Emperor and Clown (61 page)

Thereafter
he felt as if he were enacting a bizarre replay of another flight up this same
tower, when he and Inos and the others had been pursued by the impish army. He
was dismayed at how weak he felt and how heavy Inos soon became. He could feel
the warmth of her through her nightgown; should have brought blankets in this
cold. His heart was pounding as if about to explode, his breath was coming in
harsh gasps, making white clouds in the icy air. His body streamed with sweat
and there was a bitter taste in his mouth.

Antechamber
...

All
the doors had long since been repaired and fitted with shiny new bolts. The
metal was so cold it stuck to his sweaty fingers. He had time, though, because
it would take a while for the pursuers to find axes and enough strong men-Krath
at least would not be participating.

Rap’s
next meeting with friend Kratharkran was going to be a painful experience.

Well,
it was worth it if he could save Inos-and he felt tremendous satisfaction in
pulling this off without the aid of any despicable sorcery at all!

The
stairs were dark, the rooms gloomy, all the casements caked with snow.

Withdrawing
Room ... more stairs ...

He
still had his farsight. He could watch the pursuit. Oh, Gods! The new doors
were flimsy, shoddy affairs compared to the old. And jotnar were not imps. Two
enraged young giants had just shattered the first one with benches.

Dressing
Room ...

Another
door collapsed into splinters without a struggle. They had thrown away the benches
and taken to using feet and shoulders. Would even a stone wall stop a really
mad jotunn? They were gaining on him!

The
Royal Bedchamber ...

He
was at the limits of his strength. His head throbbed and dark patches swam
before his eyes. He must rest or he would faint. With legs like strips of hot
dough, he wobbled over to the bed and dumped Inos down on it.

He
sprawled unexpectedly on top of her, his breath rasping like a saw.

There
was an. arm around his neck.

He
raised his head and peered into the only truly green eyes in Krasnegar.

“You
stink like a stable,” she said quietly. Rap said, “Awrrk,” or thereabouts.

“I
do think you might have washed or something first.”

“Inos!
Oh, Inos!”

“Husband!”
she murmured. Her eyes had closed again.

Rap
made another incoherent noise. “You were awake?”

“I
heard some of it,” she said sleepily. “That was a very romantic way to carry me
to my bridal bed, but was it wise?”

He
tried to get up, and the arm tightened like a saddle girth.

“Kiss
me.”

“I
smell like a horse.”

“Kiss
like a horse, then. But kiss me.”

He
kissed her-gently, tentatively, excitedly, joyfully, wildly, passionately ...
prolongedly.

Joy!
Inos! Love!

“My!”
she said at last. “I didn’t know you cared.” Then she opened her eyes in
astonishment. “You’re weeping!”

“Of
course I’m weeping, you crazy, idiotic, headstrong nincompoop!”

“Oh,
you do caret” Sudden anxiety . . . “You don’t mind what I did?”

“No,
not It’s wonderful. I never wanted to be a sorcerer, darling!”

Relief!
“Darling! To hear you say ... What is that confounded racket?” Inos was no
longer an adept, but the royal glamour was still there, and the green eyes
flashed with regal annoyance.

“Foronod
and the rest of your loyal subjects. They think you’re being raped. They’re
just breaking into the Dressing Room.”

She
smiled contentedly and closed her eyes again. “Then we just have time for
another kiss before I send them all away and it happens.”

“You’re
all right?”

“One
more kiss should do it.”

“But-”

“I
suppose we shall have to slip down to Kinvale in a day or two and make this
wedding official,” she mused. “But that can be our little secret.”

A
stableboy? A wagon driver? A horsethief? A flat-nosed, ugly faun?

The
royal glare was switched on again as she looked at him. “I distinctly remember
ordering you to kiss me.”

“But--”

But
she was queen. The glamour was still there. He obeyed.

They
would all obey, always. She was the queen.

Alteration
find:

Let
me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit
impediments. Love is not love

Which
alters when it alteration finds,

Or
bends with the remover to remove.

If
this be error, and upon me proved,

I
never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Shakespeare,
Sonnet CXVI

Irksome Words

“Charming!”
Kadolan said. “No, you look much more than charming! Beautiful! Ravishing!”

