Read Trickster's Choice Online
Authors: Tamora Pierce
Tags: #Adventure, #Children, #Fantasy, #Science Fiction, #Young Adult, #Romance, #Magic
Bronau stared at Mequen. “You would do that for me? They could arrest you.”
“I don’t believe Rubinyan will allow that. And yes, I will go, if it helps to ease the trouble between the two of you,” replied Mequen, his gaze sober. “The realm needs you and Rubinyan both. We can’t afford dissent in the family that rules the Isles, not with a child on the throne and our Carthaki friends eyeing us like a ripe plum to be picked.”
“Of your goodwill, give me a day to discuss it with my people,” he said, voice and body weary. “They have been with me over many hard miles. They deserve a chance to decide if they will return and share whatever happens to me.”
“Of course you may have the time,” Mequen said, getting to his feet. He went to Bronau, who stood and embraced him. “And you should rest before you return. You look worn to the bone.”
Bronau looked at Mequen, then at Winnamine and Sarai, obviously puzzled. “It hasn’t occurred to you, has it?” he asked. “Should anything happen to Dunevon,
you
would be king. You—”
Mequen put a hand over his friend’s mouth. “Please don’t speak of that again,” he said gently. “
Ever
. Haven’t you noticed? Kingship in the Copper Isles drives people mad. I don’t want it, for myself or my family. And in case you’ve forgotten, when I first married, the king had me swear before Mithros that I would never seek the crown. I keep my word.”
Bronau hugged Mequen impulsively. “You were always better than the rest of us,” he said, his voice thick. He let Mequen go and stepped back. “Now. Where may I clean up? I must tell you, I haven’t had a true meal in days.”
Aly took Bronau to the duke’s bedchamber, where he would sleep as he had on his last visit. Once he was supplied with hot water, soap, and drying cloths, Aly returned to the family. The door was unlatched. She entered the room to find that Sarai had gone. The duke and the duchess were in each other’s arms.
“I’m sorry,” Aly said when they looked at her.
The duchess had been crying. She muttered an apology and went to the washstand to splash water on her face.
“It’s all right,” Mequen replied. With Bronau no longer in view, the duke’s true feelings were easier to read. His shoulders drooped, and the lines on his face were deep with care. “We must go downstairs in a moment in any case.”
Aly hesitated. What she had to say would distress him, but she needed to say it. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but should you not make him swear before the god to behave? To abide by your direction?” she asked, trying to tell him to do it without making it a direct order. She didn’t think they trusted her enough to accept orders, even if she went against her training and gave them. “If he panics, there’s no telling what he might do. An oath would rein him in.”
Mequen sighed. “Aly, if you were noble-born, you would know that would be an intolerable insult to an honorable man like Bronau. To ask for such a vow implies I do not trust him. Do you wish to spark the very kind of outburst that got him into this mess? Leave the nobility to handle the nobility.”
Aly blinked at him. Just once she wished she could speak her mind, to tell him that she, too, was noble-born, and some nobles could not be trusted as far as they could be thrown. She was sorely tempted to point out to him that Trebond blood was bluer than that of any Kyprish luarin. Instead she put such unwise answers from her mind, came about, and tried another tack. “Your Grace, he has a point. They might well imprison
you
if you returned.”
I
would, she thought, but did not say aloud.
Mequen shook his head. “Rubinyan and I have been friends since boyhood. He would never do such a thing.” When Aly opened her mouth again, he raised a hand to silence her. “Enough of plots and plotting. Don’t you have the wine service at supper?”
Aly had been dismissed. Never mind that I speak for the god, she thought with a mental sigh. Never mind that I am trying to keep him and his family from harm. Aly turned and left the room without so much as a curtsy to her master.
A
ly woke the next morning with the other servants, having taken forever to sleep the night before. Yawning, she rolled her pallet and stored it, then cleaned up for the day. Once presentable, she joined the line for breakfast. Chenaol was serving. When Aly reached the cook, she asked Chenaol to remind everyone to watch Bronau and his people.
“That’s easy enough,” Chenaol said drily, keeping her voice soft. “They amble about the courtyards like this was a friendly visit. Just look at that.” She pointed to one of the kitchen slaves, who flirted busily with two of Bronau’s men at the outer door. “They act like they haven’t a care in the world. That’s just not right, not with Princess Imajane at their tails. She’s not nearly as kind as Oron—she once had a man flayed when he spat on her shadow. Any idea of what the prince means to do?”
