Heartseeker Read online

  My fingers tapped at my desk, and my legs wiggled beneath my skirts. The ill ease the beaky scholar brought with him felt familiar, like the first moment I’d met Toly. He hadn’t belonged to the Fairweather clan any more than Master Iordan belonged in our hallsroom. The kingsman had wanted money. What was the inquisitor there for? I snuck a glance at the boy, who’d been abandoned in the doorway by Master Iordan. He didn’t look at any of us, but instead, stared straight ahead like he was used to pretending he wasn’t there.

  “Only?”

  Mistress Averil’s voice brought me back to myself. To my embarrassment, the entire study was staring in my direction.

  “Sorry, mistress?”

  She pursed her lips in annoyance. “Master Iordan has asked you a question, Only.”

  My head snapped front to where the inquisitor was studying me with great interest. “Beg your pardon, master.”

  “Stand up, child,” he said, not unkindly. Nervous as a cat, I pushed back my chair, my ears burning at the attention. “What’s your name?”

  “Only Fallow, sir.”

  “Oh, a Fallow of the orchard? Where the Scrump is made?” he asked.

  Whispers and tittering broke out among my studymates, stoking the fire under my skin higher. I heard the harsh mutter of my brother’s voice telling Hatter Leyward to shut his face. “Yes, sir,” I managed.

  “It’s become a popular cup in the capital. If it isn’t too much trouble, after your studies are concluded for the day, I should very much like to see where it’s brewed.”

  And that’s when it happened. Dark fingers of purple and brown shot through the disturbed space around him, and the terror of the night by the river with Toly came together in one heavy, painful ball at the pit of my stomach. The inquisitor wasn’t just passing through for a pint of Scrump.

  “The tables, please, Miss Fallow, beginning with twos.”

  The inquisitor certainly wasn’t just passing through to hear me recite my multiples.

  “Two by one is two. Two by two is four. Two by three . . .”

  The inquisitor was there for me.

  * * *

  THE ROAD BACK from halls never seemed so long.

  More than anything, I wanted to run straight home, leaving Master Iordan, the liveried boy, and Ether behind in a cloud of dust, but I put one foot in front of the other, forcing myself into step with my brother and the lanky man at his side.

  As we crested the hill, the inquisitor pointed to the familiar, stubbly lavender fields and the orchard beyond. “These lands,” he said. “They all belong to your family?”

  There was something in the tone of his question that made me anxious, but Ether answered, unconcerned by the tall stranger. “Yes, master. Down past the bend in the river.”

  “I’ve had occasion to taste the brew from your estate. It’s quite fine.”

  Ether all but skipped like a pup being praised. “Thank you, master. Our family’s proud of it.”

  I risked a glance behind me at the boy following silently in our footsteps. His cheeks were still a little plump with baby tallow, but he was likely of the same years as Ether. I couldn’t help notice how he kept his eyes fixed on the back of his master’s neck. Probably so he didn’t have to look at me.

  “The king values those that take pride in their work, young master.” Iordan stared over my brother’s head to find me in Ether’s shadow. “And what about you, miss? Are you proud of your family’s accomplishments?”

  “Yes, sir.” The answer was a lump of fat as it fell off my tongue. I knew what I had seen in the classroom, and the stranger from the capital was up to no good, in spite of his mild smile and quiet voice.

  Our gate came into sight and I sped up, hoping to get through it and as far away from Iordan as possible, but my heart sank. Papa was in the front garden, patching a hole in the wall. He stood up straighter than usual when he saw the four of us.

  “Papa!” called Ether as we came near. “Papa, this is Master Iordan. He’s an inquisitor at the lyceum in Bellskeep. He’s passing through and wanted to see where we brewed the Scrump.”

  “Well met, Master Iordan,” Papa said, extending his big hand to shake Iordan’s more delicate, pale one. It was satisfying to see the inquisitor wince under Papa’s grip. “It’s an honor to have you with us. Ether, go fetch the inquisitor a pint from the cellar.”

