hereabouts?"
" Oh, nearly three hundred in town, at the last king's census, and ten times that on the farms around here." Her eyes slid to Liz. "We're a respectable establishment, here."
" Yes, you looked substantial and prosperous, that why I stopped here first. Now, Liz mentioned a Baron?"
" Baron Christian Weigh. A very fair man, very letter of the law." She shifted uncertainly.
" Who does he answer to?" the lady asked.
" Well, the king, of course."
" Of course," the lady smiled a little, but her forehead was creased. She eased the baby out from under the blanket and handed the sleeping infant to Liz. She tugged at her blouse, and rose to move her saddle bags. "Please sit, if you have a moment. I need to learn about the truly important things." Mistress Cordes looked alarmed, and the lady smiled impishly. "What is fashionable, hereabouts? I suspect my riding outfit is scandalous."
" Oh, no, not for riding but . . . "
Mistress Cordes went on about dresses for a quarter of an hour before remembering her other duties and hurrying off.
The lady had picked at the food, and as soon as they were alone offered the rest to Liz. "Since she treated the girl like she was invisible, I thought I ought to as well. Is that right?"
" Oh yes, if you'd invited me to table you'd have been implying that she was no better than I am." Liz tossed her head, dismissing Madam Cordes.
" Well, we're not so odd where I come from, sit and eat, and I have some wine . . . with some medicinal herbs in it. It will do wonders for your cheek."
Liz touched the hot crusted slash carefully. She'd only looked in a mirror once, before her parents kicked her out, fearing for her father's position. It was going to be a disfiguring scar, inches long under the cheekbone.
"Sacrilege in a tea cup, but that's all we've got. Now, it has a number of side effects. You really need to stay in tonight, until it wears off."
The wine tasted like the sort the baron bought, real quality. She sipped it, and nibbled at the cheese and bread. The lady prowled between the two rooms, then started digging around in her saddle bags. She pulled out an amazing amount of clothing; it must have been crammed in to the bag.
" These aren't fashionable at all are they?" She shook out a light linen shift with lace at the collar and hem, and a heavier gown, open all the way down the front, like a coat and then an embroidered belt.
" Oh, no, M'lady. Not at all. Now if the bodice was buttoned closed, and the skirt a bit fuller, and a few more petticoats . . . Umm, we usually wear vests like mine or a corset underneath, not a . . . contraption like you have. And ladies, well, their skirts are usually close to ankle length."
" I see, just long enough to not get muddy if you're lucky. Well, looks like I'd better get some sewing done, doesn't it?"
Liz helped the l ady sort through her improbable wardrobe, and the bright red over robe was sacrificed in the name of fashion. Its elaborate embroidery was turned into a yoke, front panel and waist band on the black robe, the deep blue robe received a brilliant contrasting band all around the neck line, wrists and hem line and a broad belt of the same material. The dark red sleeveless robe, cut off under the arms, was long enough for a skirt that would look good with the lady's white blouse and dark jacket, much too straight to be fashionable, yet somehow business-like. One of the shifts was cut down for an extra petticoat, and the lace from the sleeves and neckline added to the bottom for extra fullness. The lady's stitches were small precise, quick. She was obviously accustomed to fine handwork. The results were impressive.
" It's not stylish so much as obviously rich." Liz snipped off the thread at the end of a long seam, and contemplated the odds and ends. "Proper Ladies don't go about without hats, but it doesn't take much to qualify as a hat, these days." A bit of embroidered edging with a bit of lace, for the black dress, and a poof of
" Oh, nearly three hundred in town, at the last king's census, and ten times that on the farms around here." Her eyes slid to Liz. "We're a respectable establishment, here."
" Yes, you looked substantial and prosperous, that why I stopped here first. Now, Liz mentioned a Baron?"
" Baron Christian Weigh. A very fair man, very letter of the law." She shifted uncertainly.
" Who does he answer to?" the lady asked.
" Well, the king, of course."
" Of course," the lady smiled a little, but her forehead was creased. She eased the baby out from under the blanket and handed the sleeping infant to Liz. She tugged at her blouse, and rose to move her saddle bags. "Please sit, if you have a moment. I need to learn about the truly important things." Mistress Cordes looked alarmed, and the lady smiled impishly. "What is fashionable, hereabouts? I suspect my riding outfit is scandalous."
" Oh, no, not for riding but . . . "
Mistress Cordes went on about dresses for a quarter of an hour before remembering her other duties and hurrying off.
The lady had picked at the food, and as soon as they were alone offered the rest to Liz. "Since she treated the girl like she was invisible, I thought I ought to as well. Is that right?"
" Oh yes, if you'd invited me to table you'd have been implying that she was no better than I am." Liz tossed her head, dismissing Madam Cordes.
" Well, we're not so odd where I come from, sit and eat, and I have some wine . . . with some medicinal herbs in it. It will do wonders for your cheek."
Liz touched the hot crusted slash carefully. She'd only looked in a mirror once, before her parents kicked her out, fearing for her father's position. It was going to be a disfiguring scar, inches long under the cheekbone.
"Sacrilege in a tea cup, but that's all we've got. Now, it has a number of side effects. You really need to stay in tonight, until it wears off."
The wine tasted like the sort the baron bought, real quality. She sipped it, and nibbled at the cheese and bread. The lady prowled between the two rooms, then started digging around in her saddle bags. She pulled out an amazing amount of clothing; it must have been crammed in to the bag.
" These aren't fashionable at all are they?" She shook out a light linen shift with lace at the collar and hem, and a heavier gown, open all the way down the front, like a coat and then an embroidered belt.
" Oh, no, M'lady. Not at all. Now if the bodice was buttoned closed, and the skirt a bit fuller, and a few more petticoats . . . Umm, we usually wear vests like mine or a corset underneath, not a . . . contraption like you have. And ladies, well, their skirts are usually close to ankle length."
" I see, just long enough to not get muddy if you're lucky. Well, looks like I'd better get some sewing done, doesn't it?"
Liz helped the l ady sort through her improbable wardrobe, and the bright red over robe was sacrificed in the name of fashion. Its elaborate embroidery was turned into a yoke, front panel and waist band on the black robe, the deep blue robe received a brilliant contrasting band all around the neck line, wrists and hem line and a broad belt of the same material. The dark red sleeveless robe, cut off under the arms, was long enough for a skirt that would look good with the lady's white blouse and dark jacket, much too straight to be fashionable, yet somehow business-like. One of the shifts was cut down for an extra petticoat, and the lace from the sleeves and neckline added to the bottom for extra fullness. The lady's stitches were small precise, quick. She was obviously accustomed to fine handwork. The results were impressive.
" It's not stylish so much as obviously rich." Liz snipped off the thread at the end of a long seam, and contemplated the odds and ends. "Proper Ladies don't go about without hats, but it doesn't take much to qualify as a hat, these days." A bit of embroidered edging with a bit of lace, for the black dress, and a poof of
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