“Someone went to a lot of expense just to go off and leave this place,” said Nettie.
“It feels funny,” said Bartelmy, taking Xulai’s hand helpfully as she approached the steps, in his usual manner, only to drop it quickly and duck his head. “Sorry, m’lady.”
Xulai snapped, “Oh, for all that’s holy, Bartelmy, you can take my hand without apologizing. I am still the same person. Oldwife says so. Precious Wind says so.”
“She’s still the same person,” Oldwife verified. “Just at a bit higher boil.”
Most of the rooms were at least partially furnished with benches, beds, chests, and armoires. The dining room held a long table and carved chairs for a dozen diners. The furnishings inside the building were solid, though dirty, as though they had not been used in a lifetime or more.
“You said we can eat here?” asked Xulai, running her fingers along the time-, dust-, and spider-gummed carving of a chair back. “Instead of in the dining hall?”
“If we choose to,” Precious Wind said. “Personally, I think the dining hall is a better idea for a while. It will let us meet people. We won’t meet anyone if we stay back here all the time.”
“Except that’s a long trek on a full belly,” said Oldwife. “On the other hand, we won’t need to be all the time scrubbing pots and pans.”
Xulai examined the dirt on her hand with an inexplicable revulsion. She was used to getting her hands dirty, but this dirt made her uneasy, nonetheless. As she went from room to room, the vague agitation did not abate. To the eye, it was a very pleasant house, but she did not wish to occupy it. She could not explain why, but she did not want to live there.
“It will be some time before it’s ready, won’t it?” she asked.
“They’re working very hard at it,” said Precious Wind from the window where she was watching the scurrying workers outside.
Xulai went to stand beside her. “I think we should tell the abbot not to hurry. We’re very comfortable where we are, and I need a little time to get used to the school and the abbey, and living close to it for a while will make it easier.”
“The men and I are in separate quarters at the abbey,” Bear said from behind her in a disapproving tone. “That has its disadvantages.”
“There is no reason for you to be in separate quarters,” Precious Wind remarked as she moved toward the door. “We noticed there are no other women in the women’s quarters. Until more long-term female visitors arrive at the abbey, surely some of you could stay next door, down the hall.”
“I’ll inquire about it if you like,” said Bear with a strange searching look at Xulai. “I hope you don’t expect to delay for very long, however. I’d hate to offend him.”
Xulai managed to smile. “No, not long. It’s just that I’ve had . . . am having enough changes to last me for a while, Bear. Tell him I need a little time to adjust before we set up housekeeping.”
They walked slowly back along the path. Ahead of them the wall of the abbey itself had alert guards at every gate and spaced between, and again Xulai felt that strange revulsion. She turned, catching Bartelmy’s eyes, wrinkling her nose. He nodded. He felt the same way she did.
When Sister Tomea came to fetch Xulai later in the afternoon, she did not seem at all disconcerted by Xulai’s appearance. “You look better,” said the sister. “More rested. That’s wonderful. Will you go to the school with me this afternoon?”
With clenched teeth, Xulai nodded, forcing a passable smile onto virtually rigid lips. “Sister Tomea, one of the members of our party is not actually a part of our entourage; that is, he is not in the employ of the Duke of Wold, but he is a personal friend of mine. I’m speaking of the dyer whose wagon accompanied us to the abbey. I’d like to see him when you have finished with me this afternoon. Can that be arranged?”
“Of course,” she replied. “I recall someone mentioning he’s housed with the craftsmen over near the stables. He has, seemingly, a great affection for his horse.” She smiled widely at this, as though it were both unusual and funny.
“I think he’s a lonely man and the horse is his only real companion,” Xulai said, finding it not at all strange that Abasio would want to stay very close to a horse that talked.
“Do you want him to come to your quarters?”
“Actually, I’d rather go to his, if that’s permissible,” she said. “He’s a wonderful storyteller, but those who share my quarters won’t necessarily share my enjoyment of them and they deserve their privacy.”
Sister Tomea nodded her head sympathetically. “I’ll send him word that you’d like an invitation. He can ask one of us to guide you. This evening, perhaps?”
“This evening,” she agreed as they stopped outside the office of the person in charge of the abbey upper schools, a woman named Solace. With Sister Tomea sitting nearby, Sister Solace fixed Xulai with two penetrating black eyes and asked, “What have you been taught thus far?”
Xulai took a deep breath. “The skills of literacy, ma’am. I read and write well in two languages. I read musical notation; I play an instrument, not very well . . .”
“She is modest,” said Sister Tomea. “Her Tingawan friend says she is quite good. Better than at singing.”
Xulai, with a wry smile, agreed. “Yes, much better than at singing, though I can whistle rather well. I have learned much of the history of Wold and some of the history of Norland and the other surrounding places as well as the history and customs of Tingawa. Bear—that is, one of my