  “Oh,” Iordan said hastily, “just a half for me, thank you kindly. I have not much stomach for strong drink.”

  Papa noticed the boy, standing in the inquisitor’s shadow. “And one for your man?”

  I could have sworn I saw the corners of the young fellow’s mouth curve upward with Papa’s offer, but Iordan shook his head. “That’s kind of you, but no. Just the half, thank you.”

  Ether dropped his satchel inside the gate and disappeared round the corner of the house. I looked after him in envy, wishing Papa had sent me instead. I had to content myself by hiding behind my father’s back, but even there, the inquisitor was still watching me. He smiled politely at Papa.

  “You manage these lands yourself, Master Fallow?”

  “I do as much as I can, master. I have a staff of brewers and orchardmen that live on-site. Overseers, too. My wife manages the bakery and the stables. There’s a clan of . . .” Papa stopped, frowning. “Well, I know how folks in the capital feel toward the Ordish, but none of the estates down this way would be able to bring in the harvest without them.”

  Iordan’s nose wrinkled. “No explanations needed, master. We make what friends we must when a task needs doing.” He glanced idly around the yard. “Is it just you, your wife, and your two children here?”

  Papa fidgeted in discomfort. “Yes, sir, at the moment.”

  “You have an elder son, do you not, Master Fallow?”

  Papa bristled, sensing danger. “I do, sir.”

  Master Iordan continued calmly, as if he couldn’t feel Papa’s vexation. “You’re teaching him the ways of the estate?”

  “I am, sir. He’ll be a fine overseer someday.”

  The inquisitor glanced over Papa’s shoulder and then at me. “I should like to meet the next orchardman of Presston! Child, run and fetch your brother, will you?”

  The smirk on Iordan’s face was near unbearable. The dark purple veins of his deception curled toward me, and I tried not to flinch as they began to twist round my ankles. There was no answer I could make that wouldn’t give either me or Jonquin away. All I could do was stand and gawp like a fish caught on a hook.

  The inquisitor cocked his head. “Did you hear me, child? Don’t you know where your brother is?”

  Papa quickly answered in my place. “Our eldest has gone down south for a spell, master. My wife’s got a sister there in the horse trade.” I’d heard him tell the lie half a dozen times, but I still couldn’t keep my eyes from the hazy ring of green and blue that made round him. It spread out, meeting the tendrils of the inquisitor’s lie in a fog of muddy brown. “Thought it might do him some good to learn a few things from a business mind like hers. He’ll be back with us come harvesttime next year.”

  “I beg your pardon, master, but I was asking your young mistress here,” Iordan said in a polite way that wasn’t meant to be polite. “Now, miss, do you know where your brother is?”

  I noticed the liveried boy peering at me side-eyed from behind his master’s back. He’d not said a single word yet, but his presence was almost more infuriating than his master’s. He was the audience and I was playing my part on whatever stage the inquisitor had put me upon.

  I tried to ignore him. “Like Papa said, sir, he’s gone south.”

  The thin eyebrow of the inquisitor arched upward. “I heard what your father said. I want to hear what you say.” He bent over so his face was on a level to mine. “So, your brother has gone south, has he? Why has he gone—?”

  �
��Begging your pardon, master,” Papa interrupted as he moved between me and Iordan, closing his big, comfortable hand around mine. “I feel I gave you the answer you asked for. And you’re frightening my girl.”

  “Oh, come now, Master Fallow,” Iordan cooed. “Surely the truth isn’t anything to be afraid of? Especially when it comes from the mouths of babes. Now, Miss Fallow, let us return to my question. Why has your brother gone south?”

  I clenched my teeth, hoping to steel myself against what I knew my answer would bring. “Jonquin’s gone down south to visit our auntie in . . . aaaah!” Before the rest of the fib could even make it past my lips, agony slammed into me like a runaway cart, knocking me to my knees. It was worse by far than the day in the lavender fields. My stomach heaved, and although there was nothing in it, I gagged, retched, and spit on the ground. The boy jumped back to avoid having his boots soiled.

