The Complete Tawny Man Trilogy Omnibus (182 page)

Always
, I replied to him. He did not need to suggest that I keep the Prince in sight. Until I knew what was behind this façade, I had no idea who might or might not wish him harm. And so I drifted about the wedding feast, never too far from my prince, keeping a light Skill-contact with him.

The gathering was very different from any Buckkeep celebration. There was no seating of the guests according to rank or favour. Instead, the food was set out and people helped themselves to it and wandered the room as they ate it. There was roast mutton on spits kept warm near the hearth, and trays heaped with fowl cooked whole. I sampled from a platter of smoked candlefish, seasoned and crisp and remarkably tasty. Outislander breads seemed to be dark and unleavened, cooked in huge flat rounds. Diners tore off a piece of an appropriate size and then heaped it with sliced and pickled vegetables, or dipped it in fish-oil and salt. All the flavours of the foods seemed overly strong to me, and much of it was pickled or smoked or salted. Only the mutton and the chicken were fresh-killed, and even those had been seasoned with some sort of seaweed.

The eating and drinking, the talking and the music and some sort of juggling contest, with betting, all happened simultaneously. The roar of raised voices was nearly deafening. After a time, I became aware of something else. Young Outislander women of the Narwhal Clan were approaching not just our guardsmen but even Civil and Cockle. I saw several guards grinning fatuously as their young partners led them outside or up the shadowy staircase.

Are they deliberately luring Dutiful’s guard away?
I Skilled anxiously to Chade.

Here, it is a woman’s prerogative
, he replied.
They do not have the same customs regarding chastity. The guardsmen were warned to be cautious but not cool. The Prince’s warriors and companions are expected to be available for the evening, but only if they are invited; it would be a breach of hospitality if they approached a woman who had not first signalled her interest. If you have not noticed, there is a lack of men here, and far fewer children than there should be for this many women. An empty womb filled on a wedding night foretells a lucky child, here.

Was there a reason I was not told of this before now?

Does it bother you?

After a moment of surreptitious peering, I located my old mentor. He was sitting on one of the bed-benches, nibbling on a fowl’s leg and conversing with a woman half his age. I caught a glimpse of Civil and his cat disappearing into the upper reaches of the house. The woman who led him was at least five years older than he was, but he did not look intimidated. I had no time to wonder nor worry where Swift had vanished to; surely he was too young to be of any interest to these viragos. In that moment I realized that Dutiful was leaving the mothershouse in the company of a gaggle of the Narcheska’s girlish friends. Elliania did not look particularly pleased, even though she still held his hand and led him out of the door.

It was not easy to follow him. A woman with a tray of sweets stepped between me and the door. I managed to feign a thick-witted indifference to her offering of more than the sticky confections as I helped myself to a handful in a boorish display of greed and ate them in two mouthfuls. Somehow this flattered her, and she set the tray aside and followed me as I ate them. She was still at my elbow
when I reached the door. ‘Where’s the backhouse?’ I asked her, and when she did not understand the Six Duchies euphemism, I mimed what I sought. With a puzzled look, she pointed out a low building to me and returned to the feasting. As I walked toward it, I cast a wide glance for Dutiful. There were several couples in the courtyard, in various stages of dalliance, and two boys carrying water from the well back into the mothershouse. Where had he gone?

I saw him at last, not far away, sitting beside Elliania on a grassy rise near some young apple trees. The other girls had settled around them in a ring. These were girls not yet women, as their loose hair proclaimed. I guessed that their ages ranged from ten to fifteen or so.
Doubtless, before this night, they had been Elliania’s playmates for years. Now she has left their companionship behind her with her change to woman’s status.

Not quite
, Dutiful informed me sourly.
They have evaluated me as if I were a horse bought cheap at the fair. ‘If he is a warrior, where are his scars?’ ‘Did not he have a clan? Why does his face not bear her tattoo?’ They tease her, and one of them is quite a nasty little vixen. Lestra is her name, and she is Elliania’s older cousin. She is mocking Elliania, saying that perhaps she is a woman and even wed in name, but that she doubts that she has ever been kissed. Lestra claims to have been kissed several times, quite thoroughly, even though she has not bled yet. Fitz, have the girls no shame nor reticence in this land?

