fodder for those inclined to gossip.
She squared her shoulders. This was her home. If exploring was in order, she could open any door she liked. If Hasha and Toril had forgotten the niceties of hosting since the loss of the clan mother, then it was time another woman gentled the household.
As Malena turned to the nearest doorway, she heard a rustle from the shadows farther down the hall. A small girl emerged, pushed a door shut with a click, and then stepped into the glow of one of the lamps. She froze when she realized she was not alone.
The girl wore a wrinkled apron over an almond-colored kirtle. Strands of her dark hair, which had been bound with a kerchief, straggled across one eyebrow. A smudge of flour on one cheek suggested that she had recently been in the kitchen. She regarded Malena with wide, coal-black eyes full of apprehension.
The eyes were familiar; Malena had seen them on the urchin being cuffed by a man in the streets the day before. This was the same girl.
She smiled and bent to speak.
“I’m Malena,” she said. “Sorry if I startled you.”
The girl gave a half nod.
“Do you work here?” Malena asked, surprise in her voice. The girl seemed much too young to be employed or apprenticed. She looked to be perhaps seven or eight years old. Beneath the hem of her kirtle, ankles and bare feet were evident. The broken nails on her toes seemed out of harmony with the apron and kerchief, which were clean and bright.
The girl puffed out her chest and nodded vigorously. “Yes, ma’am. Semya ur-Hasha himself hired me.”
Why would Toril be hiring kitchen staff? Why hire someone so young? And what assignment would take her up here, late at night?
“I’m Kinora,” the girl volunteered. “And you’re the new semanya.”
“That’s right,” Malena acknowledged. She held out her palm in the traditional greeting gesture, and waited until a small hand met her own.
“Well, Kinora, maybe you could help me,” Malena continued. “You see, Semya ur-Hasha got called away on an errand, and he didn’t tell me where his room is. I don’t know quite where I’m supposed to sleep tonight. Isn’t that silly?”
A smile skittered across Kinora’s face. She turned on her heel and pointed to the door she’d just closed.
“In there.”
Malena raised her eyebrows.
“Where you just came from?”
Kinora nodded. “He sent me up to light the lamps for you. He said you shouldn’t have to sit in the dark.”
“He sent you just now?” Malena asked, puzzled. She’d watched him ride away...
The apprehension returned to Kinora’s face. Her eyes dropped. “He asked me to do it a while ago, but I was checking some bread in the oven, and I forgot until just now. I was hoping he wouldn’t find out.”
Malena felt her lips curve. “That’s fine, Kinora. You have perfect timing. Maybe you could show me the room.” She slipped off her sandals—now that she was entering actual living quarters, good manners required this—and held out her hand.
Kinora hesitated. “I’m supposed to go back to the kitchen.”
“That’s okay,” Malena said. “If I ask for your help, I can’t imagine you’d get in trouble.”
Kinora cocked her eyes sideways in a comical gesture of calculation, then nodded decisively. Malena’s smile widened.
The chambers behind Toril’s door turned out to be roomy and clean, with furnishings more plain than those in the guest area where she’d stayed the night before. Her mother, ever a proponent of as much luxury as she could afford, would have been scandalized that the wealth her daughter had just married was nowhere in evidence—but Malena found the simplicity encouraging. Her husband was practical, it seemed—neither a spendthrift, nor a miser. The space felt... solid, balanced.
“Should I open the shutters?” asked Kinora, gesturing to a window that overlooked the central courtyard.
Malena shook her head. “No, I don’t need to have everyone at the feast peeking
She squared her shoulders. This was her home. If exploring was in order, she could open any door she liked. If Hasha and Toril had forgotten the niceties of hosting since the loss of the clan mother, then it was time another woman gentled the household.
As Malena turned to the nearest doorway, she heard a rustle from the shadows farther down the hall. A small girl emerged, pushed a door shut with a click, and then stepped into the glow of one of the lamps. She froze when she realized she was not alone.
The girl wore a wrinkled apron over an almond-colored kirtle. Strands of her dark hair, which had been bound with a kerchief, straggled across one eyebrow. A smudge of flour on one cheek suggested that she had recently been in the kitchen. She regarded Malena with wide, coal-black eyes full of apprehension.
The eyes were familiar; Malena had seen them on the urchin being cuffed by a man in the streets the day before. This was the same girl.
She smiled and bent to speak.
“I’m Malena,” she said. “Sorry if I startled you.”
The girl gave a half nod.
“Do you work here?” Malena asked, surprise in her voice. The girl seemed much too young to be employed or apprenticed. She looked to be perhaps seven or eight years old. Beneath the hem of her kirtle, ankles and bare feet were evident. The broken nails on her toes seemed out of harmony with the apron and kerchief, which were clean and bright.
The girl puffed out her chest and nodded vigorously. “Yes, ma’am. Semya ur-Hasha himself hired me.”
Why would Toril be hiring kitchen staff? Why hire someone so young? And what assignment would take her up here, late at night?
“I’m Kinora,” the girl volunteered. “And you’re the new semanya.”
“That’s right,” Malena acknowledged. She held out her palm in the traditional greeting gesture, and waited until a small hand met her own.
“Well, Kinora, maybe you could help me,” Malena continued. “You see, Semya ur-Hasha got called away on an errand, and he didn’t tell me where his room is. I don’t know quite where I’m supposed to sleep tonight. Isn’t that silly?”
A smile skittered across Kinora’s face. She turned on her heel and pointed to the door she’d just closed.
“In there.”
Malena raised her eyebrows.
“Where you just came from?”
Kinora nodded. “He sent me up to light the lamps for you. He said you shouldn’t have to sit in the dark.”
“He sent you just now?” Malena asked, puzzled. She’d watched him ride away...
The apprehension returned to Kinora’s face. Her eyes dropped. “He asked me to do it a while ago, but I was checking some bread in the oven, and I forgot until just now. I was hoping he wouldn’t find out.”
Malena felt her lips curve. “That’s fine, Kinora. You have perfect timing. Maybe you could show me the room.” She slipped off her sandals—now that she was entering actual living quarters, good manners required this—and held out her hand.
Kinora hesitated. “I’m supposed to go back to the kitchen.”
“That’s okay,” Malena said. “If I ask for your help, I can’t imagine you’d get in trouble.”
Kinora cocked her eyes sideways in a comical gesture of calculation, then nodded decisively. Malena’s smile widened.
The chambers behind Toril’s door turned out to be roomy and clean, with furnishings more plain than those in the guest area where she’d stayed the night before. Her mother, ever a proponent of as much luxury as she could afford, would have been scandalized that the wealth her daughter had just married was nowhere in evidence—but Malena found the simplicity encouraging. Her husband was practical, it seemed—neither a spendthrift, nor a miser. The space felt... solid, balanced.
“Should I open the shutters?” asked Kinora, gesturing to a window that overlooked the central courtyard.
Malena shook her head. “No, I don’t need to have everyone at the feast peeking
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