"Merchant Band to speak with you," Steward Temigast announced as he stepped into the garden. Lord Feringal and Meralda had been standing quiet, enjoying the smells and the pretty sights, the flowers and the glowing orange sunset over the dark waters.

"Bring him out," the young man replied, happy to show off his newest trophy.

"Better that you come to him," Temigast said. "Banci is a nervous one, and he's in a rush. He'll not be much company to dear Meralda. I suspect he will ruin the mood of the garden."

"Well, we cannot allow that," Lord Feringal conceded. With a smile to Meralda and a pat of her hand, he started toward Temigast.

Feringal walked past the steward, and Temigast offered Meralda a wink to let her know he had just saved her from a long tenure of tedium. The young woman was far from insulted at being excluded. Also, the ease with which Feringal had agreed to go along surprised her.

Now she was free to enjoy the fabulous gardens alone, free to touch the; flowers and take in their silky texture, to bask in their aromas without the constant pressure of having an adoring man following her every movement with his eyes and hands. She savored the moment and vowed that after she was lady of the castle she would spend many such moments out in this garden alone.

But she was not alone. She spun around to find Priscilla watching her.

"It is my garden, after all," the woman said coldly, moving to water a row of bright blue bachelor buttons.

"So Steward Temigast telled me," Meralda replied.

Priscilla didn't respond, didn't even look up from her watering.

"It surprised me to learn of it," Meralda went on, her eyes narrowing. "It's so beautiful, after all."

That brought Priscilla's eyes up in a flash. The woman was very aware of insults. Scowling mightily, she strode toward Meralda. For a moment the younger woman thought Priscilla might try to strike her, or douse her, perhaps, with the bucket of water.

"My, aren't you the pretty one?" Priscilla remarked. "And only a pretty one like you could make so beautiful a garden, of course."

"Pretty inside," Meralda replied, not backing down an inch. She recognized that her posture had, indeed, caught the imposing Priscilla off guard. "And yes, I'm knowing enough about flowers to understand that the way you talk to them and the way you're touching them is what makes them grow. Begging your pardon, Lady Priscilla, but you're not for showing me any side of yourself that's favoring to flowers."

"Begging my pardon?" Priscilla echoed. She stood straight, her eyes wide, stunned by the peasant woman's bluntness. She stammered over a couple of replies before Meralda cut her off.

"By my own eyes, it's the most beautiful garden in all of Auckney," she said, breaking eye contact with Priscilla to take in the view of the flowers, emphasizing her words with a wondrous look of approval. "I thought you hateful and all."

She turned back to face the woman directly, but Meralda was not scowling. Priscilla's frown, too, had somewhat abated. "Now I'm knowing better, for anyone who could make a garden so delightful is hiding delights of her own." She ended with a disarming grin that even Priscilla could not easily dismiss.

"I have been working on this garden for years," the older woman explained. "Planting and tending, finding flowers to come to color every week of every summer."

"And the work's showing," Meralda sincerely congratulated her. "I'll wager there's not a garden to match it in Luskan or even Waterdeep."

Meralda couldn't suppress a bit of a smile to see Priscilla blushing. She'd found the woman's weak spot.

"It is a pretty garden," the woman said, "but Waterdeep has gardens the size of Castle Auck."

"Bigger then, but sure to be no more beautiful," the unrelenting Meralda remarked.

Priscilla stammered again, so obviously off guard from the unexpected flattery from this peasant girl. "Thank you," she managed to blurt out, and her chubby face lit up with as wide a smile as Meralda could ever have imagined. "Would you like to see something special?"

Meralda was at first wary, for she certainly had a hard time trusting Priscilla, but she decided to take a chance. Priscilla grabbed her by the hand and tugged her back into the castle, through a couple of small rooms, down a hidden stairway, and to a small open-air courtyard that seemed more like a hole in the castle design, an empty space barely wide enough for the two of them to stand side by side. Meralda laughed aloud at the sight, for while the walls were naught but cracked and weathered gray stone, there, in the middle of the courtyard, stood a row of poppies, most the usual deep red, but several a delicate pink variety that Meralda didn't recognize.

