shoulder to floor on him, covering a dark green linen tunic that went to his mid-calf.  Other than the few trims that held the gilt threads, there was little in what he wore to show anything other than he was wealthy.  Not even a ring was on his finger.

Laun actually felt overdressed with the bronze crest-plate on her chest.  She sat with her hands in her lap, looking up at the King of the Midlands and waited.

The sounds of cautious clearing of throats and a little bit of feet shuffling was all that was coming from the room.  The King was the first to break the silence as he motioned for a seat and said, “Bertrem was right.”  He sat and continued to look into Laun’s face.  He leaned in and stared straight into her eyes for almost a full minute.

“Lady Laun, where have you been hiding?”

Laun glanced away from his intense stare to her hands.  “I didn’t know I was hiding.”

The King laughed loudly and grabbed Laun’s hand.  He brought the knuckles to his lips and gently kissed them.  “Welcome to the court, Lady.”

It was as if all the breaths in the room had been held until the sovereign of the Midlands had shown compassion to the Lady Laun.  A murmur from the nobles started up and Pillar leaned over to hand Laun a small cup with a salty greenish liquid in it.

The King looked up and nodded to the wiseman.  A small nod from the wiseman was sent back and the King turned his attention to the bandaged hand in his.  He turned the hand palm up and supported the hand as he gently stroked along the edge of the small pinkish spot in the middle.  A concerned look creased his brow and he looked back to her face.

“You must have quite a story to tell me, Lady.”

Laun shrugged her uninjured shoulder.  “Where would you like me to begin, sire?”

The King gently put Laun’s hand down and leaned back.  He glanced to the parchment and then back to the woman before him.  He looked at each of the people that had arrived with her and then again back to Laun.  He had not expected there to be as many to escort her as there was, but it was appropriate that a noble Lady visiting the King would have at least some people with her.  And with the wounds that he had been told about, having the shaman at her side would not have been out of place, if it hadn’t been for the known rivalry between his own wiseman and the shaman in the room.

King Dreng looked and caught the form of Bregnan near the door to the courtyard garden.  He had not left with the other nobles and servants.  And if Dreng had not looked for him, the wiseman would have blended into the background as the conversation went forward.

King Dreng motioned to one of the remaining nobles at his back.  “Ask the kitchen to send some waters and ale.  Stay with them until you can escort them back.  I know that I still get lost in this manor, even though I grew up in the original wing.”  The noble bowed to the King’s back and left.

Laun caught the twinkle in the King’s eye as he exclaimed about half a minute later, “Damn!  I meant to ask for -”  He seemed to look around and his eye landed on Bregnan.  “You.  Go after him and have them bring back some of the cold meat I had last night.  And stay with them to escort them back.”  The King waved a dismissive hand at the wiseman and turned back to Laun.

Bregnan was not as subtle in his exit as he might have wanted.  He had to go past most of the two entourages to the main hall door and looked like he wanted to turn and say something, though he dared not say anything to the King.  Several smiles were hidden behind hands as he passed by and at least one chuckle came out as the door closed behind him.

Laun smiled and relaxed.  “Thank you, sire.  I believe that he is a finger on the hand behind what I will have to tell you.”

The King leaned back and then stood, towering over her.  “I wish to ask questions, but perhaps you should start with your upbringing.”  Laun blushed under her peeling sunburn but kept her eyes on King Dreng.  “You may be something I had thought did not exist.  Please, Lady Salam-Dir, tell me what you will.”

She was caught off-guard.  Laun did not know where to begin as she had thought she would tell of the raids and what she found at the outlaw’s hole.  To be asked about her upbringing was not something she had prepared herself for.  Laun looked up at Geralk and his worried but friendly face helped her to start her monologue.

“Sire, it has only been a few days since my world has been turned on it’s head.  Just over a week ago, my Mistress, Lady Hellon died.  The household had been packing for the festival that the wiseman Bregnan had brought us news about a few days before when my Mistress took ill.  I also was...unwell...starting that evening after supping with Lady Hellon in her apartments.  I missed practices for the entertainment planned for the Festival, so I was not allowed to go with the main household.”  Laun looked from the King to the bronze chestplate below her chin.  “My Master was starting vigil the night after the household left to go to the Festival when the bandits attacked.”  Laun noted that the attitude of the room was quieter as she paused to find the right words.

