Mara was already tying her apron when she glanced over at me. Her hands stopped halfway through the knot.
"Well, look at that."
I looked up from straightening my sleeves. "What?"
"You're ready."
I glanced down at myself, then back at her. "I believe that was the intention."
"Don't be clever with me, little one." She finished tying her apron, though the amused look on her face remained. "You were ready before I even finished getting dressed. Usually, I have time to watch you wrestle with your clothes, lose a fight with a stubborn button, or somehow manage to tangle yourself in something that shouldn't be possible to tangle yourself in."
"I don't recall asking you to watch."
"Of course you didn't. That was what made it so entertaining."
I stared at her for a moment, unsure whether I ought to be offended. The trouble was that she looked far too pleased with herself for me to take her seriously.
"So my getting dressed has been your morning entertainment?"
"One of the few reliable pleasures of my day." She pressed a hand to her chest as though I had delivered a terrible blow. "And now you've gone and taken it away from me."
"I'm sorry to have disappointed you."
"No, no. Don't apologize on my account." She waved a hand dismissively, although her smile widened. "I'm sure I'll find something else to occupy myself with. Perhaps I'll start watching you fold linens instead."
"Then I'll have to learn to fold them faster."
Mara gave me a look of mock horror.
"Don't you dare."
For a moment, I couldn't quite stop the small smile that crept across my face.
Mara noticed it, naturally. She always seemed to notice the things I would rather keep to myself.
"There," she said, pointing at me triumphantly. "That almost makes up for it."
"What does?"
"That smile. At least you're not entirely determined to make my mornings miserable."
"I shall try to be more considerate of your suffering."
"See that you do." She opened the door and gestured for me to follow. "Now come along before you decide to make the bed as well. I don't think I could survive losing two of my morning entertainments at once."
I followed her into the corridor, still wearing the faintest trace of a smile.
It was a small thing. A silly exchange between a maid and the child who shared her room. Nothing that would have seemed remarkable to anyone else.
Yet, as we walked towards breakfast, I found myself thinking about how differently I might have responded a few days earlier.
I would have wondered whether Mara was making fun of me in earnest. I would have searched her words for some hidden insult, some indication that she was growing tired of having me around. Perhaps I would have said nothing at all, afraid that the wrong answer might somehow make my situation worse.
Now I could recognize the amusement in her voice without needing to examine every word. I could answer her without first deciding whether it was safe to do so.
I wasn't suddenly free of suspicion. There were still moments when an unexpected movement or an unfamiliar voice made me tense. I still thought carefully before accepting anything offered to me, and I had not forgotten how easily kindness could conceal a trap.
But Mara had never demanded that I become someone else to earn her patience.
She teased me because she found me amusing, not because she wanted to humiliate me. She noticed my small victories and made a fuss over them, even when those victories amounted to putting on my clothes without turning the process into a battle.
I was beginning to understand that there was a difference between being watched and being watched over.
I wasn't entirely sure what to do with that realization.
Fortunately, breakfast offered an easier subject for my attention.
At least, it should have.
The servants' eating room was already busy when we arrived.
The usual morning sounds filled the space: bowls being moved across the tables, benches scraping against the floor, and several conversations competing with one another. Someone near the kitchen door complained about a missing basket. Another servant insisted that he had returned it exactly where he had found it.
Mara and I collected our breakfast and sat with the others.
I had barely begun eating when I noticed Tomas.
He was sitting farther down the table, his broad shoulders hunched slightly over his bowl. Ordinarily, he spoke with the other servants while eating, particularly if the conversation turned towards the horses or some inconvenience involving the carts. Even when he had little to say, he usually listened with an expression of mild amusement.
This morning, he barely spoke.
His food remained largely untouched. Every so often, his gaze wandered towards the windows, as though his attention were somewhere outside the room.
I watched him for a few moments before turning back to my breakfast.