“He’s thinking,” Aly murmured as Chenaol filled her bowl with porridge. “It will take him a while, since thinking isn’t something that comes naturally to him.”
Chenaol laughed hard and long. Aly smiled reluctantly. “I’m glad
you’re
amused,” she said, and went off to eat her meal in peace.
She was almost finished when Ulasim found her. “The duchess asks for you,” he told her. “Hurry—they just sent the order for the ladies’ and the prince’s horses to be saddled. Lokeij will have yours ready.”
Aly gave her empty bowl to the slaves who washed the dishes, then climbed the stairs to the family’s quarters. The duke sat writing at his sitting room desk. Aly heard the voices of Winnamine, Sarai, and Dove in the bedchamber.
“Your Grace sent for me?” she asked Mequen. He hadn’t, but she wanted to gauge his mood and his thoughts.
The duke raised his head. “Bronau has asked to remain here a week, to rest his men and the horses,” he said quietly. “Then he and I shall return to Rajmuat, to straighten this out. He understands that he went astray. He says Rubinyan will hearken to me more than he will to Bronau, and I fear that’s true. In the meantime, he’s riding today with my lady and the girls.”
Aly cocked an eyebrow. “Did he swear?” she inquired. “Did he swear to behave?”
Mequen’s eyes hardened. “Enough. You do not know him as I do. I will hear no more of this, understand? Things are different for nobles than for commoners. If you cannot believe that, at least pretend to do so.”
The bedchamber door opened. Out came Winnamine with Dove and Sarai, all dressed for riding and carrying bows and quivers. “Aly, there you are,” the duchess said. “Come—we’re going to hunt with the prince. Where were you this morning? My maid helped both girls to dress, but she was not happy.”
Aly shrugged. “I assumed that I was back in the great hall, since the young ladies were with Your Graces and Your Graces’ servants,” she said, bowing to the duchess. “Will you forgive me?”
“Yes, of course,” said Winnamine, pulling on her gloves. “It never occurred to me that you wouldn’t see your place is with Dove now.”
“Come
on,
” urged Sarai. “Bronau’s waiting.”
They passed the day as they had during the prince’s first visit. He galloped with Sarai, then rode with the duchess, Sarai, and Dove. Aly, the ladies’ bodyguards, and Junai followed close behind. Bronau told jokes and talked about Dunevon’s coronation, relating the list of those who attended and what they wore. As far as Aly could tell, Sarai and the duchess hung on every word. Dove rode silently as she listened. Above them crows swooped and cawed. From their calls Aly knew who was nearby and whether they were raka, members of the Balitang household, or strangers.
The group returned with partridges for that night’s supper. Aly took the birds to Chenaol, while the Balitang women went to play with Petranne and Elsren before they went to their weapons practice. With free time to spend, Aly did the rounds of the castle. She spoke first to the girls’ raka defenders, telling them of the duke’s and Bronau’s plans. Nawat reported that the crows had seen nothing suspicious on the plateau, which made Aly feel a little better. Her relief did not last very long. Bronau’s presence itched more than a rash. She could barely sit still, not when her instincts were shrieking.
Sarai and the duchess came out in the late afternoon sun to practice sword skills with the men-at-arms, while Dove joined in the archery practice. Bronau looked on, smiling like an indulgent uncle. Dove was stringing her bow when Nawat approached. He slid a handful of arrows into the twelve-year-old’s quiver. Dove’s eyes went round. She gazed at Nawat in awe, one of the few times Aly could read clear feelings on the girl’s face. Each of Nawat’s arrows was fletched with griffin feathers. It reminded Aly once more that Nawat had been a crow for most of his life. No two-legger would have given precious griffin fletchings to a child, let alone a girl.
One of the footmen came for Aly. “His Highness and His Grace play chess,” he informed her. “They wish you to serve wine.”
Aly followed the man back into the castle, her mind busy. Perhaps Bronau would get caught up in the game and say something she could use to persuade the duke to let his friend return to the capital alone. Instead the two men spoke of the past. Mequen and Rubinyan had been pages and squires together. Bronau had served under Mequen’s command in the royal navy, then commanded the naval escort that had carried Mequen on diplomatic missions to Carthak. The men discussed Isles politics, Carthaki history, and music. They discussed players and compositions for so long that Aly wanted to sleep where she stood. Every now and then, when Bronau said something funny or engaging, the duke would glance at Aly, as if to say, “You see? He is a good man and a good friend.”
