The Will of the Empress - By Tamora Pierce Page 0,71

the look of them they had started to dress before the fuss broke out.

"Do you stand between a man and his lawful wife, it is you who are in the wrong, Viymese or no!" shouted the trouhlemaker. "My wife sneaked in here last night, telling all manner of lies, I don't doubt, and I will have her back!"

"A missing wife does not grant you an excuse to disrupt others' households in this coarse manner, Halmar Iarun," Ambros said coldly, leaning on the gallery rail. "Where is your respect for the clehame? She is here at last, and this is the welcome you give her?"

Sandry marched from her room, towing a rumpled woman with coarse, brownish-blond hair. "If this is Halmar Iarun, then I am glad he is here," she announced flatly. "You, down there — you are the man who kidnapped this woman and forced her to sign a marriage contract ten years ago?"

"Uh-oh," muttered Briar. "She's all on Her Nobleness already."

"It's too early," grumbled Daja. Briar was right. All three of them had seen that stubborn jut of Sandry's chin and the blaze of her eyes before. In this mood, Sandry was capable of facing armies armed only with her noble blood.

"I am her wedded husband under law," barked Halmar. "Halmar Iarun, miller."

"Down, cur!" barked one of the footmen, kicking Halmar's legs from under him. The man thudded to his knees. "The clehame can have you beaten for your lack of due respect!"

Halmar bowed his head.

"Are you finished?" Sandry demanded, her eyes on the footman.

He looked at her, swallowed hard, and went down on one knee to her, all without releasing his grip on Halmar's arm. His companion, still holding the miller's other arm, slowly went to one knee as well. Every other servant in the lower hall did the same.

Briar looked at Daja and rolled his eyes.

"Poppycock," muttered Tris.

Sandry glanced at them, frowned, then looked down at Halmar again. "I have news for you as your liege lord, Halmar Iarun. Your wife Gudruny has asked me for her freedom, as is her right under law?" Sandry glanced at Ambros, who nodded. "Well," continued Sandry, "I decree that she is now free of you. Your marriage is at an end. You will pay for the care of your children by her. That is my right under the law. And shame to you, for using such a disgusting trick to marry her!"

"She was lucky to get me!" Halmar cried, trying to drag free of the men who gripped his arms. "Her family didn't have a hole-less garment to their names, did she tell you that? Holding up her nose at the likes of me when everyone knew she hadn't a copper of dowry. I did her a favour to marry her. I'll provide for my children — I'm no naliz, to let my own blood go hungry! But she'll see not an argib from me in back wages, or whatever you womenfolk cook up between you —"

"Another word," said Ambros, his voice pure ice, "and I will have you flogged at the village stocks, for disrespect to nobles, one stripe for each of us." Halmar looked up at the faces that stared down at him from the gallery.

As far as he knows, we're all noble, and he'll be sleeping on his belly for a month if he doesn't bite his tongue, thought Daja coolly. Ambros should know the only way to douse a fire like that is drown it in a tempering bath. Ice water would silence him fastest. A plunge in the Syth, maybe.

"Get him out of my sight," ordered Sandry.

The footmen rose, hauling the man with them. They bowed deep, forcing Halmar to bow with him, then half-marched, half-dragged him from view.

Ambros looked across the stairwell at Sandry. "You should still have Halmar flogged for disrespect," he said quietly, his voice carrying perfectly to everyone in the gallery and the main hall below. "We don't encourage the lower classes to speak so to the nobility here."

Sandry flapped a hand as if she brushed away a fly. "Either I'm so important that the squeaks of a beetle like him aren't worth my attention, or I'm not important, which means I can't hire his former wife as my maid and her children as my pages. Which is it, do you suppose, Cousin?"

"I thought you didn't need a maid," Tris reminded Sandry, her voice flat. Her lightnings were just beginning to fade.

Gudruny looked at Sandry. "You don't? Lady, I do not