Court Duel (6 page)

His readiness to answer my questions caused my mind to
glitter with new ideas, like a fountain in the sunlight. I was
suddenly eager to try my own theories of government, formed
during my half year of reading. I launched a barrage of
questions related to the merits of an all volunteer army paid
from crown revenues, versus each noble being responsible for a
certain number of trained and equipped soldiers should the need
arise. To each question Shevraeth readily responded, until we
had a conversation—not quite a debate—going about
the strengths and weaknesses of each method of keeping the
country safe.

Very soon I began to see where my lapses of knowledge were,
for he knew the books I quoted from. Further, he knew the
sources' strengths and weaknesses, whereas I had taken them as
authorities. Still, I was enjoying myself, until I remembered
what he'd said about listening to busybodies. Immediately full
of self-doubt at the thought, I wondered if I sounded like one
of those busybodies. Or worse, had I betrayed my secret
quest?

Abruptly I stopped talking and turned my attention to my
dinner, which lay cold and untouched on my plate. Stealing a
quick glance up, I realized that I'd also kept Shevraeth
talking so that his dinner was equally cold. I picked up my
fork, fighting against another surge of those old feelings of
helpless anger.

Into the sudden silence Branaric laughed, then said, "You've
left me behind. What have you been reading, Mel? Life! You
should go up to Erev-li-Erval and help take the field against
the Djurans. Unless you're planning another revolution
here!"

"Were you thinking of taking the field against me?" the
Marquis addressed me in his usual drawl.

Aghast, I choked on a bite of food. Then I saw the gleam of
humor in his eyes, and realized he'd been joking. "But I'm
not," I squawked. "Not at all! I just like, well, reading and
thinking about these things."

"And testing
your
knowledge, Danric," Bran
added.

"Whether you are testing mine or your own, you really will
get your best information firsthand," Shevraeth said to me.
"Come to Athanarel. Study the records. Ask questions."

Was he really inviting me straight out to do what I'd
resolved so secretly? I had no idea what to make of this. "I
promised Nimiar I'd come," I mumbled, and that ended the
subject.

Later, Nee sat with me in my room. We were drinking hot
chocolate and talking about music, something I usually enjoy.
But the dinner conversation was on my mind, and finally I said,
"May I ask you a personal question?"

She looked up in query and made the graceful little gesture
that I had learned was an invitation.

"Isn't Shevraeth a friend of yours?"

"Yes," she said cautiously.

"Then why the fan, and the careful words when you asked
about your friend Elenet?"

Nee set her cup down, her brow slightly furrowed. "We are
friends to a degree ... Though we all grew up at Court, I was
never one of his intimates, nor even one of his flirts. Those
all tended to be the leaders of fashion. So I don't really know
how close he was to any of them, except perhaps for Savona. It
took everyone by surprise to find out that he was so different
from the person we'd grown up with." She shrugged. "He was
always an object of gossip, but I realized recently that though
we heard much about what he did, we never heard what he
thought."

"You mean he didn't tell anyone," I said.

"Exactly. Anyway, Elenet
is
an old friend, of both
of us, which is complicated by her family's machinations. Her
safety is important to me. Yet in referring to it, I don't want
to seem one of the busy-bodies or favor-seekers."

"I don't think you could," I said.

She laughed. "Anyone can do anything, with determination and
an inner conviction of being right. Whether they really are
right..." She shrugged.

"Well, if he wants to be king, he'll just plain have to get
used to questions and toadies and all the rest of it," I said.
Remembering the conversation at dinner and wondering if I'd
made an idiot of myself, I added crossly, "I don't have any
sympathy at all. In fact, I wish he hadn't come up here. If he
needed rest from the fatigue of taking over a kingdom, why
couldn't he go to that fabulous palace in Renselaeus? Or to
Shevraeth, which I'll just bet has an equally fabulous
palace?"

Nee sighed. "Is that a rhetorical or a real question?"

