The Seven Towers (8 page)

“No reason to spend any more time here,” she said finally. She frowned. “Is Lassond coming to Marreth’s dinner tomorrow?”

“He shows up at all the court functions,” Eltiron said. “He doesn’t—he couldn’t be responsible for that, that
thing
you found, could he?”

“I don’t know, but I intend to find out. Besides, it’s been a long time since I attended one of Marreth’s fancy dinners; I think I need a reminder of how boring they really are.”

“Are you sure it’s wise? I don’t think Father expects you to be there.”

“So much the better! Marreth needs stirring up a little, and no one else around here seems inclined to do it.”

“After what Father did to Jermain, no one wants to take chances.”

“Why not?” Vandaris demanded. “A lot of things are worse than being exiled from a court as dull as this one.”

“Some people don’t think so,” Eltiron muttered.

Vandaris looked at him for a moment. “If it comes to that, Marreth isn’t the only one in this castle who needs stirring up. Let’s go. If there’s sorcery about, this is nowhere to stand talking.”

Eltiron agreed with alacrity, and they started down the stairs. Vandaris maintained a thoughtful silence, for which Eltiron was grateful. He was uncomfortably aware that he had displeased Vandaris, and the idea depressed him. I never seem to be able to do anything right, he thought. He was so absorbed that they had almost reached the bottom of the tower stairs before he remembered why he had arranged to meet Vandaris there in the first place.

“Vandaris?” he said tentatively.

Vandaris jerked around as if she had been stung. “Dragon’s teeth, man, don’t use that tone of voice with me! You sound as if you expect me to cut your fingernails off at the elbow if you so much as glance in the wrong direction. Star’s breath and shadow fire, you’re a prince; you don’t have to worry about things like that.”

“Maybe.”

“What do you mean, maybe? You’re Marreth’s heir; no one’s going to make you an example of anything.”

“Father might. He’s already threatened to have me locked up for treason, and I think he meant it.”

“He
what
?” Vandaris’s foot almost missed the last step as she turned to stare at Eltiron. “What for?”

“For talking about Jermain. At least, that’s what he said the last time.”

“For talking about—That’s absurd. Even Marreth couldn’t be that stupid.”

“He doesn’t want his son defending a traitor,” Eltiron explained. He scuffed a boot along the stone floor, then looked up. “Jermain isn’t a traitor; I don’t believe it, but Father won’t listen to me and I suppose I couldn’t prove it even if he would, but . . . Vandi, what are people saying about Jermain? And me?”

Vandaris looked thoughtful. “Lots of things, and none of them in loud voices. Two of the stories I heard say you and Trevannon were selling information to the nomads; in one version, you got scared and betrayed him, and in the other you were both caught and you blamed everything on Jermain. According to another tale, the charges were completely false. Supposedly you arranged the whole trial from evidence to exile, but nobody knows why. There’s also a story that you used your friendship with Trevannon to spy on him, and one—I don’t see any point in repeating all of them. The only thing they agree on is that you are the person responsible for Trevannon’s exile or death or whatever.”

“But I didn’t—Jermain is my friend!”

“He was. Which is one reason why you seem to have very few others just now. No one wants to risk being accused of treason, or perhaps a worse crime. One that means beheading, for instance.”

Eltiron sat down heavily on the stairs. He had expected the gossip to be bad, but he had never thought that everyone might be believing it. He felt as if someone had just dropped him off the top of the Tower of Judgment and he hadn’t hit the ground yet. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m not sure I do, either, but I have lots of guesses.” Vandaris paused and leaned back against the wall. “It might help if you told me what really did happen.”

“I’ve already told you what happened. Jermain told Father to start building up the army because the Hoven-Thalar were going to come north this summer. Father said no, and Jermain insisted, and finally Father had him exiled.”

Vandaris shook her head. “I know that much, squirrel brain. I want details. What happened at the trial?”

“I don’t know; I wasn’t there. No one was, except Father and Terrel and Lord Corteslan.”

“I’m surprised Marreth was intelligent enough to give Trevannon a private trial,” Vandaris said, frowning. “Still, I suppose he can’t do everything wrong. How did Trevannon find out about the Hoven-Thalar, anyway?”

