Out of the Darkness

Krasta hurried past the butler. Valnu seemed to be the only person in all of Priekule who didn’t blame her for the way she’d lived during the occupation. Of course, he’d slept with a lot more Algarvian officers than she had; she was sure of that. But he’d done it in the line of duty, so to speak. And he didn’t run the risk of proving it to the world nine months after the fact.

He swept her into his arms and gave her a kiss. “How have you been?” he asked.

“Tired,” Krasta answered. Up in his bedroom, little Gainibu started to cry again. Krasta could hardly ignore him then, however much she wanted to. She jerked a thumb at the stairway down which the noise was wafting. “That’s why.”

“Ah, too bad,” Valnu said with sympathy that at least sounded sincere. “Have you got anything to drink, darling? I’m dry as the Zuwayzi desert.”

It was early in the day, but that worried Krasta no more than it did Valnu. “Come along with me,” she purred. “We’ll find something that suits you--and me, too.”

Something turned out to be apricot brandy. Valnu knocked back a shot of it. So did Krasta. The sweet warmth in her mouth, and in her belly, felt good. Valnu poured his glass full again, then raised a questioning eyebrow at her. She nodded eagerly. He poured for her, too. “What shall we drink to?” he asked. “That first time, we were just drinking to drinking.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Krasta said. She let more brandy slide down her throat. This time, she gave herself a refill, and, a moment later, Valnu as well. “Curse me if I know why I don’t stay drunk all the time. Then I wouldn’t have to think about . . things.”

“Cheer up, my dear,” Valnu told her. “However bad it looks, it could be worse.”

“How?” Krasta demanded. As far as she could see, nothing could be worse than her being unhappy.

But Valnu answered, “Well, you could be an Algarvian, for instance: say, somebody inside Trapani. The fighting there can’t last much longer, or so the news sheets say. And the Unkerlanters don’t like redheads at all.”

That, no doubt, was true. But it was also far away. Krasta’s concerns were much more immediate. She glared at him. “Powers below eat you, why couldn’t you have had stronger seed?” she snarled. “Then I’d have a proper blond baby, and people wouldn’t want to spit at me all the time.” Her hand started to go to the wig, but she pulled it down. She didn’t want to draw that to anyone’s notice.

“I could ask you something like, why didn’t you give me more chances?” Valnu answered. “Dear Lurcanio had a lot more than I did.”

“You weren’t living here,” Krasta said. “And you couldn’t send me off and do horrible things to me if I didn’t do what you wanted.” She didn’t mention that, at the time, she’d enjoyed quite a few of the things Lurcanio had done and had had her do. That was only one more inconvenient fact to be forgotten.

“You shouldn’t complain too much, my love.” Valnu patted her hand. “After all, you didn’t have the unfortunate accident you could have.” Now he pointed up toward the nursery. “You had a different sort of unfortunate accident.”

“Unfortunate? I should say so.” Krasta drank her third brandy as quickly as the first two. “That miserable little bastard ruins everything--everything, I tell you. And the servants you can get nowadays! It’s scandalous!” Few of the newcomers were as deferential as the ones who’d been at the mansion for a long time. Like those in charge of Gainibu, a couple had quit already, but their replacements seemed no better.

“I am sorry,” Valnu said. “I’m afraid I don’t know what I can do about any of that.”

“At least you’ve tried to do something,” Krasta said. “And when you come to visit, I know you’re not coming to laugh at me or to curse me.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” Valnu sounded unusually serious--maybe it was the brandy talking. “You could have betrayed me to the Algarvians whenever you chose, except you didn’t choose.”

“No. Of course not.” Krasta shook her head. “How could I do that to someone I know socially?”

Valnu laughed, sprang to his feet, and bowed. “You are a true noblewoman, milady.” Krasta would have taken that as a pretty compliment, but he went on, “And you show you’re every bit as useless as most of the members of our class-- myself included, whenever I get the chance to be useless, anyhow.”

“I’m not either useless. Don’t you dare say I am,” Krasta snapped. “You’re as mean to me as that horrible bitch my brother married.” Tears stung her eyes. She still cried much more easily than she had before getting pregnant.

“I didn’t say you were anything I’m not,” Valnu answered. “Every kingdom needs a few truly useless people, to show the rest how to enjoy life. Look at the Unkerlanters. Efficiency, efficiency, efficiency, every bloody minute of the day and night. Would you want to live like that?”

“I should hope not.” The idea of doing anything as the Unkerlanters did it was deeply repugnant to Krasta.