Laun looked up at the Master of the Kingdom and found that she saw the age he was written in the creases on his face more than when she first had come into the room.  He looked attentive, but with an air of incredulity that Laun had seen in how Orgia dealt with many of the younger of the servants and slaves when they tried to pull something on her.  King Dreng held his chin in his hand and the red robe was being held close to his body by the other arm.  He was standing fairly still, though he moved his weight from foot to foot as he listened to Laun.

“Sire, when they attacked, I was helping the scullions put up marinaded vegetables for the morning meal.”  Laun saw a fleeting question flash across the King’s eyes.  “I heard the front gate crash in, one of the younger pages came running past to his mother in the kitchen and I went to see what was happening.  I saw the bandits at the inner courtyard gate, it was being pushed closed from the inner courtyard by...by other household members.  I ran to our Master’s side and told him what was happening.  That was when he made me sign the parchment making me the Lady Salam-Dir.  The bandits found us and my Master hid me and defended me.  His body is still in the armory in the tower.”  Laun put her hand to her nose to wipe on the bandage.  The thought of all the people who were lying in the castle overwhelmed her and she started to cry.

“Lady?  You do not have to continue-”

She interrupted without thinking.  “But I must.”  A horrified look went across her face.  “I apologize, Majesty!”

He smiled.  “It is good to know you have real passion, Lady Laun.  I accept your apology.  Please continue.”

Laun nodded.  “My Master instructed me to go to Lord Helmic the Black before he died.  I made my way to Lord Helmic’s.”  Laun took a large breath in and looked almost angry as she said, “As King, you really need to have the map makers do a better job!  From the map scrap I had to guide me, it looked like it would be a day or so from one to the other, but it was much more than that.  Sire.”  She ran out of breath and out of energy.  Laun sighed and continued.  “I was on the road on foot for days, tired, confused and on a mission I was not prepared for when Lord Helmic saw me.  He did not believe me or the parchment.  He-”  Laun put her hand to the remaining bruise on her jaw.  “He made his views clear and had me thrown out.  Though...  His methods were odd as he outfitted me with cape and boots and sundries that I woke up to outside his gate.  I took myself and things into the trees and out of the sun to nurse my head and was still there when the bandits attacked.”

The King raised his hand to stop her.  “You were at Helmic’s and saw the bandits?  Did... Were there any survivors?”

“Yes, Sire.  The women they strapped like loot to the horses and mules.”  Laun looked down at her hands and shifted to become more comfortable.

Dreng turned and looked at one of the other nobles left in the room.  The look must have said more than Laun would ever know as the noble bowed and left the room without a word passing between them.  The King walked to the window and leaned on the leading holding the cut glass together.  He was both still and very active at the same time.  The robe shivered as he let silent sobs escape.

Pillar silently passed another cup of something to Laun as everyone watched the King.  It was bitter, but Laun downed it in one gulp.  She handed the cup back with a sour look on her face.  Pillar smiled a small smile and motioned with his head towards the King again.

He had straightened up and was scrubbing his palms over his face.  The tears were barely noticeable as Dreng turned back to the people in the room.  “Vami and Helmic.  I assume others.”

Laun nodded.  “Geralk has lists of nobles, landed and not, who have not been heard of or from since the beginning of the Festival.”  Geralk stepped forward and held out the pulp paper with the lists.  The King took the lists of names and just glanced at it before putting it down on the same reading platform as Laun’s nobility writ parchment.

“You have told me of part of your journey here, Lady Laun.  You still have not talked about your upbringing at Vami’s hold.”   King Dreng sat again across from Laun and looked intently at her.

Laun’s eyes went to her hands clasped tightly on her lap again.  They seemed slightly red where they were touching and she realized that she was clenching.  She relaxed her hands by her own will and looked back up to the King’s intense gaze.

“Sire, my mother was of noble blood, though her circumstances in being brought to Salam-Dir was less than noble.  I do not know if you ever met her before she was part of the Salam-Dir household-”

“I knew Hellon since she was a sprout at her mother’s side.  Before she went to Rosemond for a time...”  A slightly far-away look started on the King’s face.

Laun cleared her throat and reached out to put her fingertips on King Dreng’s arm through the red velour robe.  “Sire, I meant my mother, Lennie Dresden.”

A gasp from one of the nobles standing at a discrete distance to their Lord seemed to suck the heat out of the room.  Confusion passed over the King’s face before he suddenly stood.  He kept looking at Laun but with a changing attitude.

