Carol Berg - THE SOUL WEAVER

He enfolded my cold hands in his warm ones. “Tonight, at one hour past moonrise, the Prince will speak to the people of Avonar from the balcony you can see from that window over there. Even now his messengers summon the Dar’Nethi from the Vales, from the borderlands, from the Wastes, from the city - at least one person from every family. Whatever may be the result of my lord’s words, know that you bear my deepest regard, and that in any way that may be possible, I will be forever at your service.”

He lifted my limp hand and kissed it, and then he rose and left me there alone.

For an hour after Ven’Dar left I sat in my chair and indulged in self-pity, an exercise at which I began to think I could become quite expert. Why had they bothered to bring me out of my living death, if only to witness horror? Why open my ears, if they were only to hear my husband in mad rage and my child in agony, and no explanation for any of it? What had gone wrong at Calle Rein just when I believed Karon had put D’Natheil in his place?

But an hour was enough. Self-pity would change nothing, and I had never been able to abide unanswerable questions. I forced myself to get up and walk about the room, hoping the activity might stimulate some semblance of purposeful thought. Carafes of wine and water stood on a sideboard, alongside one of the marvelous Dar’Nethi ceramic teapots that stayed constantly warm. I poured myself tea and then abandoned the cup on the oaken table when I wandered over to one of the windows draped in gauzy fabric the color of jade.

The window looked out over the grand commard and parkland that fronted the palace. No sign yet of the rising moon, so Ven’Dar’s mystery would have to wait. The evening was quiet in the city, only a few people hurrying past. Where were Bareil and Roxanne? Surely the Dulcé would bring the princess to safety when it became clear I had left the Precept House by another way.

Absentmindedly I moved to the bookshelves and brushed my fingers over one of the leather-bound books, noting to my surprise that its title was in Leiran. The next also, and the next - and all of them familiar. On the shelf was a book of Isker poetry, and beside it a book of Vallorean folktales - very like one I had cherished long ago. I looked about the room again, wondering at it. Everything was just on the edge of familiarity. Nothing mysterious, nothing of magical design save the teapot. A burnished brass lectern stood by the windowed wall, positioned to take advantage of the light. A suspicious guess as to what I might find there was proved right when I found a silver flute lying on a sheet of music that had been transcribed in a fine hand.

“It is a lovely room, is it not?”

A tall young woman in a gown of deep green stood just inside the door, holding a tray of fruit, cheese, and fragrant pastries. “You must pardon my entrance without knocking, my lady, but I must keep my hands where they are. I can be rather clumsy, if I’m not careful.” She set the tray on a low table between two comfortable chairs, and something about the way she slid her hand along the edge of the table as she placed the tray, and the way she turned exactly half a revolution to face me told me she was blind. My guess was confirmed when her blue eyes failed to settle on my own.

“You’re Aimee… ”

“Indeed, my lady.” She extended her hands, palms up, and dipped her knee.

“… Gar’Dena’s daughter, to whom he promised to bring a rinoceroos.”

The girl had a smile that could melt snow. She’d been no more than thirteen when I’d met her at the giant Gem Worker’s house - his beloved youngest daughter, now a graceful young woman with hair like curls of sunlight held off her face by an amber comb. Pleasure and animation brought a flush to her fair cheeks, her brows rising and eyes sparkling.

“He did it, you know. For my fifteenth birthday, just after the Prince’s return from Zhev’Na. Three of the great beasts right in our house. We had to rebuild half the main floor and hire thirty Gardeners and Tree Delvers to replant our gardens. But no girl ever had such a birthday.”

“I’m so sorry about your father, Aimee. He was a wonderful friend and a good man.”

Her smile softened, but did not dim. “ ‘A glorious man of great appetites,’ as he would say. My sisters and I were blessed to have him.” She motioned to the food she’d brought. “It is such a dear pleasure to have you well again, my lady. Come, you must be hungry.”

The border between hunger and nausea can be very fine. I invited Aimee to sit and share the fruit and pastries that looked and smelled so delicious. But one small bite of cheese came near gagging me. “Tell me, Aimee, how did you come to be charged with my care?”

She held a ripe strawberry she had been on the verge of popping into her mouth. “The Prince summoned me to the palace early this morning and said he had a great secret and needed my help. He asked me if I would please to come here and keep you company, assisting you in any way possible. Only a few people know of these rooms: myself and Bareil; Papa did, of course, and… the Preceptor Ven’Dar… ” She frowned as she mentioned Ven’Dar. “My lady, do you know - ” She stopped short and ate her strawberry.

“How is it that you were privy to such a great secret as these rooms?” So many uncertainties. Perhaps she was privy to other secrets.

Her flush deepened as she blotted her lips with a square of linen. “Because I made them.”

Avonar was truly full of wonders.

“Two years ago the Prince asked if I would help him prepare a suite of rooms for you - where you might feel at home were you to come here to live. He knew that Avonar, for all its beauties, would be strange and unfamiliar - the palace, especially.”

“But how did you know all this? The paintings, the flute… ” I was willing to accept that a blind Dar’Nethi sorceress could conjure books and furniture, but everything was so perfectly right.

“The Prince would describe to me each piece he wanted. My talent is in Imaging, creating an exact depiction of objects in my thoughts. I would then have the piece made to match the image I had created, using my skill and my hands to judge. When I thought it was ready, the Prince would tell me if I’d got it right or not. It was a great pleasure to him. He took to coming here himself to sit and work almost every day. I think it made him feel close to you.”

I pressed a hand to my mouth and took a moment to shut off the welling tears. No time for them. No use in them. “You did well, Aimee. Very well indeed.”

“Thank you, my lady. Tell me… was there not to be another lady with you this night?”

“Yes, but we became separated on our way. Bareil should be bringing her very soon.”

“Then she’s quite safe, I’m sure. Bareil is very wise.”

“Yes.” I picked at the nut-filled pastry on my plate. “So, Aimee, the Prince knows I’m here?”

“Oh, yes. It’s how I knew when to come just now, for he sent me a message that you had arrived. He says no one else is to have the least inkling that the grievous reports of your death are false.”

“But he said nothing of when he might come here.”

“No, my lady. I’m sorry. Nothing.”

Karon, what are you doing? Why won’t you tell me?

As Aimee and I set the plates and bowls back on her tray, a soft knock on the outer door announced Bareil. “My lady, what a relief to find you here safely. And Mistress Aimee, a pleasure, as always.”

“I’m sorry we were separated,” I said. “I was brought here by the gentleman…” Gods, I hated all these secrets.

“I understand, madam.” He closed the door carefully.

“Bareil, where’s the princess?”