25. Miles Out

Teri is accidentally observant...

Teri Graves was a middle-aged GenX office lady at a large university, right up until the first day of the pandemic lockdown, when a major car crash on her way home landed her in the fantasy world of the book series she obsessively loves to hate, The Allisar Fireborn Chronicles. Worse? She woke up in the body of the doomed evil stepmother! Now she has to use everything she knows about the books to survive a story that’s already going off-script. She escaped a pandemic for this?

Table of Contents

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Previously: Teri hates Monopoly...

The planning meeting had been Roos’s idea, framed as a necessity and scheduled with his usual bloodless efficiency for the hour after the midday meal, when the household was least likely to be disrupted by children or crises. Teri had agreed, and then quietly expanded the guest list.

Robern and Vycette were seated at the small table near the window, ostensibly to observe and learn. They had both been shocked, then excited, to be asked, since in the past Lady Greyrage had purposefully cut them out of learning anything helpful to their stations as a young heir apparent and an upcoming lady of the realm, respectively.

They had been told only to pay attention, but Robern had already filled two pages of notes and Vycette had made at least seven lists. Lady Sariat was at Teri’s right with her own notes, and Lady Elisandar sat at her left, present largely because removing her would have required an argument Teri didn’t have the energy for. Three of the senior household staff stood nearby: the head cook, the head stableman, and the woman who ran the linen stores and apparently also knew everything about everything, whose name was Daretta.

Roos stood beside Teri’s worktable with his ledger, going through the supply tallies methodically and patiently. He was clearly a man who did not assume anyone else had done their part until he, personally, had verified it. Teri sympathized.

Euxina Moonshadow curled up in the window seat with a book, ostensibly reading.

Theo was asleep under the table on Teri’s feet, which was at least a familiar place for him.

“The pavilion linens are confirmed,” Roos said, turning a page and nodding at Daretta. “The additional torches for the east garden path have been sourced. The question of the raised platform remains open, as the carpenter has given us two different measurements on two consecutive days and I no longer trust either of them.”

“Send Robern to verify,” Teri said, without thinking about it much. Then she glanced at him. “Take actual measurements. Write them down. Bring them to Roos.”

Robern straightened as though she’d handed him a mission across enemy territory. “Yes, Milady!”

Vycette did not look up from her lists, but her shoulders straightened, just slightly.

They were twenty minutes into the banquet linen question (which was more contentious than any linen question had any right to be, in Teri’s opinion) when the door opened and Ota arrived.

He came in sideways, as if sneaking, which was odd, since he usually blustered his way everywhere. Two of his personal attendants followed, each holding an end of what appeared to be several yards of fabric, which was already in full bloom.

The cloth moved with slow, continuous magic, flowers opening and closing in repeating waves, pale pink bleeding into gold bleeding into white, petals furling and unfurling as the attendants tried to hold it level and largely failed. It was, objectively, one of the most beautiful things Teri had seen since waking up in this body. It was also currently shedding luminous petals all over her sitting room. They dissolved before they landed, which she suspected was doing something to the light in the room, and possibly to her sinuses.

More importantly, though, Teri recognized the fabric from her previous time loop. She remembered seeing it from a distance, but also remembered that early-morning meeting with Roos and his ledger days before the gala and the very careful explanation that had taken ten minutes to arrive at its point: Pellavar Weavers’ Collective. House Brevvik. Lord Sovven Dray. A public association that was going to read, to everyone who mattered, as a deliberate provocation aimed directly at Ferdiff’s most powerful ally.

“Magnificent,” Ota announced, spreading his free hand to indicate the fabric as though he had personally invented flowers. “I know, I know. You’re speechless. It’s a natural response.”

Roos had gone very still. She watched his eyes find the selvedge of the fabric, where the Collective’s mark was woven in, and watched him arrive at the same conclusion she’d reached seconds ago, the same one he had reached first in the prior timeline.

He glanced at Daretta, who was already looking at him in desperation. He nodded fractionally at her, and Daretta set down her papers, slipping out the door with no explanation offered to anyone.

“Lord Ota,” Roos began, in a patient tone, selecting his words with surgical precision, “the fabric is—”

“From the Pellavar Collective, yes, I know, aren’t they extraordinary?” Ota was steering his attendants toward the window by flapping his fan at them, apparently to show the blooming effect in better light. The fabric obliged by producing a cascade of opening roses. Robern was staring at it openly. Even Vycette looked dazzled. It really was beautiful; no one could fault Ota’s taste, even if he lacked two brain cells to rub together.

“The Pellavar Weavers’ Collective,” Teri said, before she could stop herself, “which supplies predominantly to Lord Sovven Dray.”

The room went dramatically quiet in a way that meant several people had stopped breathing at the same time.

Ota turned. His expression was pleasant and open, the fan making its usual motion, but his eyes had sharpened.

“Yes,” he said, after a beat. “Among others.” A pause, then his expression went vacant again. “I wasn’t aware you knew the Collective’s clientele! How observant of you!”

Roos was looking at her. She could feel it without turning her head.

“Lady Sariat mentioned it, I think,” she said, which was a bald-faced lie. Beside her, Lady Sariat heroically did not move a muscle. Lady Elisandar peered at them both suspiciously.

Ota looked at Lady Sariat. Lady Sariat looked back at him with polished, dignified serenity. Teri really was going to have to give her a raise…which made her realize that she wasn’t even sure if her ladies-in-waiting got paid? Something to check with Roos later.

“Of course!” Ota said jocularly. The fan continued its motion. “The ladies of Allisar court know everything!”

