rule, offering advice only when she asked for it. Three months later, Ilsabet pulled the journal from its hiding place and continued.
From the Diary of Baroness Ilsabet
Though my beauty seems to have faded somewhat in the last few months, my figure has returned so that I was able to wear the silver gown this evening when I presented my heir to the Kislovan nobles.
The crystal chandelier in the entrance hall was lit, the candlelight bouncing off the polished facets. A brass burner of incense gave an exotic scent to the room. In the great hall, dozens of candles made the room glow so that everyone could admire the blue and gold tiles of the Kislovan crest inlaying the floor.
The feast was magnificent, laid out in the style of Sundell. A pair of suckling pigs flanked either side of a buffet the length of three men. Kislovan nobles had never seen such an array of food so elegantly served on silver plates, servants running between the buffet and dining tables, refilling them with whatever the diner wished next.
We presented Lekai after the meal. He sat on my lap as the nobles came forward, bringing their gifts. My son received enough engraved silver cups and rattles to satisfy a litter of Lekais. Lord Ruven brought the most lavish gift-a shield half the size of a man's, engraved with Lekai's name, and beneath it the cloisonne rendering of a merged Obour and Casse crest. When Ruven danced with me, he whispered that what my father had begun with arms, my son would complete through more peaceful means.
We arranged a meeting to discuss the needs of the northern part of Kislova. I'm sure that when we confer, anything he suggests will increase his power. Unlike other Kislovan nobles, he knows how to wield it.
wore the same perfume that enchanted Peto before. Though I sensed his passion for me as we sat together at the table, he fought my allure. Finally, when we danced together, I whispered to him, 'The midwife tells me that I'm quite healed.'
When he pretended not to understand, I kissed him. I felt passion in his response, but only for a moment. I think that in truth he wanted to push me away. I willed my eyes to fill with tears, then left him standing alone with the other dancers. As I walked from the great hall, I heard one of the guests-who'll probably plead drunkenness as an excuse-call out, 'The winters are harsh in both our lands. One heir is never enough.'
Stifling a smile, I went upstairs and waited. It's been hours, but Peto has not come.
I am beginning to wonder what Jorani has told my husband. I fear that if I do not act quickly, Peto will take Lekai to Sundell and I will lose both my child and my intended victim.
After the feast, Peto was constantly busy, often absent from Nimbus Castle for weeks on end, touring the country or returning to Shadow Castle to handle the problems of Sundell. On his rare visits, Peto managed to never be alone with his wife. Finally, following a meeting with him, she ordered the servants to leave them alone. 'Go,' he said, then sat back in his chair and watched her pace the hall.
'Have I done something wrong, something to make you hate me?' Ilsabet asked.
'I don't know,' he replied.
'You don't know!' She seemed ready to slap him.
'I learned the meaning behind my dream, and that you knew it.'
'Oh, is that what this chill is all about. Because I didn't want you to start thinking as foolishly as some Kislovan peasant, you think me guilty of Marishka's death, perhaps even Mihael's.'
In as emotionless a tone as he could manage, Peto presented his case, detailing everything from the poisoned rats to Mihael's ravings before his death. 'I haven't judged you, but I have doubts, and they're more horrible than anything,' he concluded.
'Then I suggest you and your doubts go back to Sundell for good!' she screamed, threw her goblet at his head, and stormed from the room.
He'd expected tears, denial, not fury. That evening, as he passed his son's room on his way to bed, he saw his wife sitting beside the cradle, dangling a silver ball above Lekai's face, laughing as he batted at it with his tiny hands. 'He has keen eyes,' Peto said. Ilsabet looked at him with such venom that he didn't join her, but left without another word.
Later, alone in her own chambers, Ilsabet told Sagra she wished not to be disturbed while she napped. Then, reaching into the carved box that held her writing paper, quills and ink, she pulled out a small bottle of milky-looking oil, wrapped it in a rag, and slipped it into her pocket.
Traveling through the familiar tunnel, she emerged in her husband's room. Moving quickly to his chair, she poured a few drops of the oil onto the carved armrests and watched it sink into the polished wood. Careful not to touch the substance, she blotted up the few drops that had not been absorbed, then as an afterthought, she rubbed this into the quill he used for writing. After carefully folding the oily spot into the center of the rag, Ilsabet returned to the tunnel.
One section was occasionally missing stones. She wedged the rag into the widest such gap, pushing it back until it fell in the hollow space between the inner and outer castle walls, coming to rest above the bones of those who'd died building Nimbus Castle.
That night she wrote:
I marvel at my ingenuity. The poison in the oil is so dilute that had I touched it to spread it on the chair and quill, I would have felt vaguely out of sorts for a day or two. But Peto is always sending letters home. Now, every time he sits in his chair, he will get a bit more of the web poison onto his skin. He'll grow ill, take to his bed, then slowly recover, only to get up, go back to his work, and sicken again.
Though I would love to remain here and watch his decline, I think it would be wise for me to be well away from Nimbus Castle during the onset of his illness. Custom makes that easily arranged. Putting away her journal, she called for Sagra* 'We're going on a journey,' she said. 'I'm going to show you something of my land.'
'May I know the destination?' the girl asked. Ilsabet smiled. 'Of course. It is a custom that all good mothers consult the Seer about their children's futures. I can hardly set an example for my subjects if I don't go.'
Sagra glanced out the window at the storm brewing in the western hills. 'Does Lekai need to go with us?' she asked.
'No, and I'm thankful. The storms are fierce in early summer but I can't put the journey off any longer. We'll go tomorrow morning.'
'Shall I tell the stablers to prepare your coach?'
'Three horses. Two to ride, the third for our gear.'
'Baroness…?'
Ilsabet hastily explained about the way petitioners to Sagesse must travel. 'It's only three days' ride, at most,' she concluded. 'If the weather turns ugly, we can certainly stop at an inn. On the way back, we can do as we please. Lord Ruven's estate near Tygelt is very beautiful. We'll stop there for a time before we come home.' She handed Sagra a note. 'Take this to the stables and see that they prepare everything as I ordered.'
'You're sure we'll be safe?' Sagra asked.
Hsabet nodded.
'May I be allowed to ask the Seer a question?' flsabet nodded again. 'But take something you value to leave her in exchange for her advice.'
From the Diary of Baroness Ilsabet
Sagra is a talkative girl. By the next morning when we set out on our journey, the entire castle had learned of it. Peto even came and demanded that we take at least a pair of guards. Fortunately, Jorani joined us at that moment. It took our combined efforts to convince Peto that our mission was sacred, that not even the ghosts of the land would harm us.
'Do the cats consult the Seer, too?' Peto retorted. 'I'll not have the mother of my child…'
'The mother of your child is doing her duty,' I insisted. 'There's a sword strapped to my saddle, and! carry a knife. Even cats recognize a blade. They'll leave us be. As to the outlaws, Sagra and I both wear the cream- colored armbands of those making a pilgrimage to Sagesse. No one will dare incur the wrath of the fates by harming us.'
I left him standing there, still fuming. As I rode away, I thought of all the notes he undoubtedly had to write