"I work with the plants in here," Priscilla explained, guiding Meralda to the pots. She knelt before the red poppies first, stroking the stem with one hand while pushing down the petals to reveal the dark core of the flower with the other. "See how rough the stem is?" she asked. Meralda nodded as she reached out to touch the solid plant.

Priscilla abruptly stood and guided Meralda to the other pots containing lighter colored poppies. Again she revealed the core of the flower, this time showing it to be white, not dark. When Meralda touched the stem of this plant she found it to be much more delicate.

"For years I have been using lighter and lighter plants," Priscilla explained. "Until I achieved this, a poppy so very different from its original stock."

"Priscilla poppies!" Meralda exclaimed. She was delighted to see surly Priscilla Auck actually break into a laugh.

"But you've earned the name," Meralda went on. "You should be taking them to the merchants when they come in on their trek between Hundelstone and Luskan. Wouldn't the ladies of Luskan pay a high price for so delicate a poppy?"

"The merchants who come to Auckney are interested only in trading for practical things," Priscilla replied. "Tools and weapons, food and drink, always drink, and perhaps a bit of Ten-Towns scrimshaw. Lord Feri has quite a collection of that."

"I'd love to see it."

Priscilla gave her a rather strange look then. "You will, I suppose," she said somewhat dryly, as if only remembering then that this was no ordinary peasant servant but the woman who would soon be the lady of Auckney.

"But you should be selling your flowers," Meralda continued encouragingly. "Take them to Luskan, perhaps, to the open air markets I've heard are so very wonderful."

The smile returned to Priscilla's face, at least a bit. "Yes, well, we shall see," she replied, a haughty undercurrent returning to her tone. "Of course, only village peasants hawk their wares."

Meralda wasn't too put off. She had made more progress with Priscilla in this one day than she ever expected to make in a lifetime.

"Ah, there you are." Steward Temigast stood in the doorway to the castle. As usual, his timing couldn't have been better. "Pray forgive us, dear Meralda, but Lord Feringal will be caught in a meeting all the night, I fear, for Banci can be a demon in bartering, and he has actually brought a few pieces that have caught Lord Feringal's eye. He bade me to inquire if you would like to visit tomorrow during the day."

Meralda looked to Priscilla, hoping for some clue, but the woman was tending her flowers again as if Meralda and Temigast weren't even there.

"Tell him that surely I will," Meralda replied.

"I pray that you are not too angry with us," said Temigast. Meralda laughed at the absurd notion. "Very well, then. Perhaps you should be right away, for the coach is waiting and I fear a storm will come up tonight," Temigast said as he moved aside.

"Your Priscilla poppies are as beautiful a flower as I've ever seen," Meralda said to the woman who would soon be kin. Priscilla caught her by the pleat of her dress, and when she turned back, startled, she grew even more surprised, for Priscilla held a small pink poppy out to her.

The two shared a smile, and Meralda swept past Temigast into the castle proper. The steward hesitated in following, though, turning his attention to Lady Priscilla. "A friend?" he asked.

"Hardly," came the cold reply. "Perhaps if she has her own flower, she will leave mine in peace."

Temigast chuckled, drawing an icy stare from Priscilla. "A friend, a lady friend, might not be so bad a thing as you seem to believe," the steward remarked. He turned and hastened to catch up to Meralda, leaving Priscilla kneeling in her private garden with some very curious and unexpected thoughts.

*****

Many budding ideas rode with Meralda on the way back to her house from Castle Auck. She had handled Priscilla well, she thought, and even dared to hope that she and the woman might become real friends one day.

