But then,Juste’sarm was going to heal.
“At least light a few candles,” Miche said as he barged into Huber’s rooms, making a great deal more noise than necessary and setting down a stack of papers on his table. “I know you’re a broody sort of fellow, but you don’t need to actually sit in the dark.”
Even as he was loudly lighting candles, opening the curtains, and tidying away the remains of Huber’s breakfast,Miche looked the silent man over, lying in bed with his face averted. Much of the fine bronze glow was gone from his skin, but at least his clothes looked fresh. Tounot had taken charge of managing such things, and Genon came to the barracks every few days to examine the progress of the healing stump of his left arm. And though Miche could not imagine how he himself might cope with such a loss, he did hope someone would come stir him up, if he needed it.
“As it happens, I could use your help,” Miche went on, setting quill and ink on a table. “You know, of course, that I am a man of many virtues. Thoughtful, kind-hearted, merciful—up you get, now—with a certain…generosity of spirit,” he decided as he hauled Huber out of bed and shoved him toward the chair. “I have just never been able to tell peopleno.”
“Is that what you tell yourself?” Huber asked flatly, a muscle clenching in his jaw. The jostling hurt, but he was too proud to let it show.
“It must be, it’s the only possible explanation for why I find myself so consistently behind. Now, these are from Juste. He’s been focused on matters in the capital just lately, so he hasn’t had time to consider matters of the stables, but it seems a pity to miss a year’s breeding when we’ve just had some likely horses come in…”
This would have rightfully been Huber’s work anyway. Miche kept up a constant stream of conversation as he leafed through the papers, because when he had acquired Regal and Dancer—née Innuendo—from the Aldeburke stable, he had also seized their breeding papers, which were the equivalent of a patent of nobility for highbred horses. There were a dozen such beasts in Tresingale, with bloodlines more noble than most of Remin’s knights, and come spring, the mares would be in season.
Miche had no idea what they might get, if they bred a Regal with a Dancer, but Huber had done as much lying in bed as was good for him. Soon he’d be able to wander all of Tresingale without worrying about running into Rem, if that was his trouble.
“You don’t need to invent work for me.” Huber looked down at the papers spread before him, unmoving.
“I didn’tinventthis work. I traveled halfway across the Empire and stole it for you,” Miche retorted. “They looked like good horses to me, but what the fuck do I know? You have a look and tell me what the best crosses are.”
“Did Rem put you up to this?” Huber asked, his copper eyes hardening, and Miche gave him a loving slap to the back of the head.
“No. I thought of it all by myself because it’s time you stopped lying about, expecting people to come dress you and feed you. You’ve still got your writing hand. You can still work a bridle and bit. You’ve got two pages that you haven’t looked at in a month and they need you. If you don’t make yourself useful, I’ll let Her Grace come and find occupation for you. She’s already put all those footless fellows from Selgin and Isigne to work. Would you prefer making pots, or learning to weave?”
Miche leveled him with a remorseless stare and let the silence stretch. To him, Huber would always be a snot-nosed little brother, one of the Ereguil pageboys that Miche had bullied and brought up when he himself had just become a knight. And while Remin and Huber needed to sort out their problems themselves, Miche would only indulge them so long before he started knocking heads together.
Huber glared back. Three, two, one…
“…I’ll go get her,” Miche said, rising from his seat. “Her Grace has been soworried,you know? Only the other day—”
“Oh, fuck you, Miche,” said Huber, with feeling. “I’ll look at the honorable fucking beasts.”
“Her Grace will be relieved.” Miche clapped him on his good shoulder, rising. “And since you’re up and dressed for the day, I have a couple more little beasts that need your attention.”
He was pulling the door open before Huber could protest, revealing Lege and Nicco in the hall outside. Both pages looked as pale and wan as if they too had been missing the sunshine.
“Go gently, boys,” Miche cautioned, and left them to look after each other.
***
By noon, Miche was back at the manor again, settled in the solar and helping Juste with all the work where penmanship mattered. Juste was enjoyingthatso much, he was teaching himself to write with his left hand.
Miche was beset by prickly people.
But he didn’t mind. It was entertaining to watch the comings and goings from the Duchess of Andelin’s eclectic salon, amusing to see her fussing over Juste, and Miche was quietly very proud of how far she had come. She was so like her mother.
It also gave him an excuse to overhear any amount of gossip, and unlike Juste—who would have been perfectly happy as a hermit—Miche was a nosy so-and-so.
They were just settling to the afternoon’s work when there was a commotion in the hallway, and Juste turned with a definite snarl as the door opened to admit Ophele, Lady Verr, and a tall Benkki Desan woman, her ivory cheeks pink with cold.
“Your Grace. Ladies,” Miche said, rising to offer his courtesies and nudging Juste to follow. “Here to escort Grandfather Tree upstairs at last?”
“Great-Grandfather, noble lord,” Madam Sanai corrected, with a half-bow and quarter-smile for both men. She was tall for a woman, almost equal to Juste, willowy and long-limbed and dressed in a long-sleeved tunic that fit her very well. “Sir Justenin. I hope I am not disturbing. Great-Grandfather needs a little more sun.”
“All of us could use a little more sun,” Miche agreed, ignoring Juste’s warning glare. His smile widened, broad and charming. “Juste, where are your manners? If we cannot have the sun, we may at least be grateful for these other, lovelier lights that come to brighten our afternoon.”
Lady Verr shot him a disgusted look.
“Good afternoon,” Juste said stiffly. “Madam, any guest of Her Grace’s is welcome. My secretary is regrettably easy to distract.”