"Real. And I don't want to ask Bran because he's so likely
to hop out with my question when we're all together and fry me
with embarrassment," I finished bitterly.

She gave a sympathetic grin. "Well, I suspect it's to
present a united front, politically speaking. You haven't been
to Court, so you don't quite comprehend how much you and your
brother have become heroes—symbols—to the kingdom.
Especially you, which is why there were some murmurs and
speculations when you never came to the capital."

I shook my head. "Symbol for failure, maybe.
We
didn't win—Shevraeth did."

She gave me an odd look midway between surprise and
curiosity. "But to return to your question, Vidanric's tendency
to keep his own counsel ought to be reassuring as far as people
hopping out with embarrassing words are concerned. If I were
you—and I know it's so much easier to give advice than to
follow it—I'd sit down with him, when no one else is at
hand, and talk it out."

Just the thought of seeking him out for a private talk made
me shudder. "I'd rather walk down the mountain in shoes full of
snails."

It was Nee's turn to shudder. "Life! I'd rather do almost
anything than
that—
"

A "Ho!" outside the door interrupted her.

Bran carelessly flung the tapestry aside and sauntered in.
"There y'are, Nee. Come out on the balcony with me? It's
actually nice out, and we've got both moons up." He extended
his hand.

Nee looked over at me as she slid her hand into his. "Want
to come?"

I looked at those clasped hands, then away. "No, thanks," I
said airily. "I think I'll practice my fan, then read myself to
sleep. Good night."

They went out, Bran's hand sliding round her waist. The
tapestry dropped into place on Nee's soft laugh.

I got up and moved to my window, staring out at the
stars.

It seemed an utter mystery to me how Bran and Nimiar enjoyed
looking at each other. Touching each other. Even the practical
Oria, I realized—the friend who told me once that things
were more interesting than people—had freely admitted to
liking flirting.

How does that happen? I shook my head, thinking that it
would never happen to me. Did I want it to?

Suddenly I was restless and the castle was too
confining.

Within the space of a few breaths I had gotten rid of my
civilized clothing and soft shoes and had pulled my worn,
patched tunic, trousers, and tough old mocs from the trunk in
the corner.

I slipped out of my room and down the stair without anyone
seeing me, and before the moons had traveled the space of a
hand across the sky, I was riding along the silver-lit trails
with the wind in my hair and the distant harps of the Hill Folk
singing forlornly on the mountain tops.

FIVE

THE BUDS WERE JUST STARTING TO SHOW GREEN ON the trees when
Bran said suddenly at dinner one day, "We ought to start to
Remalna-city, Mel. Danric has work to do, and Nee hasn't seen
her people for all these weeks. And as for me—" He
winced. "I'm glad when we have a clear enough day where the
construction can go on, but life! The noise and mess make me
feel like a cat in a dog kennel."

"Set the date," I said, which I think surprised them
all.

But I had already realized that there was little to keep me
in Tlanth. Our county was on its way to recovery. By this time
the next year we would even have paved roads between the
villages and down to the lowlands—everywhere but beyond
that invisible line that everyone in Tlanth knew was the border
of the Hill Folk's territory.

Nee and Bran began talking about what delights awaited us in
the capital. My last order of books had come in three weeks
before, and I hadn't ordered more, for Nee and Bran both
assured me that the library at Athanarel was
fabulous—fantastic—
full.
To all their
other words I smiled and nodded, inwardly thinking about the
Marquise of Merindar's letter and my own reason for going to
Court.

Shevraeth didn't say anything, or if he did, I didn't hear
it, for I avoided him whenever possible.

The day before our departure was mild and clear with only an
occasional white cloud drifting softly overhead. Bran swooped
down on us just after breakfast and carried Nee off for a day
alone.

So during the afternoon I retreated to the library and
curled up in the window seat with a book on my lap.

But for once the beautifully drawn words refused to make
sense, and I gazed instead out the window at the rose garden,
which would be blooming well after I was gone. "My last
afternoon of peace," I muttered with my forehead against the
glass, then I snorted. It sounded fine and poetic—but I
knew that as long as I thought that way, the peace had already
ended.

