Benjamin Ashwood (17 page)

“A
Lady takes as long as she needs to.  If you just sit here long enough you will
have a wonderful time tonight with your Lady friend.  I’m sure it will be oh so
grand.”  The dramatic eye roll was a little much thought Ben.

“Come
on Meghan.  What is she doing in there?  I’ve been out here half the evening
and this stuff is itching!”  He pulled at the snug grey tights the groomsman
had foisted on him.  He had never worn anything like it and would have thought
it was a cruel joke except he’d seen many of the men around the Citadel wearing
them.

“She’s
preparing for a Gala Ben.  I’ve never been to one of course, but I’m sure the
Lords and Ladies will all be decked out in their finest.  Amelie said there
will be more high born at this Conclave than there were when Argren’s daughter
got married, although the costumes will be less colorful.  There will be
banquets, musicians, jesters, play actors and I heard there will even be a
captive wyvern.”

“A
wyvern!”  Ben couldn’t believe it.  Wyverns were mythical beasts that even
after travelling on the road with a Blademaster, Mage and a Lady he still would
have bet only lived in the stories.  Even Old Gamson claimed they only existed
in ancient times.  They were supposed to be giant lizards with terrible claws
that could fly and breathe fire.  Children’s stories.  “I don’t think wyverns
really exist.  Maybe the play actors are pretending to be one”

“You
could be right,” sighed Meghan.  “You were always the one who knew about the
stories.  But still, it will be a grand evening and I’m jealous, that’s all. 
I’m sorry I’m giving you such a hard time about it.”

“Jealous,
what do you mean?  I’m just going with Amelie as friends.  Why does everyone
think it’s more?”  Ben hoped it was more of course, but he wasn’t going to say
that aloud.

“Oh,
I know it’s just as friends.  I’m not jealous of your ‘date’ with Amelie.” 
Another eye roll, “but I won’t be able to go to the party.  There are too many
high born in town for the Conclave for everyone to fit on the balcony.  We were
told it was just Lady Amelie, Lady Towaal and their guests.  No serving staff.”

“Oh… 
Meghan, you’re not really her handmaiden.  It’s just pretend until we get out
of here.”

“I
know.  I remember that very well.  I just hope she does too when we leave.”

A
quarter bell later, according to the clock face, Ben’s jaw dropped.  Amelie
peeked in before stepping into the room and she looked stunning.  She was
draped in a flowing green silk gown that left her shoulders bare and spread out
across the floor behind her.  Her dark hair was raised in an elaborate
sparkling jewel studded bun and she was decked in a dazzling array of emeralds
around her neck and wrists.  As she came into the room, a subtle scent of
mountain wildflowers floated around her.  The entire impression was
breathtaking.  He found his eye drawn to her face.  Her lips were glistening
cherry red, her cheeks were lightly flushed and around her eyes was a smoky shadow
that drew him in and held his gaze.  Even when he was very interested in the
way some other parts of her looked.

“Amelie…”

She
twitched her dress and teasingly said, “you’re supposed to be telling me how
beautiful I am.”

“I… 
You are beautiful.  I’ve never seen anything like this, I mean anyone.  I mean,
you look good,” he finished weakly.

“Ha,
you are sweet.  Argren had a seamstress and jeweler sent and I’m worried it
didn’t turn out like they envisioned.”

“I
mean it Amelie.  Really.  I’ve seen girls in dresses and girls with their hair
done for a wedding or the spring dance, but nothing like this.  No one who
looked as amazing as you.  I’m not exaggerating, you’re the most beautiful girl
I have ever seen.”

“Well,
you’ll soon see a lot of girls like me,” she said with a vivid blush.  “Half of
Whitehall.  Well, half of the wealthy in Whitehall anyway.  All of the women
will be dressed like this.  But I appreciate it.”

Ben
didn’t have a lot of experience with girls and she’d caught him off guard, but
he wasn’t stupid.

