The Keeper of the Mist (12 page)

Both foreigners had plainly been assiduously ignoring each other. Keri thought it was probably lucky they hadn't tried to kill each other.

Keri wished she didn't feel quite so alone. She wasn't
actually
alone, of course, however she felt. The Timekeeper stood at her side. He was frightening on his own account, at least. And Tassel was on her other side, far more comforting, with Lucas behind Tassel, craning his neck to get a view of their guests. There was a slight but noticeable check in his step as he caught sight of the Wyvern sorcerer, but Keri couldn't look at him questioningly without letting everyone else see. She hoped she would remember to ask her brother later what had surprised him.

She wished she seemed half as confident as both of the foreigners looked. This was her House—well, not really, not yet. Yes it was, of course it was, but it didn't seem like it—she hadn't had time to get
used
to it. And all this white and black and red, she couldn't stand it. She wanted yellow flowers. And blue. And bronze cushions on the black couches, blue on the white ones, and surely there must be a harp somewhere that was not
black.
What a ridiculous color for a harp. It looked like the kind of harp that, in a play, would lay a curse on you if you tried to pluck its strings.

She was thinking about colors and players' tales because she was scared, of course. She resented her fear. She
wanted
to resent it, she wanted to get angry, but mostly she was just scared. She wished
Tassel
were Lady. Tassel would be able to do this. She almost even wished Brann were Lord. Though not quite.

Lucas, maybe. Maybe she wished Lucas were Lord after all. He wasn't stupid. And he could certainly play a role and make everyone believe it. Whatever had bothered him, he had hidden every trace of his disturbance now. He stepped past her toward the table with the wine decanter and the glasses, smiling around at everyone as blandly as though they were all good friends.

“Smile,” Tassel whispered in her ear.

Keri smiled. She wondered whether the expression looked as artificial as it felt. Maybe no one would be able to tell, in this artificial room. Maybe no one would care, even if they guessed.

Tassel, naturally, looked as if she had never thought of anything she'd rather do than meet with foreign lords and sorcerers. She turned a special, warm smile on Osman Tor the Younger, then on Eroniel Kaskarian. The young Bear Lord smiled back, looking slightly stunned. But the sorcerer did not. He lifted thin silvery eyebrows, regarding Tassel coolly from eyes the color of a storm-shot sky. At least Lord Osman was gazing at her with the exact struck expression Keri had imagined. Keri, entertained, felt her smile become real, at least for that moment.

The Timekeeper stepped aside, sank into one of the black couches, folded his bony hands across his knees, and regarded them all with an unreadable calm.

“How wonderful!” Lucas declared. “All of us so amiable together!” He poured wine and presented a goblet to Keri with a flourish, without the faintest hint that he or anyone else might knock over a goblet or spill a drop of wine. “Lady!” he said warmly. “Shall we drink to new friends and good neighbors?” He smiled at her, but she thought there was a new tension in his smile, and she saw how he avoided meeting Magister Eroniel's gaze.

“Um,” said Keri. “Ah…of course. Yes.” She didn't know where she should look, or at whom. She didn't have the slightest idea what she should say.

“Lady, allow me to make known to you Eroniel Kaskarian of Eschalion,” Tassel said. She smiled blindingly at the Wyvern sorcerer, transferred her smile to Osman Tor the Younger, and added, “And how lovely to be able to meet you at last, my lord! You have not met Lucas, either, I believe? He is another of the Lady's brothers.”

The Bear Lord stood up, bowing neatly. “Lady, ah, Tassel. The pleasure is certainly mine.” He turned to Keri. “Lady Kerianna. Lord Lucas. I am honored by your courtesy.”

Eroniel Kaskarian gave them all a cool, faintly amused nod and murmured to Keri, “Lady Kerianna. We have heard so much about you…lately. And so little before.”

Handed this smooth insult, Keri found herself nodding and saying earnestly, “Yes, but I think it's important for the people of a small country to establish friendships with their neighbors, don't you?”

Lord Osman shot Magister Eroniel a look, inclined his head, and said to Keri with a smile, “Indeed. To be sure. What a beautiful country you rule, Lady Kerianna, however small it may be. And how startling to find even a very small land suddenly right here on a border we had believed we shared only with Eschalion! How generous of you to invite…us…to attend your ascension, though of course I offer my condolences on your recent loss.”

