Page 75 of Stardust Child

And this far forest must be ruled by a suitably rustic lord and lady, of no real significance or influence in spite of their lofty titles. It was some consolation that soon—perhaps even today—she would get to meet Princess Ophele in the flesh. The Exile Princess was the subject of frothing curiosity in the capital, and Mionet Verr would be the first to find out whether she was the simpleton they said she was.

Carefully, of course. Those same gossips made Remin Grimjaw quitethe brute.

“Please be careful,” she said again when they arrived on the hilltop, and Sir Justenin dragged her baggage over one shoulder. The whole top of the hill was a construction site, with the great shell of the manor house on the western peak and rows of cottages beside it. Was this what was meant by wattle and daub? She had heard of it, but had never in her life expected to see it with her own eyes. Even the peasants in her father’s cow hole built with stone.

“If you would like to settle in and refresh yourself, Lady Verr, I will send a message to Her Grace informing her of your arrival,” Sir Justenin said, pushing open a door in the first row of cottages.

“No, that is quite all right, I have already sent a message,” she said, resisting the urge to poke at the daub with a gloved fingertip. “Where will you be, in case I need you?”

“For the next hour, in my quarters,” he said, pointing out the cottage at the end of the row. “We have two stable lads living in that one, nearest the barn, and they won’t mind helping you with water and firewood until the other servants arrive. I took the liberty of bringing up some refreshments from the kitchen, but I will caution you against keeping food uncovered. It will attract mice.”

“Very good,” Mionet said politely, and went into her cottage and shut the door.

There was no point in unpacking. There was nothing to unpackinto.In less than an hour, Mionet had washed, changed into a fresh gown of coppery watered silk, acquired paper, quill, and ink, and presented a list of essential items to Sir Justenin, which began with a mirror and ended with a promise that someone would come to collect her chamber pot. Really, it was ridiculous that a lady should even have to contemplate such crudities.

The invitation from Duchess Andelin came even more promptly than she had hoped. Mionet was just finishing a light tea when the duchess’s messenger arrived in the unlikely form of a small girl.

“Yes?” Mionet said in the door of her hovel, directing her attention downward.

“Hello, my lady is in the cookhouse and says you can come see her there now if you feel like it,” the girl said, proud of having delivered thisin a single breath.

“And who are you?”

“I’m her page,” the girl said, puffing visibly.

“Yourname,child,” Mionet said, with exaggerated patience and wondering if this was some prank.

“Oh. Elodie. Elodie Conbour of Tresingale, I said the oath to His Grace.”

“Elodie Conbour,my lady,”Mionet corrected. “Have you not learned your courtesies? Frechard! Do you know this child?”

“Oh, yes, m’lady,” said Frechard. The stableboy had been fetching the promised load of firewood. “Hi, Elodie. Her Grace send you?”

“Yes.” The girl was glaring up at Mionet mutinously. “She sent me to fetch Lady Verr. Frechard, do you know if this is Lady Verr?”

“Yes…” Frechard answered cautiously, glancing between the lady and the girl as if he had just realized he had stumbled into a den of lions.

“Thank you, Frechard, you may go,” said Mionet, smiling gently without ever taking her eyes from the impudent little urchin. Outrageous. But also rather admirable, for sheer audacity. “Elodie, please direct me to Her Grace.”

“I’m s’posed to take you there,” the girl retorted, and at Mionet’s flat stare, added a grudging, “my lady. But I’m s’posed to watch out for strangers just in case any bad people try to hurt His Grace, or maybe even try to hurt the lady. She’s the Daughter of the Stars, she’simportant.”

“I am Her Grace’s lady-in-waiting,” Mionet replied crisply, picking her way around a variety of mud puddles. “Where is the wagon? Did someone bring you here?”

“I walked,” the girl said, sloshing along with barefoot unconcern. “Everyone walks everywhere. It’s not far though. What’s a lady-in-waiting?”

Lies. It was far. It was an interminable dusty distance and uphill for half of it. Deliberately, Mionet slowed her pace to avoid any unbecoming perspiration. She did not waste the time; a little conversation soon soothed the prickly child and Elodie was a fount of information. By the time they reached the cookhouse, Mionet already knew where the most important buildings in town were located and a fair number of the chief players, though she would take the words of a nine year-old with due skepticism.

The duchess was standing in the open doors of the cookhouse asthey approached, with two men in armor on either side and a tall boy before her, gangly and big-handed. It was fortunate that the guards were there. Her dress was so plain, Mionet would have thought her a servant otherwise, with her masses of hair contained in a simple plait and not a single jewel in sight.

When the duchess’s gaze flicked to Mionet, that lady noted both the startled flinch in her golden eyes, and the self-effacing hunch of her shoulders.

“Lady Verr?” she asked timidly.

“Your Grace,” said Mionet, with a deep curtsy. “I am Lady Mionet Verr, and am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Oh, rise. Please,” said the duchess, in a voice so soft it was nearly inaudible. “I’m glad to meet you…journey…difficult…”

“Not at all, Your Grace.” Mionet made her best guess at what the duchess had said and straightened, smiling. “I’m pleased to finally be here. Tresingale appears a proper beehive, it is most exciting.”

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