Perhaps he was tired. The stables required work at all hours, and there were always animals that needed attention before the rest of the household had properly awakened.
Still, something about his expression reminded me of the previous day.
The horse that had fallen ill.
I had not seen it since suggesting that Tomas examine the water supply. He had taken my idea seriously, then reported it to Master Vale. After that, I had returned to my own duties without learning whether anything had come of it.
I had assumed that if the water were responsible, someone would discover the problem soon enough.
Now I wasn't so certain.
"You're staring again," Mara murmured.
I turned towards her. "I'm not staring."
"Of course not. You're merely studying Tomas with the sort of concentration usually reserved for difficult sums."
"I was wondering whether something had happened to the horse."
Mara's expression softened a little.
"The one that became ill yesterday?"
I nodded.
"I don't know the details," she said. "But I heard that it hasn't improved much."
I put my spoon down.
"Not improved?"
"Apparently, it's still refusing most of its feed. Tomas spent a good part of yesterday checking it over."
I remembered the stablemaster's concern when I had spoken to him. He had been worried, certainly, but there had been a practical steadiness to him. He had checked the animal's feed, bedding, stall, and workload before I suggested looking at the water.
If the horse had not improved overnight, that steadiness might be becoming harder to maintain.
"Is it going to recover?" I asked.
Mara shook her head.
"I don't know, Ellie. I'm no better at treating horses than I am at repairing the kitchen stove. You'll have to ask Tomas if you want an answer."
I lowered my gaze to my bowl.
I hadn't expected her to know. Even so, I found myself wishing that she did.
There was something unsettling about knowing that an animal was suffering while the reason remained uncertain. In my previous life, I had grown accustomed to the idea that most problems had an explanation, even if finding it took time. Here, explanations were often accompanied by shortages of knowledge, resources, and people willing to take responsibility.
A sick horse might recover because someone knew what to do.
It might also deteriorate because nobody did.
I had no useful way to predict which outcome awaited it.
Mara nudged my elbow lightly.
"Don't look so troubled. Tomas knows his work."
"I know."
"Then let him do it."
I nodded and returned to my breakfast.
Her advice was sensible. There was nothing I could accomplish by worrying over something I couldn't control.
I had learned that lesson many times already.
The trouble was that learning a lesson and following it were not always the same thing.
The change became more obvious when the morning work began.
I was carrying a stack of folded cloths towards the linen room when I passed the entrance to the stable yard. Normally, the area was busy with the ordinary rhythm of the household. Horses were led out to exercise, carts were checked, and stable hands moved between stalls carrying feed or equipment.
Today, the movement seemed less routine.
Two stable hands were speaking beside a water trough. One held a bucket while the other leaned over the stone rim, examining the water as though expecting to find something floating on the surface.
A third man carried another bucket from somewhere beyond the yard.
I slowed for a moment.
"What are you looking for?" I asked before I could decide whether the question was necessary.
The stable hand with the bucket glanced at me.
"Nothing in particular, little one. Just checking things."
He returned to his work.
It wasn't a rude answer. He simply didn't have any reason to explain himself to a child carrying linen.
I continued towards the linen room, though the brief exchange remained in my thoughts.
Checking things.
I supposed that was how an investigation began. Someone noticed a problem, formed a possible explanation, and then started looking for evidence that might support or disprove it.
In this case, the possible explanation had been mine.
The thought made me uncomfortable.
I hadn't diagnosed the horse. I had merely suggested checking the water because it was one of the things the animal might have shared with others. It had been a reasonable question, nothing more.
But if the workers were examining troughs because of something I had said, then my question had become part of the estate's response to a real problem.
I wasn't sure whether that made me feel useful or foolish.
Perhaps both.
I delivered the linen and returned to my other duties.
The household had no shortage of work for me. There were supplies to sort, shelves to check, and small errands that needed doing between the larger tasks assigned to the servants. Nobody appeared particularly interested in what was happening in the stables, at least not openly.
