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Or so she'd thought, when an expressionless Lady Sandra took the picture, with the very last priceless frame of Zeiss film for the camera. In fact Katrina was holding two fingers up in rabbit-ears behind Tiphaine's helmeted head.
And nobody told me until it was developed!
Someone had also left a golden daffodil on the pillow, with a red ribbon around it tied in the shape of a heart, and another in front of the pictures. Tiphaine picked up the one on the pillow, clipped the stem with her dagger, tucked it behind one ear, and went down into the Hall, smiling quietly to herself and tucking the knot into a pouch at her waist.
I really think I am going to like that girl.
Ruffin and his Joyce had joined the party there, and Ivo and Debbie; they were deep in wedding plans, and Mathilda was listening raptly; the two women rose to give Tiphaine a curtsey before diving in again. Rudi looked frankly bored, and was focusing on his food. She didn't blame him. Debbie was an amiable ditz, in her opinion, but at least smart enough that you didn't always want to gag her with her wimple after five minutes of conversation. Joyce was good-natured and loyal and had cheerfully put up with the hardships court and camp held for the leman of a man-at-arms, and was admittedly eye-stopping, sexpot gorgeous in a big-eyed, big-hair, buxom way that had never appealed to Tiphaine. She supposed the woman was very attractive overall, if you weren't put off your feed by the very thought of having sex with someone whose IQ was about the same as a large dog's.
Say a golden retriever, hut with the added disadvantage of being able to talk and doing it nonstop, mostly about the puppies – pardon me, children – she wants. How on earth does Ruffin stand it? Ah, well, breeders: somebody has to do it, she thought indulgently, and returned their greeting with a nod.
Everyone gave an odd glance at the flower behind her ear, which was not the sort of gesture she usually went in for, but nobody commented as she took the high central seat and a servant brought her breakfast from the dishes kept warm over spirit-lamps on a sideboard; four eggs, a dozen rashers of bacon, fried green pickled tomatoes, hash browns and toast.
They're good sorts, Ivo and Ruffin, she thought. It didn't even occur to them they could dump their girls and find better matches, now that they've got manors in fief. And I can trust them to back me come what may. Lady Sandra knows how to pick 'em.
She sat down and began eating with growing enthusiasm; the cook had heard that she liked her eggs over easy but the whites weren't liquid; the bacon was Canadian-style; the hash browns had bits of chili and onion; and best of all her stomach had settled back to normal. Even the chatter wasn't too bad, if you unfocused your ears and just heard it as a happy babble, like a mountain brook.
"We'll get you two settled in today and show you to your fiefs," she said to the knights, mopping at a yolk with some toast. "And you can swear me homage on Sunday after morning mass. Then we get busy. Sitting on the veranda watching the tenants work isn't on the schedule, and hunting can wait until after wine-harvest. You've got competent bailiffs, and your good ladies can see to setting up housekeeping and finding cooks and shopping for household gear on their own."
They nodded; Ruffin gave a mock-theatrical groan and then winked at Joyce, who bounced up and down in glee at the thought of being turned loose in the vast warehouses of salvaged luxuries the Association kept for its elite. Several of the nearby males paused to look over at the results of the bouncing, even confined in a cotte-hardi.
Christ have mercy, Tiphaine thought; one of the few things she and Katrina had disagreed about was whether shopping was fun in itself, or just more fun than standing naked in a hailstorm while juggling live squid.
That switched the conversation from weddings to home improvement; Tiphaine did her best to blur it into background noise, and signaled the servant for another plate. The manors they'd be swearing service for had been in the Protector's demesne since the area was resettled in late fall of the first Change Year, and the spring of the second. That meant a good bailiff, probably picked originally because they knew something about raising food. Norman Arminger had raked the survivors for such from the day he a
When her plate was empty likewise, Tiphaine cleared her throat and spoke: "Yes, Joyce, you can probably get a gold chandelier and a swinging love seat and a four-poster."
The younger woman recognized the tone and fell silent, still smiling. Tiphaine went on: "Ivo, Ruffin, what I want is to get the menie in order. Right now what we've got is sorta-kinda good enough to keep one of the Grand Constable's inspectors from blowing through the roof and ordering floggings all 'round. Just. Sorta-kinda is not good enough for me. Next time the ban is called, the Domain of Ath is going to put the sixty best-trained fighting-men in the Association at my horse's tail if we have to kill them all to do it."
They nodded enthusiastically, being men who took their profession seriously. "Is that why the Lord Protector picked this fief for you, my lady?" Ivo asked. "He knew you'd slap the garrison into shape and do it quick?"
"That was probably one of the reasons," Tiphaine said judiciously. "Believe me, there's always more than one reason behind the Protector's decisions, and at least four behind Lady Sandra's."
"Can Rudi and I come along on the ride, Lady d'Ath?" Mathilda asked.
She'd either learned or inherited her mother's way of making a request sound like an exquisitely polite but definite command nobody could dream of disobeying. Unlike her mother she didn't have the might of the Protectorate to back it up: yet, but she would someday, which was a good thing to keep in mind. Rudi said nothing, nibbling on a piece of toast and doing his best to be beatifically uninvolved. Tiphaine looked at him narrowly.
Well, it would be the best way to keep an eye on him, she thought. He did promise, and I think he takes it seriously. Plus keeping him cooped up and going stir-crazy would be the best way I know to make him mad enough to try and run. Of course, he also wants to get to know the area in case he gets a chance to escape within the wording of that realllllly careful promise. But I can't turn Mathilda down without a good reason, and it'd make trouble to make him stay here if she went.
"Sure," she said.
Mathilda clapped her hands. Rudi smiled, and the gray-green eyes glowed in the shadowed dimness of the tower's hall.