Yeiena simply nodded. She moved to the fire, looking guilty, then bowed her head and made a gesture from her heart toward Marguerite.
"Apoiogy accepted," Marguerite replied.
The servant mustered a faint smile, tight-lipped as always. She took the kettle from the fire and filled the wash basin, then waited while Marguerite dressed.
Marguerite chose her clothing carefully. If she was to explore the grounds and woods outside the castle, she would have to be prepared. She donned a long, heavy tunic with split sides, cinching it at the waist with a wide belt. Then she pulled on leggings and tall boots. Because she intended to leave directly after breakfast, she took the green woolen cloak as welt,
"All right, then," she said. "To the kitchen."
Yelena turned and fed the way. They descended the same stair to the foyer, then followed a passage that seemed to skirt the back of the dining hall in a series of jogs. With only an occasional sconce to provide light, the corridor gave no hint of the time of day. Don-skoy was right. The castle was a veritable labyrinth.
Yeiena opened a door and they descended a short stair, then turned sharply and entered a large room with a blazing hearth. A heavy oak table lay in the center. Bundles of herbs hung from the beams in the ceiling. Baskets and barrels lined the walls.
Zosia stooped by the fire, stirring a kettle. She rose slowly and turned, her expression impassive.
"Good morning," Marguerite said brightly. "I trust you won't mind the intrusion, but I'd like to have breakfast here. I was feeling a bit cooped up in my chambers."
"Then the wandeln you have planned for later should provide much satisfaction," said Zosia, in a deep and throaty voice. "The wander ing-out-of-doors,
I mean to say. That is why you are dressed so, is it not?"
"You are very observant," Marguerite remarked.
"Only the blind could miss such obvious signs, child," Zosia replied. She cackled. "Yelena, fetch Marguerite some ale and bread. And perhaps some smoked eel to thicken her blood. She looks a bit pale."
Marguerite seated herself upon a rough chair before the table while Yelena scurried in compliance, probing one of the small storerooms adjoining the kitchen.
When a full platter and mug lay before Marguerite, Zosia motioned for the servant to leave. Yelena hesitated for a moment. When Marguerite did not object, the mute gir! curtsied, then crept up the stairs and disappeared.
"Zo," said the old woman. "You have already grown weary of your chamber. Does it not suit you?"
"No, it's not that. The room is quite nice," said Marguerite."But-"
"But you are restless. That is natural. 3 too was restless once."
"I was about to say," Marguerite added quickly, "that I did not appreciate being locked in my chamber."
Zosia raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Locked in? How peculiar. Perhaps the door swelled and became wedged into place." She paused for a moment and winked, then added, "And where is it that you would like to go in the middle of night?"
"Nowhere. That's not the point-"
"Ah-" interrupted Zosia. "Then perhaps while experiencing a walking-dream you locked the door yourself? To keep someone out, not in. Did something disturb your sleep?"
"No," said Marguerite, exasperated. She had the feeling Zosia was not listening-or that she was listening, yet talking to someone else, Then Marguerite recalled that her sleep had been disturbed by a woman's laughter. She decided to switch to a more interesting subject. Yelena could not speak of the visitor, but Zosia could. Marguerite chewed on a piece of bread for a moment, wondering how best to approach the topic. If the strange woman's presence was meant to be kept from her, she would have to be deft.
"I saw a woman here this morning," she announced lightly.
Zosia's dark eyes sparkled. "Did you, child? A woman with raven hair perhaps?"
"I don't know," Marguerite replied. "She was outside the castle with Lord Donskoy this morning."
"Ah," said Zosia simply.
Marguerite paused, expecting more, but the old woman added nothing further. "Yes," said Marguerite. "She must have been a guest here overnight."
Zosia took a small bundle of herbs from the mantel and began grinding them with a mortar and pestle. "And what makes you think that?" asked the old woman, seemingly disinterested.
"I heard her laughing while I slept. She woke me."
"You must be mistaken, my dear. You heard the normal sounds of the castle. Don't let them disturb you. The stones have absorbed much through the centuries; it is only natural that they should let something out."
"I did not hear a stone," retorted Marguerite.
Zosia turned to her and smiled slyly. Her black eyes sparkled."Why do you not simply ask what you are thinking? You want to know who the woman is."
"I am curious, yes," said Marguerite.
"Curious, naturally," said Zosia, chuckling. "It is one of your little faults."
Affronted, Marguerite started to reply, but Zosia stopped her with a raised hand. uTsk," the old woman said. "Allow me to answer your question. The woman is a close acquaintance of Donskoy. They have known each other for many years, since Donskoy first assisted her in a matter of some procurement. She visits him when the mists are willing. He would not like you to know of her yet. But she knows of you. And she is, no doubt, intrigued. Still I think Donskoy wants to treasure you for a time, so as not to share his new bride with any others too soon."
"Share me?"
"Simply to display you. This woman might be a little jealous, you see. But you need not be jealous of her. You will be Donskoy's bride, not Mistress Jacqueline Montarri. Of course, you must not let it be known that I have told you these things. You must allow your husband to think he reveals his own secrets to you, when he chooses."
Marguerite was stunned. She had not expected a complete expose, yet she had done nothing to stop it. Now she wondered if this might have been a test, a little game designed to measure her loyalty to Donskoy,
Zosia sighed. "You are apprehensive now," she said. "Curiosity can sometimes lead to that state."
ul do not wish to keep secrets from my husband," said Marguerite. "Or to show disloyalty before we even wed."
"Oh, but you do keep secrets, do you not, child?" Zosia replied. "About yourself." She cackled again. "And some, you keep so well that even you have forgotten them,"
Marguerite was silent. Clearly, the old woman had unusual powers of perception-perhaps even a gypsy /guru's perception. But Marguerite had never heard of any Vistana who had embraced a sedentary life. The Vistani were, by nature, nomads. She began to suspect that Zosia was a sorceress. A witch. Or perhaps she had simply made a well-calculated guess, hoping to trick Marguerite into revealing some flaw.
Zosia continued, "Yes, of course, I see a great deal. For as an old woman I have seen so many things, so many times, that I now recognize them without effort. Do not fear an old woman, Marguerite."
"I'm not afraid of you." It was true. Compared to other threats she had faced, Zosia seemed quite manageable.
"Good. It is all right that we speak together. Soon I shall seem like a grandmother to you, and you will come to know me as Donskoy's first wife did."
"His first wife?" Marguerite asked. She had posed the question without thinking, intrigued by this new glimpse into Donskoy's life. It was bold and improper to pry-even unwise, if Zosia intended to report this indiscreet behavior to the lord of the castle. Still, Marguerite could not resist.
Zosia had turned to busy herself at the kettle, seemingly oblivious to Marguerite's spoken and unspoken questions. Perhaps her old ears had not heard,
"Donskoy told me his first wife died in a tragedy."