The
Citadel’s Gala for the Grand Fireworks Spectacular honoring the First Conclave
of the Alliance was growing in name and noise as they approached.  A wide stone
path between splashing fountains and ponds was lit by roaring fires and populated
by towering long legged jesters juggling and cavorting through the crowd. 
Amelie whispered over the noise of a nearby pack of musicians that the jesters
were standing on tall wooden poles called stilts.

As
they approached the actual balcony they passed a wave of men and women loaded
with glasses of red, white and bubbling wines followed by more serving staff
carrying silver trays piled with arrangements of delicate foods.  Ben had never
had the bubbling wine before but at Amelie’s suggestion he plucked two glasses
from a passing tray, handed her one and gave it a try.  It was crisp but sweet
and tingled and popped in his mouth as he swished it around.

Before
he could even comment on the drink, he ducked from a billow of flame exploding
in front of a shirtless, sweating man holding a flickering torch.  The man
cartwheeled off into the crowd and heartbeats later another burst of flame
leapt up into the air to the delighted shouts of nearby revelers.

Ben
turned back to Amelie but again before he could speak an orange and black striped
beast strolled by with a scrawny turbaned man straddling it’s back.  The animal
had fangs the size of Ben’s forearm protruding from a head larger than his
torso and it’s shoulders were even with his.  A shudder ran down his back at
the thought of that creature attacking, but it seemed tame and calmly
sidestepped one of the jesters on stilts who had wandered in from the entryway.

The
menagerie only got wilder as they moved deeper into the party.  There was an
animal that Ben would have called a bear, if it wasn’t a quarter the size of
ones he was familiar with in Farview.  It was balancing on a colorful crimson
ball being lead around the balcony by a man in a matching crimson vest and
short cylindrical hat.

A
Mage, or at least a woman claiming to be one, held intense concentration on
three golden rings in front of her.  To Ben’s amazement, they looked to be
floating freely in the air.  As Amelie and Ben paused to watch, she waved her
hands under and over the rings then produced a bright purple handkerchief.  She
bent over the handkerchief muttering words which Amelie said were gibberish
then tossed the cloth into the air where it hovered briefly then shot through
the three rings and into the waiting hands of a young woman who appeared
shocked and amazed.

The
crowd broke into polite applause as the Mage bowed but Amelie sniffed and
turned to go.  “No real Mage would be involved in such a thing.”

“It
looked pretty real to me,” argued Ben.  He nodded towards the woman who had
caught the handkerchief who was loudly praising the Mage and eagerly showing
her trophy to the other party goers.  “She seems impressed.”

“They’re
clearly confederates.  I’ve seen similar in Issen.  It was well done, but still
trickery.  Look” she said gesturing to the crowd, “don’t you think people would
be more interested if they thought she was really doing magic.”

Ben
had to admit, the crowd had thinned quickly so he and Amelie moved on as well.

A
bell later, the experience was getting overwhelming.  As they circled the
balcony the continuous assortment of entertainers started to blend in with the
brightly dressed party goers.  Wine was continuously passed by straight faced
serving staff and as it flowed and the last light of day faded, everyone there
seemed to merge together into one giant, choreographed show.

He
was disappointed to find there was no wyvern at the party, though there was
plenty else to shock.  In one corner of the balcony they peered into a close
knit circle of revelers to see two bright blue painted and totally naked men
mimicking graphic sexual acts on a similarly naked shimmering gold painted
woman.  A red faced and disgusted Ben quickly pulled Amelie away.  Minutes
later he was just as shocked to see a sweating, rotund and bulbous nosed man
dressed from head to toe in floral patterned silk trimmed in a plethora of
lace.  He was pressing a young lady, maybe a third his age, against the stone
railing that surrounded the balcony. 

The
man was sloppily kissing the young woman’s neck and was pushing her skirts up
with one hand nearly above her waist.  The woman was giggling uncontrollably
and kept admonishing several other girls nearby who must be her friends to go
get help.  The girls, instead of seeming concerned, kept shouting encouragement
to the man and one even swooped in close to slap him on the behind with a
closed fan before darting back away when he reached for her.  He looked back
longingly before returning to his original prey.

