Magic Casement (13 page)

Except
a few things she had made happen, of course.

She
could concede that Kinvale was beautiful, a very great estate set in rolling
hills, lush and rich as she had never imagined a land could be. It lay
northeast of Pamdo Gulf, near the great port of Shaldokan-of which she had seen
nothing at all-but far enough from the sea that it had never been pillaged by
jotunn raiders, even during the worst periods of disorder in the past when the
Impire had been weak. She had seen little of the smaller manors and hamlets
nearby, but enough to know that they were old and settled and dull. The nearby
town of Kinford she had visited briefly, and it was also old, prosperous, and
apparently dull. The huge, sprawling ducal estate was old, luxurious, and
driving her crazy.

The
willow grove, where she was presently enduring a particularly acute boredom,
was picturesque to a fault, flanking a lake that was itself resplendent with
water lilies and graceful swans, set about with sculptures and little marble
pavilions. Beyond the lake lay the park, where myriad servants tidied up the
droppings of small deer and carved the boxwood trees into fantastic and amusing
shapes. For someone who had seen exactly six trees in her life, Inos had tired
of trees surprisingly quickly-they did not do anything. She had been impressed
by the green hills, the farms, and the vineyards, but she had glimpsed all
those only at a distance. Young ladies of quality were not encouraged to go
mucking around in farmyards, and she had been swiftly intercepted on her one
attempt to go exploring in that direction.

She
passed her mornings now in lessons-dancing, elocution, and lute playing. In the
afternoons she would sit and sew and talk with Aunt Kade and other matrons. In
the evenings there was dancing or listening to music and then bedtime. And that
was all. She had been allowed to go riding a few times with other wellborn
maidens, but their path had been restricted to a cinder circle through the
park, the horses had been ancient hacks, and their riders no more
interesting-well-educated virgins whose brains had been wrapped up in
embroidery and tucked away in some safe drawer at birth. Inos was permitted to
read books, provided she did not overdo it. She might stroll on the terrace, so
long as she did not leave Aunt Kade’s sight or talk to strange men. She
could also sit and grind her teeth at needlework and wonder what would happen
if one evening she were to tear off all her clothes and turn cartwheels across
the ballroom floor.

Amid
the splendor and wealth she was miserably homesick for barren, shabby old
Krasnegar. Amid nobility and personages of the highest breeding, she longed for
the company of Father and Lin and Ido. Even dull old Rap would do.

She
was not supposed to be out of Aunt Kade’s sight unless some other old...
gentlewoman... had been designated her keeper for a short while. It was
humiliating! Did they think she was some sort of wanton? That she could not be
trusted? Of course she was trusted, Aunt Kade would explain patiently. It was
appearances that mattered. Climbing out casements, sliding down banisters...

Materializing
in dignified silence, a young footman offered a tray of sweetmeats to Aunt
Kade, who declined, and then to Inos.

“Thanks,
Urni. “ She pointed to one of the yummy little cakes.

“That
one! Did Alopa bake these?”

The
tray wobbled dangerously. Scarlet flowed out of his high, tight collar, rising
all the way to his powdered hair. “M-m-ma’am?”

“Just
wondering.” Inos flashed him a benign but triumphant smile. “I
thought maybe it was her baking that you were after in the little pantry two
nights ago?”

Urni
almost dropped her chosen cake from his tongs. The tray swayed again in his
other hand, and he swallowed hard. “No, ma’am. I mean... No, ma’am.”

She
chuckled quietly and said no more, letting him beat a speedy retreat. Off duty,
he was rather fun, was young Urni-or so the chambermaids reported.

As
Inos was about to pop the first morsel of cake in her mouth, Aunt Kade sighed
heavily. “You really should not speak to the domestics like that, dear. “

“Oh?”
Inos laid down her fork in case she was tempted to throw it. “It upsets
you that all these old crones will see me failing to live up to their mummified
standards of nose-in-the-air snootiness? You would prefer me to behave like a
marble statue? Exactly what harm is there in treating a man like a human being?”

Kade
finished the row and turned the knitting. “None,” she told it. “Treat
him like a human being by all means. “

“I
don’t believe I understand that remark. “

“You
were not treating him like a human being. You were treating him like a tethered
bear.”