Tassel looked at Lord Osman narrowly. Keri pretended not to notice. “Yes,” she said. “Of course. I mean, thank you.” She knew she was blushing. That was all right. It would make her look young and uncertain. She said carefully, “I'm not used to”—she gestured vaguely—“any of this. No one ever thought I would be Lady, you know.”

“A shock, to suddenly be forced to assume so great a responsibility,” Lord Osman said blandly. “Though of course you fortunately have your brothers and…advisors to support you.”

His eyes had flicked toward the Timekeeper on this last. Keri could see he did not know quite what to make of the Timekeeper. Neither did she, so that seemed fair.

She said quickly, “I'm sure my brothers will be such a help to me. You have met Domeric, I believe, so you know how strong and confident he is.” She almost wished Domeric were here right now, except she didn't know what he would do or say or think if he saw her flirting with these foreigners. She thought she might be able to imagine what Brann would say. Her oldest half brother was nearly as supercilious as Eroniel Kaskarian, who was barely troubling to disguise his disdain behind a narrow smile. She said out loud, “I think I'll need a strong, confident brother to help me now that I am Lady. I'm sure I'll need all my brothers to help me.”

Tassel patted her hand and said, in a tone that was just a bit oversincere, “But, Keri, you're doing splendidly.”

“Indeed, I'm sure your brothers will be strong supports for you,” agreed Lord Osman. His smile, like Tassel's, was just slightly too sincere. “Your brother Domeric is older than you are, is that not so? Forgive me if this seems strange to me. Your customs of succession are…unfamiliar to the people of Tor Carron.”

“How our succession is determined is a mystery even to us,” Lucas assured him. “I, too, am older than Lady Kerianna. Not that anyone ever expected the succession to come to
me,
but then we simply never know, do we? It does add excitement to these moments. Though,” he continued earnestly, “we are of course all very sad about our father's passing.”

“Yes,” said Keri. “He always knew just what to do.” She touched her fingertips to her eyes, trying to look as though she were struggling against tears. She actually would have given a great deal to have Lord Dorric back if it meant they could also have the border restored to the way it was supposed to be, and these foreigners not here, but she hoped that Osman the Younger would not be able to guess that.

“So no one expected you to succeed your estimable father?” murmured Lord Osman.

“The choice is determined through some augury or divination, I presume,” Eroniel Kaskarian said politely. “Or through a magic that enters your ruling Lady through the land itself, so that the land itself decides where its magic will reside. This is indeed interesting. So different from those domains where men fight like animals for dominance.” His lip curled slightly on this last, though he did not quite look at Lord Osman.

“Augury, yes, of course,” Keri said before the young Bear Lord, whose mouth had tightened with anger, could answer. She did not actually know what the word meant, but presumably it was some kind of magic. She said, “It's awkward sometimes, because of course it's so important for someone strong to guide Nimmira.”

“Strength is indeed important in a ruler,” agreed Lord Osman, not looking at Magister Eroniel. “Strength and ruthlessness and will. We are not accustomed to…any woman taking the circlet in Tor Carron.”

He had not quite said
any
little girl,
but Keri was sure she had heard that in his tone. Tassel had heard it, too, from the glint in her eye. Keri tried to avoid looking at her, in case she should laugh. She said quickly, “I don't think it's happened often here, either. I don't think Nimmira has ever before had such a young Lady as myself, and you know, Tassel and Cort are almost as young as I am.” Should she gaze appealingly at Lord Osman? How exactly did one
gaze appealingly
at anyone? Had she sounded sincere? She was afraid she might have sounded stupid. Or like she was obviously calculating every word. She wished she were. She ought to have thought all this out beforehand. Except the Timekeeper hadn't given her a chance. She darted an urgent look at Tassel.

Tassel didn't precisely flutter her eyelashes and coo, but her warm smile somehow gave the impression of girlish fluttering. She murmured, “I do hope you will tell us of your own Tor Carron, Lord Osman. We of Nimmira never travel. Perhaps if our two peoples become friends, we will be able to be less insular and more adventurous. I'm sure it would be a fine thing for Nimmira to forge strong alliances with our neighbors.”

