Uprooted - Naomi Novik Page 0,123

turned on my pointed heel and stalked away from him and his amused huff of laughter, letting my stupid train drag along the ground behind me.

I made my thundercloud way out of the neat courtyard and into the noisy bustle of the green outer courtyard of the castle. A heap of haybales and barrels sat alongside the main road from the outer gates to the inner ones, waiting to be loaded somewhere or other. I sat down on one bale to think. I had the horrible certain feeling that Solya was right about this, too. And that meant any courtier who would speak to me now would only do so because they liked this sort of spiteful game; anyone decent wouldn’t want anything to do with me.

But there wasn’t anyone else I could talk to, or even ask for advice. The servants and soldiers didn’t want any part of me, either, nor the officials hurrying on their appointed rounds. As they came past me now I could see them all throwing doubtful looks in my direction: a fine lady sitting on a haybale next to the road in my satin and lace finery, my dragging train full of grass and sand, a stray leaf in a well-tended garden. I didn’t belong.

Worse than that, I wasn’t being any use—to Kasia or to Sarkan or anyone back home. I was ready to testify, and there wasn’t a trial; I’d begged for soldiers, but none had gone. I’d attended more parties in three days than in my whole life before, and I had nothing to show for it but ruining the reputation of one silly girl who’d probably never had a real friend in her life.

In a burst of frustration and anger, I called vanastalem, but slurred deeply, and between one passing wagon and the next, I put myself back into the clothes of a woodcutter’s daughter: good plain homespun, a skirt that wasn’t too long for sensible boots to show beneath it, an apron with two big pockets in it. I breathed easier at once, and found myself suddenly invisible: no one was looking at me anymore. No one cared who I was, or what I was doing.

There were hazards to invisibility, too: while I stood there on the edge of the road enjoying the pleasure of a deep breath, an enormous carriage swollen out over its wheels on all sides and four footmen hanging off it came rattling past me, and nearly knocked me over. I had to jump out of the way into a puddle, my boots squelching and mud spattering my skirts. But I didn’t care. I knew myself for the first time in a week, standing on earth instead of polished marble.

I went back up the hill in the carriage track, my stride swinging wide and free in my easy skirts, and slipped into the inner court without any trouble. The fat carriage had drawn up to disgorge an ambassador in a white coat, a red sash of office brilliant across his chest. The crown prince was there to meet him, with a crowd of courtiers and an honor guard carrying the flag of Polnya and a yellow-and-red flag with the head of an ox upon it, one I’d never seen before. He must have been coming to the state dinner. I’d been meant to go there with Alicja this evening. All the guards were watching the ceremony with half an eye at least, and when I whispered to them that I wasn’t worth taking any notice of, their eyes slid over me the way they wanted to, anyway.

Going back and forth from parties three times a day from my inconvenient room had been good for one thing, at least: I had learned to find my way about the castle. There were servants in the hallways, but all of them were laden under linens and silver, hurrying to make ready for the dinner party. None of them had attention to spare for a mud-spattered scullery-maid. I eeled around and through them and made my way down the long dark corridor to the Grey Tower.

The four guards on duty at the base of the tower were bored and yawning with the late hour. “You missed the stair to the kitchens, sweetheart,” one of them said good-naturedly to me. “It’s back down the hall.”

I stored that information away for later, and then I did my best to stare at them the way that everyone had been staring at me for

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