Робин Хобб – Forest Mage (страница 18)

Before I could even reply to that, she played a woman’s trump card. She burst into tears and then ran off into the darkness, sobbing into her hands. ‘Yaril!’ I called after her. ‘Come back here! Yaril, come back!’

But she did not, and I was left standing alone by the stupid fishpond that I’d helped to build. At the time it had seemed like an enchanting concept. Now I saw it for the folly it was. The fishpond and fountain were completely at odds with the land that surrounded us. To build something which could not be sustained save by daily effort was a vanity and a waste and an insult to the beauty of the true nature that surrounded us. What had seemed a shady retreat from the harsh plains that surrounded our home now seemed foolish self-indulgence.

I sank down onto Yaril’s bench and considered the words she had flung at me. She’d been angry and she’d used her best ammunition to wound me. But how much of it was true? Would Carsina ask her father to break his agreement with my father? I tried to worry about it but a wave of hunger washed through me, leaving me feeling both nauseous and hollow. I rocked forward over my belly and embraced it as if it were an ally instead of my enemy.

I was in that undignified posture when I heard a light footstep on the pathway. I straightened up and prepared for battle but it wasn’t Yaril returning. Instead it was my mother, holding a lantern to guide her steps as she came softly down the walk.

‘There you are,’ she said when she saw me. ‘Why didn’t you come down to dinner?’ Her tone was gentle.

‘I thought it better to stay away.’ I tried to make my voice jovial. ‘As you can see, perhaps I’ve had too many dinners of late.’

‘Well. I won’t deny that your appearance surprised me. But I did miss you. I’ve scarcely had a chance to speak to you. And…’ She hesitated a moment and then went on delicately, ‘I do need you to return to the house and come to my sewing room with me.’

I stood, grateful for an ally. ‘Are you going to let out my cadet uniform to fit me?’

She smiled but shook her head. ‘Nevare, that is simply impossible. There isn’t enough fabric to let out, and even if I could, it would show badly. No, my son. But I have several folds of a very nice blue fabric, and if I put the seamstresses to work on it tonight, we should have something presentable by the wedding.’

My heart sank at the thought that I was hopelessly too large for my uniform but I squared my shoulders to bear the truth. Presentable. My mother would help me, and I would not look ridiculous at my brother’s wedding. ‘Seamstresses?’ I asked, keeping my voice light. ‘When did we become so prosperous as to employ seamstresses?’

‘Since your brother decided to wed. The decision has little to do with prosperity and more to do with necessity. I sent for two from the west two months ago. I was fortunate that I did, for between making new curtains and hangings and bedclothes for your brother’s chambers and ensuring that the entire family would have wedding clothes as well as ball gowns for your sisters, well! It would be impossible for your sisters and me to do that much sewing in such a short time and still have time for all the other preparations.’

She led the way, holding her little lantern up to guide us. I watched my mother’s trim figure as she stepped lightly along and I suddenly felt monstrous and misshapen, some great beast hulking after her. The house was quiet as we went down the hall to her sewing room. I imagined that my father and Rosse had settled down to quieter talk and that Elisi had gone off to bed. I thought of mentioning that I’d spoken with Yaril and she’d run off in tears, but my old habit of protecting my little sister was still strong. My mother would scold her for being outside at this hour on her own. Annoyed as I was at Yaril, I still had no desire to get her in trouble. I let it go.

I had a very uncomfortable session in the sewing room as my mother measured me and jotted down her notes. She frowned as she did so, and I knew that she tried not to be shocked. As she was measuring my waist, my stomach rumbled loudly, and she actually jumped back from me. Then she laughed nervously and went back to her task. When she was finished, she said worriedly, ‘I hope I have enough blue fabric.’

A pang of hunger cramped me. When it passed, I said, ‘Carsina was particularly hoping that I would wear my uniform to the wedding.’

‘And how would you know that?’ my mother asked with a sly smile. Then she quietly added, ‘Don’t even hope for that, Nevare. In truth, I think we shall have to have a new uniform made for you when you go back. I don’t know how you managed to wear the one you brought home.’