Laun could feel Geralk tensing, Pillar reaching into his deerskin tunic to something hidden there.  The eyes going back and forth between King Dreng and Lady Laun almost clicked in the surrounding noble’s heads.

The King turned away from Laun and went to the window yet again.  Yes, there was silence from the people, but the light metallic sounds and rustle of the rich fabrics on the suddenly nervous nobles filled the room with a tension that Laun was not sure she would survive.

The King did not take long to come to a decision.  He turned back to Laun and her escort with a stern look on his face.  He motioned to one of the nobles waiting on him and the brown-clad man came forward.

“Sire?”

King Dreng was having problems forming words but finally came out with, “Please ask our Ambassador to Rosemond to attend me.  Alone.”  The noble did not run within the room, but his fast footfalls could be heard down the hall before the door closed again.

The Master of the Kingdom would not look directly at Laun.  She could feel that.  There was nothing she knew to do to either leave or ask why, so she just sat with her hands in her lap, feeling another trickle from her shoulder going down her arm.  Her nerves were being strung taught from not knowing the way to let the King know she had not known that she was such a black spot for him.

Lady Laun’s escort were also nervous, possibly because they knew more of what the King had the power to do if she had truly displeased him.  Though his reputation for being a ghost was well earned, Pillar wished he could fade and disappear from the room, Geralk hoping for some miracle to do the same for him.  Disa, already having faced the executioner once, started to rock back and forth, a sob caught in her throat and a tear falling from the corner of her eye.

The King saw the discomfort he was creating.  He was pleased that he still had the power to create that fear.  It was a tool that he had not used in years so directly.  When he had conquered and brought the Midlands together, he had tried to put that use of power behind him, and the Kingdom.  He knew the feelings that were swirling and colliding within him were showing to those around him.  He tried to keep the urge to lash out down, though the edge showed in his voice.

“Lady Laun,” the King spat out.  “I was the one who stripped your mother from her rank eighteen years ago.”  He could hear the venom in his voice and took a deep breath as he moved towards her.  Her eyes, though frightened, were still clear and looked at him unwaveringly.  His eyes flicked away to the chestplate she wore.  And then to a dark stripe that had appeared on her arm.

The dark red on the blue...  Her families colors.  She must have known to have worn such to be presented to him.  As deceitful as her mother had been all those years ago.  And the look in her eyes was changing, a blankness that... that...

“My Lady!”  Disa caught Laun before she fell to the floor.

“What is this?  Some political feint-”

Pillar was cutting at the sleeve of the tunic and his voice was as sharp as the knife that had flashed out of hiding.  “If you would stop blustering, she may have been able to tell you how she got these wounds. Sire.”  The soaked bandage fell to the side and Dreng saw the sewn wound that had been beneath.

The hot feeling he had been filling himself with drained away as his own blood flowed to his feet, almost taking him with it.  A chair was under him as he felt the world tilt beneath him.  The past was the past.  That would have to be dealt with later.  The wounded Lady - no...child - before him had to have been in extreme pain through the entire interview.

He had been stuck on how much she had looked like his only daughter, Countess Tressa.  And his wife, dead for almost twenty years.  Those eyes and hair were those women’s, his own nose on the delicate face before him.  The skin and shape of the face was Lennies’, from what he could remember from her growing up in the Capitol City, and then the judgement he had made against her.  The shoulder that was before him had blood as red as his own.  It was his own.  It had to be, but he had no idea how.

Heran was announced into this scene.  He started forward to see what was happening at the couch and then stopped.  The tainted blood that was being wiped up with one of the King’s own hands from the wound on the Lady’s shoulder...  Heran felt himself feeling faint, but he turned away and looked out the window to the long shadows in the dry courtyard.

A chime could be heard from in the hall.  Several heads turned and counted them subconsciously.  Four bells and it stopped.

“Sire, the closing ceremonies are in an hour.”

King Dreng whipped his head around, but stilled the snipe that was to come out at his pledged nobleman.  “Thank you.  Pick out something for me that I can drag on.”  

Laun was awake, but kept her eyes closed.  She was embarrassed about fainting.  Having the King’s hand holding her felt comforting and she now understood more of the power in that hand.  He was helping Pillar cleanse the still seeping wound and directing the men around him to prepare for the ceremony to mark the end of the festival.

“I have not done a field surgery in decades.  But this is nothing like anything I have seen before.”

“Sire, I have a feeling that this is not natural.”  Pillar stopped.

