Cross Purposes (Chronicles of Ylandre, Book 5) (4 page)

Perhaps he’d been too young to acquire a taste for luxury when the Marantes forfeited or sold their baronial properties, let go of most of their servants, and moved to a smaller house away from Nivare. Veare, on the other hand, had found it difficult to adjust to a modest lifestyle.

Looking across the dining table at his brother, Tristen noted how easily Veare fell back into his role as a privileged Deir. He accepted the servants’ attention as his due and spoke to them with the authority of one born to the blood. Come to think of it, Veare had been quite affronted when, upon their initial visit to the Deilen abode, none of the staff asked them to stay. Now there was a touch of righteous condescension in his manner toward them, as if in retaliation for ignoring him previously.

Tristen glanced at Keosqe, wondering if their host felt unease over his friend’s behavior. But Keosqe was going through his correspondence and paid Veare’s actions no mind. Tristen sighed with some exasperation. Small wonder Veare behaved thusly in his presence. Keosqe was much too lenient with him in his opinion.

However, he did not turn his nose up at the sumptuous breakfast served their first morning in residence. His mouth watered as he eyed the slices of honey-glazed ham, roehart sausages, poached eggs, sautéed vegetable mélange and fried bread piled high on his plate. On a platter before him were fresh-from-the-oven scones, slices of farmer’s cheese, a bowl of whipped butter and a jar of roseberry preserves. And to wash it all down, a mug of steaming milk tea.

If there was one luxury he would never refuse it was good food. Many starved from want of a slice of stale bread. Who was he to turn down a meal, however extravagant? He happily tucked into his breakfast.

Conversation picked up once the food was served. Tristen took only a small part in it. Much of the talk dwelt on things the other two had done together and meant little to him. However, he became interested when they spoke of current events in the kingdom.

Keosqe was not only cousin to Rohyr Essendri, he was also head of the Ministry of Internal Affairs—at fifty years, one of the youngest ministers ever, thanks to Rohyr’s preference for government officials close in age to himself. Before Rohyr’s reign, ministry heads had tended toward the middle years and Deira younger than eight decades were rarely considered if at all. Thus Keosqe’s appointment was more exception than rule. And consequently, he was abreast of the latest news and gossip in the kingdom.

The more he heard of the constant jockeying for power, wealth and position among the Citadel courtiers and the aristocrats and other prominent Deira across the land, the greater Tristen’s disenchantment. What a waste of time and effort, he thought. And for what? At best, to be shunned by society or humiliatingly pitied by one’s peers because of a blunder. But at worst, prison or the gallows for those who crossed the line into chicanery born of greed and ambition-spurred treason.

Keosqe recounted the discovery and incarceration of an embezzler in one of the Ministries, a Deir of old name, good blood and supposed unblemished repute. Tristen grimaced when he heard the reason for the Deir’s misappropriations. Secretly impoverished by too much time spent at the gaming tables, he’d been using the stolen funds to bribe higher placed officials into appointing certain acquaintances to promising positions in government. Naturally, said acquaintances had conveyed their gratitude in coin and he’d steadily and quite rapidly been replenishing his coffers ever since.

That revelation led in turn to the fall from grace of the aforementioned officials who were now being investigated and would probably face stiff sentences as well. Their reasons for taking such a risk? Greed, plain and simple. And they’d been arrogant enough to assume they were so well-connected they would be untouchable even were their unsavory practices brought to light.

Tristen grimaced. “I’ll never understand the appeal of politics,” he muttered.

Keosqe chuckled. “You sound just like Eiren Sarvan. If he can help it, he avoids setting foot inside the Citadel save to carry out his duties as Rohyr’s personal physician or for family gatherings.”

Mention of Ylandre’s foremost healer was enough to keep Tristen’s attention for the rest of the meal. He listened avidly as Keosqe recounted the physician’s latest activities as well as more news of court. However, he noted the noble’s caution in dispensing news. He was forthcoming about generally known issues but reticent when it came to speculations about politically sensitive matters.

“So, Tris, when will you know if you’ve been accepted?” Keosqe asked as he finished his tea.

“I have to go through a series of interviews first,” Tristen answered. “Only then will they decide if they can add me to the waitlist of candidates for the medical course.”

