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His obvious native intelligence never challenged his opinions and prejudices because it was enlisted in their support, instead. That might not prevent him from being an excellent administrator, as was obvious from the condition of his lands and the people living on them. But it was a serious handicap when he was forced to deal with people or events he couldn’t hammer into submission to his own biases.
On the other hand, perhaps it’s time someone jerked him up short, she thought as she settled into her place at his right hand at the high table in Thalar Keep’s great hall.
“I fear Thalar’s hospitality must appear somewhat modest compared to that of Balthar.” Trisu’s words were courteous enough, as was their tone, but there was a challenging glint in his eyes. Or perhaps there wasn’t. It was always possible, Kaeritha reminded herself conscientiously, that her own prejudices were unfairly ascribing false attitudes and motives to him.
“Balthar is considerably larger than Thalar, Milord,” she replied, after a moment. “But it’s been my experience that simple size has less to do with hospitality and the gracious treatment of guests than the graciousness of the host. Certainly no attention to my own comfort has been omitted here in Thalar.”
She hid an i
“I’m pleased to hear it,” Trisu said, looking out across the crowded tables below them as serving women began bringing in the food. Then he returned his attention fully to Kaeritha.
“I’ve read Baron Tellian’s letters, Dame Kaeritha,” he said. “And I will, of course, comply with his wishes and instructions.” His smile was thin, and his gray eyes glittered. “Lorham stands ready to assist you in any way we may.”
“I appreciate that,” she replied, forbearing to observe that it was marvelous that it appeared to have taken him no more than the better part of seven hours to work his way through all two of the letters Tellian had sent along.
“Yes. But that’s for tomorrow. For tonight, allow my cooks to demonstrate their skill for you.” A serving maid deposited a stuffed, roasted fowl before him, and he reached for a carving knife. “Would you prefer light meat, or dark, Milady?” he inquired.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Is that crate about ready, Leeana?”
“Almost, Theretha!” Leeana called back up the stair. She finished wrapping the last piece of glassware in its protective braided straw and slipped it into the proper pigeonhole in the crate’s top tray. Then she scooped up an armful of loose straw and sifted it down over the tray, making certain that every piece was packed snugly into place yet padded and cushioned against unexpected impacts.
The straw caught on her fingers, and she grimaced with wry humor as she looked down at them. Her hands were as slender as they had always been, with the same long, aristocratic fingers, but now they were work-roughened, nicked, and chapped, as well. They were also bruised, she noted, and two of her fingernails had been gnawed back to the quick after she broke them practicing unarmed combat against Garlahna under Ravlahn’s supervision. And they’d developed a nicely growing crop of calluses from mucking out stalls and sweeping up in the municipal stables.
She patted the last of the straw down into a smooth layer, then laid the top slats of the crate across the frame and reached for the tack hammer. Quick, crisp strokes tacked each slat neatly into place, and she set the hammer back down, dipped the paintbrush into the pot of paint, and inscribed the crate’s number from the bill of lading on both side panels.
“It’s done, Theretha!” she called, stepping to the foot of the stair and looking up it.
“Oh, good!” Theretha replied as she appeared at the head of the stair, smiling down at her helper. “I don’t know how I would have gotten this shipment packed in time without you,” she continued gratefully, and Leeana gri
“Be sure you remember my efficiency the next time you need an assistant!” she said cheerfully.
“Oh, I will—I will!” Theretha assured her. The glassblower came down the stair into her shop’s basement and patted the final crate of the consignment with a proprietary air.
“Good! I can use the money.”
“Can’t we all?” Theretha grimaced humorously, and Leeana laughed. She liked Theretha, and it had been an unanticipated surprise to discover her mother’s favorite glassblower lived and worked here in Kalatha. The fact that she’d recognized Theretha’s work when she saw it in the shop’s display window had emboldened her to answer the other war maid’s advertisement when she saw it posted on the Town Hall notice board.
It had worked out quite well, she thought with a certain satisfaction. Recognition of Theretha’s work had made her feel as if the shop were somehow co
Theretha was about as little like Leeana’s pre-Kalatha vision of a war maid as it was possible to be. She was shy—though not at all timid, a distinction it had taken Leeana a day or two to recognize—and very much on the retiring side, except where her art and her shop were concerned. She was petite, and Leeana doubted Theretha had reported for a single morning’s calisthenics since the day she thankfully finished her required physical training period and escaped the mandatory workouts. She wore a pair of wire-framed glasses for close work, and her favorite article of clothing was a burn-spotted smock improbably decorated with butterflies embroidered in blue, red, and gold. She appeared to have no special passions, aside from her obvious love for glass and the somehow fanatical absentmindedness which seemed to take possession of her the instant she touched her glassblower’s pipe. On first acquaintance, she seemed like the sort of person who would always have a mousehole to hide in and would probably spend every night curled up in bed with a book.
Despite that, Theretha was one of the most popular citizens of Kalatha. She seemed to know literally everyone, and everyone who knew her, liked her. She was perpetually helpful, unassuming, yet cheerful, and something about her made everyone want to look after her. It was almost like some protective coloration or natural defense mechanism, although it clearly wasn’t anything Theretha did. It was simply who she was. Even Leeana, who was certainly the newest war maid in town and at least ten years younger than Theretha, to boot, felt the protective urge which made Theretha a sort of surrogate kid sister for everyone.
There was nothing childlike about Theretha when it came to business, however, and she was an exacting taskmistress. She’d already been through three part-time workers before Leeana walked through her shop door, and none of them had been satisfactory. Which had been fortunate for Leeana … who had been. After the first afternoon, Theretha had agreed to pay her on a piece basis, rather than an hourly one, despite the glassblower’s initial fear that haste would increase breakage. It hadn’t, and Leeana had discovered that if she really concentrated, she could earn half again as much in the same period of time—or earn the same amount and still get to her scheduled class with Hundred Ravlahn on time.