Still, the signs were difficult to miss once I began looking for them.
A stable hand crossed the yard with a covered container. Another went towards the outer grounds carrying a bucket. Later, I saw Tomas speaking with two workers near the stable entrance, pointing first towards the troughs and then towards the far side of the yard.
He wasn't simply examining the sick horse anymore.
He was comparing things.
That distinction mattered.
When one animal became ill, the cause could be almost anything. It might have eaten something unsuitable, strained itself, developed an infection, or suffered from some condition that no one had yet recognized.
When two animals developed similar symptoms, the range of possibilities changed.
It didn't mean they were suffering from the same cause. Coincidences happened, and animals could become ill for unrelated reasons. But it gave Tomas a reason to look beyond the individual horses.
I wondered whether he had already reached that conclusion.
I didn't want to interrupt him to find out.
For one thing, I was supposed to be working. For another, I had already attracted Master Vale's attention once by suggesting that the water might be involved. I had no desire to make myself a regular visitor to the stables merely because I was curious about the outcome.
Curiosity was useful.
Curiosity could also get a person into trouble.
I had discovered that much before arriving at the estate.
So I continued with my duties, trying to put the matter out of my mind.
It didn't work particularly well.
The second horse became ill before midday.
I learned about it from Perrin, who came into the pantry looking for a container that had apparently been moved from its usual place.
"Have you seen the small covered jug?" he asked while checking a shelf.
"Which one?"
"The one I left beside the larger jars."
I pointed towards the lower shelf. "There."
He retrieved it, muttering something about people moving things without telling him.
Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "The stable's having a miserable morning."
I looked up from the supplies I was sorting.
"Why?"
"Another horse is sick."
For a moment, I thought I had misunderstood him.
"Another one?"
"That's what I heard. The stablemaster's been running about all morning."
Perrin tucked the jug beneath his arm.
"Best hope it doesn't spread to the others. We have enough trouble keeping everything running without half the horses falling ill."
He left before I could ask anything else.
I remained beside the pantry shelves, holding a small bundle of cloth in my hands.
Another horse.
The words seemed to settle heavily in my thoughts.
I had known the first horse's condition was concerning, but I had hoped it would turn out to be an isolated incident. Perhaps the animal had eaten something unsuitable or caught some illness that would pass with proper care.
A second horse changed the situation.
It didn't prove anything, but it made the possibility of a shared cause harder to ignore.
I thought about the questions Tomas had answered when I visited the stable. The first horse's feed had been checked. Its bedding had been changed. Its workload hadn't been unusual. Tomas had examined the stall and considered whether the animal might have eaten something it shouldn't.
I remembered asking whether anything else had seemed different.
At the time, I hadn't known what answer I was looking for. I had simply tried to understand what Tomas had already ruled out.
Then I had asked about the water.
It had seemed like an obvious possibility precisely because it was so ordinary. Animals needed water every day. If something had gone wrong with their supply, they could be exposed without anyone noticing a problem until symptoms appeared.
Now another horse was sick.
I set the cloth down carefully.
There was no reason to assume that my suggestion was correct. The horses might have unrelated illnesses. Perhaps Tomas would discover something else that explained both cases.
But I couldn't dismiss the possibility either.
I found myself wishing I could go to the stables and see what was happening.
Then I remembered who I was.
I was Ellie, a young servant responsible for simple work around a noble household. I had no authority to examine the horses, no training in animal care, and no place in an investigation beyond the question I had already asked.
Even if I went there, I might only get in the way. New chapters come out on novelping.com first.
I returned to sorting the supplies.
For the next several minutes, I concentrated on counting jars and checking their labels. I made myself read each one twice, refusing to let my thoughts wander back towards the stables.
There was work to be done.
The horses had Tomas.
And Tomas, unlike me, knew what he was doing.
At least, I hoped he did.
By the time I passed the stable yard again, the investigation had become difficult to mistake.
