Glasswrights' Journeyman (14 page)

Besides, Berylina was young. She might act composed for a thirteen-year-old girl, but she had scarcely had time to learn the rules for nobility in her father's court, much less for other kingdoms, for distant lands. Better that Hal ease her discomfort gently now. There would be many such lessons in their future, and much might turn on how he guided the princess through this misstep. He made his voice light, and he clarified, “These are my helpmeets, my trusted advisors. Lady Rani. Lady Mair.”

“My lady,” the princess said seriously, dropping a slow curtsey to Rani, and then her voice caught as she repeated the greeting to Mair. She turned her head fetchingly, as if confused by the titles Hal granted his companions. Hal heard her hesitate and realized that she was embarrassed. He cursed himself silently for letting this first meeting with his prospective bride begin so awkwardly, but he attempted to recover by gesturing to the waiting Farso. “And this is Farsobalinti, my trusted friend and a member of my council.”

“My lord,” the princess said, and she must have been more at ease, for her smooth curtsey rippled the sapphire silk of her gown, spreading the cloth into a beautiful pool. Farso bowed in a sweeping response.

Hal had to work to push words past the sudden swelling in his throat. “I'm certain that Lady Rani and Lady Mair would be grateful to be shown to their chambers. Kel may have smiled upon us, but our passage was wearing nonetheless. If you could help them to refresh

themselves. …”

What? What had he done wrong now? Rani and Mair were glaring as if he had insulted their parentage. He scarcely had time to wonder, though, before the princess gestured to a curtained doorway across the room. “Of course, my lord. Let me assist the … ladies. Lord Shalindor should be here at any moment; I can't think what has detained him.”

Hal saw the glare that Rani cast in his direction; she clearly was displeased about being handed off to the princess. What was Hal to do, though? It was thoroughly awkward, arriving before they were expected. They would each have to do the best they could. Hal nodded to the women, hoping that his steady gaze would convey his apology at the same time that it issued a command.

As the green silk curtain fell into place behind Rani, Mair, and the extraordinary princess, another was pulled aside, and a tall, white-haired man stepped into the room. The man bowed stiffly, sniffing as he touched his nose nearly to his emerald-clad knee. A dragon twined about his chest as if it were frozen in an ecstasy of humility. “My lord. I am Shalindor, King Teheboth's chamberlain. His Majesty was not expecting you until the day after tomorrow, and he regrets that he was not here to greet you. He rides on the Spring Hunt.”

“Kel smiled upon us, my lord, and brought us to your hall too soon.”

“Not too soon, my lord.” Shalindor stretched his thin lips into a rueful smile, as if he regretted contradicting a visitor, a visitor and a nobleman besides. “Not too soon at all. When we made out the flag on your ship, I sent a messenger after King Teheboth. His Majesty should return within the hour.”

“That was not necessary!” Hal exclaimed.

“It was no trouble, my lord. Teheboth Thunderspear would certainly have it no other way.”

“But the princess said he rode at dawn!”

“The princess?” Shalindor was surprised enough to look Hal directly in the eye. His white eyebrows flew high on his forehead. “You've spoken with Princess Berylina?”

“Aye. She left just as you arrived.” Hal recognized surprise in the chamberlain's glance, and he hesitated, wondering if he were getting Berylina in trouble. Perhaps the princess had been forbidden to speak with visitors. Perhaps she was supposed to be taking her lessons – embroidery, or lute, or something equally suitable for a young woman of her station.

“The princess?” Shalindor asked, as if in disbelief, but then he seemed to remember himself. “My lady is not usually so forward with … strangers,” he said at last, shrugging as if he were apologizing.

“She was quite polite,” Hal assured the man. “She offered to take my companions to their apartments, so that they could refresh themselves from our journey.”

Shalindor seemed to recover, although he still shook his head in surprise. “I trust she'll see to their comfort, then. As I should see to yours.” The chamberlain bowed again and gestured toward a door, his bony fingers pointing out a different passage than the one where Berylina had disappeared with Rani and Mair. “My lords?”

Hal nodded congenially and ducked through the doorway with Farsobalinti, following the chamberlain's straight, stiff back.

