Clare entered as he left, followed by a servant carrying a basin of hot water. Sage’s friend wore a dreamy expression, and if she wasn’t mistaken, the shape of a folded square of parchment could be seen tucked under her bodice. Sage turned away with a smile and set about fixing them a pot of tea.
Once they were alone, sharing another cup after dinner, Clare confessed to Sage how she felt about Lieutenant Gramwell, how he returned her affections, and showed Sage a letter he’d written. None of it surprised Sage, of course, but she counseled caution and discretion.
“I know I promised I’d stop your matching—and I fully intend to do so—but you need to be careful. You don’t know him very well, and doing things to get to know him better isn’t good for your reputation. Honestly, I think you suit each other well, but he can’t marry for another three years.”
“Why does the army have that rule?” asked Clare.
“Life as a young officer is difficult and dangerous, and marriage and children are distractions they can’t afford. By twenty-four, they’ve advanced to captain or are flushed out of the army.” Sage shrugged. “It’s been the law for over a hundred years, and no one remembers why it started. Personally, I think it was designed to keep nobles, especially younger sons who would only join to increase their match appeal, out of the ranks. Genuine commitment to the army is critical.”
Clare pondered for a few moments. “I’ll be eighteen then, but that doesn’t seem so bad.”
“And it would be a man of your choice, rather than being sold off like a cow.”
Her friend eyed her curiously. “You don’t like matchmaking very much. Why are you Mistress Rodelle’s apprentice?”
“It’s a long story, but no one would ever want to marry me—so I must make my own way. Darnessa offered me a job, and I took it.”
That surprised Clare. “Why would no one marry you? Did the matchmaker tell you that?”
“I spent my childhood climbing trees and catching birds and wearing breeches,” said Sage. “If there’s a time when ladylike behavior can be instilled in a girl, it must have passed me by long ago, because my aunt tried for almost four years and got nowhere.”
“You never lack for dance partners or dinner conversation,” Clare said.
“Yes, but that’s an act,” Sage insisted. “I’m really just collecting information for future matches.”
Clare looked doubtful. “I’ve noticed how some of the soldiers look at you. Especially that darker one you spend time with.”
Sage dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand. “For most I’m a curiosity, just as you would stare at a boy in a dress. I’ve been riding and talking with them because they asked for my assistance.”
“In what?” asked Clare.
Sage searched for a vague but believable reason. “They like to know the layout of the places we stay, mostly. They can’t go into the ladies’ quarters, but if they’re to protect us, they ought to know if there are back doors and windows, that sort of thing.”
“Oh, I guess that makes sense.”
“Speaking of,” said Sage. “Would you like to take a tour of the fortress with me tomorrow?”
*
The next morning, Sage and Clare dressed for weekly chapel services with an eye toward catching the attention of someone who could be helpful. The duke’s steward’s son presented the perfect opportunity when he poured their tea at breakfast and asked if there was anything he could do to make their stay more comfortable. Sage was caught with her mouth full of toast and missed her chance to get his immediate attention, but Clare quickly claimed it.
With her fingers lightly touching his arm, the girl turned the full force of her large brown eyes on the young man and asked if there was anyone who could show them around after breakfast. “My friend and I have never seen a place so … magnificent.”
Her victim nodded as though hypnotized and offered his humble services. Clare drew her lips back in a smile that glowed across her creamy cheeks, and slowly blinked her long lashes. “I look forward to it, sir.”
He bowed and stumbled the rest of the way around the table, filling teacups in a daze. Sage blinked in admiration of her friend, feeling like an amateur in the presence of a master. Lieutenant Gramwell never had a chance.
Fortunately for them, Thomas Stewart was particularly proud of the fortress’s water supply and led them straight to it when asked. There was no simple access, though. The cistern was two levels below ground and was enclosed on top and drained from valves in the bottom.
“It’s naturally replenished by rain, so Tegann is impervious to siege,” he bragged. “It’s a little low right now, but the spring rains will arrive very soon. They’ll also clear the pass for your journey.”
But how to get in? They couldn’t just pour the bottled water down a drain on the bailey wall.
“How do you maintain it?” Sage asked.
“Every summer we drain and clean the cistern.” He pointed to a grate in the floor. “Boys climb inside and scrub the walls, and Tegann uses the river for water during that time.”
Clare made a horrified face. “There must be months’ worth of dirt and leaves and perhaps animals inside!”
“Oh, but my lady, we have a way to prevent that.” He led them to a servants’ passageway and a wooden hatch over a raised stone rectangle. “Anything that goes down the drains passes through this shaft.”
Thomas opened the lid and pulled up the rope leading down. After a few feet, a mesh basket appeared. A couple small stones and dead leaves lay in the bottom. “This sits at the bottom by a screen and catches anything that can’t pass through. We clean the basket and screen regularly.”
Clare gushed over the clever design while Sage mused. It would be difficult to get in, but maybe not impossible. “How far are we from the top of the cistern?” Sage asked.
He lowered the basket back down the void. “It’s about twenty-five feet from here. There’s also an overflow drain into the sewer.”
Clare peered down the black hole. “This is wider than I would’ve thought. Is the drain this wide, too?”
“It has to be, my lady. When we clean the cistern, one unlucky boy climbs through and scrubs this last section.”
Clare shuddered. “It sounds dark and slimy and cramped.”
“So it is, but it must be done on occasion for the safety and comfort of ladies such as yourself.”
46
SAGE SHOOED CLARE off to walk in the garden with Lieutenant Gramwell while she drew diagrams of the cistern and the ways to get to the maintenance shaft. Darnessa knocked on the door, and Sage hid her work from the matchmaker and prepared to make excuses, but Darnessa didn’t ask what she was doing.
“We need to talk about Clare,” the matchmaker said.
Sage winced and nodded.
“She’s getting far too much attention from that officer. I think it’s a good match personally, but she’s a Concordium bride. She needs to break it off.”
“We can’t match her,” Sage protested. “She’s only fifteen. Her father lied to get her in.”