“Jermain has a friend in one of the Hoven-Thalar caravans; I used to see them talking whenever the wagons came to Leshiya.”

“I see. And Trevannon went to Marreth as soon as this friend told him what to expect?”

“No, he waited until the caravan was gone. I think he was afraid Father would arrest everyone in it or something.”

“Well, Marreth’s reaction to bad news always has been to knife the messenger. What happened when Trevannon finally talked to him?”

“Father got angry. He wanted to know how Jermain knew anything about the Hoven-Thalar, and Jermain wouldn’t tell him. Terrel said—”

“Lassond was there? Didn’t Trevannon talk to Marreth privately?”

“No, he brought it up before the Council.”

Vandaris whistled. “That was a mistake. Marreth doesn’t like surprises at Council meetings; Trevannon should have known better. Well, go on.”

“Terrel started hinting about unknown informers being nonexistent as well. Jermain didn’t say anything at first, but finally he told Terrel not everyone was anxious to be the power behind the throne. Terrel said, ‘Oh, you want the throne itself!’ and Jermain got so mad he got up and left in the middle of the Council.”

“Marreth wouldn’t like that, either. I think I’m beginning to understand. Then what?”

“As soon as Jermain was gone, Terrel started talking about how many army commanders have overthrown kings and how useful a false rumor of invasion could be and things like that. I told Terrel that Anareme was the commander of the army, and anyway Jermain wouldn’t start false rumors. Terrel said, ‘Then why won’t he tell us who he heard it from?’ I got angry and said I knew Jermain had a friend in the Hoven-Thalar caravan and he probably didn’t want to get him in trouble. Terrel didn’t say anything; he just looked smug, and Father called the end of the Council. The next day, Jermain tried to bring it up again, and Father had him arrested.”

Vandaris shook her head. “I don’t believe it. I thought you and Trevannon had some sense, but between the two of you, you’ve managed to make the most miserable tangle of a straightforward affair I’ve ever seen.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“First Trevannon springs a major decision on Marreth at a Council meeting. Then he refuses to say how he found out about it, and
then
he loses his temper. That would have been bad enough, but you start being helpful and explain all about how Jermain knows a Hoven-Thalar caravaner. Dragon’s blood, didn’t you know that would make Marreth even more suspicious? Marreth would be sure Trevannon was plotting with the Hoven-Thalar, especially after all the hints Lassond seems to have been dropping. Of course Trevannon was arrested as soon as he brought up the subject again!”

“Then it really is my fault that Jermain was exiled,” Eltiron said miserably.

“Oh, stuff it in a rat hole and leave it there. It’s as much Tevannon’s fault as it is yours, and it’s much too late to do anything about it.”

“I suppose so.” Knowing that he couldn’t repair the damage he had done did not make Eltiron feel any better, but he didn’t think he could explain that to Vandaris.

“Then stop sulking. We still have to think of some way to convince Marreth to double the size of the army in a hurry.”

“We do?”

“Of course! Do you want to be killed by the Hoven-Thalar three months from now?”

“No, but—”

“Well, how else are we going to stop them? They
are
moving north, you realize.”

“How do you know?”

Vandaris snorted. “Trevannon isn’t the only one with sources in the south; I’ve heard rumors from other places as well. Mournwal is arming already.”

“Have you told Father?”

“You think I’m stupid? Another day won’t matter, and I have to know what’s going on here first. Besides, Anareme isn’t nearly as stubborn as Marreth, and she can do a lot without official word. Now, come on; we’ve wasted too much time here already, and I have things to do before tomorrow night.”

 

Eltiron spent the remainder of the day being measured for what seemed an endless series of betrothal and wedding garments. At first he was glad to have time to think about his conversation with Vandaris, but he quickly found that his thoughts only made him more unhappy. He went over the Council meeting again and again in his mind, seeing more and more clearly every mistake he had made and wishing he could go back and do it differently. Vandaris was right; he should have seen what could happen.

It occurred to him suddenly to wonder what things Vandaris might want to do before Marreth’s dinner. The thought was unsettling, but at least it did not make him feel any more wretched than he already was. Eltiron began worrying about Vandaris instead of Jermain. When the tailors finally left, he went straight to Vandaris’s rooms, but neither she nor her sword squire were there. Eltiron found that even more disquieting.