 

* * *

 

Farso managed a smile as he adjusted Hal's leather glove. “Are you ready, then, Sire?”

“Farso, this is hardly what I expected to be doing on my first day in Liantine.”

Hal looked down at his riding leathers, grateful now that he had followed his former squire's suggestion back in Morenia and had his gear carted across the ocean. Back in Moren, it had seemed ridiculous to pack so much – winter clothes and summer, hunting clothes and ermine-lined capes. All along, Farso had ignored his protests, merely assuring him that one of the marks of kingship was always seeming prepared. Rani had added her agreement – it was important to impress Liantine. If King Teheboth ever suspected the extent of Morenia's need, she reminded him, the princess's dowry would shrink to nothing.

“King Teheboth only intends to honor you, Your Majesty, by including you in this custom.”

“I understand that. It's just that it's so early in the year. …”

“You won't actually
find
a Horned Hind, Sire.” Farso laughed at the ridiculous image. “No females to suffer for today's sport, no fawns to leave orphaned. The king will certainly slay a stag, and call it by another name.” Farso grinned and mimed a fatal thrust.

“You're looking forward to this, aren't you?”

The young knight shrugged, a smile making his pale eyes sunny. “It's good to ride, Sire. It's good to be out in the fresh air and to feel the horseflesh between your thighs. The hounds baying, the smell of the grass caught underfoot. … And it's good to eat fresh venison at the end of the day.”

Hal knew that most of his nobles felt the same. Nevertheless, his sympathy usually ran with the deer. Not, perhaps, when a joint was roasting over the fire, but during the long chase, with the hounds belling, and dozens of men plotting and planning, holding their iron-tipped spears. …

Foolishness. If Hal tried to explain his thoughts, Farso would think he was even odder than he was. Hal settled for clapping his hand on his friend's shoulder. “Let us go, then. We wouldn't want to keep our host waiting, not when he's already lost his entire morning, riding back for us.”

Nevertheless, the king of all Liantine was pacing impatiently in his cobbled courtyard, attended by a handful of restless nobles. King Teheboth Thunderspear was a man large enough to bear his family name with pride. He stood two handspans taller than Hal, and his chest stretched the green-painted leather that wrapped around it, rolls of fat covering hard muscle. The king's gloves were like sausage casings, barely managing to contain his fingers, and his legs strained at their trews. Teheboth wore his beard in the eastern style, plaited into a long braid down his chin, and the hair atop his head was long and wiry, chestnut shot through with gold and silver.

Hal could not keep from glancing about, from looking for the mammoth horse that could bear Teheboth into the hunt. He was not disappointed – the king of Liantine rode a sturdy battle destrier, a stallion that looked as if it were more fit for weeks of warfare than for a day of hunting.

Beside the battle mount stood a pair of strong riding horses – a roan gelding that tossed its head in the late morning sun and a grey-flecked mare. Hal was enough of a horseman to recognize good beasts when he saw them – these animals would easily rank among the best in all of Morenia.

Hal's admiration was cut short by King Teheboth's exclamation. “My lord! You must excuse our absence when you arrived!” The man's voice was as full as his body, and his greeting echoed off the stone walls of the courtyard. “We are pleased that you will join us! It was fortunate that our riders were able to recall us before we had ridden too far away.”

“My lord,” Hal smiled, feigning enthusiasm. Hunting was a noble pastime, he reminded himself, and he had spent plenty of long, satisfying afternoons in the Morenian woods. Even if he now longed for a hot bath and clean clothes, for a soft pillow and a long rest after the difficult sea crossing. …

Longings were not meant for kings.

Before Hal could muster further enthusiasm, he saw Rani and Mair step forward from the shadows of Teheboth's palace. Both of the women wore riding clothes, and Rani had plaited her long blonde hair into a single braid. King Teheboth glanced at the pair, at first dismissing them, but then giving them his full attention as he realized that they were part of Hal's entourage.

“My lady.” King Teheboth acknowledged first Rani, then Mair. Hal watched Rani drop a simple curtsey, and Mair mimic the same. The Liantine king scarcely acknowledged the women, saying, “We'll bring back venison for tonight's feast!”

“We look forward to riding with you, my lord.” Hal recognized the dangerous sweetness in Rani's tone, and he caught her looking about the courtyard for a mount that she could claim as her own.