Even as that notion crossed her mind, it brought a burst of laughter from the young woman's lips. In truth, she couldn't imagine ever having a close friendship with Priscilla, who would always, always, consider herself Meralda's superior.

But Meralda knew better now, and not because of that day's interaction with the woman but rather, because of the previous night's interaction with Jaka Sculi. How much better Meralda understood the world now, or at least her corner of it. She had used the previous night as a turning point. It had taken that one moment of control, by Meralda and for Meralda, to accept the wider and less appealing responsibility that had been thrown her way. Yes, she would play Lord Feringal now, bringing him on her heel to the wedding chapel of Castle Auck. She, and more importantly, her family, would get from him what they required, While such gains would come at a cost to Meralda, it was a cost that this new woman, no more a girl, would pay willingly and with some measure of control.

She was glad she hadn't seen much of Lord Feringal tonight, though. No doubt he would have tried to force himself on her, and Meralda doubted she could have maintained the self-control necessary to not laugh at him.

Smiling, satisfied, the young woman stared out the coach's window as the twisting road rolled by. She saw him, and suddenly her smile disappeared. Jaka Sculi stood atop a rocky bluff, a lone figure staring down at the place where the driver normally let Meralda out.

Meralda leaned out the coach window opposite Jaka so she would not be seen by him. "Good driver, please take me all the way to my door this night."

"Oh, but I hoped you'd ask me that this particular ride, Miss Meralda," Liam Woodgate replied. "Seems one of my horses is having a bit of a problem with a shoe. Might your father have a straight bar and a hammer?"

"Of course he does," Meralda replied. "Take me to my house, and I'm sure that me da'll help you fix that shoe."

"Good enough, then!" the driver replied. He gave the reins a bit of a snap that sent the horses trotting along more swiftly.

Meralda fell back in her seat and stared out the window at the silhouette of a slender man she knew to be Jaka from his forlorn posture. In her mind she could see his expression clearly. She almost reconsidered her course and told the driver to let her out. Maybe she should go to Jaka again and make love under the stars one more time, be free for yet another night. Perhaps she should run away with him and live her life for her sake and no one else's.

No, she couldn't do that to her mother, or her father, or Tori. Meralda was a daughter her parents could depend upon to do the right thing. The right thing, Meralda knew, was to put her affections for Jaka Sculi far behind her.

The coach pulled up before the Ganderlay house. Liam Woodgate, a nimble fellow, hopped down and pulled open Meralda's door before she could reach for the latch.

"You're not needing to do that," the young woman stated as the gnome helped her out of the carriage.

"But you're to be the lady of Auckney," the cheery old fellow replied with a smile and a wink. "Can't be having you treated like a peasant, now can we?"

"It's not so bad," Meralda replied, adding, "being a peasant, I mean." Liam laughed heartily. "Gets you out of the castle at night."

"And gets you back in, whenever you're wanting," Liam replied. "Steward Temigast says I'm at your disposal, Miss Meralda. I'm to take you and your family, if you so please, wherever you're wanting to go."

Meralda smiled widely and nodded her thanks. She noticed then that her grim-faced father had opened the door and was standing just within the house.

"Da!" Meralda called. "Might you help my friend . . ." The woman paused and looked to the driver. "Why, I'm not even knowing your proper name," she remarked.

"Most noble ladies don't take the time to ask," he replied, and both he and Meralda laughed again. "Besides, we all look alike to you big folks." He winked mischievously, then bowed low. "Liam Woodgate, at your service."

Dohni Ganderlay walked over. "A short stay at the castle this night," he remarked suspiciously.

"Lord Feringal got busy with a merchant," Meralda replied. "I'm to return on the morrow. Liam here's having a bit of trouble with a horseshoe. Might you help him?"

Dohni looked past the driver to the team and nodded. " 'Course," he answered. "Get yourself inside, girl," he instructed Meralda. "Your ma's taken ill again."

