The Will of the Empress - By Tamora Pierce Page 0,65

hot bath," Ealaga suggested. "A dreadful day to ride — you couldn't have waited for better weather?" she asked her husband as hostlers rushed forward to help the riders dismount and to take the horses' reins.

"I wished our cousin to have time to thoroughly review the state of things here before she must return for Midsummer," Ambros explained. "The will of our empress is that Clehame Sandry bear her company for most of the season. As you can see, my dear, she sent four of her young courtiers to bear the clehame and her friends company until it was time to return."

"Wonderful," said Ealaga with a smile. "Rizu, you're always welcome, and Ambros, you ought to remember Caidy is my mother's own great-niece. And Jak and Fin I know quite well." To Sandry, she explained, "He's always positive we are spinning wildly out of control, when he is prepared for everything. Really, what can you do with such a man?"

Sandry laughed. "It seems as if you married him." There was something about Ealaga that reminded her very much of Lark, one of the four's foster-mothers. To Sandry, it was enough to make her relax.

*

"You're not supposed to be here," a thin, short woman informed Tris as the redhead was putting her book in a saddlebag. "Servants around to the side entrance, my lord should have told you. We need you to tell us which luggage belongs to the Clehame."

Tris looked down her long nose at the speaker. "I've been demoted, seemingly," she answered, her voice extra dry. "From travelling companion to maid. Do I look like a maid to you?"

The woman brushed her own russet brown dress and embroidered apron with one hand. Tris looked down and realized that a sensible navy riding tunic and breeches so wide they might be skirts could resemble a servant's clothes.

"Ah. Well, I'm not," she said. "Sandry doesn't have a maid."

The woman's eyebrows went up; her jaw dropped. "No maid?" she asked, appalled. "But how does she dress?"

Tris bit her lip to stop herself from saying, "One piece of clothing at a time." Instead, she rethought her answer, then said, "The clehame is accustomed to looking after herself."

"But that's indecent!" whispered the woman. "Who presses her gowns? Who stitches up any rents in her clothes?"

"She does it," Tris replied, unbuckling her saddlebags with a glare for the hostler who had come to do the chore. Slinging the bags over her shoulder, Tris told the woman, "No one mentioned your clehame is a stitch witch? Trust me, if you handled her clothes, you'd only mess them up. They never wrinkle or tear." Helpfully, enjoying the sheer bafflement on the proper servant's face, Tris added, "She weaves her own cloth, you see."

A blunt-fingered hand rested lightly on Tris's sleeve. " Viymese Tris, I just wanted to thank you for keeping us dry in all the wet today," Rizu said. Her large, dark eyes danced with amusement. "I've never known anyone, Viymese or Viynain, who could hold protection like that and still read."

"Viymese!" exclaimed the servant woman. Her voice squeaked a little on the last syllable. "Forgive me, Viymese, I didn't mean to, to intrude.... I must assign a maid to the clehame, and to yourself, of course, and —"

"'Viymese Daja and I don't require maids," Tris said, pointing to Daja, who was grinning at Rizu. "And I think you'll find Clehame Sandry will only be grumpy if you give her one." The woman must be a housekeeper. "Surely you have someone who would be happy to attend Saghada Rizuka fa Dalach and Saghada Caidlene fa Sarajane."

The servant dipped a rushed curtsy and scuttled away. "You looked like you needed rescuing," Rizu commented, smiling. "Servants get more wedded to the social order than nobles do, I think."

"Licking the boot that rests on their necks," grumbled Tris, her eyes still on the fleeing servant.

"Oh, no, we dare not rest it someplace that they might not like," protested Rizu, mock-serious. "They retaliate so deviously. Before I learned better, I found all my hose tied in one big knot, and the maid who was assigned to me had gone home to care for a sick parent. I went six months with hose that fell down because they were stretched all out of shape. Mother said that truly noble people didn't hit their maids with a brush, and made me wear the hose until they were worn out. I missed two birthday cakes that year because I was out tying up