Several workers were moving between the stalls and the water troughs. One man carried a bucket away while another brought a fresh supply from a different part of the grounds. Someone had placed a wooden barrier around one of the troughs, and the horses were being directed towards another source.
Tomas stood near the entrance, speaking to a stable hand who had a small notebook tucked beneath his arm.
I kept to the edge of the yard, not wanting to obstruct anyone.
The first horse stood inside its stall, its head lowered. It looked tired, with little interest in the activity around it. The second was in a separate stall farther along, where another worker watched it carefully.
Seeing them made the problem feel more real than hearing about it had.
They were not merely two entries in a list of symptoms. They were living creatures that had been healthy enough to work only a short time ago, and now people were trying to determine what had gone wrong.
Tomas noticed me standing nearby.
"Ellie."
I straightened.
He came over, wiping his hands on a cloth.
"You've heard about the second horse?"
"Yes."
His expression suggested that he hadn't expected anything else. News travelled quickly through a household, especially when it involved animals that pulled carts and carried people.
"Both of them are off their feed," he said. "The second one started showing signs this morning."
"Does it look the same as the first?"
"Similar enough to concern me. Neither has much appetite, and both are more sluggish than they should be."
He glanced towards the stalls.
"I don't like having two animals in that condition at once."
I hesitated.
"Could it be something they ate?"
"It could." He didn't dismiss the suggestion. "That's why I checked the feed again. Different batches, different stalls, and neither animal has been given anything unusual that I can find."
He paused.
"The bedding is different too. Their work hasn't been the same, either."
I remembered his earlier checks.
"So they don't have much in common?"
"Not much."
His eyes shifted towards the trough at the edge of the yard.
"Except the water."
He said it quietly, almost as though he were testing the thought aloud.
I didn't answer immediately.
"Do they both drink from the same supply?" I asked.
"They do. The water comes from the same source, though it reaches different troughs."
He looked at me again.
"That's what you suggested yesterday, isn't it?"
I felt my shoulders tense.
"Yes, but I don't know whether it's the cause."
"I know."
His answer came without impatience.
"You're not a stablemaster, and neither am I going to pretend that one possibility settles the matter. But two horses with similar symptoms, separate stalls, different feed, and the same water supply? It would be foolish not to look into it."
Some of the tension left my shoulders.
I hadn't realized how much I had been bracing myself for the possibility that he would tell me I had overstepped.
Instead, Tomas seemed to regard my suggestion as one useful question among several.
"Have you found anything in the water?" I asked.
"Nothing obvious."
He gestured towards the nearest trough.
"It looks clear. There's no strange smell that I can detect, and I haven't found anything floating in it. But that doesn't tell me everything I need to know."
I glanced at the water.
It looked like water.
That was the problem with things that could cause harm without announcing themselves. A clear surface could be reassuring without actually proving anything.
"Could the water be different before it reaches the estate?" I asked.
Tomas's expression changed slightly.
Not suspicion. More like recognition that the question was worth considering.
"That's what I intend to find out."
He folded the cloth in his hands.
"I've told Master Vale what we've found. He'll decide how far we can take the investigation, but I'm not leaving this alone."
He turned towards the stable entrance, where another worker was waiting.
"Now, I need to see whether we can keep the other horses away from this supply until we know more."
I nodded and stepped aside.
"Thank you for taking the suggestion seriously."
Tomas looked back at me.
"You asked a sensible question, Ellie. That's all."
He returned to his work.
I remained where I was for another moment, watching the workers move around the yard.
I had expected that offering a suggestion might bring some relief if it proved useful. Instead, I felt a peculiar mixture of satisfaction and unease.
Tomas had taken me seriously. That mattered.
But the second horse's illness meant that there was now a genuine problem, one that might grow worse before anyone understood it.
I hadn't caused it. I knew that.
Still, there was a difference between noticing a possible danger and having to watch people deal with it.
I turned away from the stables and went back to work.