“Gods,
Aunt! Is that an appropriate expression for a bride on her wedding day?”
Without turning, Inos grinned mischievously from the dressing-table mirror.

“You
know what I mean! You look absolutely divine!”

Inos’s
happy smile faltered slightly; she shivered. “Not that, either!” Then she
laughed. “But I accept the compliment. In fact, I agree wholeheartedly.
Considering the short notice, I think I’ve done not badly. Even Eigaze would
approve. And it’s fortunate Tiffy isn’t herehe’d certainly find a well to jump
into.”

“Tiffy’s
married, dear. And expecting. Didn’t I tell you about Eigaze’s letter?”

“Mm?
Perhaps you did. The marriage doesn’t surprise me, and I think I know what you
mean otherwise.” Inos poked thoughtfully at the heap of pearls before her. “One
string, do you think? Or two?”

“None.
You make them look dull and lusterless.”

“My!”
Inos murmured, pleased. “That sounds like one of Andor’s lines. Just the tiara,
then? After all, it was a present from Rap.” She chuckled softly. “The only
present he’s given me since a nest of quail eggs he found on . . . no, that’s
not true! He gave me my kingdom.”

Kadolan
muttered agreement. Truth be told, she was seeing her gorgeous niece as a blur
of emerald silk. It had been common knowledge for years around Kinvale that one
infallible cure for drought was to invite Princess Kadolan to a wedding; she
invariably wept enough at a wedding to irrigate every farm for leagues. Already
she needed her hankerchief, and soon.

“It’s
almost sunset,” she said hastily. “Why don’t I go and see if the other half of
the ceremony has arrived?” She headed for the door.

Dabbing
her eyes, she proceeded along the corridor. The groom and the best man were
supposed to come at sunset, and she realized that she had completely forgotten
to ask who was going to be best man. Probably some castle flunky she had never
met. She sighed wistfully, thinking that the most appropriate choice would have
been Captain Gathmor. Or Minstrel Jalon, maybe.

At
least it would not be that terrible goblin! Planning a wedding had always been
one of her favorite occupations, and she felt cheated at having been allowed
only three days to arrange this one. Yet that was not so surprising. Of all the
young ladies she had introduced to matrimony in her years at Kinvale, none had
proved so difficult to bring to the altar as her niece.

Because
of Rap’s lie to Foronod, this must be a very intimate affair; a secret wedding,
really. And that was a shame, too. Kadolan had many happy memories of Holindarn’s
wedding, when all Krasnegar had rejoiced and partied for days. Still, it was
fortunate that Marshal Ithy happened to be visiting Kinvale at the moment,
returning from his inspection of the Pondague lines. He had happily agreed to
give away the bride.

And
Inos had decided to hold a full-scale coronation in the summer. She had never
been formally crowned, and now Krasnegar had a king to crown also. Kadolan
certainly intended to be present for that. She would sneak in through the magic
portal, which still remained a close-guarded state secret, and pretend that she
had come by ship. She reminded herself that Rap knew nothing of those plans
yet, so she must be careful not to mention them this evening.

But
a formal wedding would have been nice. The imperor would have sent a
representative, and royal gifts. And what was the use of having so many
relatives if you couldn’t summon them all to lavish affairs like weddings? Even
Eigaze and Epoxague might have come to a Kinvale wedding, but they could hardly
be invited to Krasnegar. Some distant relatives were just too distant!

She
paused to catch her breath at her parlor door, then tapped discreetly and went
in. Pink light shone through the lace curtains, candles had been lit already,
but there was no one there.

Tutting
quietly to herself, she went over to inspect the flowers. The roses were well
past their best now, but Kinvale’s chrysanthemums had a well-deserved fame in
the district. Then a rush of smoke from the fireplace warned her, and she
turned around as the magic portal swung open, admitting an icy blast from
Krasnegar.

A
short man stood framed in the entrance, his leathery, weatherbeaten face a mask
of shock. Cutaway coat and tights, a rapier at his belt and a tricorn hat
clutched nervously in front of him ... for a moment Kadolan did not recognize
him in such finery. Then her eyes misted again. Oh, well done, Master Rap! How
very appropriate!