“You should stay here, Lady Rani,” Hal said. “Help our people settle in after our long journey. We've kept our host long enough, making him ride back to retrieve us. We scarcely have time to find mounts for you, to locate appropriate gear.” Hal returned his attention to Teheboth. “The Thousand Gods are smiling upon us, that we were able to reach you before you had ridden too far afield. May Doan look kindly upon our hunt.”

Teheboth's bushy eyebrows met in a scowl, and his plaited beard jutted forward in disagreement. “Doan! Your god of the hunt has naught to do with today's ride!” Hal struggled to mask his look of surprise. “You're with the Liantines today, King Halaravilli. We look to the Horned Hind, instead of your clutch of gods.”

Hal knew, of course, that the Thousand Gods were little worshiped in Liantine. He had thought, though, that they still held
some
sway. Before he could find a diplomatic reply, Rani stepped forward, resting a hand on the roan's bridle. She addressed her words to Teheboth, inclining her head gracefully. “Lady Mair and I would ride with you as a token of luck, my lord. While we Morenians have lost the tradition of the Spring Hunt, we can admire a king's quest on behalf of his people. May this be the year that you find the Horned Hind herself, and all the riches at the end of the world.”

Of course! Hal remembered now. Along with all that nonsense about the Horned Hind holding the world inside her antlers, there were old stories, ancient legends. The hunter who slew the Horned Hind would find a treasure trove, more wealth than man had ever seen.

“My lady,” King Teheboth bowed from his saddle. “You know our customs well.”

“Your customs are storied far and wide, my lord. I've seen the Spring Hunt captured in stained glass.”

Hal had only a moment to wonder where the window had been located – perhaps in the ruined guildhall or in one of Rani's books. The king of Liantine apparently said, “We'll return tonight, my lady, with meat for our spring table. In the meantime, I'm sure my people will make you and your companion comfortable.”

“My lord –” Rani began again.

Hal interrupted, “Lady Rani, you should not waste more time in the courtyard. I'm sure the princess could use your assistance.”

“The
princess
–” Rani bristled, but Teheboth broke in before she could deliver her heated retort.

“My lady, I regret that you cannot join us. The Hind would stand no chance against your determination.” There was no room for further argument, and even Rani inclined her head in submission. “Now that we have returned to our courtyard, though, we must drink another stirrup cup, lest the blessed Hind claim we rode without giving fair warning. My daughter toasted us when first we rode, but she is gone about her duties elsewhere in the castle. Will you do us the honor, Lady Rani?”

Teheboth inclined his head toward Rani, who was clearly startled by the request. Hal could see her start to craft some excuse, but he managed to catch her eye, conveying an entire argument in one tight shake of his head. Rani swallowed hard but sank into a reluctant curtsey. “I would be most honored, my lord.”

Servants produced wine and a massive gilded cup, and Rani proffered the symbol first to Teheboth. The king, however, waved her over to Hal, indicating that the guest should be honored before the host. Rani rested a hand on Hal's stirrup as she raised the cup into his hands. “I would ride with you, Sire.” Her words were scarcely audible.

“We have no choice in this.”

“You brought me to bargain for you, and yet you'll make your first bid alone.”

“We're in the merchant's house, Rani, living by his rules. What would you have me do?”

“At least hear this. The girl who met us in the Great Hall –”

“Ho there!” Teheboth cried from across the courtyard. “The Horned Hind waits!”

Hal took the golden cup from Rani's fingers, resenting his own flash of gratitude when she relinquished it without further commotion. Of course, she had harsh words about Princess Berylina. Of course she was going to make his courtship as difficult as she possibly could. How had he ever expected otherwise?

The wine was sweet on his lips, and he swallowed hard, as if cementing a vow. He could face King Teheboth alone. He could turn the day's ride to his own profit, open the bidding for Berylina and for the return of the Little Army. He did not need Rani by his side constantly.

Hal returned the goblet with tight-lipped silence, and a flash of anger darkened Rani's eyes. Without another word, she turned on her hard leather heel and carried the cup to each of the riders. Farso, and then two of King Teheboth's retainers. She ended with the Liantine king.