Meralda bolted for the house. She found her mother in bed, hot with fever again, her eyes sunken deep into her face. Tori was kneeling beside the bed, a mug of water in one hand, a wet towel in the other.

"She got the weeps soon after you left," Tori explained, a nasty affliction that had been plaguing Biaste off and on for several months.

Looking at her mother, Meralda wanted to fall down and cry.

How frail the woman appeared, how unpredictable her health. It was as if Biaste Ganderlay had been walking a fine line on the edge of her own grave day after day. Good spirits alone had sustained the woman these last days, since Lord Feringal had come calling, Meralda knew. Desperately, the young woman grasped at the only medication she had available.

"Oh, Ma," she said, feigning exasperation. "Aren't you picking a fine time to fall ill again?"

"Meralda," Biaste Ganderlay breathed, and even that seemed a labor to her.

"We'll just have to get you better and be quick about it," Meralda said sternly.

"Meralda!" Tori complained.

"I told you about Lady Priscilla's garden," Meralda went on, ignoring her sister's protest. "Get better, and be quick, because tomorrow you're to join me at the castle. We'll walk the garden together."

"And me?" Tori pleaded. Meralda turned to regard her and noticed that she had another audience member. Dohni Ganderlay stood at the door, leaning on the jamb, a surprised expression on his strong but weary face.

"Yeah, Tori, you can join us," Meralda said, trying hard to ignore her father, "but you must promise that you'll behave."

"Oh, Ma, please get better quickly!" Tori implored Biaste, clutching the woman's hand firmly. It did seem as if the sickly woman showed a little bit more life at that moment.

"Go, Tori," Meralda instructed. "Run to the coach driver-Liam's his name-and tell him that we three'll be needing a ride to the castle at midday tomorrow. We can't have Ma walking all the way."

Tori ran off as instructed, and Meralda bent low over her mother. "Get well," she whispered, kissing the woman on the forehead. Biaste smiled and nodded her intent to try.

Meralda walked out of the room under the scrutinizing gaze of Dohni Ganderlay. She heard the man pull the curtain closed to her parents' room, then follow her to the middle of the common room.

"Will he let you bring them both?" Dohni asked, softly so that Biaste would not hear.

She shrugged. "I'm to be his wife, and that's his idea. He'd be a fool to not grant me this one favor."

Dohni Ganderlay's face melted into a grateful smile as he fell into his daughter, hugging her closely. Though she couldn't see his face, Meralda knew that he was crying.

She returned that hug tenfold, burying her face in her father's strong shoulder, a not so subtle reminder to her that, though she was being the brave soldier for the good of her family, she was still, in many ways, a scared little girl.

How warm it felt to her, a reassurance that she was doing the right thing, when her father kissed her on top of her head.

*****

Up on the hill a short distance away, Jaka Sculi watched Dohni Ganderlay help the coachman fix the horseshoe, the two of them talking and chuckling as if they were old friends. Considering the treatment Dohni Ganderlay had given him the previous night, the sight nearly leveled poor, jealous Jaka. Didn't Dohni understand that Lord Feringal wanted the same things for which Dohni had chastised him? Couldn't the man see that Jaka's intentions were better than Lord Feringal's, that he was more akin to Meralda's class and background and would therefore be a better choice for her?

Dohni went back into the house then, and Meralda's sister soon emerged, jumping for joy as she rushed over to speak with the coachman.

"Have I no allies?" Jaka asked quietly, chewing on his bottom lip petulantly. "Are they all against me, blinded by the unearned wealth and prestige of Feringal Auck? Damn you, Meralda! How could you betray me so?" he cried, heedless if his wail carried down to Tori and the driver.

He couldn't look at them anymore. Jaka clenched his fists and smacked them hard against his eyes, falling on his back to the hard ground. "What justice is this life?" he cried. "O fie, to have been born a pauper, I, when the mantle of a king would better suit! What justice allows that fool Feringal to claim the prize? What universal order so decrees that the purse is stronger than the loins? O fie this life! And damn Meralda!"

