Long story. Shorter than thenephewbit, though.
“You recognize the dress Kaylin is wearing,” Yvonne said, as if no one else had spoken—or as if only An’Tellarus was in a kitchen that was growing more crowded as people entered.
An’Tellarus was silent.
“You must recognize the ring of kinship.”
Silence again. An’Tellarus’s hands were rigid, her eyes very dark.
“You know the weapon Severn is wielding.” Yvonne’s eyes were as blue as An’Tellarus’s. “I don’t know why Kaylin has that dress, because you’re right: it’s too early for theregalia. Butyou must sense it. You must know that we’re standing on the edge of the green.” She lifted a hand to touch Severn’s back.
“It doesn’t matter. We are leaving. Now.”
Yvonne shook her head and turned to Kaylin; Severn moved slightly to allow an unimpeded line of view. “I know why you invited me to visit—and Iwantedto visit. You might be a Lord of the High Court, but you’re human. You don’t have roots in Barrani politics.
“I’m not a Lord of the High Court, in case that wasn’t obvious. Ollarin is. An’Tellarus definitely is. I know I’ve gotten myself involved in political things here—but I swear to you I didn’t do it deliberately.”
“Yvonne.”
Yvonne shook her head. “You know it, too.”
“Might I suggest we repair to the parlor?” Helen said. “It seems that only one of our guests intends to leave, and perhaps discussion might more comfortably occur in the parlor.”
“Helen, I must ask—”
“You cannot, Cediela. You might speak my name as a last resort, but it will not have the desired effect. Yvonne accepted my hospitality—and my hospitality is the hospitality of my master. While Kaylin is willing to entertain guests, guests are welcome. She is not a lord who will abuse that hospitality; she will not detain you—or ask me to detain you—if you do not wish to remain.” Helen turned to Kaylin. “What is your desire?”
This wasn’t a question Helen ever asked.
“I need to speak with Yvonne. I’m happy to have An’Tellarus join us.”
“An’Tellarus?” Helen asked.
“I will remain while Yvonne remains.”
Severn rewound his weapon chain. Mrs. Erickson turned back to the kitchen counter on which trays were cooling. Kaylinexhaled. “I’m sorry,” she told Yvonne. “Things aren’t normally this tense.”
“You really don’t live in the High Halls,” Yvonne replied, a hint of a smile flickering around the corners of her lips. “I like the kitchen.”
“We can stay here if you want—but I’ve been told it’s not considered good manners to ask guests to do work while they visit.”
“Really? I wasn’t raised in the High Court—we didn’t have servants, wewereservants. But when we gathered, when we weren’t serving our lords, we got together and we occupied the kitchen; we cooked together. It was something we could all be part of. I mean, Helen’s a sentient building, so it’s probably not really useful—”
“I like to bake,” Mrs. Erickson said. “I lived for a long time with people who couldn’t eat; they couldn’t really help, either. But what they could do, they did. They kept me company while I worked. I know you’re here as Kaylin’s guest, not mine—but I’m always happy for the help.”
Gentle voice. Thread of steel running through it. One old, mortal woman facing a handful of Barrani Lords. Kaylin spent too much of her life betting, and she knew who she’d bet on here, against all realistic odds.
Yvonne turned toward Mrs. Erickson; Kaylin couldn’t see the younger woman’s expression. But she walked toward the counters where pastries were cooling, and from there, toward cupboards she’d never opened before.
“I really was never very good at telling other people what to do,” Mrs. Erickson said, her tone entirely apologetic. “But maybe that’s why I appreciate offers of help. I can’t command other people. I’m not a fancy person. I’m not a lord. But even people who can’t give orders need help sometimes. Those plates—the long oval ones. Those are the ones we use.”
Yvonne had already begun to pull those plates down. Thekitchen was otherwise funereal—as if it were a field kitchen, and deadly hostilities might commence at any moment.
Severn exhaled and relaxed first, turning to look at Yvonne as she moved up and down the counter in harmony with Mrs. Erickson. Kaylin could believe that every word the young Barrani woman had said was true: she was at home in this kitchen, her hands doing useful work. More at home here than she would have been in the parlor, flanked by An’Tellarus, and facing An’Teela and An’Mellarionne. Then again, Kaylin, who knew almost nothing about kitchens, would have been far more at home here than in that parlor, too.
But Kaylin was afraid of getting underfoot; she always had been. She almost envied Yvonne her certainty as she moved things from trays, moved trays off the counter to the large wooden table. At some point, an apron appeared, and Yvonne grabbed it from the air in which it floated.
“Everybody needs to eat,” Helen said, voice soft, eyes once again brown.