Free From a High Tower by Mercedes Lackey Page B

Giselle.
    There was a covered plate and an uncovered plate on the table, and another pair of plates stacked beside them. Since she was still dressed, Giselle just took the few steps to the table where she found that the plate covered by an immaculate towel held the flatcakes; a little bowl she hadn’t noticed at first had butter in it, a pot held honey, and the uncovered plate held the sausages. In no time, Giselle had a plate full of food, including the bacon her hostess lifted directly to her plate from the griddle and a cup of chamomile tea. Tante Gretchen quickly made up her own breakfast from the rest, and they settled down at the table to eat.
    The old woman did not permit her to say anything until they were both finished and the plates were cleaned and put away. Then she poured them both another cup of tea, and said, “Now. Tell me everything that happened, and leave nothing out.”
    Taking her at her word, Giselle began a lengthy recitation, starting from the shooting contest and how she had won it with the help of her Elementals. Tante Gretchen nodded when she described the abrupt arrival of the captain.
    â€œHauptmann Erich Von Eisenhertz,” she said, sourly. “He was a bully as a little boy, and being in the Army did not change him for the better. Now he is a bully and a sadist. He has his men put on punishment detail, forces them to run until their feet bleed, or has them beaten on the smallest of causes, and people hereabouts have wondered how long it would be before one of them snapped and murdered him. But go on.”
    Giselle blinked a little. This, she had not expected. She went on, ending with her escape from the village. “The rest, you know,” she said, unhappily. “And I am to blame for the Hauptmann’s death—”
    â€œNothing of the sort.” Tante Gretchen shook her spoon at Giselle’s nose. “I am the nearest thing to a doctor hereabouts, and I can tell you that it was his own apoplexy that killed him, not you.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œWhich of us is the Earth Master?” she demanded. “Between all the food he stuffed into himself and his temper, it was only a matter of time—and probably a race between his heart and his brain as to which would kill him faster. All your sylphs did was accidentally frighten him enough that a vessel in his head burst—a vessel that was just waiting for
something
to make it rupture.” Tante Gretchen snorted. “I am the nearest Master, and one of the oldest around here. So, it is my judgment that you are not guilty of murder-by-magic. At worst, it would be ‘misadventure.’ Frankly, I’d call it ‘a stupid accident that befell someone who well deserved it.’ And I won’t brook any arguments.”
    Giselle slowly let her breath out in a sigh. “But, I’ll still be hunted. I was the last person with him.”
    â€œI can tell you he was so little regarded that I rather doubt
any
of his men were bothering about looking in on him last night. More likely he wasn’t discovered until his orderly found the door was locked this morning.” The old woman drank her tea thoughtfully. “But you are right. You will be hunted. Or rather,
Gunther
will be hunted. No one will be looking for
Giselle.”
She put down her empty cup with a decisive gesture. “You will stay with me until your hair grows out more. While you are staying here, we will think about what you are to do next.”
    â€œBut . . . I don’t have anything to wear but men’s clothing!” she protested weakly.
    Tante Gretchen rolled her eyes. “That is scarcely a problem.” She got up, and went to a clothes press under the mattress of her cupboard bed. She brought out hunting gear, but this was of much finer make than what Giselle was wearing, and it had clearly been tailored for a woman, with fine, subtle embroidery around each of the four pocket slits