“I see. Well, you can have them send me the letter of notification. I can get it to you much faster than they.”

“Why thank you, Keosqe-
dyhar
.”

“Just ‘Kes,’ please. And drop the honorific.”

Tristen balked. “What? Nay, I can’t do that. It wouldn’t be meet. You’re of higher station and besides I’m much younger than you.”

“Surely not that much younger,” Keosqe good-humoredly chided. “Use t
yar
then if it will make you feel more comfortable.” He glanced at Veare. “By the way, how long do you plan to stay in Rikara?”

“Another week or so.”

“Only? Why not finish the season here? A Rikaran autumn is not to be missed.”

“I know. But my intended wouldn’t appreciate it if I missed my own nuptials!”

Keosqe had just downed the last of his tea. Tristen noted how his hand trembled when he replaced the mug on the table. The noble turned shocked eyes on Veare.

“Your nuptials?” he sharply said.

“Next month. I sent you an invitation last spring. Didn’t you read my letter?”

“Nay, there was no letter. Or if you sent one, it didn’t reach me.”

“Where did you send it?” Tristen asked his brother.

Veare looked at him, startled. “Here—I think.”

“You think?” Tristen shook his head. “Are you sure you sent one at all?”

“Fie on you, Tris!” Veare huffed. “You saw me when I wrote it.”

“But I didn’t see you actually send it,” Tristen pointed out. “If I recall correctly, you were going to have it posted the next morning. Did you?”

There was an awkward pause. Veare looked sheepishly at Keosqe. “I’m sorry, Kes. It seems I forgot,” he admitted. “That explains why you didn’t reply.”

“And you never wondered why he didn’t,” Tristen muttered.

Veare did not hear him but Keosqe obviously did. Tristen flushed when the noble gave him a small, sad smile.

“Congratulations are in order then,” Keosqe said, his smile widening.

Tristen sensed the effort he made to appear happy for his brother. He regarded Keosqe curiously. There was something about the noble’s behavior that bespoke more than simple surprise. Disappointment?

“You will come?” Veare asked.

Keosqe’s smile faltered. “Of course.” He suddenly stood up. “I have to go. If you need anything, the staff will assist you.”

“Go?” Veare said in surprise. “But you said you would spend the day with us.”

“Did I?” Keosqe shook his head. “Ah, forgive me, Ver. I forgot about my meeting this morning with—Gilmael.”

Tristen looked at him sharply. Did he imagine it or had there been the slightest hesitation before Keosqe identified who he was meeting with?

He nodded in acknowledgement when Keosqe took leave of them. However, the noble’s altered behavior piqued his curiosity and he watched as the latter left the dining hall.

At the door, Keosqe paused and glanced back. At Veare, Tristen noted. He caught his breath when sorrow and yearning showed clearly on Keosqe’s face. Before he could speak or otherwise call Veare’s attention to it, Keosqe saw that he was looking his way. Faint color stained the noble’s cheeks much to Tristen’s astonishment. And then Keosqe gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head and his gaze turned pleading.

Tristen bit his lower lip, nodded, and lowered his eyes to his plate. When he looked up again, Keosqe was gone. But the brief silent exchange left no doubt in Tristen’s mind.

Keosqe was in love with Veare but his brother was oblivious of it. Or too absorbed in his own concerns to notice.

How long has he felt that way
? Tristen wondered. On the heels of the thought came another.
What happens now?

Keosqe struck him as a proud Deir who did not readily allow others to see past his confident exterior to the doubts and vulnerabilities that lurked beyond. Would he hence put distance between himself and Tristen now that his secret, both the yearning and the pain, had been discovered?

Tristen winced.
And why, for Veres’ sake, should I care if he does?

Irritated by the direction his thoughts had taken, he shoved them aside and applied himself to finishing his meal.

Chapter 2

Secret

C.A. 3005

Barely two months had passed since his heart’s irrevocable breaking when Keosqe welcomed Tristen Marante into his home in Rikara. Veare’s younger brother would be his guest until he completed the medical course at the State University, underwent his apprenticeship under a licensed physician and served the mandatory term of service at an accredited hospital—at least seven years in all.