The rest of the afternoon passed in fragments.
I carried a message to the kitchen, helped sort a delivery of linens, and spent a little while checking the pantry shelves against the household's inventory. The work was familiar enough that I could do most of it without needing to think too hard.
Yet the estate seemed to have developed a second rhythm beneath its usual routine.
People still prepared meals, swept corridors, carried supplies, and answered bells. The household had not stopped functioning simply because two horses were ill.
But every so often, someone was sent towards the stables. A servant asked whether fresh water had been brought. Another was told to find a particular worker who had helped maintain the supply.
The investigation was spreading.
I began to understand that a problem involving water was not as simple as checking a single trough.
The estate was large enough that its animals and people relied on several points of access. Water had to be collected, stored, carried, and distributed. Even if the source were safe, something could go wrong along the way.
And if the source itself were the problem, then everything downstream might be affected.
I had no idea how the estate obtained its water in detail. I knew only that the supply came from beyond the immediate grounds and that the household relied on it every day.
I had never thought much about where water came from before this life.
In my former world, I had turned a tap and expected water to flow. If there was a problem, there were systems and people whose jobs involved fixing it. Most of the time, I could remain unaware of those systems altogether.
Here, I was beginning to see how much depended on things that people rarely noticed until they stopped working.
Food reached the pantry because someone grew it, transported it, sold it, and carried it through the estate gates. The candles in the corridors depended on wax, labor, and deliveries. The water that filled the troughs came from somewhere outside the household, through arrangements that most servants probably never considered.
A failure far away could become a problem here.
The thought was simple enough, but it unsettled me.
I had spent much of my new life trying to identify the immediate dangers around me. The crooked man in the market. The baker who had drugged me. The men who had taken me to the auction house.
Those threats had faces, even if I hadn't always known their names.
This problem was different.
If the water were responsible, then the danger might be carried invisibly through a system that everyone trusted. No one needed to intend harm to bring it to the estate. Someone might have made a mistake. Someone might have ignored a warning. Someone might have known exactly what was happening and chosen not to care.
I had no evidence for any of those possibilities.
I was getting ahead of myself.
For now, all I knew was that two horses were ill and Tomas had found a reason to examine their shared water supply.
That was enough.
I returned to the linen room and finished my work.
It was later in the afternoon when I found myself approaching the administrative hall.
Mistress Halen had asked me to deliver a small bundle of household records to one of the clerks. It wasn't an unusual errand. I had carried messages and supplies through that part of the estate before, though I rarely needed to enter the offices themselves.
The administrative hall was quieter than the servants' quarters. Its dark walls and heavy wooden doors gave it a more formal atmosphere, and the sound of footsteps seemed sharper against the stone floor.
I held the bundle against my chest and followed the corridor towards the office where I was supposed to leave it.
Before I reached the door, I heard voices.
One belonged to Tomas.
The other was Master Vale's.
I slowed without intending to.
Their conversation was coming from an office farther down the hall. The door was not fully closed, leaving a narrow gap through which their voices carried into the corridor.
I knew I ought to continue with my errand.
There was no reason for me to listen to a conversation between the stablemaster and the estate steward. Whatever they were discussing was part of their work, not mine.
Then I heard Tomas mention the horses.
My steps stopped.
I stood just beyond the edge of the doorway, still holding the bundle of records. I could not see into the room from where I was, and I had no intention of moving closer. I only wanted to know whether they had discovered anything that might explain the animals' condition.
That was all.
At least, that was what I told myself.
"The second one is showing much the same signs," Tomas was saying. "It's eating very little, and it's slower than it should be. I've checked the feed again. There's nothing unusual about it that I can find."
"And the stalls?" Vale asked.
"Separate. Different bedding, different feed. They haven't been worked together recently, either."
There was a short pause.
"So the water remains the one common factor," Vale said.
"One of the few, yes. I can't tell you it's the cause, but it would be foolish to ignore the possibility."
