Delia of Vallia by Alan Burt Akers

and made her comfortable.
    “Send for all the needlewomen!”
    “Yes, majestrix.”
    From her tone of voice, Delia might have expected the swod’s cracked-out answer of: “Quidang!”
    After that it was a matter of arranging affairs, of seeing to protocol, of making sure the mistress was given every attention and left in peace.
    She would recover, for her time was not yet. Delia did not believe this was a cunning scheme to attract sympathy and sway her to the mistress’s wishes. These women were above petty schemes of that contemptible nature.
    Mind you, some of the schemes of the ladies who wished to become mistress would frizzle the hair. Delia firmly intended to have her say in all that. But that time, also, was not yet. There was so much to do in Vallia and in all of Paz that at times she felt as though she was shut up in a box of feathers.
    She felt an extra pang of disappointment that she could not see Velia. That sprite was out with her classmates on what was euphemistically called An Educational and Recreational Trip for Young Ladies. The description might fit a startling variety of activities. Velia might be picking wild flowers to press in her album, joying in the wonders of nature; she might be stalking another party of girls and both parties deadly determined to spot and attack the other first; she might be working in some tavern all heightened color and watching hawklike for the people she had been sent to spy on; she might just be indulging in simple swordmastering, perhaps snapping her Whip at stuffed targets, or slashing with the practice claw at opponents armed with a variety of weapons. Delia had given strict instructions that young Velia should be taught the bow to the highest standards attainable at Lancival. After that, Uncle Seg would put on the final polish that would turn an excellent archer into a superb archer. You could not start too young learning the bow.
    Sosie ti Drakanium, who was a captain of messengers, stopped Delia on the long marble sweep of staircase leading up to the Reading Rooms of the Laypom Hall. Sosie, a bright and lively girl with cropped brown hair and those deep brown Vallian eyes, hailed from Delphond.
    “Majestrix. Is the mistress—?”
    “She is overworked, Sosie, and needs rest. That is all.”
    “Thanks be to Dee Sheon! I am bid to ask you to see the Lady Almoner as soon as possible. She did not know of this dreadful news, of course, but—”
    “She will certainly have more important things to do now than worry over me, I know.” Delia let a small smile curve her lips, a small smile only and enough to respect the proprieties.
    “As the Lady Almoner, Wilma Llandrin will be particularly busy trying to fill the shoes of the mistress until she is well again.”
    Sosie’s bright face remained serious.
    “Or until we must choose a new mistress.”
    “Oh, I wouldn’t worry over that for a long time yet.”
    “But I do worry. So do others. There are some sisters who are undoubtedly most worthy and yet I would not wish to see them as the mistress. But, there is one sister I, and many others, would so wish.”
    Delia simply rode this as though flying a saddlebird high above the clouds.
    “I am sure every sister has her own particular favorite as candidate, Sosie. You are young yet — of the junior chapel, I know — so at least you do not have the alarming thought that someone might wish to elect you!”
    Sosie looked away.
    “Quite, majestrix,” she said. And said no more.
    To rescue Sosie, Delia smiled again and said: “I will go straightaway to see Wilma. You are on your way to your Jikvar class?”
    “Yes. I have to work at it. The rapier is more my weapon.”
    “And mine.” They reached the corridor where the tall windows patterned sparkles across the carpets and marble. At the far end triple bronze-bound doors gave access to the working apartments of the sorority — working only in the sense that their work was generally regarded as work, as distinct