The Shattered Mask (38 page)

gotten in ahead of us. You, boy, must journey east in my stead. You’ll apologize profusely for rebuffing the envoys, spread a fresh round of gifts and bribes about, and resume the negotiations.”

Tamlin grimaced. “I told you, I wouldn’t know what to say, and in all candor, I really feel that these past couple days, I’ve done my bit to serve the family already. Besides, I have commitments, too. I’ve already accepted invitations to any number of parties and balls.”

“Fine,” Father snapped. He turned to Tazi. “You’ll go.”

“No, I won’t,” she replied. “Tamlin’s the heir, and if he isn’t willing to shoulder the responsibilities of his position, I don’t see why I should have to take up the slack, particularly now that I’ve just gotten over being ill. I’m planning to enjoy myself, not sit cooped up in a room and dicker endlessly over the price of knickknacks, or whatever it is you’d want me to discuss.”

“So be it,” Father said. He pivoted toward Talbot. “And what do you say, lad?” Tal could see the anticipatory disgust in the old man’s eyes, the expectation that his youngest child, like the others, would disappoint him.

Rather to his own surprise, Talbot felt a momentary impulse to surprise his sire, to please him for once by undertaking this task and performing it well. But he knew he couldn’t journey to a strange city. The full moon was coming, and it must find him locked in his cage backstage at the Wide Realms when it arrived. “I can’t go either,” he said. “Mistress Quickly has cast me in her current play and the two that will follow.”

“You feckless ingrates,” Father began, trembling.

Mother, looking utterly strange with her blisters, scrapes, bruises, and torn lower lip, her masculine clothing and short, dyed hair, laid her hand on his arm. To Talbot’s surprise, the gesture sufficed to make the old man pause in mid-diatribe.

“You have a choice,” Mother said. “You can take their recalcitrance to heart, or you can remember the valor they displayed earlier, and be proud.”

The corners of Father’s mouth quirked upward. “You have a point. For the moment, I will be proud, albeit grudgingly. Will you stroll with me to the far end of the porch?”

“All right,” she said. As they walked away, Talbot wondered what they had to say that they didn’t want their children to overhear.

For some reason, Shamur felt awkward and flustered, and it was worse when she looked at Thamalon. Hands resting on the railing at the edge of the verandah, where the enchantment of warmth gave out, she gazed out at the gorgeous sunrise gilding the rippled surface of the sea. The cold breeze smelled of salt water.

“I was just wondering,” Thamalon said, a bit diffidently, “how soon you’ll be moving out of Stormweather Towers, and where you’ll go when you do. Obviously, you don’t need to run all the way to Cormyr anymore, unless it’s what you want. I’m sure Fendolac would welcome you back at Argent Hall.”

Once again, a knot of emotion tightened painfully in her chest, and this time, at long last, she understood precisely what she was feeling, just as she knew there was nothing to be done about it.

“Perhaps Argent Hall would be a good choice,” she said, striving to be austere, dignified Lady Uskevren, with never a hint of distress in her tone or expression.

And it was that very reflexive attempt at masking her true self that abruptly snapped her to her senses. Since Thamalon now knew who she really was, she didn’t have to deceive him anymore. If she was willing to risk a bit more heartache and a wound to her pride, she could speak to him honestly at last.

She forced herself to turn and face him.

“Do you want me to go?” she asked.

His green eyes blinked in surprise. “No, milady. Despite all the quarrels and misunderstandings, I’ve always cared

for you, and after these recent days, I think I love you better than before.” He smiled for an instant. “Apparently I like it when a woman tries to kill me. I only asked about your intentions because I thought you wished to leave.”

“At one point, so did I,” she replied, “but gradually, I realized something. Somehow, by preventing you from truly knowing me for all those years, I likewise kept myself from perceiving you as you truly are. But the last three days have opened my eyes, and I see someone rather grand. I’d like to come to know him better, if it’s not too late.”

Thamalon beamed, an expression of such naked joy that it pierced her soul. “Even though he’s an old man?”

“Yes. Judging from the way he handles a long sword, he still has a little life in him. So I ask to be your wife, my lord, a truer, fonder wife than I was before. I’ll renounce swords and adventure and become my grand-niece once again.” The declaration brought an upwelling of bitter anguish, and she swallowed it back down as best she could. She had made her choice, and must strive not to pine for all it would cost her. “1 just hope I can resume the masquerade successfully. I thought I could hunt for Master Moon and still safeguard my secret, but it didn’t work out very well. Nuldrevyn knows who I truly am, and even if he doesn’t tell, any number of people have now seen the refined, weapons-hating Lady Uskevren brawling in the streets. It’s possible that one of them will figure out that the Shamur of today and the thief of yore are one and the same.”

Thamalon chuckled. “You do talk nonsense sometimes.”

She peered at him quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“That if nobody else reveals your secret, we Uskevren will do it ourselves. Think about it. You committed your robberies almost a century ago. Nobody’s outraged about them anymore. To the Selgaunt of today, Shamur the thief is a charming rascal in a series of amusing stories, not a threat to the common weal. Moreover, you’re now the hero who prevented the destruction of the High Bridge. I very much doubt that anyone will want to arrest you for your past indiscretions, and if they should, we’ll buy them off.”

“Then I could live as I please,” she murmured, not quite daring to believe it.

“Well, you can’t go back to plundering our peers,” Thamalon said. “That’s simply not appropriate for the mistress of a great House. But I daresay we can satisfy your yen for mayhem somehow. You can fence, of course. Travel with our caravans and argosies and fend off brigands and pirates. Help stamp out the Quippers. Bear your sword against the Talendar, Soargyls, or our other rivals, the next time they take it into their heads to exterminate us. I only insist on one condition. Should anybody inquire, I always knew who you truly were.”

“Agreed,” Shamur said, and then, heedless of their dignity, of the eyes of their astonished children or anyone else in the tavern, she and Thamalon embraced.