I held my breath, listening.
It was strange to hear the matter discussed in such calm, practical terms. There was no raised voice, no accusation, no dramatic declaration that something terrible had happened. They were simply comparing what they knew and deciding what to do next.
Perhaps that was what a proper investigation was supposed to sound like.
Vale spoke again.
"Have the troughs been checked?"
"Yes. They look normal. The water is clear, and there's no obvious smell or residue. I've arranged for the horses to be given water from another supply while we look into it."
"Good. I don't want to risk another animal becoming ill because we were reluctant to inconvenience ourselves."
"Agreed."
I felt a small measure of relief.
At least they were taking precautions. Even if they couldn't identify the problem, they could try to prevent further exposure while they investigated.
Then Vale asked a question that made me pay closer attention.
"Where does the supply enter the estate?"
"Through the usual channel from the larger source beyond the grounds. The water passes through the estate's own distribution points before reaching the stables, but I don't believe the problem begins here."
"Why not?"
"Because we've checked the troughs and the containers. I haven't found anything that would explain why two horses using different stalls became ill. If something were wrong with the storage or distribution here, I'd expect to find some indication of it."
"Not necessarily," Vale replied. "But I understand your reasoning."
There was a quiet rustle of paper.
"Could the water have been affected before it reached us?" Vale continued.
"That's what I'm beginning to suspect."
Tomas sounded thoughtful rather than certain.
"The source is larger than the estate's needs alone. Water enters it from other channels farther upstream. If something has entered one of those tributaries, it could have mixed with the main supply before the water reached us."
I stared at the dark stone wall opposite me.
A tributary.
The word brought to mind the geography lessons I had once studied, though the details were distant. A smaller stream feeding into a larger river. Water joining water, carrying whatever it contained farther along its course.
If something harmful entered the smaller stream, it might eventually become part of the larger body of water.
By the time it reached the estate, there might be no obvious sign of where it had come from.
"Wouldn't the water look different?" Vale asked.
"Not necessarily. I wouldn't expect every problem to leave something visible on the surface. If the trouble begins upstream and the water mixes with the larger source, whatever entered it might become difficult to notice by sight alone."
Tomas paused.
Vale was silent for several moments.
"And if the source is responsible, checking every trough on the estate won't solve anything."
"No, sir. We would have to follow the supply beyond the grounds."
"Then we shall."
The words were quiet, but there was no hesitation in them.
I found myself relaxing slightly. Whatever else might be happening, Vale was not going to dismiss the matter simply because the cause was inconvenient to locate.
He continued.
"I want a careful account of what you've checked so far. The feed, the bedding, the stalls, and the water sources. Include the dates and the names of anyone who has examined them."
"Of course."
"And I want to know where the water enters our supply, including any channels that join it farther upstream. We cannot investigate a source we do not understand."
"I can speak with the men responsible for maintaining the estate's supply. They should know the route."
"Do so. I'll arrange for someone to examine the source itself. Until we know more, the horses should continue receiving water from the alternative supply."
Tomas agreed.
I shifted the bundle in my arms, suddenly conscious of how long I had been standing there.
The conversation had moved beyond the stable. They were no longer merely trying to determine what was wrong with two animals. They were considering whether the water entering the estate might already be compromised.
And if that were true, the problem could be much larger than anyone had first imagined.
I thought of the kitchens, the servants' rooms, the washbasins, and the many other places where water was used every day. I didn't know whether the estate's drinking water came through the same channels as the stable supply, and I had no reason to assume it did.
Still, the possibility was enough to make me uneasy.
A problem that began beyond the grounds could reach people who had no idea there was anything to worry about.
I was reminded, unwillingly, of the baker's warm milk.
Something could appear ordinary, even comforting, while concealing a danger that only became apparent after it was too late.
I pushed the memory aside.
This wasn't the same situation. There was no reason to compare Tomas and Vale's investigation to what had happened to me.