He watched as his staff carried the youth’s belongings to the room set aside for him. Tristen did not have many possessions, he noted, as a total of two packs of clothing and personal items and one small bag of books were deposited in the guest chamber. He wondered whether Tristen would simply purchase things he needed along the way. But knowing the brothers’ finances, he doubted that was the case.

Veare may have married a well-to-do Deir for the security that espousal provided, but it did not mean he could spend his mate’s money with impunity and so soon after their wedding. Besides, Tristen’s pride had also led him to turn down his future law-brother’s offer to buy him anything extravagant in the way of formal wear for the nuptial celebrations back in Nivare. The lad had been quite simply dressed compared to other members of the party. But he’d gained Keosqe’s respect and admiration when Veare informed Keosqe of his refusal and vented his frustration over his little brother’s stubbornness.

“He’s stubborn, but for the right reason,” he had told an astounded Veare. “I think he doesn’t want you to start your marriage owing anything to your spouse’s family and on his account.”

Veare sighed. “He won’t let me borrow extra funds for university either. He says we have enough to cover his tuition and books and apprenticeship expenses.”

“Do you?”

“Well, yes.
Aba
managed to set aside a small inheritance for him.”

“And he’s saved a goodly sum, I assume.”

“Quite. He’s better at scrimping than I am.”

Keosqe shook his head. “He doesn’t strike me as someone who scrimps. Say rather he’s careful with his money and doesn’t indulge in too many luxuries.”

Veare stared at him. “Am I imagining things, or is that a jab at me?” Before Keosqe could reply, Veare added with a pout, “I was raised a baron’s son, Kes. You can’t blame me if I have a taste for the fine things in life. Now Tristen—he was too young when
Aba
sold our home and moved us out of Nivare. He has no idea how it feels to be deprived all of a sudden. Indeed, he doesn’t really know the difference between our lives now and how it used to be. How it should have always been had
Aba
not frittered away our riches!”

For one of the few times in their long friendship, Keosqe felt irritated with Veare. “Nonetheless, you mustn’t paint your brother as a miser. He’s merely prudent. Given your sire’s legacy, you can’t fault him for being so.”

Veare’s pout started to evolve into a scowl, but he stopped and somewhat tartly said, “Prudent or miserly, it doesn’t matter. He’ll find living in Rikara most uncomfortable if he doesn’t accept help. He may have saved enough for his schooling, but he has little to spare for decent lodgings. Even the dormitories and student apartments near the University are beyond his means. Yet he refuses to accept a loan from Narion.”

Keosqe desisted from pointing out that Tristen had obviously come to the conclusion his brother’s new spouse was just the sort to expect repayment of debts in one way or another. He had done a quick investigation of the Deir’s background and been dismayed to learn the latter’s wealth derived from money lending at interest rates just short of usurious. Such moneylenders catered to the desperate and those rejected by the banks and were not above harassing their debtors and threatening them with bodily harm if they did not make good on their loans.

It sickened him that his childhood friend was willing to turn a blind eye to the more unsavory aspects of his mate’s livelihood. And it deeply hurt that Veare appeared to love Narion. That part of the love stemmed from the return to affluence Narion could give him was beside the point. Keosqe could have given Veare so much more including the political power of a herunic consort. But unfortunately, Veare did not care for the duties and obligations that came with the privileges.

He’d made that very clear long ago when Keosqe had subtly probed him for his thoughts on the possibility. Veare had scoffed and told him he was more than content being a
thein
’s heir, thank you very much. Barons did not rule and therefore their sphere of responsibility was quite small while their social prominence was great. When Veare belatedly asked him why he’d broached the idea, Keosqe assured him it was simple curiosity. He never mentioned the topic to Veare again.

“Perhaps he isn’t comfortable enough for that as yet,” he said. “They hardly know each other.”

“True,” Veare conceded. He suddenly brightened. “But you do! Know each other quite well, I mean. He’d accept help from you!”

Keosqe was taken aback. “A loan? Nay, he’s too proud for that.”

“Not a loan. A safe and comfortable place to stay. He enjoyed our stay at your house. He said so when he returned home. I’m quite certain he won’t mind if you offer him board and lodging.”