And what was I afraid of?

I now knew enough of the rules of etiquette to get by, and I
was now the proud possessor of what I once would have thought
the wardrobe of a queen. And I wouldn't be alone, for my
brother and my sister-to-be would accompany me.

As for the Marquise of Merindar's letter, perhaps its
arrival and Shevraeth's on the very same day were coincidences
after all. No one had said anything to me about it. And if I
were reasonably careful at Court, I could satisfy my
quest....

Except, what then?

I was still brooding over this question when I heard a
polite tap outside the tapestry, and a moment later, there was
the equally quiet impact of a boot heel on the new tile floor,
then another.

A weird feeling prickled down my spine, and I twisted around
to face the Marquis of Shevraeth, who stood just inside the
room. He raised his hands and said, "I am unarmed."

I realized I was glaring. "I hate people creeping up behind
me," I muttered.

He glanced at the twenty paces or so of floor between us,
then up at the shelves, the map, the new books. Was he
comparing this library with the famed Athanarel one—or
the equally (no doubt!) impressive one at his home in
Renselaeus? I folded my arms and waited for either satire or
condescension.

When he spoke, the subject took me by surprise. "You said
once that your father burned the Astiar library. Did you ever
find out why?"

"It was the night we found out that my mother had been
killed," I said reluctantly. The old grief oppressed me, and I
fought to keep my thoughts clear. "By the order of Galdran
Merindar."

"Do you know why he ordered her murder?" he asked over his
shoulder, as he went on perusing the books.

I shook my head. "No. There's no way to find out that I can
think of. Even if we discovered those who carried out the deed,
they might not know the real reasons." I added sourly, "Well do
I remember how Galdran issued lies to cover his misdeeds: Last
year, when he commenced the attack against us, he dared to say
that it was
we
who were breaking the Covenant!" I
couldn't help adding somewhat accusingly, "Did you believe
that? Not later, but when the war first started."

"No." I couldn't see his face. Only his back, and the long
pale hair, and his lightly clasped hands were in view as he
surveyed my shelves.

This was the first time the two of us had conversed alone,
for I had been careful to avoid such meetings during his visit.
Not wanting to prolong it, I still felt compelled to
amplify.

I said, "My mother was the last of the royal Calahanras
family. Galdran must have thought her a threat, even though she
retired from Court life when she adopted into the Astiar
family."

Shevraeth was walking along the shelves now, his hands still
behind his back. "Yet Galdran had taken no action against your
mother previously."

"No. But she'd never left Tlanth before, not since her
marriage. She was on her way to Remalna-city. We only know that
it was his own household guards, disguised as brigands, that
did the job, because they didn't quite kill the stablegirl who
was riding on the luggage coach and she recognized the horses
as Merindar horses." I tightened my grip on my elbows. "You
don't believe it?"

Again he glanced back at me. "Do you know your mother's
errand in the capital?" His voice was calm, quiet, always with
that faint drawl as if he chose his words with care.

Suddenly my voice sounded too loud, and much too combative,
to my ears. Of course that made my face go crimson with heat.
"Visiting."

This effectively ended the subject, and I waited for him to
leave.

He turned around then, studying me reflectively. The length
of the room still lay between us. "I had hoped," he said, "that
you would honor me with a few moments' further discourse."

"About what?" I demanded.

"I came here at your brother's invitation." He spoke in a
conversational tone, as though I'd been pleasant and
encouraging. "My reasons for accepting were partly because I
wanted an interlude of relative tranquillity, and partly for
diplomatic reasons."

"Yes, Nimiar told me about your wanting to present a solid
front with the infamous Astiars. I understand, and I said I'd
go along."

"Please permit me to express my profound gratitude." He
bowed gracefully.

I eyed him askance, looking for any hint of mockery. All I
sensed was humor as he added, "I feel obliged to point out
that... an obvious constraint... every time we are in one
another's company will not go unnoticed."