story - part 37 - interviews - 1112 words

I am calm, by the time I have to return to his eye, to settle in to interviewing half a dozen physicians. I ask them how long they were trained for, why they came into their positions; I give them an example of an illness, or a problem that Tumaire often has, and I check down to make sure they have the correct answer. The King is warm, the Prince is excited and wide-eyed; I feel that I am the dull and cold one, the efficient and uncaring interviewer. I wish I could be comforting as I ask questions.

Dinner is in the Great Hall, I finally force myself to the formal affair. It is easier when I settle at Calidris's side, when she flashes me a bright smile. She is grateful that I have not given up on her, and that I finally come to sit beside her, to speak with her. I am grateful for the support she provides against more curious stares. Our knees bump under the table, the contact small and reassuring.

This day settles into the routine. Mornings spent teaching Tumaire just how little he knows, afternoons interviewing the multitude of physicians who seem to have come pouring in at this request. I wonder if there were this many people fighting for the position that I won, and would not be surprised. I was exactly what the King wanted, subtle and quiet and secretive.

Some of them are impossible, low nobles who answer questions with a haughty edge of superiority, who are so sure that they know the answers that they stumble and miss. Some are common folk, with simple smiles and wide eyes, too naïve too spend much time in the court and too timid for Tumaire to appreciate. And some of them have eyes like hawks, that miss nothing and make the King uncomfortable.

It is on the third day that a decision is made. The girl comes slipping into the room quietly and slowly, and for a moment I believe it is something timid, she is another uncertain peasant. But then she blinks up to meet each of our eyes in turn, and I am stricken by the self-confidence in her expression, in the subtle smile at the corners of her mouth.

She is attractive, in a stark and efficient kind of way. Blonde, with long, straight hair swept up into clips at the back of her head, out of the way, and a sunny tan on her face and shoulders. She is short and slim, but holds her head up and sits carefully on the edge of her chair, prepared to meet our volley of questions.

"What is your name?" It is obvious that Corbin's opinions are swayed by her pretty face, by the cold and elegant way she moves. He is taken with the cold blue eyes, the very hint of a smile that plays at the corner of her mouth, the way she arches her neck and tilts her head to listen. For that matter, I suppose I am equally taken. She is endlessly calm, she claims attention as her own.

"Sialia of Zonotrichia. It is a small town, near the southeast border. It was a long way to get here." A muted soprano, it is endlessly calm, carelessly comfortable. I get the impression that she would fit in anywhere, without putting any effort into it.

"Age?" The King casts a flicker glance in my direction as I write it down, making sure that I am doing my part. Her eyes follow, lock on my face, then down on the shifting pen. I have to quell a sudden urge to cover the page and hide what I am writing about her.

"Twenty-eight." Questions and answers line the left side of the page; he tosses them in her direction and she quickly and quietly answers, as accurately as possible with as few words as possible. While some of the other physicians fidgeted and twisted nervously in that chair, she merely sits and waits, watching our shared glances.

A sideways flicker of eyes to Tumaire; I can tell that he likes her, perhaps he is smitten with her. It is strange that I feel a disappointed twinge at how easily his affections shift, and how quickly he has lost that attachment to me. All we have to do is dangle a new prospect in front of his face, and his feelings twist and turn on something new.

When the King is done getting basic information and analyzing her personality, trying to find out if she will fade out enough or be an asset to the court, it is my turn to ask questions. I leave through the sheet that I have prepared, looking for a particularly difficult one, twisting my quill between two fingers. Her eyes never waver from my face.

"How much training have you had?" Fingertip settling on a question three quarters of the way down, I finally blink up to meet that stare. There is something unsettling about it, I feel a moment of twisting panic, my stomach doing a violent flip. I do not know where the reaction comes from, except that it makes me uncomfortable, I want this interview to be over.

"More than fifteen years." A smile comes to her lips, something edged and cruel about it. I am the only one who notices the twitch of her eyebrow upward, the challenging light in her eyes. She is playing some kind of game, here, singling me out as the one who is easiest to toy with.

Uncomfortable, I make a tiny noise that is not quite believing, and instead of asking her one question, I give her all of them in rapid fire. The King twitches beside me, a frown flashing across his face, and Tumaire gives me a sideways, uncertain look. I do not know how they could miss the way she is playing with us, the lies that pull at the corners of her mouth.

All that they recognize is that she answers every questions quickly and correctly, that she sits quietly until she is dismissed, that she is pleasant and subtle. They both give me dark expressions, as if I have gone mad and done something terribly wrong. She does not make them uncomfortable, make some small part of them twitch in a familiar manner. They do not recognize that predator's gleam in her eyes, the sadism lurking beneath the surface.

And in the end, she is the one they chose to put closest to the Prince, to live in the room next door and give him potions, to treat his aches and pains.