keeper of the house. All our slaves and servants work under my charge.”
Rennet dismissed the two guards, stripped me naked, and mopped my burning shoulder with cold water.
“Put this on,” she commanded, handing me a scratchy woolen sack dress that billowed past my feet. Then she cut my waist-length black braids, throwing them in a pile with my sealskins like so much refuse. I burned with shame—the length of a Gantean’s hair expressed strength of spirit—but Rennet had missed the leather twine I wore with the two bone charms on it, a mercy that made up for the loss of my hair.
As I followed Rennet through the stone house, the pain in my shoulder abated into a niggling itch of magic. We exited the building onto a path that led across a rolling meadow covered in white flowers. At last we came to a long, low building at the top of a rise.
“Mr. Tiercel!” Rennet called as we stepped into a wide room lined with bird cages. “We have procured the child you requested.”
A vague irritation flitted across my shocked mind. Like the auctioneer and the Lady’s liaison, Rennet had mistaken me for a child. It wasn’t enough that I had been captured, taken against my will, and forced into servitude. I was still to be treated like a child.
A man stepped through the far doorway, a man unlike any I had seen. This was no rough Gantean hunt-father, no wan southerner. He wore black clothes that shimmered even in the dim light. His hair fell unbound above his shoulders, a single white streak at the temple punctuating the black.
His skin gleamed, pale and smooth. He looked womanish and yet handsome at the same time. Hair slicked with pomade, clothes clean and pressed—everything about him was fresh. Even his boots shone with new polish.
“A girl?” he asked. “But I expected a boy.”
“I was told this was the only child at the auction who didn’t look like a filthy Gantean,” Rennet replied.
The man shrugged. “I never said the child should not look Gantean. I wanted a Gantean.”
“Don’t overstep yourself, Mr. Tiercel.” Rennet glared at him. “I run this household. This girl suffices, and she is all you will get.”
The man’s eyes flashed. “Very well. What is her name, Madame Rennet?”
“Lili. I will leave her in your care. Good day.” With that, the stern keeper departed, leaving me the sole focus of Mr. Tiercel’s fierce attention. I stood frozen before him.
“Well then, Lili.” He approached with graceful steps. “What are your skills?”
“Um…knotwork,” I replied hesitantly, whiplashed by the changes of the past few hours. My senses reeled from too much stimulation; I wanted to close my eyes and plug my ears, to curl in a ball alone somewhere still and quiet. Despite my distress I continued, “Mostly nets, though I sew, too. I can spin thread, twist sinew...” I mimicked the motion with my hands. Of course I didn’t tell him that I had magic.
“And what is your age?”
His calm voice encouraged my honesty. “I have eighteen winters.”
An unaccountably bleak look traversed his face. Then he chuckled. “It seems they mistook you for someone younger.” He scanned me, head to toe. “A common occurrence, no doubt?”
When I gave a short nod, he smiled. “I had a similar problem as a youth. Come, Lili, let me show you what I wish you to do out here. Never fear, it’s nothing too strenuous. You may call me Tiercel. No need for the mister.”
He pushed open a door at the end of a narrow corridor. “This is my room.” His quarters consisted of a single bed, a small desk and chair, and several shelves of books lining the far wall.
Tiercel waved. “I was hoping for a youth I could train to be a manservant, but here you are. We’ll manage until a better situation for you can be found. Rennet has her opinions, but I have some sway with Lady Entila. In the meantime, you’ll keep it clean and tidy for me here. I’ve never been good at that myself. Always knock before you