Lord Osman's eyebrows rose. He smiled, his black eyes measuring Tassel with a very masculine interest. “I shall assuredly hope for that.” Then he took a breath and shifted his gaze back to Keri. “How…farsighted and brave of you, Lady. To seek a strong…ally.”

Lucas coughed, and hastily took a sip of wine. The Timekeeper did not even blink. Keri tried to think of something to say, but before she could, Eroniel Kaskarian reached out languidly to collect a goblet and pour himself some wine, effortlessly drawing all their attention. Osman the Younger did not scowl openly at the other man, but his face tightened.

“Strong allies are important to the weak,” the sorcerer observed. “The strong, of course, have no need of allies.”

Keri stared at him. She had no idea what to say to that.

The Timekeeper said, from his chair, without moving, in his husky voice, “Yet it can be so difficult to know whether one is strong or weak. That can change so quickly, between one moment and the next.”

Everyone stared at him. He had been so still for so long that Keri had…not exactly forgotten he was there, but forgotten that he might speak. But he met Eroniel Kaskarian's narrowed gaze. The Timekeeper was not smiling. But his thin mouth had crooked upward in a humorless expression that, in another man, might have been a smile. His colorless eyes were opaque as water with light slanting across it, impossible to read. He said softly, “You young people may not have fully realized the unpredictability of life yet. But I believe Aranaon Mirtaelior has found that to be true. You might ask him, when you see him again. You might profit from his answer.”

Keri held her breath. But she could see the Wyvern sorcerer swallow his first disdainful response. He said instead, after a moment, “Perhaps I will. Or perhaps you might, Lord Timekeeper.”

“I am only the Timekeeper. Nothing more.”

“You are a sorcerer.”

“Indeed not. Though that is perhaps a natural mistake for one of your kind. Or one of your house.”

There was a slight pause. Then Eroniel Kaskarian said, “You have known others of my kind? Or others of my house?”

“Oh, yes,” said the Timekeeper. “Long ago.” He rose, unfolding himself by slow degrees from his chair. He opened one hand, revealing his pocket watch cradled in his long fingers. Its crystal face was as opaque, at the moment, as his eyes. Keri thought she could hear it ticking, though. Slicing seconds off the day, one after another, slivers of time vanishing into the past, unreachable as words already spoken or decisions already made. Gazing at Keri, he said, “You have eight minutes and fourteen seconds before you must meet your castellan regarding the order of your day tomorrow, Lady.” He turned his head slowly to take in their guests. “The early days of any succession are filled with urgent tasks, unfortunately. I am sure Lady Kerianna regrets how few moments she is able to spare either of you at this time.”

“Yes, yes,” Keri agreed immediately. “Certainly. But for you, of course, I must make time. Lord Osman, I hope you will join my household for a late supper. Magister Eroniel, possibly we might discuss the role of allies and alliances over breakfast?” There. That would give each of them a chance to work on winning her; surely that was a good thing. She would
make
the Timekeeper give her time to talk to Tassel before supper.

She added to the two foreigners, “I hope you will enjoy the hospitality of Nimmira for a few days before you allow your various duties to compel you to return to your own countries. I look forward to becoming better acquainted with both of you. Perhaps, um, perhaps especially well acquainted with one of you.” Was that right? Had that meant what she'd intended it to mean? She glanced sidelong at Tassel, who gave her a little
Yes, perfect, keep going
nod.

“In the meantime,” she finished, a little desperately, “Lucas will find you anything you need. Lucas?”

“Of course, dear sister!” Lucas exclaimed, smiling impartially upon the whole room and yet somehow avoiding looking directly at Magister Eroniel. “You may depend upon me!”

“I'll help, too,” Tassel said. But then she paused, looking faintly bewildered. On her, uncertainty was charming. She said slowly, “Except, you know, I think…I think possibly I need to…” She made a vague gesture with her hands, then turned and picked up a book from the nearest table.

There hadn't been a book there a minute ago. Keri was certain of that. Surely not a big, heavy ledger like that one, bound not in black or white or red, but in a rich brown leather embossed with gold. It could not have been more plain that the book had never belonged to this room.