He did not believe her. She was not sure how or why she knew that, but she did. Fortunately, Daretta reappeared in the doorway holding a flat, dark box with brass fittings. She looked at Roos. Roos looked at the fabric. The fabric produced another wave of blooming peonies.

“My lord,” Roos said, turning to Ota with his ledger, his expression grave enough to make everyone want to sit down, “perhaps we should discuss the placement question while Daretta deals with the fabric.”

Ota looked around as if seeing everyone else for the first time. “Oh. Are we doing a thing? I’m not interrupting a thing, am I?”

“Gala preparations,” Teri said. “You’re welcome to stay.”

He brightened immediately and sat down next to Vycette, bumping her a bit. “Wonderful! What fortuitous timing I have! There are things I simply must discuss.” He pulled a long sheet of paper from his sleeve.

Teri was fairly sure his notes were going to be entirely about the color scheme, but she let it go. She offered up the same suggestions she had given his endless waffling on the topic as last time, and Roos agreed with her just like last time, and Ota exclaimed obsequiously about how smart “dear sister-in-law Bonarae” was. It was the first time anyone had used Lady Greyrage’s given name, and it startled a few people, including Robern and the staff.

Throughout it all, Euxina Moonshadow kept her nose in her book, although she had not turned a page in a while.

Teri let him prattle because she knew that Ota was surprisingly useful to her, due to his general performance of fluttery alarm, he actually knew which noble guests would expect which courtesies, who could not be seated near whom, and exactly how long the Merrevane Players’ standard program ran.

Which was when Teri made her second mistake.

“It won’t run long,” she said, looking at her own notes, “as long as someone convinces them not to add a third operatic encore.”

A small silence.

“A third,” Ota repeated, his fan slowing. “Dear sister, the Merrevane Players don’t give encores at private engagements.”

Teri kept her eyes on her notes. “They will if that obnoxious soprano gets enough applause. And she will. By the second one, half the guests are going to be looking for the exits.”

“As you say, Milady,” Roos said carefully. “I’ll have a word with their manager.” Another pause. “I wasn’t aware you had heard them perform.”

Teri looked up. Roos was blank-faced, Ota’s expression gave away almost nothing, and both Robern and Vycette looked far too interested.

“Oh, everyone’s heard about it,” she said airily. They hadn’t, because it hadn’t happened yet. She made a note to be more careful, though. Not because she feared being discovered as a transmigrated modern woman living in a time-loop AU of a fantasy book series, but because she did not want to have to keep explaining why she could tell the future.

Speaking of that, she remembered why she was putting up with all this nonsense. The meeting continued for a bit, but when the staff had filed out and Roos was gathering his ledger, Teri looked down at Theo.

:Theo.:

:Hmm?:

“I need you to go find out where Lord Ferdiff is.”

Under the table, his head came up. Across the room, the alchemist closed her book. Roos stalled, his ledger half-closed. Robern and Vycette froze like prey.

:Oh!: Theo said. :Like a scouting mission?:

“Exactly like a scouting mission. He’ll be coming from the eastern road, but he’s probably a week or so out.”

:No, he’s not. You know he’s closer than that.: He cocked his head.

:PLAY ALONG:

His eyes went wide. :A game? Okay! Yay!:

“I am concerned about his exact arrival date, so go out and find him, and report back. Don’t get seen, don’t bother any horses you come across, and for the love of God, don’t roll in anything dead.”

:I make no promises.:

He extracted himself from under the table with more dignity than he usually displayed, stretched enormously, shook himself, and trotted to the door. He paused and looked back at her.

:I might visit the farm with the spotted sheep on the way back.:

“Fine, visit the damn sheep,” Teri said. “Just don’t linger.”

:Obviously.: He sounded mildly offended. Then he was gone, his nails clicking down the corridor until they faded.

“Or roll in dead things!” she shouted at the door. He did not respond.

The room was very quiet.

Teri looked up.

Euxina Moonshadow was watching her with an expression she hadn’t seen on her before, something closer to scrutiny, like she was a bug she had never seen before crawling across the floor.

Roos had gone still in the way he went still when he was thinking fast and didn’t want anyone to see it. Robern and Vycette looked like they had just watched her murder someone in real time.

“What?” Teri said.

“You sent your familiar out to range,” Euxina Moonshadow said.

“Yes?”

“Miles out. Independently.” She tilted her head. “To conduct reconnaissance.”

“He’s a big dog. He can handle it.”

Euxina Moonshadow and Roos exchanged a look. It was brief, and it was fluent. They had met before, Teri realized, and not in passing.

Ota, fan in hand, was watching all of this with his head tilted at an angle that was somehow birdlike.

“Familiars don’t range out that far,” Roos said, finally. His voice was careful and even. “Even the great ravens. They stay close. It’s—that’s simply how it works.”

“Apparently not.” Teri shrugged, repeating to herself stay cool stay cool stay cool.

Lady Sariat was watching Roos and the alchemist with an expression Teri caught only in her peripheral vision, a look of hurt that went flat and still, very briefly, before Sariat smoothed it away and looked elsewhere. When Roos glanced toward her and opened his mouth to say something, Sariat turned to Teri and asked with perfect composure whether Milady would like her afternoon tea now or later.

“Now,” Teri agreed, glad to break up the uncomfortable vibe she had unwittingly started.

Lady Sariat promptly left to get it, and Roos closed his mouth and looked at his ledger instead.

Teri, for her part, stared at her notes and thought about Ferdiff arriving early, and Euxina Moonshadow’s expression, and Ota’s weird, birdlike scrutiny, and the fact that she had absolutely no plan worth the name with only four days until the gala. SShe was going to need a miracle or a very good bluff or both.

Probably both.

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NEXT: Gala, Redux

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