“She’s kind?” Shawonda said ironically.
“No. She’s, this is with ordinary people, you understand… she’s neither. She’s just… clever. Patient, and very very clever.”
The elder Thurston girl shivered a little. “Sounds scary.”
“ Oh yes,” Yseult said, her mind traveling back. “You have no idea.”
CASTLE TODENANGST, CROWN DEMESNE WILLAMETTE VALLEY NEAR NEWBURG (FORMERLY WESTERN OREGON) PORTLAND PROTECTIVE ASSOCIATION OCTOBER 15, CHANGE YEAR 23/2021 AD
Yseult struggled with the cote-hardie. The voluminous folds kept getting hung up. Three weeks of physical therapy and exercises had helped her arm, shoulder and wrist. But she still didn’t have the full range of motion back. With an annoyed exclamation she ducked her head down and bent her body, shaking herself and wishing for Carmen Barrios or Virgilia. The slubbed silk slowly slid off her arms and over her head.
Huon knocked on the door. “Ysi, Ysi, what’s taking you so long? It’s almost time!”
She looked at the pools of sunset orange silk on the floor, hesitated for the tenth time and then set her lips.
“Huon, please come help me. I can’t get the dress on with my arm still injured.”
“Help you!” Huon suddenly squeaked, a thirteen-year-old boy again, not a man impatient with female fripperies.
Yseult caught her breath on a sudden laugh. “Huon!” she chided. “I’m wearing the chemise and underclothes. I could get those on and laced up by myself. It’s just the court cote-hardie. It’s so tight and I can’t lift my left arm enough. I’m perfectly decent.”
She opened the door to the sitting room and looked at Huon and approved.
“You’re going to be as much of a popinjay as Odard!” she said. “That looks really good on you. Now come help me keep up the reputation of House Liu!”
His cheeks were as red as the crimson shirt under his plain gray houppelande of fine merino wool. It was belted over parti-colored hosen in black and a darker crimson. The belt, with its empty dagger sheath, was one of Odard’s; an elaborate affair of fifteen five-inch-wide black enameled plaques in a filigree pattern, set with lapis lazuli cabochons. It had a matching state chain over the shoulder that picked up the dark sea-blue of his eyes, like the Pacific off Astoria on a sunny day.
“I approve,” she said. “Where are the shoes and hat?”
He waved a hand aimlessly at the window and said, “Shouldn’t I send for a tirewoman?”
“We don’t have enough time… and, Huon?”
He looked at her, inquiringly. She hesitated and shrugged.
“I think this is a test.”
“Test?” he frowned. “Of what?”
“Resourcefulness and ability to think on our feet? Who knows; do you want to get into a who’s-the-clever-one contest with the Spider?”
“St. Michael, no! I’m thirteen!”
“I don’t either, and I won’t when I’m thirty!”
A startled expression crossed his face. “I never thought of that! And, in that case, will you help fix my stuff, too?”
“Of course! I wouldn’t have let you out of the room like that!”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
She giggled, suddenly. “You might be heading towards brother Odard’s dandyism, but you’ve got a long way to go yet! It’s all in the details. I’ll take care of it in a minute.”
She picked up and shook out the sunset-colored cote-hardie. “I’m going to crouch a bit and you throw it over my head and get my hands into the sleeves. Then you have to help coax the sleeves up each arm and make sure the skirts fall without getting tucked up at the waist.”
Huon looked appropriately solemn as he carefully cast the many yards of raw silk slub over her head and they worked together on coaxing the tight sleeves into place.
“Your chemise is showing,” he fussed.
She waved a hand at him. “No, it’s supposed to show. I’m too young to be showing off my pitiful assets. It needs to be absolutely even all around, though.”
She shrugged and lifted the collar of the complex dress while he walked around and around and carefully tucked and tugged at the delicate pink silk chemise. Then she reached under the skirts and deftly pulled the hem of the chemise. The wrinkles at the neckline slowly vanished. The chain and saint’s medal were lightly outlined by the silk, but that was acceptable. She shook herself making sure the gown moved freely and moved into the sitting room and studied herself in the better light. Huon followed her out, carrying the rich caramel-colored sideless surcoat.
“Wouldn’t it have been easier to just unbutton the buttons and then do it up?”
“The buttons are just for show,” she said absently, carefully pulling the seams of her sleeves straight.
The obsidian buttons were burin-carved in a cloud pattern, each one slightly different; they marched their way up to the elbow.
“And the front ones-if I did that it would button up all crooked. Some of the court ladies wear theirs so tight they actually have to sew themselves into them. Buttons would gap, do gap, these are for show, too… It looks very, very… ummm, when they do them too tight.”
She felt her cheeks heat up. Huon laughed a small laugh that reminded her he was old enough to start looking at women that way.
“I’ve seen it. Like they painted themselves in silk, and nothing left to the imagination.”
She nodded, still a little pink. Huon shook out the sideless surcoat, found the front and flung it over her head. It settled neatly around her and a few tweaks set it in place. The front and back had been cut out, too, and then lightly laced, to show off the cote-hardie itself.
“Where are your jewels?” asked Huon.
“Under the prie-dieu.”
He brought out her belt and state necklace, pearl set copper, and helped her get them set just right. She swallowed a bit at the sight of the empty dagger sheath at her belt. She and Huon wore the sheaths as tokens that they were Associates; they were empty in token of the accusations against them.
She found the veil, gauzy wild pink that picked up the brilliant color of her dress. Huon carefully combed the disordered strands of her braided hair smooth and draped the veil. The copper and pearl diadem fixed it on her head.
“Doesn’t this make your skin go green?”
“No. It would, but it has a lining of silver on the inside. That might make my skin go black. But it’s a lot slower to tarnish than copper… Huon! I’m so scared!”
She saw his throat work and was sorry she’d spoken. “But, you’re with me. We’re House Liu! We can do this.”
Huon’s face firmed. “Right, Ysi. Our father came out of the Change a baron. There’s strength in our blood.”
“Come here and let me straighten out your houppelande and state chain… no, first put on your shoes and hat! Let me comb your hair …”
Fussing over Huon steadied her and she saw her brother relax and smile a bit and relaxed herself. The clash of spears thumping the hall warned her that it was time. She walked, quickly, but carefully back into her bedchamber, holding up her skirts. She gulped and touched the porcelain of Bernadette and the picture of the Virgin.
“Give me strength, but also, give me smarts. This is going to be very scary!”
She slipped the rosary under her belt and heard the door open. She walked out and gasped. Jehane stood there between the spearmen, lord Chaka’s youngest sister, and looking very grown-up now, her smooth brown face inscrutable.
Oh! I wish I could smile and dance up to her and hug her like I used to do. She was always so nice to me; but