He lay there, muttering curses and mewling like a trapped cat, long after Liam Woodgate had repaired the shoe, shared a drink with Dohni Ganderlay, and departed. Long after Meralda's mother had fallen into a comfortable sleep at last, long after Meralda had confided to Tori all that had happened with Jaka, with Feringal, and with Priscilla and Temigast. Long after the storm Temigast had predicted arrived with all its fury, pelting the prone Jaka with drenching rain and buffeting him with cold ocean winds.

He still lay upon the hill when the clouds were swept away, making room for a brilliant sunrise, when the workers made their way to the fields. One worker, the only dwarf among the group, moved over to the young man and nudged him with the toe of one boot.

"You dead or dead drunk?" the gnarly creature asked.

Jaka rolled away from him, stifling the groan that came from the stiffness in his every muscle and joint. Too wounded in pride to respond, too angry to face anyone, the young man scrambled up to his feet and ran off.

"Strange bird, that one," the dwarf remarked, and those around him nodded.

Much later that morning, when his clothes had dried and with the chill of the night's wind and rain still deep under his skin, Jaka returned to the fields for his workday, suffering the berating of the field boss and the teasing of the other workers. He fought hard to tend to his work properly but it was a struggle, for his thoughts remained jumbled, his spirit sagged, and his skin felt clammy under the relentless sun.

It only got worse for him when he saw Lord Feringal's coach roll by on the road below, first heading toward Meralda's house, then back again, loaded with more than one passenger.

They were all against him.

*****

Meralda enjoyed that day at Castle Auck more than any of her previous visits, though Lord Feringal did little to hide his disappointment that he would not have Meralda to himself. Priscilla boiled at the thought of three peasants in her wondrous garden.

Still, Feringal got over it soon enough, and Priscilla, with some coughing reminders from Steward Temigast, remained outwardly polite. All that mattered to Meralda was to see her mother smiling and holding her frail face up to the sunlight, basking in the warmth and the sweet scents. The scene only strengthened Meralda's resolve and gave her hope for the future.

They didn't remain at the castle for long, just an hour in the garden, a light lunch, then another short stroll around the flowers. At Meralda's bidding, an apology of sorts to Lord Feringal for the unexpected additions, the young lord rode in the coach back to the Ganderlay house, leaving a sour Priscilla and Temigast at the castle door.

"Peasants," Priscilla muttered. "I should batter that brother of mine about the head for bringing such folk to Castle Auck."

Temigast chuckled at the woman's predictability. "They are uncultured, indeed," the steward admitted. "Not unpleasant, though."

"Mud-eaters," said Priscilla.

"Perhaps you view this situation from an errant perspective," Temigast said, turning a wry smile on the woman.

"There is but one way to view peasants," Priscilla retorted. "One must look down upon them."

"But the Ganderlays are to be peasants no more," Temigast couldn't resist reminding her.

Priscilla scoffed doubtfully.

"Perhaps you should view this as a challenge," suggested Temigast. He paused until Priscilla turned a curious eye upon him. "Like coaxing a delicate flower from a bulb."

"Ganderlays? Delicate?" Priscilla remarked incredulously.

"Perhaps they could be with the help of Lady Priscilla Auck," said Temigast. "What a grand accomplishment it would be for Priscilla to enlighten them so, a feat that would make her brother brag to every merchant who passed through, an amazing accomplishment that would no doubt reach the ears of Luskan society. A plume in Priscilla's bonnet."

Priscilla snorted again, her expression unconvinced, but she said no more, not even her usual muttered insults. As she walked away, her expression changed to one of thoughtful curiosity, in the midst of some planning, perhaps.

Temigast recognized that she had taken his bait, or nibbled it, at least. The old steward shook his head. It never ceased to amaze him how most nobles considered themselves so much better than the people they ruled, even though that rule was always no more than an accident of birth.

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