  Papa scooped me up and lifted me in his arms as if I’d weighed nothing at all. “Only! Only, what’s the matter? Beulah!” His shout was loud enough for Non to hear him, even in the herbery. “Beulah, come quick, Only’s having a fit!”

  The last thing I saw before darkness swallowed me whole was the inquisitor’s face, which told me he’d got exactly what he’d come for.

  10

  Anger is the vinegar that makes a bitter batter

  And curdles kindness in its vat

  The doves of peace it does scatter.

  Rule thy temper, clear thy breast

  And surely hold thy tongue

  Bring to heel thy inner beast

  Ere speaking, or become one.

  —A Child’s First Book of Humors

  I woke to raised voices in the kitchen. I hadn’t any memory of being put to bed, but I recognized the smell of my own sheets and the feel of my pillow beneath my head. A whimper escaped as I tried to sit up and failed, my head still beating out a lesson I’d yet to learn the first time.

  “Hush. Don’t try to speak. Drink this first.”

  Non was by my side. She lifted the vial to my lips, but I spluttered at the bitter taste on my tongue. “It’s asper root,” she explained. “Should quiet that thumping in your skull, but you might feel fuzzy after.”

  I choked down the rest of the liquid and was rewarded with a cup of ginger water to flush the terrible taste from my mouth. My face and hands began to tingle, but the ache in my head and the shouting in the kitchen dulled under the blanket of the medicine.

  “There we are,” Non said with satisfaction. “A bit better?”

  “Mmmm.”

  Her eyes creased. “Feels a bit like someone’s stole your tongue, don’t it? Just means it’s working.” Another burst of voices down the hall drew her eyes to the door. “You don’t need it now at any rate, but I expect your ears are working just fine.”

  “He’s here ’cause of me, ain’t he?”

  Non bowed her head. “I do so like being right, but I wish I’d been wrong about that blasted bit of lore. Seems like that kingsman of yours had big ears and made his way back to the capital with a tale to tell.”

  So I was to be the gold coin in his ale after all. “How did he know about Jon?”

  “There’ve got to be other kingsmen stashed away among the Ordish. News like a landwalker joining up with a clan is gonna travel pretty fast.”

  “I guess Mama and Papa know about . . . what I can do?”

  “That old stickbug in a dress made sure they did. I won’t say they weren’t a bit sore with me for keeping it from them, but I hoped it wouldn’t come to nowt.” She put her hand to my cheek. “Ain’t no sense wishing now. What’s done is done.”

  “I want to see them,” I insisted.

  “Why don’t you stay here a spell? Ain’t no need for—”

  “No!” I slurred, the medicine still tangling my tongue. “Please, Non.”

  She shook her head. “S’pose I know better than to argue with you once you make up your mind on something, but keep your peace, you hear?” She draped my dressing gown across my shoulders and took my arm to lead me out toward the kitchen.

  Master Iordan stood in the middle of it, his eyelids low with boredom even with the clamor of Mama’s and Papa’s voices all around him. I hated him more than I had ever hated anyone. I hated him more than Toly. I hated him so much, I didn’t even bother to offer up a silent devotion to Mother All to beg her pardon. Instead, I just stewed, watching the terrible, silver-haired eel standing in my house like he’d every right to be there. There was no sign of the boy. Perhaps he’d had all the entertainment he could stomach for one day.

  Non and I appeared in the threshold in the middle of a hatefully calm sentence. “But I’m sure the crown is prepared to overlook your son’s youthful indiscretion, so long as its other demand is met.”

  “Demand?” Papa bellowed. “And what demand is that?”

  The inquisitor gave a light laugh. “Why, Master Fallow, surely you can see your child’s gift would be best used in the service of the nation?”

  Mama went pale as flour. “You want Only?”

  “She’ll be a valuable asset to His Majesty,” Iordan explained, as if he’d just asked to borrow a hammer. “Times being what they are, it would be considered the act of a loyal citizen. What with new alliances being forged between Orstral and Thorvald and the continuing Ordish concern, your daughter could offer the crown a degree of protection a thousand soldiers cannot.”

