The Desert Spear

“Jessa?” Leesha asked. “Bruna never mentioned a Jessa.”

“Hah!” Araine barked. “That’s no surprise.” Leesha waited for the woman to elucidate further, but she did not.

“I’d have made Bruna Royal Gatherer if she’d wanted it,” Araine went on, “but the wretched old woman turned and headed back to the Hollow the moment Thamos’ cord was cut. Said titles meant nothing to her. All that mattered were her children in the Hollow.”

The duchess mum looked at Leesha. “That how you feel as well, girl? Putting the Hollow above all, even your duty to the ivy throne?”

Leesha met her eyes and nodded. “It is.”

Araine locked stares with her for a moment, as if daring Leesha to blink, but she finally grunted in satisfaction. “I wouldn’t have trusted another word from you if you’d said otherwise. Now, Janson tells me you claim some of Bruna’s skill with fertility.”

Leesha nodded again. “Bruna gave intensive lessons on the topic, and I have years of practical experience.”

Araine looked down her nose at Leesha again. “Not too many years, I expect, but we’ll forgive you that for now. Can’t hurt, you checking her. Everyone else has.”

“Her?” Leesha asked.

“The duchess,” Araine said. “My latest daughter-in-law. I want to know if the girl is barren, or if it’s my son that’s seedless.”

“I won’t be able to determine the latter by examining the duchess,” Leesha said.

Araine snorted. “You’d be out on your pert bottom if you claimed you could. But first things first. Have a look at the girl.”

“Of course,” Leesha said. “Is there anything you can tell me about Her Highness, before I examine her?”

“She’s fit as a courser, with a sturdy frame and wide breeder’s hips,” Araine said. “Not the sharpest spear on the rack, but that’s how an Angierian lady of quality is expected to be. Her brothers are canny enough, so we’ll call it nurture and not nature. After Rhinebeck’s last divorce, I picked her out of all the well-bred young hopefuls myself, with an eye on the nursery. Lady Melny was the youngest of twelve children, two-thirds of them male. She has three sisters, and all have children of their own; two boys for every girl. If anyone should be able to give the ivy throne an heir, it’s her. Of course, all my son cared about was the size of her paps, but Melny has meat enough there to suckle even a big baby like Rhiney.”

“How long have they been wed?” Leesha asked, ignoring the comment.

“Over a year now,” Araine said. “The Royal Gatherer brews fertility tea and I have Janson close the brothels when she’s cycling, but still she reddens her wadding each moon.”

Araine brought Leesha through the maze of private halls and stairs used by the women of the royal family. She saw many servants, but not a single man. Finally, they came to a plush bedchamber filled with velvet pillows and Krasian silks. The duchess was standing before one of the great stained-glass windows in the chamber, looking out over the city. She wore a wide dress of green and yellow silk, cut low in the front and laced tight at the waist. Her hair was put up behind a gold and gem-studded tiara, and her face painted exquisitely, ready at any moment in case the duke should summon her to his chambers. She was no more than sixteen summers old.

“Melny, this is Mistress Leesha of Cutter’s Hollow,” Araine introduced.

“Deliverer’s Hollow,” Leesha corrected. Araine gave her a look of bemused tolerance.

“Mistress Leesha is an expert in fertility,” Araine went on, “and will be examining you today. Take off your dress.”

The girl nodded, not hesitating in the least as she reached behind herself for the laces of her corset. It was clear who was in charge among the duke’s women. Her handmaids quickly moved to help with the fastenings, and soon the duchess’ dress was folded beside the bed.

“Examine as you see fit,” Araine muttered while the handmaids worked, too low for anyone else to hear. “The girl’s been poked and prodded more times than a two-klat inn tart.”

Leesha shook her head, feeling sorry for the poor girl, but she bent and opened her herb pouch on the duchess’ vanity, laying out a series of bottles and swabs. She had hoped for this opportunity, and came prepared with the proper chemics.

The young duchess stood meek and silent as Leesha went about her examination, but her heart was thudding in her chest when Leesha listened to it. The girl was likely terrified, afraid of what would happen to her if she failed to produce an heir like the duchesses before her. Leesha wondered if she had even been given a choice in the union, or, as was common throughout Thesa, it was arranged by her parents without a thought to her desires.

She took a sample of the duchess’ urine and swabs of her vaginal fluids, mixing the samples with chemics and leaving them to interact. She felt at the girl’s womb, even going so far as to slip in a finger to examine her cervix. Finally, she smiled at the duchess. “Everything seems in order, Your Highness. Thank you for your cooperation. You can get dressed now.”

“Thank you, mistress,” the duchess said. “I hope you can find what’s wrong with me.”

“I don’t think anything’s ‘wrong’ with you, dear,” Leesha said, “but if something needs correcting, rest assured, we will.” The duchess smiled weakly and nodded. Likely she had heard the same thing from a dozen other Gatherers. She had no reason to think Leesha any different.

The duchess went back to the window as Leesha went over to the vanity to check on her test results. The duchess mum drifted over to her.

“There’s nothing wrong with that girl,” Leesha said. “She’s fit to breed an army.”

Araine handed her a bit of netting full of dried herbs. “The tincture the Royal Gatherer makes to brew her fertility tea.”

Leesha sniffed the packet. “Standard. It certainly doesn’t hurt, but I could brew stronger…not that it matters.”

“You think the problem is with my son,” Araine said.

Leesha shrugged. “The next logical step would be to examine him, Your Grace.”

Araine snorted. “The stubborn ass will barely let a Gatherer look down his throat when he’s caught a chill and coughing up his innards. Little chance he’ll let you anywhere near his manhood…” she looked Leesha up and down and smiled wryly, “…unless you want to examine him and collect your samples the old-fashioned way.”

Leesha scowled, and Araine laughed.

“I thought not!” she cackled. “We’ll make the girl do it! What else is a young duchess for?”

Minister Janson remained behind after the duchess mum left with Leesha and Wonda. He produced a slim oak box, lacquered smooth, and handed it to Rojer.

“We found this in Arrick’s chambers after his dismissal,” Janson said. “I messaged the Jongleurs’ Guild informing him I had it held in trust, but your master never bothered to retrieve it. I confess, it baffled me; Arrick took everything but the feathers from his mattress when he left, including a few things that weren’t precisely his, but this he left on a table, plain as day.”

Rojer took the case and opened it. Inside, on a bed of green velvet, lay a gold medallion on a heavy braided chain. Molded into relief upon the medallion were crossed spears behind a shield with Duke Rhinebeck’s crest: a leafed crown floating above an ivy-covered throne.