CHAPTER 3
The next evening when she went to check on her patient she found him awake and reading by the window.
"Good evening." He wasn't as flushed as the day before and his eyes had lost the glassy look. "Are you feeling better?"
"Much, thank you."
"You aren't leaving." Sherri said before he could suggest it.
"I have duties I must see to." Kevyn said. "I will leave in the morning."
Sherri smiled at him. "No, you won't. I have already written to my cousin to tell her you would be staying here until you recovered from the fever."
"Your cousin?"
"Selenay." Sherri said simply. "Would you prefer supper up here, in the main hall, or the library?"
"I am not hungry." Kevyn protested.
"Main hall it is." She ignored his answer. "Come along then."
"Countess, I told you I am fine." Kevyn protested.
Sherri smiled sweetly. "Move it. They say 'feed a fever' so you are going to eat. The more you cooperate the sooner you will get back on the road. Besides, before you leave there hasn't been a Herald in the area for two years now and there are things you have to deal with. I have sent word to the village in six days you will hear complaints. I expect people will start arriving in the next couple of days."
"Why hasn't there been a Herald?"
"The last time a Herald was supposed to come through he was caught in a snow storm and suffered severe frost bite. His replacement couldn't make it through the snow to us and shattered his leg a month ago before he could reach us. Haven can't spare any more at the moment so we have to wait for him to recover enough to return to circuit. Since we are so far north we generally only see Heralds once a year or so as it is. I am sure you know how isolation and neglect can cause unrest."
"Are you saying there is unrest here?" Kevyn said with obvious concern.
"Some families resent that their sons and daughters are fighting in the south. Especially when we have to wait forever to get troops."
"How bad is it?"
"Most of the bitter people are the kinds who always grouch about something. They are also the ones who have had disputes waiting for two years to be resolved. The headmen are going to bring copies of the tax records and you could take it back to Haven with you when you are recovered." Sherri explained. "Now hurry up, cook is very touchy if we let her masterpieces cool."
Kevyn allowed her to lead him from the room and down the stairs to the large main dining hall. There were many tables with benches that ran perpendicular to the head table that was raised on a dais. An old woman was already seated on one of the chairs.
"That is Daya, our Healer and my teacher." Sherri explained. "It used to be that this hall was always filled and there had to be four shifts for everyone to eat."
"Why so many?" Kevyn figured the hall could hold at least a hundred and fifty, not including the head table. At the moment there were only fifty people present. Most were over fifty but there were several children seated at one table; six boys and three girls.
"The winters are long and dark up here. If you only have a few people you get very tired of seeing them very quick. My ancestors found it was worth the extra money to hire more servants. Less chance of murder. Many outlying farmers do work for us during the winter. With so many hands no one is over worked and children can all attend classes."
Kevyn took a seat next to her. "There is quite a disparity in ages."
Sherri surveyed the children. "Most of them are from the cities. Some lost their parents. Some were sent to farms to serve out sentences because they were thieves. When winter came and they could return to the city I offered them positions here, so long as they never stole from me."
"That was kind of you."
"Anyone would do it." Sherri shrugged. Vanyel had a fit when she suggested it. Stef agreed that she should. Y'fandes said the children deserved a chance at a home. All her servants had been opposed until the former pick pockets, house breakers, forgers, and street brats proved themselves to be hard workers.
"Not everyone has done it."
"Then they should." Sherri poured herself some cider. "This past winter Daya started teaching one of the younger girls to become her replacement. Four boys have shown a great talent for carpentry, especially decorative pieces, they made me a hounds and hinds set for midwinter. Another boy plans on becoming a hunter and trapper. The other two girls already weave and sew. The last boy wants to become a Herald, if that doesn't work out I think he will become a trader. He has a way with words."
One of the kitchen help placed a platter of fresh buns on the table and another filled their bowls with savoury stew.
"You are looking rather worse for wear, boy." Daya commented from Sherri's other side. "You better eat to keep up your strength. And don't you worry about anything. Our Lady Sherri is quite capable of handling everything until you are back on your feet. She has been making the decisions for the estate for years now." Her pride in the young lady was obvious in her tone. Most girls of her birth and age were concerned with gowns, jewellery, marriage, flirting, and court. Sherri couldn't care less if she never left her beloved keep and forest. When their steward died three years ago she had been unable to find anyone willing to face the long winters up here and started to make decisions herself, with Van's help.
Sherri spent the rest of the meal answering some questions about the area, and keeping up small talk with Daya and Kevyn. Finally Kevyn pled exhaustion. Sherri stood to escort him upstairs. Renovations over many centuries had produced a labyrinth of halls and passages. Some secret, some not.
On the fourth floor he paused. Each door was ornately carved with the family crest, six trees clustered together around a sword and a harp. "Is this the family wing?"
"It was, until my mother's death."
"I remember some one saying it was from heart complications."
Sherri grimaced and looked away from the only locked door in the wing. "You could say that. It had a knife in it."
"Was she murdered?" Kevyn asked, startled.
"No, suicide. I doubt she actually meant to die, she just wanted more attention." Sherri did not have a very good opinion of her mother.
A crash echoed in the hallway, originating in the locked room.
"What was that?" Kevyn jumped.
"My mother." Sherri answered honestly.
"But she's dead."
"She's a ghost."
Kevyn remained silent for several more minutes. "At least she tried to stay near you."
"She didn't." Sherri answered coolly. "She couldn't care less about her daughter."
Kevyn looked down at her, his face hidden by shadows.
"Don't you believe me?" Sherri asked and stalked to the door. As she expected, it had been unlocked, again.