“I...”
Inos fell silent, mouth open.

“They
can’t fight back, my dear. They, at least, would certainly prefer marble
statues.” Kade’s eyes had never strayed from her knitting, but now
she added, “And here comes the duke.”

Inos
looked up. Duke Angilki had emerged onto the terrace with a companion. That,
Inos decided bitterly, probably qualified as an excitement. She had expected
that a man who had buried two wives might be a monster, but she was now certain
that they had died of boredom. Angilki was quite the dullest man she had ever
met. He was tall and portly, with a flabby red face and a pendulous lower
lip-the face of an overgrown, slow-witted child. He was utterly dominated by
his fearsome mother, the dowager duchess, and his only interest seemed to be
interior decorating. He was extending Kinvale in all directions, but the
architecture was incidental. Neither the building activity nor the final
purpose mattered. It was style that counted, and the process itself. So the
duke spent his days with artists and artisans in blissful contemplation of
plans, sketches, and swatches. His artistic taste was impeccable, his results
impressive. Kinvale was beautiful. But what good was it, Inos would demand of
her aunt when they were alone, if it doesn’t do anything?

At
least she no longer need worry that Duke Angilki would force her to marry him
so that he might become king of Krasnegar. Krasnegar would appeal to Angilki
much less even than Kinvale appealed to Inos, and the duke himself had no
visible interest in women. Had she been a roll of chintz, now, or a sample of
wallpaper, then she might have caught his eye and brought a flush to his cheek.

A
conspiratorial twitter from the ladies announced that the duke and his friend
were advancing toward them over the lawn... probably coming to ask his mother
if he could take a bath, Inos decided, but a quick glance around showed that
the dowager duchess was not present. And the companion was a man. That was
unusual. Houseguests came and went by the dozen at Kinvale--friends and
relatives to the farthest degree--and they were almost all female.

Where
were all the men? Possibly some were off soldiering somewhere, and perhaps
others had soldiered at some time in the past and failed to recover from the
experience. The few men who did show up at the banquets and balls were almost
all much too old to be of interest and all basically dull, as well. Their
profession seemed to be the elegant doing of nothing, their only recreation the
slaughtering of birds or animals. A few of them had admitted to having useful
occupations like overseeing estates. One or two had even let slip the fact that
they engaged in trade. There had been travelers pass through, and soldiers and
Imperial officials and priests. But were there no young, interesting men in the
Impire.

Lately
Inos had begun to perceive Kinvale as a zoo, a game farm, where the womenfolk
were confined while the men stayed away and ran the world. This insight
depressed her greatly. Already the ship road to Krasnegar would be closing down
for winter and she had all those dreary months to look forward to before it
opened again.

Now
Duke Angilki had reached the edge of the grove of ladies and was making
introductions. He was beautifully dressed, of course, his bulging doublet
gleaming white and his hose bright scarlet. His cloak was a rich bottle green
with a narrow ermine trim-probably much too hot for this time of year, Inos
thought, but the heavy material would disguise his stoutness better than a
lighter fabric. He had an excellent tailor. He moved on to the next small
cluster of ladies, and she caught her first good look at his companion.

Mmm!
Not bad at all!

The
stranger was a comparatively young man, a rarity. Inos had met almost no men of
her own age at Kinvale. Apparently males still in their acne and Adam’s
apple metamorphosis were kept out of the sight of genteel company, and now she
thought she might even settle for early twenties. This one would do for a
start. He was as tall as the duke, dark and slim, and his deep-blue doublet and
white hose outshone even the duke’s tailoring. He was wearing no cloak,
which was daring of him-it emphasized his youth. He moved with grace. Yes! A
little older than she would normally have preferred, but... not... bad... at...
all.

“Don’t
stare, dear, “ Aunt Kade muttered, holding her knitting at arm’s
length and screwing up her eyes. “They’re coming as fast as they
can. “

“What!
I mean, beg pardon?”

“It
would appear that they’re heading toward us,” Aunt Kade told her
needles. “But of course they must pay their respects to the others first.
“

“That’s
what they call a young man, isn’t it? I think we used to have some of
those around Krasnegar. “

“Sarcasm
is not ladylike,” Aunt Kade said mildly. “Try not to drool over him
too much. He was at the ball last night.”

