Tree day

If the children do not stop jibber-jabbering in the other room, I shall be forced into drastic measures.

My lord husband would be startled by what I did today. Meyni assisted. I sat down at her table, with her great basin of water set out upon it. She dipped a silver chain into the liquid, and it dispersed across the surface looking like nothing so much as murcury. She showed me my husband. The image was focused, brilliant, though the light was bad. His face was lit with orange shadows.

“The most efficient thing,” he said, “Would be selective decimation. It would advance the timetable… two months?”

As he spoke, Meyni expanded the picture, her hands at the rim of the bowl rough-skinned, fingers skimming the silver liquid without touching it. I could see Duke Adri. He looked much unchanged, though the light from the cast iron braziers made his hair gleam like copper.

“What? No. I will stoop to many things, but letting you commit atrocities- no.” 

The duke paused, though he seemed poised to continue.

“Oh… good,” Sev said.

“What?” The duke asked sharply, “No argument, no snide remark, no insults?”

“I am grateful.”

Silence stretched between them, stark.

“Sir,” my husband added.

I continue uncertain what to think of that, of all Sev’s latest business. That uncertainty is my reason for turning to happier things, now, and letting it be.

The children are in good health. The stores are well laid in. My afternoons are filled with proper labor. This evening I succumbed to a strange impulse to spy, and I cannot think why.

No, that is not quite true. I truly dislike uncertainty, and not knowing my place. It is part of my frustration with Sev. He wants to go his own way. No, that is not quite true either.

I’m not sure we are doing the right thing. I know Sev believes in this cause of ours, but I do not believe that Dri cares about people. He is the sort of man who is so certain he is good that anything he does must be good, because he is the one doing it. He is tied up in it. While I am not certain I have any right to contradict a nobleman, a friend of my husband’s, or perhaps a friend of my own – that attitude is blinding.

My children have yet to reach any age to think about such things. Rebellious or no, they bow their heads and call their betters by proper names, bow to priests and say their prayers. They argue, but they also listen. I like to think I do not completely cut them off from the chance to argue, as my father, as Sev’s father, had a talent for. Arguing with our parents was, even with Sev’s mother, seldom worth the tears.

I do not think I do that.

The children have yet to set anything on fire this season. Small blessings.

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