She pushed the door open. A baby's bassinet was next to the fire place. The bed was still unmade and stained with blood. Half a log still lay in the fire place.
Sherri could see her mother bent over the desk. The only thing that had been removed since that night was the pen, paper, and ink. Before that notes of gibberish were always found on the desk.
Kevyn stiffened behind her.
"Do you see her?" Sherri asked trying to keep her voice cool.
"Why hasn't it been cleaned?"
"They tried but every night it would look like this again." She tore her eyes away from her mother to look at the bloodstained bed.
"When was the last time you tried?"
"The housekeeper tries once a month. She was my nurse and thinks it disturbs me."
"Doesn't it?" Kevyn asked.
"Why should it? It has always been this way. I don't remember her. I was only a month old when she died." Sherri turned to leave but he was still standing in the door. His eyes were filled with pity for her, something she hated to see. "We should get you to bed."
"Have you tried priests?"
"I have tried pretty much everything." Sherri said in exasperation. "She still sits there writing gibberish."
"What about your father?"
"I don't know who he was. My uncles may know but I have never bothered asking."
"Do you see her?"
Sherri didn't answer. "We should get you back to bed."
"Lady Sherria? Are you alright?"
His obvious concerned nearly undid her. No one else had ever asked if having her mother's bloody ghost hanging about bothered her. "Enough questions. You are ill and should get to bed."
Kevyn tilted her face up. "Do you see her?"
"Yes, I do. Please leave it alone." Sherri snapped. The sense of panic she sometimes felt when she entered this room was starting to overwhelm her. "She did it with me lying right there. The selfish bitch couldn't even leave a note beyond 'I'm sorry'." Tears started to trickle down her cheeks. She pushed past him out into the hall and started gasping for air. She fought against the images filling her mind.
She hurried down the hall and up the stairs to the guest wing. Kevyn sank into a chair as soon as he entered the room. He never took his eyes off Sherri. She looked fragile at the moment but he knew she wouldn't welcome any sympathy.
"Would you care to speak of it?" He urged.
"Actually, I would rather not. If that is everything, I have things to do." Sherri didn't wait for him to respond, instead she strode out the door and practically ran to her room. It only took her a few minutes to change into the tight breeches and loose shirt she wore in the woods. She grabbed a cloak, sword, harp, and boots and hurried off again, this time to the stables. Her bare feet made no sound in the empty hall and she reached the small door leading outside to the courtyard. She tugged on the boots and walked calmly to the stables. Eagle nickered as she entered knowing they would be going riding. She didn't bother with a saddle or bridle. Instead she just swung up on to his broad back a kneed him out the door. The Companion watched her as she passed him already focusing on a ride through the forest to clear her mind.
Inside the forest the darkness was complete. She slid to the ground and left Eagle grazing in a clearing. She only had to whistle and he would come running ready to defend. During the day when the farm mares were out in the field he would try to convince them to mate but at night all other horses were in their stables so she knew he wouldn't wander far.
She headed straight to a small clearing she usual used for reading. It was small and very little light made it past the canopy of leaves. She sat in the seat formed by the massive roots of the towering tree using the cloak to protect her clothing from dirt. She set her harp on her lap and began plucking aimlessly until a tune started to form. Shadow lover. An ironic choice considering the current problem was her mother was dead but had yet to seek the Shadow Lover.
Her young voice carried through the trees as she focused on the song. When she reached the end she started again. She played the song three times before she set the harp to the side.
"Feeling better?" A familiar voice asked.
Sherri looked up and saw Herald Kevyn leaning against a tree. "I wanted to be alone."
"That was obvious." Kevyn responded. "You are very good, who taught you?"
"A hermit who lives in the woods." Sherri lied and sent a thought of apology to Stef.
"Is that the only song you know? I don't think I have ever heard it."
"Shadow lover. It is several centuries old." Sherri shrugged. "Your Companion told you I went out riding."
Kevyn glanced off into the shadows. "He was worried you might do something foolish. Like run off into the woods."
"Foolish? This is the safest place in Valdemar." Sherri gestured to the trees around her. "You have heard the stories of the bandits skewered on branches and barbarians trapped in rock. They are all true. Not even mad animals last long here. Besides, I am armed and Eagle will come charging to my rescue."
"That warhorse?"
"He belongs to my Uncle Ciro. He was injured last fall and was sent here to recuperate. His left foreleg is still stiff otherwise I would have sent him back." Sherri picked up her harp and stood. A chilly wind was starting to whistle through the trees.
"I am sorry for making you open your mother's door." Kevyn shook out her cloak and placed it around her shoulders.
Sherri froze when she felt the familiar drain on her energy of a spirit using her power. Instead of abating it grew worse. A flood of noise filled her ears and she fell to her knees. She could sense Kevyn trying to help her but could hear nothing but noise.
The ground swirled in her vision and suddenly she was being carried in Kevyn's arms.
She was shivering now as cold seeped into her bones. She could hear words far in the distance that echoed like in a tunnel.
"Bright Havens! You all look as if you'd seen a ghost!"
A vision of a gathering of several white faced people flashed in her mind. Vanyel had kidnapped the Princess. She had thought they would have more time so she could fake illness, not collapse in the forest. No wonder they hadn't joined her when she started playing. Stef usual would make his presence known even if she didn't want company.
There was a moment of lightness as Kevyn swung onto the back of his Companion. By the time they reached the keep she had slipped into blessed unconsciousness.
Wisps of words and vision plagued her in the peaceful darkness. She felt hands touching her directly, something she normally avoided. With the touch came more visions and sounds. She tried to roll away from the touch and the painful images of blood and death. Eventually they were replaced with images of illness then a feeling of peace.