The King looked into the wiseman’s face and followed the eyes.  Dreng looked at the Ambassador to Rosemond.  The younger brother of Lennie Dresden was trying to look calm, but the need for his feet to pace made him sway from side to side with his nerves.  The formal tabard was on slightly askew, held that way by a belt that looked like it was hastily tied.

“Heran.  You escorted my Lady Laun from her hold on the grounds.  I wished to thank you for that.”  The King wiped his hands on a cloth and stood up to fully face the trembling Ambassador.  “I have one more assignment for you, Heran.”

The trembling man looked stunned.  The King had not addressed him by his given name since three summers before when the death of his father had allowed Heran to attain the position he had maneuvered for.  The King was always very formal.  Ambassador Heran had only been alone with the King once, right after the death of the elder Dresden.  Heran had been intimidated then, though the words and actions of King Dreng had made him feel at ease.  That ease was nowhere to be found as Heran stood before the obviously enraged King.

“M-my Liege?”

King Dreng cocked an eyebrow at that.  “It has come to our attention that our Lady Laun has come upon a difficulty.  A difficulty, Heran, that I wish you to help her with.”

Herans’ mouth opened but he was stunned enough that nothing came out.  A cornered animal at least had the instinct to try to flee.  Heran was stuck in place.

The King turned and motioned to Heran to come closer to the couch.  The leaden feet betrayed him and he stumbled, landing with one knee on the polished stone floor.  Everyone could hear the gasp of pain as he hit bone to stone.  No one moved to help him get back up and Heran fully felt the coldness that the King was projecting as he looked up into the sun-aged face.

Laun had her eyes open and watched as the power of King Dreng subtly laid the Ambassador to Rosemond low.  Socially eviscerated, Laun could see, even with the light life experience she had, that her Uncle was going to have major problems in the close future.  She coughed without meaning to and eyes went from Heran to Laun.

“Sire, may I have some water?”  Before the King made any motion, there was a tankard at the couch awaiting Laun.  She was sat up and was able to drain the tankard in one go.  Another tankard of the cold, clear water was poured and at her hand before she handed back the first tankard.  The second draught took two goes to drain it, but it was gone before the amazed people around her realized she was done with it.

Pillar leaned forward with yet another little cup of something for Laun to drink.  Laun looked up and said, “Do I have to?”  She drank the bitter medicine after the wiseman nodded.

Heran was on his feet now, most people having missed him limping onto his feet.  It had been a small kindness from Laun to take the attention of the assembled people from him, though it did not last long.

The King looked at Heran.  He saw the likenesses between he and Laun.  There was little to mistake that part of her lineage.  The frightened rabbit of a man before the King had been made Ambassador several years before when his father had died.  A hunting accident, as Dreng remembered.  There never had been a true remorse in the actions of the young man.    The young face that had been at his sisters trial was older, but did not seem wiser as it flushed at the look the King gave him.  And this Dresden had been lax in his skills when dealing with the Rosemond Monarchy.  Not all of what Heran Dresden had done was what the King had directed him to do, and he had been an advocate of bringing some of the younger unlanded nobles from Rosemond under the assumption that it was to be similar to the warding Dreng had imposed decades before.  There had been problems, and King Dreng was starting to see Heran’s part of the pattern.  And then the delay to the festival on the old families’ land, certainly a distraction by the Ambassador, over something in the Capitol City that could have been easily dealt with by his staff.  The distaste for the man now seemed to have a base that the King could almost see in the past, and that was changing how Dreng was going to treat him in this present.

“Heran.  I need you to go to the library and research a few things for me and my Lady.”

Heran was confused and stammered out, “Liege?  Wh-what would you like me t-to research for you?”

There was a subtle motion from the hand of the King and two of the Nobles stepped towards Heran.  “The second volume of the Laws of the Midlands, I believe.  How Traitors are dealt with in this land.”

The flight response kicked in and Heran tried to reach the door to the courtyard but was blocked and held before he could go two steps.  He was led out of the room with very little struggle, and some limping.

There was a silence in the room that was hard and edged like a knife.  No one wanted to say anything, do anything, unless that edge come to them.  Even King Dreng just looked out of the window into the dusty courtyard garden not wanting to acknowledge what he had done.  After a few minutes, a scratch at the door announced the refreshments that the King had sent for.

Small tables and platters and servants in the dark colors of Falmir swirled around until food was within reach of everyone who stayed in the room.  Several people watched those who came in and went out and all noticed that Bregnan had not come with the food as the King had requested.  The door closed and several of the people started to reach for the sweets and meats presented.