“I
didn’t see him! “

“He
noticed you. “ Aunt Kade’s smile registered satisfaction. Angrily
Inos pretended to concentrate on her embroidery. Mention of the previous night
reminded her yet again of the tragedy-she had lost her mother’s ruby
brooch. She could not forgive herself for being so careless. She was certain
that it had still been there when she retired to bed and that she had unpinned
it and laid it on her dressing table. Yet that was obviously impossible,
because there had been no brooch there in the morning. Of course the door of
their suite had been bolted-Aunt Kade always insisted on that. They had even
considered burglary as an explanation, but had been forced to discard it. A
team of circus cats could not have reached their windows. Of all the heirlooms
that her father had given her, her mother’s ruby brooch had been the most
precious to her, and now she had been so unthinkably careless and stupid and
ungrateful and--

The
duke! She bounced up hurriedly from her chair.

“Sir
Andor,” Duke Angilki explained. “Princess Kadolan of Krasnegar.”

The
young man bowed over Aunt Kade’s hand. Yes, very nice indeed! He was an
imp, of course-and how Inos longed now for the sight of a tall, blond jotunn
just to break the monotony-but he was not short and he was not swarthy. His
hair was black, but his skin showed a gleaming, healthy tan, a smooth
complexion with just a hint of blue chin to save the perfectly regular features
from any hint of femininity. Handsome! Then he straightened and turned to her
and she saw smiling dark eyes and perfect white teeth. Handsome did not do
justice.

“And
Princess Inosolan,” said her portly host, “may I present to your
Highness my friend Sir Andor? Sir Andor, this is Princess Kadolan’s
niece.”

“I
shall always remember this day,” Sir Andor said, “when all my
standards of beauty and grace had to be discarded as inadequate, when all other
ladies faded in my sight, when my highest dreams and aspirations were suddenly
made worthless by my first glimpse of feminine perfection in the divine form of
the Princess Inosolan.”

He
stooped to touch his lips to her hand. Inos was still trying to think of some
equally outrageous reply when their eyes met again and she saw that he was
laughing. She was so surprised that she did not hear what she said, but
apparently it was satisfactory.

“You
have just arrived at Kinvale then, Sir Andor? “ Aunt Kade inquired.

“Two
days ago, ma’am.”

“I
have been trying to persuade him to spend some time with us,” the duke
huffed, “but he insists that he must rush off.”

“A
month at the most!” Andor said. “I have most urgent
responsibilities to call me away, although I know already that my heart will
never leave. Even the presence of such celestial beauty is insufficient...”

Inos
resumed her seat as the flowery phrases were tossed around, the duke and Aunt
Kade apparently serious, while she was quite certain this young Andor was
treating it all as ludicrous nonsense and offering to share the joke with her.
It was a wonderful surprise to discover that she was not the only sane person
in the world. Then the duke made some excuses and moved off, pausing to
dispense more greetings. A miasma of disapproval arose from the company in
general-obviously the sensational young Andor had been brought out especially
to meet Inos, and that was being regarded as sneaky favoritism.

Aunt
Kade took the hint and asked him if he would care to sit.

He
did so, studying her with an expression of wonder.

“Of
course that is your portrait in the gallery,” he said. “I noticed
it at once. It quite puts all the other so-called beauties to shame, and yet it
does not do you justice.”

Aunt
Kade preened. “It was painted many years ago.”

“But
a silver setting enhances the finest gems, and nothing else has changed. Your
coloring... “

Inos
had heard some outrageous flattery sessions in the previous month, but nothing
that could have touched the performance that followed. With quick, deft
strokes, like a skilled fishwife filleting, Andor reduced Aunt Kade to
simpering blushes. Compliments so excessive could not possibly be intended
seriously, yet that did not stop them being effective in the hands of an
expert. Then he turned his attention to Inos. She wondered what heights of
hypocrisy he would scale now, but the cynical twinkle was back in his eye
again, and he surprised her once more. “But you, ma’am... on
reconsideration, I find your appearance most displeasing. “