He spent much of the next day speculating worriedly about Vandaris’s plans. Several times he tried to find her, without success. By the time he entered the Great Hall that evening, Eltiron was nervous as well as worried. He was so busy looking for Vandaris among the assembled guests that he did not see Terrel approaching until it was too late to avoid him.

As soon as he was within speaking distance, Terrel stopped and bowed. “I am delighted to see you here, and in good health, Your Highness,” he said.

“I thank you, Lord Lassond,” Eltiron said warily.

“The preparations for the wedding are going well, I trust?”

“Quite well,” Eltiron said as coldly as he dared.

A faint, amused smile flickered on Terrel’s lips, then vanished. “I noticed that you still have time to visit the castle towers.”

“Occasionally.”

“I am glad for you, Your Highness. I thought perhaps your additional duties might prove too . . . arduous to allow for your normal pastimes.”

“It doesn’t take
that
much time,” Eltiron said, stung more by Terrel’s tone than his words. The man might as well come out and say he thought Eltiron too stupid to handle protocol properly.

“Ah. Then you will have time for our match tomorrow morning.” Terrel smiled in satisfaction. “I had feared you might be so busy with your other duties that you would cancel it.”

“Our match?”

“Kaliarth has graciously allowed me to take his place for a few days as your instructor in swordcraft. I thought to use tomorrow’s lesson to demonstrate your skills publicly; it will be excellent practice for the sword games at the wedding, Your Highness.”

Eltiron felt trapped. Terrel was by far the better swordsman; if Eltiron fought him in public, the match would be a humiliating farce. Canceling the match would be nearly as bad. Terrel would make sure that everyone in the castle was told of the entire conversation, and Eltiron would appear a braggart or a coward sheltering behind feeble excuses.

Eltiron was trying to decide whether it would be worse to cancel the match or hold it when a voice behind him said, “Too bad, lizard legs. Prince Eltiron has a prior engagement. With me.”

“Vandi!” Eltiron said in relief. He turned to greet her, and swallowed in surprise and dawning apprehension. Vandaris wore the full-dress uniform of a mercenary captain. Silver buttons shone against the deep green velvet, and a decorative knife sheath swung on silver chains from her belt. She stood out against the artistic fragility of Marreth’s women and the dignified formality of the court ladies like a panther in a flock of peacocks. Eltiron was sure Marreth would not be pleased.

“You expected the White Beast of Mithum? Introduce me, or we’ll be standing here all night.”

“Oh, of course. Vandi, this is Lord Terrel Lassond, Father’s Chief Adviser. Lord Lassond, this is my aunt, Vandaris.”

“I am charmed,” Terrel said, bowing deeply. “And, of course, it will give me great pleasure to relinquish my match with Prince Eltiron to you.”

“Pity you can’t, then,” Vandaris said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Work it out for yourself, slow skull. If Eltiron has an engagement with me, he can’t have one with you, so you haven’t got anything to relinquish.”

For an instant, Terrel looked taken aback; then he bowed again. “As you say. I hope you will not be disappointed in Prince Eltiron’s skill.”

“Why should I be? Never mind; I’m not that interested.”

“Prince Eltiron is not devoted to swordcraft,” Terrel said, smiling in a way that set Eltiron’s teeth on edge.

“Well, it’s about time someone in this castle had more brains than brawn,” Vandaris said. “The last time I was here, Trevannon was the only one with sense.”

“It is sad that one so gifted should have been proved a traitor,” Terrel replied.

“Very sad,” Vandaris said dryly. “And even sadder that nothing has happened in the past six months to give the castle gossips something more interesting to talk about.”

Terrel raised an eyebrow. “I trust you do not include me among them.”

“Did I say that? I must be getting careless.”

“I find that difficult to imagine.”

“Well, some people have limited imaginations.” Vandaris grinned cheerfully at the shocked expression on Terrel’s face and turned to Eltiron. “I think I ought to be moving on; Marreth seems to like everyone to speak to everyone else at his dinner parties, and it would be a shame to disappoint him. Will you join me, Eltiron?”