“Shouldn’t
we do something?  I believe the man is attacking that girl.”  Ben couldn’t help
but think back to Murdoch’s when Meghan was about to be assaulted like this. 
He was on unfamiliar ground and didn’t want to start another fight, but he had
to do something.  Even if the poor girl’s friends wouldn’t.

“She’s
fine,” answered Amelie cooly.  “That is Lord Rhymer but I have no idea who she
is.  If the old man doesn’t have a heart attack and is able to finish the job,
getting knocked up by him would be the best thing that’s ever happened to her. 
He’s the Lord of Northport and the wealthiest man here, aside from Argren
himself of course.  He gets too drunk and is rarely able to consummate I am
told, but from the times he was able he just has three bastard daughters.  His
actual wife has never been able to give him child.  Any male offspring of his could
be heir to Northport.”

Amelie’s
logic was cold.  The idea that a young woman would subject herself to a man
like that, for any reason, was unbelievable to Ben and somewhat depressing. 
The entire event was starting to put him on edge.

They
were rescued from more discussion on the topic by the arrival of a short, mousy
looking man with a dark, angular face and hook beaked nose.  His dark unadorned
clothing set him aside from the crowd as much as his sour grimace.  He appeared
to be the only one with no interest in the insane party taking place around
him.

“Lady
Amelie,” he took her hand and bowed over it before rising and curtly nodding in
Ben’s general direction without making eye contact.

“Tomas?”
acknowledged Amelie with a questioning look.

“I
believe the fireworks are about to start, I have Rafael saving us a good spot
near the railing.  Would you care to join us?”

“Of
course, and then you must tell me what you’re doing here,” replied Amelie and
she turned to follow the man into the crowd.  Over her shoulder she explained
to Ben, “Tomas is my father’s seneschal.  He handles my father’s business when
he is unavailable, or more often, when it bores him.”

When
they got to the railing Ben could see Rafael was Tomas’ security.  He was
dressed in practical loose clothing similar to Saala.  But where Saala was lean
like a mongoose, Rafael was stout and hulking like a wolverine.  His head was
also shaved like Saala’s and he had a network of white scars crossing from just
above one ear to the back of his head.  He quickly scanned Ben before
dismissing him and bowed to Amelie.

“Rafael,
can you please go get us two glasses of that delightful sparkling wine.  We
must have a drink in hand to cheers for the…”

“Three
Rafael,” broke in Amelie.

Tomas
glanced at Ben, “it spoils the Man at Arms act when he’s drinking, but very
well.”

“He
doesn’t need to be my Man at Arms, he can be my escort.”

“Scandalous,”
replied Tomas dryly.

“Wait,
I’m your what?” asked Ben.

“It
doesn’t do having a Lady like Amelie at these functions with no male by her
side.  It sends the wrong message and some of these gentlemen can get pushy,”
murmured Tomas.

Ben
thought back to the unfortunate girl cornered by Rhymer and realized that made
sense.

“A
Lady alone or a Lady with her female attendants is suggesting she’s open to
advances,” added Amelie.  “I of course am not open to any sort of advances by
these men and never have been.”  She winked at Ben and he felt his heart
lighten.  After the way she spoke about Rhymer, he felt shocked by her world
and was worried about what she’d do to gain an advantage.  He understood how
one can be part of something but not a participant.  He wouldn’t want people to
judge him solely because he had been adopted by Alistair Pinewood.

Tomas
leaned in towards Amelie and started speaking quickly, “is he safe to speak in
front of?” he asked with a look at Ben. 

Amelie
nodded and Tomas continued, “while Rafael is gone then… that poor man hates it
when I speak business in public.  You are prepared for tomorrow?”

“Of
course I’m prepared.  But like I said, what are you doing here?”

“The
Coalition made another offer to your father, but nothing has changed.  I’m here
to make sure Argren knows that.”

“I’m
ready and Argren is aware.  At the beginning of the Conclave tomorrow we’ll
announce our allegiance and that Issen joins Whitehall.  That can’t be the only
reason my father sent you though.”