“Come downstairs with me,” she said, standing and holding out a hand. Mikeli got up and took her hand without hesitation.

“Your shoes, Miki,” said the nurserymaid, fetching them and putting them on his feet as he stood on one leg at a time.

CHAPTER TWENTY

On the way downstairs, the boy asked question after question: what had happened, where were the others, where were his parents, where had Dorrin come from and why, what had been wrong with him and why was he better … on and on. Dorrin answered as well as she could, with what she thought would be good for him to know. That was always less than the full truth, but she tried not to lie.

In the kitchen, Farin recommended broth and dry bread. Mikeli drank a mug of broth and inhaled the bread so fast Dorrin was afraid he’d choke. A little color had come into his pale cheeks.

“Had the crisis this morning, I heard,” Farin said. “Fever gone so fast—is that real, or will he relapse?” She said that quietly, to Dorrin, across the kitchen from Mikeli.

“I believe it to be real,” Dorrin said. “Falk’s grace, I call it.”

“Falk! I’ve never heard my lords and my ladies talk of Falk’s grace.”

“You will hear me do so,” Dorrin said, touching her ruby. “I’m a Knight of Falk, remember.”

The cook gave her a long look. “Does that mean no more of those … with the …” She made a gesture, circle and horns.

“No more priests of Liart, no more blood magery,” Dorrin said. Everyone in the kitchen but Mikeli stopped short and almost cowered. “No more,” Dorrin said, louder. “I am your Duke, and my word is your law, but my word is founded on Falk and the High Lord, not those scum.”

“But—but I—” That was a kitchen maid by the bread oven, a girl perhaps thirteen or fourteen. Dorrin remembered her as one of those who had carried water for her bath. “I—they made me swear to—”

“Be quiet, Efla!” Farin said.

Dorrin walked over to the girl. “Efla, what did they make you swear?”

Tears ran down the girl’s face. “They—they made me swear to him—to Liart—they hurt me and hurt me and I was so scared—”

Dorrin reached out; the girl flinched but Dorrin pulled her closer, into a hug. “Child, the gods forgive such oaths … you are not bound to Liart. You can renounce that oath and take a better one.” The girl sobbed in Dorrin’s arms; Dorrin patted her back. “Efla, listen … listen to me. I’m your Duke now. I’m your protector.”

Efla pulled back a little, gasping out her story through her sobs. “They—they made me—he—he took me—he put his—and a child—they said it—was really—Liart’s—”

Dorrin hugged the girl close again. “It’s all right, Efla. They lied. The Bloodlord’s servants lie to scare people, and lie to trick them, and lie to harm them. If you have a child inside you, it is the human child of whoever raped you, not a god’s child. The Bloodlord cannot engender life.”