Aly kept her face pleasant and refilled the cups as they emptied. Prince Bronau had shown on too many occasions that he was reckless and unreliable. He probably was a good friend to Mequen, but that meant very little in a dangerous political world.
The chess game ended; the men went out to practice sword skills with Veron and Fesgao. Aly stowed her pallet and belongings in the room where Sarai and Dove currently slept, then went downstairs.
Nawat met her in the great hall. “My brethren have come to roost here for the night,” he informed Aly. They stood aside as Elsren and Petranne clattered by, pursued by their nursemaid. “The light is going. They say all remains quiet on these lands.”
Aly nodded. “My head aches, though,” she told him. “If all goes well, why am I tense?”
Nawat ran his fingers gently through Aly’s short hair, preening her. “That is your task,” he replied simply. “Most humans think the appearance of quiet
is
quiet. They do not see that sometimes the enemy is as quiet as the serpent. Only when it has stolen all of their eggs will they know bad walks in the quiet as well as the noisy.”
Aly leaned against the wall, looking up into Nawat’s deep-set eyes. “I thought you were worried about hawks.”
“Those as well,” Nawat answered. “But a hawk I can see. While I watch the hawk, who is to say the serpent is not behind me?”
Timidly Aly reached up and ran her fingers gently through Nawat’s hair over one ear, preening him in return for the first time. “I wish the duke were as wise—or as clear-sighted—as crows.”
Nawat was bending down to Aly when Ulasim called from the stair, “Aly? Lady Dovasary is calling for you.” Nawat made a face and kissed Aly lightly on the nose, then left the hall. Aly tried to scorch Ulasim with a glare, but the big raka only returned a polite, meaningless smile. She stuck her tongue out at him as she trotted by on her way to Dove’s room.
The day had cooled rapidly, enough that Sarai and Dove both wore woolen dresses to supper. Aly and Pembery loaded the braziers in the girls’ rooms with charcoal and set them alight so that they would be warm as they slept. Then they followed their mistresses downstairs.
Bronau’s men-at-arms ate supper with the Balitang household, then retired to their quarters. The family’s servants and slaves played music and sang, relaxing. At last the Balitangs went upstairs. Aly helped to undress Dove, then spread her pallet near the door of the master bedroom. After she donned the shift she slept in, Aly refastened the sheaths of her knives around her ankles and arms. Her sleep would be uncomfortable, but she dared not risk a night without them. Once that was done, she talked with Dove as Sarai read. From the sitting room, they could hear the murmur of conversation between the duke, the duchess, and Bronau.
At last the girls’ parents came in and went into the dressing rooms to change clothes, with the help of Pembery and the man who waited on Mequen. The servants laid out their own pallets at the foot of the master bed as the duke and duchess slid under the cool linen sheets and a light coverlet. Sarai and Dove lay on cots placed on the far side of the bed, between Winnamine and her dressing room.
Aly looked around. Something wasn’t right. Mequen was about to blow out the last candle when Aly said, “Wait, please.” She went into the dressing room and returned with his unsheathed sword.
“Aly,”
Mequen said, his eyes sharp with anger. “You really go too far—”
Winnamine laid her palm against his cheek to silence him. “Humor us, my dear. Keep it close.”
The duke sighed in exasperation. “Gods, save me from the nerves of women!” he snapped, flinging himself back against his pillows. Then he sighed and sat up. “Thank you, Aly. I know your concern is for our welfare.”
Aly placed the sword on the table with the candle. She angled its hilt so Mequen would find it instantly if he reached out in the dark. “Good night, Your Grace,” she said, and blew out the candle. Using her Sight, adjusted for the dark, she found her pallet easily.
Sleep would not come. She tried to keep still, so as not to wake the others, but her body trembled with nerves. When she slept in the great hall, she could hear everything outside and in. She also had freedom to move downstairs. This room felt like a trap.
Aly heard the whisper of cloth on cloth through the crack under the door beside her. She pressed her ear to it, straining to hear. The sitting room on the other side was closed. She had watched Sarai shut that door, putting a heavy wooden barrier between the bedchamber and the main stair. What had made that stray noise, mice? The old tower had its share, but this sound was not mouselike.