I grasped it on an intuitive level.
Dutiful, it is a driving out. Elliania is no longer one of them, and so they will peck and tease her tonight. Doubtless it would have happened in any case; it may even be seen as a part of her womanhood ceremony.
And then, needlessly, I added
Be careful. Follow her lead, lest you shame her somehow.

I have no idea what she wants of me
, he replied helplessly.
She glares at me out of the corner of her eye, and yet holds to my hand as if it were a line thrown to her in wild water.

As clearly as if I sat beside him, the words reached me through our Skill-link. The girl who flung the challenge was taller than Elliania, and perchance older. I knew enough of women to know that age alone did not determine their blood time. Indeed, save for her loose hair, I would have guessed her a woman already. Lestra spoke saucily, taunting Elliania with, ‘So. You’ll bind him
to you, so no one else can have him, but you dare not even kiss him!’

‘Perhaps I do not wish to kiss him yet. Perhaps I intend to wait until he has proven himself worthy of me.’

Lestra shook her head. She had little bells wired into her hair and I heard the jingle of her mane as she said mockingly, ‘No, Elliania, we know you well. As a girl you were always the most meek and least daring of us. I daresay you are the same as a woman. You don’t dare kiss him, and he is too timid a man to take one for himself. He is a smooth-cheeked boy, masquerading as a man. Isn’t that true, “Prince”? You are as timid as she is. Perhaps I could teach you to be bolder. He does not even look at her breasts! Or perhaps they are so small, he cannot see them.’

I did not envy Dutiful. I had no advice to offer him. I sat myself down on the low stone wall that marked the edge of the young orchard. I lifted my hands to my face and rubbed my cheeks, as a man does when he has had too much to drink and seeks to drive the tingle from his face. I hoped folk would think me drunk and leave me sitting. I did not relish watching Dutiful go through his dilemma, but I dared not leave him. I sagged my shoulders and set my head as if staring into the distance while watching out of the corner of my eye.

Dutiful made an effort, speaking stiffly. ‘Perhaps I respect Narcheska Elliania too much to take what she has not offered.’ I could feel his steely determination not to look at her breasts as he said this. His awareness of them, bared and warm so near him, was taking its toll.

He could not see the look Elliania cast to one side. That answer had not pleased her.

‘But you don’t respect me, do you?’ the little minx taunted him.

‘No,’ he replied shortly. ‘I do not think that I do.’

‘Then there is no problem. Show your boldness and kiss me!’ Lestra commanded him triumphantly. ‘And I will tell her if she is missing anything worth having.’ As if to force him to the act, she leaned forward suddenly, thrusting her face at him, even as one sly hand flew toward his groin. ‘What’s this?’ she crowed mischievously as Dutiful shot to his feet with an exclamation of outrage. ‘There’s
more than a kiss he has waiting for you, Elliania. Look at it! An army of one has pitched a tent for you there! Will the siege last long?’

‘Stop it, Lestra!’ Elliania snarled. She, too, had come to her feet. Her cheeks blazed with colour and she did not look at Dutiful but scowled at her enemy. Her bared breasts rose and fell with her angry breath.

‘Why? You’ve obviously no intent of doing anything interesting with him. Why shouldn’t I take him? By rights, he should be mine, just as by rights I should be Narcheska. And will be, when he takes you off to be a lesser woman in his own mothershouse.’

Several of the girls gasped, but Elliania’s eyes only blazed hotter.

‘That is among the oldest of the lies you tell, Lestra! Your great-grandmother was the younger twin. Both midwives said so.’

‘First out of the womb is not always oldest, Elliania. So many say. Your great-grandmother was a mewling, sickly kitten of a babe. Mine was the hearty, healthy child. Your great-grandmother had no right to be Narcheska, nor did her daughter, or her granddaughter, or you!’

‘Sickly? Indeed! Then how is it that she lives still, as Great Mother! Take back your lie, Lestra, or I will cram it down your throat.’ Elliania spoke in a flat, ugly voice. It carried well. I was not the only one who had turned to watch the quarrel. When Dutiful stepped forward, mouth open to speak, Elliania put her hand flat in the centre of his chest and thrust him back. The young girls formed into a ring now around the potential combatants and he found himself outside it. He looked toward me as if for help.

Don’t intervene. Elliania has made it plain that she doesn’t want you to.

I hoped my advice was good. Even as I attempted to Skill the situation to Chade, I saw Peottre. He had probably been lurking just out of my line of sight at the building’s corner. He strolled over to the low wall where I sat and leaned one hip on it casually. ‘He should stay out of that,’ he said to me casually.