The
best man spun around and attempted to return to Krasnegar. He was obviously
blocked. “Good preserve me!” he shouted. “You told me there was to be no
Evil-begotten sorcery!”

Rap
laughed from the darkness beyond him. “I did warn you about this bit! No more,
I promise! Go on with you! Oh, your Highness! You know Krasnegar’s Master of
Horse, I’m sure?”

“Certainly
I know Master Hononin!” Kadolan advanced with her hands out. “You are a sight
for sore eyes, you old rascal!”

A
sight for weepy, sentimental old eyes, too. Hononin glanced around to make sure
there was no one else present. “I’d never have agreed to this nonsense if I’d
known I was going to be decked out like a one-man carnival!”

“Then
Rap was right not to tell you!” She kissed his cheek.

He
grunted. Then he chuckled softly. “How are you, Kade?”

“Wonderful)
And you?”

“Not
bad.”

“The
years are kind to you, old man. Better than you deserve, I’m sure!”

“Well,
now, that takes royal impudence! I’m three months younger than you are, as I
recall.”

“I
see you two know each other quite well!” Rap commented, coming in and closing
the door.

“First
boy who ever kissed me!” Kadolan said archly, just to see if she could still
make Honi blush. She could.

“As
I remember, it was you who kissed me! And if your mother hadn’t come looking
for you, you’d have-”

“Well,
it was a long time ago,” Kadolan said quickly. She dabbed her eyes again with
her lace hankerchief and turned to inspect the bridegroom. “Your Maj- Oh, no!”

Rap
bowed, managing his rapier quite skillfully. But then he kept his face down and
fumbled with the hat he was holding.

“Let
me see!” Kadolan said, in a voice much sharper than her normal tone for
addressing kings.

He
raised his head ashamedly. His lower lip was puffed and cut, and he had two
very generous black eyes. He could not have looked worse had his goblin tattoos
been restored.

For
a moment no one said anything.

Then
Hononin cackled. “Told you you’d be in trouble, King!”

“Don’t
call me that!” Rap said angrily. “Sorry, your Highness,” he added humbly. “You
think Inos will be upset?”

“Upset?”
Oh, dear! Kadolan sighed. “Well, I suppose she will just have to be upset, won’t
she?” Old fears stirred momentarily. This was what happened when royalty
married beneath them ... Then she chided herself for unseemly pride. The Gods
had approved this match, and the boy had excellent qualities, as she well knew.
Even if he was no longer a sorcerer, he was a good man.

He
would just have to learn that a king should not go brawling.

He
had done his best, she supposed, but there was lint on his collar, his cravat
looked like a collapsed souffle, and whatever he had used to plaster his hair
had left it in plates and spikes. And Inos was looking so radiant!

Anxious
not to show her disappointment, Kadolan turned to the sideboard where the best
crystal waited. “Inos is almost ready,” she said bravely, “and the chaplain has
arrived. Will you join me in a glass of wine, gentlemen?”

Without
waiting for a reply, she unstoppered the decanter. A royal bridegroom with
black eyes! “Do be seated. Wine, your Majesty?”

Rap
winced. “Please, ma’am! I keep telling InosI really don’t want to be called
that! She’s the queen. I’m just her husband.” He blushed scarlet, all around
his bruises, and said quickly, “Am about to become her husband, that is.
Everyone in Krasnegar remembers me as a stableboy. I feel such a fool when they
bow and call me `king’ and `sire’! I’m sure they’re laughing at me. There must
be some better title I could have.”

That
was something else he would have to get used to, Kadolan decided. There was no
other title, and Inos wouldn’t agree to it if there was.

Rap
made another appeal for sympathy. “You know what she’s planning next? A
coronation!” He shuddered. “But I’m not supposed to know, so please don’t
mention I mentioned it.”

“I
promise. I did know, and I’m looking forward to it!”

He
sat down with a groan.

Winning
a brief struggle with his sword, the hostler perched on the lip of a chair. He
sipped the wine and raised his grizzled eyebrows approvingly. Kadolan settled
on the pink brocade sofa opposite.

“I
trust that no one will notice your absence this evening, Honi?”

“Of
course not. Except the horses, and they don’t talk to no one but Rap.” He
leered. “And no one will intrude on their Majesties, either! Not with that wolf
on guard!”