‘It fit me when I left the Academy. Well, it was tight, but I could still put it on. Mother, I truly don’t understand what is happening to me. I’ve travelled hard and eaten no more than I ordinarily would, but even since I left the Academy, I’ve put on flesh.’

‘It’s that starchy food they feed you at that school. I’ve heard about places like that, trying to save money by feeding the students cheap food. It’s probably all potatoes and bread and—’

‘It’s not the food, Mother!’ I cut in almost roughly. ‘I’ve only gained this weight since I recovered from the plague. I think that somehow the two are connected.’

She stopped speaking abruptly, and I felt I had been rude to her, though I had not intended to. She rebuked me gently for lying. ‘Nevare, every young man that I’ve ever seen who has recovered from the plague has been thin as a rack of bones. I don’t think we can blame this on your illness. I do think that a long convalescence such as you had, with many hours in bed with little to do save eat and read could change a man. I said as much to your father, and asked him not to be so harsh with you. I cannot promise you that he will heed me, but I did ask.’

I wanted to shout that she wasn’t listening to me. With difficulty, I restrained myself and said only, ‘Thank you for being my advocate.’

‘I always have been, you know,’ she said quietly. ‘Now when you finish your work tomorrow, take care to wash well and then come here for a fitting. The ladies will be here to help me then.’

I took a deep breath. My anger was gone, consumed in a dark tide of dejection. ‘I shall take care to be clean and inoffensive,’ I told her. ‘Good night, Mother.’

She reached up to kiss me on the cheek. ‘Don’t despair, son. You have confronted what is wrong, accepted it, and now you can change it. From this day forth, things can only improve.’

‘Yes, Mother,’ I replied dutifully, and left her there. My stomach was clenching so desperately with hunger pangs that I felt nauseous. I did not go up to my room, but went to the kitchens instead. I worked the hand pump at the sink until cooler water came, and then drank as much as I could bear. If anything, it made me more miserable.

I went up to my room and tried to sleep until just before dawn. I was standing with the rest of the crew when the wagon came for us, and went out for another day’s work. The catalogue of my misery: blisters, hunger, aches, nausea and, roiling beneath it all, a sense of bewilderment and outrage at the injustice of life.

By the second half of the day, I was staggering. When the rest of the work crew broke out their simple packets of meat and bread for their noon meal, I had to walk away from them. My sense of smell had become acute, and my stomach bellowed its emptiness at me. I wanted to wrestle the food away from them and devour it. Even after they had consumed it all and I came back for my share of the water, it was difficult to be courteous. I could smell the food on their breaths when we huffed and strained to lift the larger rocks, and it tormented me.

When we finally received the signal to quit, my legs were like jelly. I did not do my fair share at the final unloading of the wagon. I saw the other men exchange glances over it and felt ashamed. I staggered back to the wagon and barely managed to climb aboard.

When the wagon dropped us off, the other men strode towards the town. I tottered up the drive and into the back door of the house. I had to pass the kitchen. The air was thick with wonderful smells; the cook had begun to prepare the special cakes and breads for the wedding. I hurried away from that torture. My father had not told me to fast entirely. I could, I knew, have a small meal. But that thought seemed a weakness and a betrayal of my determination to change. Fasting wouldn’t kill me, and I would return to my normal self that much sooner.

The steps to my room seemed long and steep, and once there all I wanted to do was curl up around my miserable belly. Instead, I stepped into the low tub that had been left for me and washed myself standing. I stank. Now that I was heavier, I sweated more and the sweat lingered in every fold of my flesh. Left too long, the perspiration made a scald mark on my skin, painful to touch.

Rosse’s old clothes, freshly washed and newly let out, awaited me. They felt tight and awkward against my damp skin. My cadet haircut had begun to grow out. I towelled it dry and then, mindful of embarrassing my mother, I shaved before I went down to her sewing room.