But the lesson remained.
Appearances could tell me something. They could not tell me everything.
Inside the office, Vale spoke again.
"One more thing. Until we know where the trouble begins, I don't want anyone making assumptions or spreading rumors through the household. Tell the workers what they need to know to do their jobs safely. Nothing more."
"Understood."
"We have a problem to investigate, Tomas. We don't yet have an answer."
The stablemaster agreed.
I stepped away from the doorway.
I had heard enough.
Perhaps more than I should have.
For a moment, I remained in the corridor, wondering whether I ought to tell them that I had overheard the conversation. It would be easy enough to knock on the office door and explain that I had been delivering records nearby.
But there was no need.
I hadn't been asked to participate in the investigation, and I had learned nothing that changed what I was supposed to do. Tomas and Vale were already considering the possibility I had suggested, and they had the means to pursue it.
I was a child servant who had asked a sensible question.
I didn't need to become anything more than that.
I turned towards the clerk's office and delivered the records.
The clerk accepted the bundle without comment, thanked me, and returned to his work. I completed the errand as though nothing unusual had happened.
When I left the administrative hall, the corridor looked exactly as it had before.
The same dark stone walls. The same heavy doors. The same faint smell of old wood and candle smoke.
Nothing had changed around me.
Yet I found myself thinking about the water moving beyond the estate's grounds, flowing through channels and tributaries that I had never seen. Somewhere along that route, something might have gone wrong. The people responsible might not even know it yet.
Or perhaps they did.
I had no way to tell.
The remainder of the day passed without any further discoveries that reached my ears.
I saw Tomas once more in the yard, speaking with a worker who carried a length of rope and a wooden container. He looked tired, but he seemed more focused than he had that morning.
The horses were still being watched carefully. Their condition had not improved enough for anyone to relax, but neither had I heard that another animal had fallen ill.
I took that as a small mercy.
It wasn't a solution, but it was something.
By the seventh bell, I was ready to leave my duties behind. My arms ached from carrying supplies, and my mind felt heavier than it should have after a day spent doing ordinary work.
Mara found me near the servants' corridor.
"There you are," she said. "I was beginning to think Halen had discovered a new task and decided you were the perfect person to do it."
"She did ask me to check the pantry inventory again."
Mara groaned.
"Of course she did. I swear, that woman would count the spoons twice if she thought one of them had been looking at her strangely."
I almost laughed.
"Perhaps the spoons have been behaving suspiciously."
Mara stopped and looked at me.
Then she smiled.
"Careful, little one. Keep talking like that and I might have to find something else to tease you about."
"I thought you were already looking for a replacement for your morning entertainment."
"I was. I hadn't expected you to make the search so difficult."
We walked back towards our room together.
For a little while, I allowed myself to enjoy the ordinary rhythm of our conversation. Mara complained about a kitchen servant who had misplaced a basket, and I listened while she described the trouble of trying to keep everyone organized when half the household seemed determined to put things in the wrong place.
It was easy to listen to her.
Easier than it would once have been.
But when we reached our room and began preparing for the evening, the day's events returned to my thoughts.
Mara noticed me growing quiet.
"What's wrong?"
I hesitated.
"Nothing is wrong with me."
"That wasn't what I asked."
I glanced at her.
She had finished setting aside the clothes she would need for the next morning and was watching me with a familiar mixture of patience and concern.
I could have told her that I had overheard Tomas and Vale discussing the water. I could have repeated their words and admitted that I was worried about the horses.
But I wasn't sure what I expected her to say.
She might reassure me that the estate had people who could handle the problem. She might tell me not to worry about matters beyond my control.
Both would be reasonable.
Neither would change the fact that I had begun to wonder what else might be happening beyond the boundaries of the world I knew.
"I heard that another horse became ill," I said at last.
Mara's expression grew serious.
"Yes. I heard about that too."
"Tomas and Master Vale are investigating the water supply."