  My legs began to shake. Was he talking about taking me away? I grabbed for Non’s skirts, but she had already flown across the room and backed the surprised inquisitor up against the table with a long, pointed finger.

  “Now listen here, you great, scrawny goosewallow, I don’t give a flea’s fart for the dictates of some old man with a lump of metal on his head. Only ain’t going nowhere!”

  “You’re asking us to hand over our daughter and thank the king for the pleasure? It’s absurd,” Mama cried.

  It could have been the braying of donkeys for all I understood. He wants to take me away was all I could think. Away from the lavender, the trees, and the river. Away from the pressing barns, the kitchens, and the chickens. Away from Mama, Papa, Non, Ether, and . . .

  Non put her arms round me. “You just turn your bony backside round and go back where you came from, master. Don’t think about darkening our hearth again.”

  “You can take that bloody warrant with you,” Papa roared. “I’d rather lose a countinghouse full of coin than deliver my whelp into your tender care. We’ll manage on our own.”

  The inquisitor was unmoved by all the bluster. “Then I’m sure, Master Fallow, that His Majesty could find another equally skillful and more dutiful subject to tend this estate.”

  There was a loud silence in the room. “Wh-what?” my father stammered.

  “I’m quite certain I don’t have to make my meaning any clearer, master?” He turned an insolent eye on my mother. “Mistress?”

  “This. Is. Our. Land,” Papa said in a voice that promised war. “My blood’s in this soil back ten generations. Fallows tended these trees before the first regent was crowned in Bellskeep.”

  “Though you are the first to hold a royal warrant,” Iordan droned. “Also, probably the first to be careless enough to lose a son to the savages of the river. And doubtlessly the first to have produced a child with such a rare gift. Her service to the king will—”

  Mama lashed out, fierce as a bear. “My daughter is no man’s servant!”

  The bottom fell out of the world. That morning, I’d walked to halls, coat and scarf round my neck, watching the mist gather in the valley. And not six hours later, some sour, gray-faced scholar was threatening to take the very soil out from under us if I didn’t go with him. The whole orchard—gone. Gone, for my parents’ love of me. It wasn’t something I was of a mind to allow.

  “I’ll come with you, Master I
ordan. I’ll serve the king. Just like Mayquin.”

  It was as if I’d stopped time for an instant. Four jaws slacked open in my direction before they all started flapping at once.

  “You’re going nowhere, Only!”

  “Now, see here, Pip—”

  “Master and Mistress Fallow—”

  “He ain’t takin the orchard!” I hollered.

  “Only—” begged Mama, tears to match mine running down her face.

  “No! There ain’t no way we’re losing the orchard ’cause of me and my stupid cunning!”

  Papa knelt down and grasped my shoulders. “Sweetling, this ain’t your fault. I’d rather walk the length of the country barefoot and begging for work before—”

  “But I wouldn’t rather that!” I rounded on the inquisitor. “Master, if I go with you, will you give your word that no ill’ll come to my family? Not those here or my brother Jonquin with the Fairweather clan?”

  The dour kingsman stared down his nose at me. “It is the king’s word I give you, and it is unwavering.”

  I thrust my hand out toward Iordan. He looked at it as if I’d offered him a fish straight of the river.

  “You ain’t gotta do this, Pip,” said Non.

  “But I do.” I looked at the sorrowful faces all round me. “’Cause if there’s no orchard, and I know I’m the cause of it, there’s no point to my breathing in and out.”

  There were plenty of words that passed between me and Non since the time I first learned to use ’em. Warning words, kind words, cross words, and all the words between that didn’t always get said. But I didn’t need words to say I wasn’t budging, and she didn’t need any to tell me she understood and that she was fiercely proud.

  “I reckon Only’s of an age to know her own mind,” Non conceded. “And if her mind’s bent on keeping that miserable old fool up north from thieving our rightful property, I ain’t standing in her way. But I’ll tell you one thing, you great cattle fly, no harm’ll come to her or you’ll wish you never heard the name of Fallow.”