Laun glanced over the food within her reach and commented, “Those look like the sweets that my Lady Hellon and I shared the night she became ill.”

All hands stopped before touching any of the food.  The King rounded on Laun and her escort at the couch and growled, “What?”

Laun picked up the rhubarb finger tart on the platter and looked closer.  “Yes, Sire.  I don’t like rhubarb, so I only had one but I know that Lady Hellon loved them and finished the basket Bregnan had brought to her at supper.  She shared the meal with me that night as she had off and on for years.”  Laun felt some better and sat up straighter.  “I fell ill, too, but was just sick for a few days.  Lady Hellon was dead before I was able to get out of bed myself.”

Everyone but Laun knew at that point that all of the food brought in could have been tainted by the absent Bregnan.  Laun sniffed at the finger tart and put it back onto the platter to rest among the other tidbits that were to be left alone.  Another scratch on the door and the other noble that the King had sent out with a small signal was back.

The nobles pledged to King Dreng gathered around him on one side of the room and started to talk in low tones.  Laun’s people were still silent, but were attending to the wound and body of their adopted Lady.  Pillar stepped back and was concentrating.  His hidden pharmacy was brought out from under his leather tunic and he looked carefully at certain bottles.  Geralk held a pad of cotton on the oozing shoulder and was internally going through everything that had just happened, comparing it to all the information he knew and forming his own idea of what was happening.  Disa reached under her apron to her chatelaine to retrieve the sewing kit she had there.  She threaded one of the small metal needles deliberately in a length of greenish thread that was not going to match the blue tunic, but was going to help to provide some modesty to her Lady when they had to leave the room.

The nobles around the Master of the Kingdom seemed to have come to some agreement.  Several left the room, a dire mission written across their faces and in their steps.  The King allowed himself to be taken to another part of the room where his wardrobe for the closing ceremonies had been laid out.  The bright green over tunic with the crest of the Midlands Tree and Crow went over the dark green linen tunic and the indoor slippers were replaced by a pair of sturdy riding boots.  A blade was placed in each of the boots and a pouch that hid a blade was threaded on the belt that went around King Dreng’s hips.  The seven pointed diadem of his position was placed unceremoniously on his short, grayed hair.  The men around the King checked themselves and pulled daggers forward on belts and seemed to prepare themselves as much as their King.

Pillar had taken time to measure and mix something in a tankard of water.  He handed it to Laun and said, “I hope that what I gave you before was not helping the poison in your system.  This should make you feel better.  I hope before you need your strength.”

Lady Laun took the tankard and drained it.  Pillar dropped a few taps of one of the liquids he had on the shoulder wound and put another pad on it.  Disa leaned in and quickly sewed in the pad as she closed the slash in the linen.  It was not pretty, but it was not going to have Laun exposed to the world.  Geralk stood and started to gather up the few items that they had brought in with them, as well as the noble warrant of Salam-Dir.

The King stepped forward and offered his hand to Laun.  She took it and stood.  They had not been standing together before and he was surprised that she was almost as tall as he. Not quite as tall as his son, but taller than Tressa had been.  Dreng leaned down and first kissed Laun’s bandaged hand and then both cheeks.  The last time he had done that to Tressa, she had just given birth to her third son after being bedridden for months.  She was dead from blood loss the next day.  The child before him was not Tressa.  She was not a replacement.  But she would be comforted and cared for as much as he could.  Dreng knew that a wrong had been done that could not be undone.  The future was going to be better for her.  He hoped.

Laun unwaveringly looked into King Dreng’s eyes.  “Sire?”

“Would you do me the honor of escorting me to the closing ceremonies?”

Laun blushed slightly and said, “You may need to have your man carry me again.  I cannot walk well right now.”

He backed off and looked down.  Geralk said in an even tone, “Majesty, she walked from Salam-Dir this week in ill fitting boots with this poison in her system.  Her feet are one big blister.”

King Dreng nodded. He half-turned to one of his people and said, “We have a wooden chair and some staves in here, don’t we?”

There was an affirmative nod by one of the nobles and several of them started gathering items to make a carried chair for Lady Laun.  Word was sent through the door guards that the King and escort were about to leave and needed some extra Kings men.

Onto Chapter 8 Where Laun meets the Kings son, and the end of the festival is just the beginnings of worse trouble