She studied me for a moment.
"How do you know that?"
"I saw the workers checking the troughs. And I overheard them speaking in the administrative hall when I was delivering something for Halen."
"Did they know you were there?"
"No. I didn't mean to listen. I was going to continue with my errand, but then I heard them talking about the horses."
Mara considered this, then nodded.
"Well, as long as you weren't deliberately sneaking around."
"I wasn't."
"I know." Her voice softened. "You look as though you expect me to scold you."
I lowered my gaze.
Perhaps I had.
Old habits were difficult to abandon, especially when they had once been necessary for survival.
Mara sat on the edge of her bed.
"Ellie, you haven't done anything wrong by asking questions. And you haven't done anything wrong by overhearing something while carrying out your work."
"I know."
"Do you?"
I didn't answer immediately.
She sighed, though not impatiently.
"You have a habit of treating every uncertain thing as though it might somehow become your fault. I don't know where you learned that, but you don't have to do it here."
The words struck closer than I expected.
I looked down at my hands.
It was true that I had spent much of my time in this world trying to anticipate danger. When someone offered me food, I wondered what they wanted in return. When someone spoke kindly, I looked for the hidden condition. When something went wrong, I instinctively searched for the mistake I might have made.
That habit had helped me survive.
It had also made it difficult to believe that a problem could exist without requiring me to solve it.
"I just hope the horses recover," I said.
"So do I."
Mara reached for the brush on her bedside table and began working it through her hair.
"But Tomas knows those animals better than either of us. And Vale has the authority to arrange an investigation. If there's something wrong with the water, they'll have a better chance of finding it than you or I would."
"I know."
"Then let them do their work."
I nodded.
She was right. There was no reason for me to turn the problem over in my mind until it became larger than the facts justified.
Still, I couldn't entirely dismiss what I had heard.
The water might be coming onto the estate already compromised. The source might be far beyond the grounds, and whatever had happened could be affecting places and people I had never seen.
It was a troubling possibility.
But it was only a possibility.
For now, the people responsible for investigating it had begun their work. That was something I could take comfort in, even if I didn't know what they would find.
Mara set down the brush.
"Come on," she said. "Get yourself settled. You've had a long day, and staring at the wall won't make the horses better."
I glanced at the wall.
"I wasn't staring at it."
"No? Then I suppose you were studying it for signs of hidden passages."
"I thought that was your responsibility."
She laughed.
"Cheeky little thing."
I smiled and turned towards my bed.
The familiar exchange eased some of the tension in my chest. Not all of it, but enough that I could breathe a little more easily.
I changed into my nightdress, folded my clothes, and placed them where they belonged. Mara settled with her book, and the room gradually grew quiet.
For a while, I listened to the soft rustle of pages.
I thought about the horses, the water, and the conversation I had overheard. I wondered what Vale would discover when he followed the supply beyond the estate. I wondered whether Tomas would find an answer, and whether the horses would recover before the investigation was finished.
I had no answers to any of those questions.
For once, I tried to let that be enough.
I was not responsible for every problem I noticed. I could ask a question without being required to solve everything that followed. I could care about what happened without taking the entire burden upon myself.
Those were simple ideas.
I was beginning to suspect that learning to believe them would take much longer than learning to fold linen or memorize the household's routines.
I closed my eyes.
Somewhere beyond the estate, water continued to flow through channels and streams, joining larger bodies of water as it travelled towards places I had never seen.
I imagined the tributaries merging with the main source, their waters mixing until it became impossible to tell where one ended and another began.
If something had entered the water far upstream, it might have travelled a long way before anyone noticed.
And if nobody had noticed it yet, then the estate might be only the first place where its consequences had become visible.
I didn't know whether that was true.
I only knew that Tomas and Vale were going to find out.
For now, that would have to be enough.
Tomorrow, the investigation would continue.
And somewhere beyond the estate's walls, the answer was waiting to be found.