I swung my head and regarded him blearily. ‘Who?’

He stared at me levelly. ‘Your Prince. He should leave this to
Elliania to settle. It’s woman’s business, and she won’t welcome his interference. You should convey that to him, if you can.’

Peottre says, step back from it. Let Elliania settle it.

What?
Dutiful demanded in consternation.

Why is Peottre speaking to you?
Chade demanded.

I don’t know!

To Peottre, I said, ‘I’m just his guardsman, sir. I don’t advise the Prince.’

‘You’re his bodyguard,’ Peottre replied pleasantly. ‘Or his … what would it be in your language? His chaperone? As I am for Elliania. You’re good, but you’re not invisible. I’ve seen you watching him.’

‘I’m his guardsman. I’m supposed to guard him,’ I protested, letting the words slur a little. I wished I’d thought to have a glass of wine. The smell of spirits can be very convincing.

He was no longer looking at me. I turned to stare up the hill. There was a shout behind me from the door of the mothershouse, and I heard other people emerging. The two girls had gone into a clinch. With apparent ease, Lestra threw Elliania onto the ground on her back. Even at that distance, I heard her breath whoosh out of her. Peottre made a frustrated sound and he twitched in that small way that experienced fighters do when they are watching a prized student compete. As Lestra flung herself on top of Elliania, the smaller girl suddenly drew her knees up to her chest and firmly kicked her opponent in her midsection. Lestra shot backwards, landing badly. Elliania rolled to her knees and, careless of her fine gown and coiffed hair, flung herself on top of Lestra. Every muscle in Peottre’s neck and arms was taut, but he did not move. I came to my feet to gain a better vantage and gawked, just as the other Buckkeep guardsmen were doing. The Outislanders who had emerged to watch the struggle were interested, but not intent. Evidently, for girls or women to wrestle in this manner was not shocking to them.

By sitting high on Lestra’s chest, her knees on her arms, Elliania had effectively pinned the larger girl to the earth. Lestra was kicking and struggling, but the Narcheska had gripped a handful of her loose hair to fix her head to the ground. With her free hand, she rubbed a handful of dirt into Lestra’s mouth. ‘Let honest earth cleanse the
lie from your lips!’ she shouted triumphantly. Dutiful stood back from them, his mouth ajar. He was aware of the wild jiggle of Elliania’s bared breasts as her chest heaved with exertion. I sensed he was as horrified at his physical reaction to that as he was by the girls’ struggle. All around them, the other girls leapt and yelled, encouraging the combatants.

With a wild shriek, Lestra tore her head free of Elliania’s grasp, leaving her clutching a goodly handful of hair. Elliania slapped her, hard, and then seized her by the throat. ‘Call me Narcheska, or you will not draw another breath!’ she shouted at her.

‘Narcheska! Narcheska!’ the older girl shrieked, and then she began to sob wildly, more from frustration and humiliation than pain.

Elliania put her hand flat to Lestra’s face and pushed up off it as she stood. ‘Leave her alone!’ she warned two of the girls who stepped forward to aid the loser. ‘Let her lie there and be glad that I didn’t have my knife. I am a woman now. From now on, my knife will answer anyone who dares to dispute that I am Narcheska. From now on, my knife will answer anyone who dares to touch the man I have claimed for myself.’

I glanced at Peottre. His grin was hard, showing every tooth he had. Elliania reached Dutiful in two strides. He stood gawking down at his dishevelled bride. As casually as I would seize a horse’s mane to mount him, she reached up and gripped his warrior’s tail. As she pulled his face down to hers, she commanded him, ‘You will kiss me now.’

An instant before their mouths met, he snatched his Skill-awareness away from me. Yet neither I nor any man watching needed the Skill to sense the fervour in that kiss. She locked her mouth to his, and as his arms came awkwardly around her to draw her closer, she leaned into his embrace, deliberately brushing her bared breasts against his chest. Then she broke the kiss, and while Dutiful drew an uneven breath, she met his eyes and reminded him, ‘Icefyre’s head. On my mothers’ hearth. Before you may call me wife.’ Then, from within the circle of his embrace, she looked at her old playmates and announced, ‘You girls may stay here and play if you wish. I’m taking my husband back inside to the feasting.’