Gravity Box and Other Spaces (18 page)

She gazed into the forest, her face unreadable as always.

“I find I admire and respect you,” Mindan said. “And I also fear you.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“Because I can't lie to you. I came here seeking the same thing as those men. If you hadn't found me that first day, I might well be destined for the same punishment.” He closed his eyes. “My king sent me here for a horn. He means to put the promised bride to the test.”

“You agreed?”

“He is my king.”

“Why tell me this?”

“Because I am ashamed. You make me ashamed.”

The silence stretched. When Mindan looked around, Fama was gone. His insides felt suddenly loose and slippery. After a time, when he was sure of his legs, he returned to the camp.

The cries of the poachers had stopped. He glanced over to where they had all been staked out, glimpsed the shiny pools beneath them, and turned his attention to his bedroll. He expected at any moment to be seized. He put together his belongings, tied them up, and stood, wondering if he had the skill to outrun Fama and her hunters. But no one came near him. He saw Rajek and the others tying bundles of the horns in preparation for transport. He did not see Fama at first. She did not return until the campsite was completely broken down. Finally she came out of the forest, spoke to Rajek, and approached Mindan. For an instant he considered running, but he stood his ground and waited.

In a voice barely more than a whisper she said, “Having seen, would you do your king's bidding in this again?”

“No.”

“That might cost you.”

“So would obeying him.”

“I'll escort you to our border.”

“I—”

She walked away, leaving him baffled and relieved. She did not speak to him until they returned to the pass through which he had entered several days earlier. Mindan gradually realized that she did not intend to kill him, but otherwise she puzzled him. Though he was leaving without a horn, he could not wait to be gone from Githira. He felt more and more like a trespasser.

At the pass, Fama finally broke her silence.

“What will you tell King Prester?”

“Something. Maybe I'll bring him part of a deer's antler.”

“They look nothing alike. He may have someone who knows the difference.” She handed him a wrapping. When he undid the cloth, a horn lay in his hand.

She answered the question obvious in his face. “You told the truth when you didn't have to. That takes something. I've been trying to decide over the last few days how I feel about you. It took time for the anger to subside and my mind to be clear. I would not see you harmed by your sovereign because you're honest.”

“I—I don't even know what's supposed to happen with this.”

She snorted. “If the girl is a virgin, nothing. If she's been with a man, they say the fire of her passion will transfer to the horn and it will glow. By that test, every woman is a virgin. Even me.” She laughed at this.

“Then either way the king will be assured and the wedding will go ahead.”

Fama shrugged. “We aren't entirely isolated here. What rumors I've heard, your king doesn't want to join with Masady.”

“But he brokered the wedding. Why would he do that if he didn't want it?”

“Politics are about what is desired and the means to get it. Perhaps what he wants is something else entirely and Masady or the king's daughter is just a way to get it.” She began to turn away, but stopped. “What I said before, about leaving your king's service. I still mean it.”

Before he could thank her, she sprinted back down the trail.

Mindan made his way back to the Tripass Inn to wait for Cestic, the chief emissary to Masady, to return. He passed the few days watching as the border soldiers came and went, their numbers much higher than he had ever seen. To Mindan, they also seemed more officious than usual which he wouldn't have thought possible a mere month ago. The lines of travelers had also grown. It was a long wait now to be passed through by the inspectors who had set up a temporary office near the inn.

When Cestic finally arrived much later than Mindan had expected, he brought two strangers with the rest of the party and kept them isolated from the others, but Mindan thought little of it. Politics. He was tired of politics and looked forward to being finished with it all.

The palace displayed new decorations for the coming betrothal celebration, but even there Mindan found the air tense, few smiles, and too many challenges as he made his way to King Prester's chambers. In the anteroom Karl, the king's minister, met him. Mindan was surprised to find no
one else in the room, which was usually busy with petitioners and courtiers.

“Tell me,” Karl said immediately, “did you get it?”

“Yes.”

The relief in Karl's face troubled Mindan. “My lord, what's happening? It feels like we're preparing for war, not a wedding.”

“You would be wise to pay less attention, gamekeeper. Let me have it.” Karl held out his hand.

“Your pardon, my lord, but I was instructed to put it in the king's hand.”

“He is indisposed with preparations. The bride-to-be is introduced at Court today—”

“Mindan!”

King Prester advanced on them from the door to his private rooms. He was grinning, and his formal brocade shirt hung open revealing his broad chest and strong belly. The near-pelt of gray chest hairs seemed only to enhance his vitality though he was well into his seventh decade. Karl flinched from the companionable slap on his shoulder Prester landed when he joined them.

“Were you successful?” Prester asked. “Of course you were. You would not have returned otherwise.”

“I was, Majesty,” Mindan said. He took out the wrapped horn from his pouch and handed it to the king.

King Prester unwrapped it with a care and deftness at odds with his large hands. The horn lay exposed and all three of them stared at it. Mindan noticed Karl's lips move, his expression almost one of revulsion.

“Rather smallish,” Prester said, then rewrapped it. “Still, it's not size that matters, is it?” He laughed. “I have them now.”

“Your Majesty?”

“Those bastards think they can pawn a trollop off on my son and seal a pact that keeps me forever from Thessany. They've misjudged. There will be only one response to an insult like this, and we'll see it paid.” He clapped a hand against Mindan's arm and laughed. “When this is done you must come and tell me about the hunt. I want to hear all.”

He took his prize, laughed once more, and retreated from the anteroom.

“Thessany—?” Mindan looked at Karl, who now stood, eyes closed, shaking his head. “I don't understand. We've been at peace with Thessany for more than twenty years.”

“Sometimes,” Karl said with a weary sigh, “I wish people paid more attention. But for that to happen, we would have to explain more, and that's not possible.” He drew a breath. “I'm sorry for you, gamekeeper. You've always struck me as an honest man, and it pains me to see you used. You were sent on this errand falsely.” Karl frowned. “No, that's not exactly true. King Prester would never tell an outright lie to someone like you. He simply would withhold all the facts relevant to his plans. It makes no difference now; by day's end we will be at war with Masady.”

“But why?”

“The only reason we have peace with Thessany is because Masady stands between us and them.” Karl was staring at the closed door to the king's private chambers. Mindan realized Karl was not talking to him so much as to himself.

“So he intends to show that the princess from Masady is not a virgin and accuse them of insult and betrayal.”

“Grounds for war.”

Karl nodded. “You're not as unaware as I thought.”

“What happens,” Mindan said, ignoring the implied compliment and concern, “if the girl turns out to be a virgin?”

“From Masady? She's over fourteen. What are the odds?”

“Why did you want me to give you the horn first?” Karl did not respond, but Mindan saw his jaw tighten as he looked away.

“You intended to swap it with a false horn. You don't want this to happen.”

Karl's mouth flexed once. Then he stepped back. “You should clean up and dress for the occasion, gamekeeper. King Prester will want you there. If he could, I think he would have everyone in the country gathered in Court today to witness his triumph. I must meet with Cestic as soon as possible.”

“I've been told,” Mindan said, “that the horn will do nothing. That its properties are only legend.”

“I've heard the same,” Karl admitted, “but it won't matter. The king will give it to Alistar and Alistar will make sure it does what it is supposed to.”

“But—”

“Have a care about what you say, gamekeeper. Now get out of here. Prepare for—something. Where did you leave Cestic?”

“At the southeast stables.”

He patted Mindan's shoulder. “Go now and be safe.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Three hours,” Karl said. “It begins in three hours.”

Mindan went to his small apartment in the lower section of the palace. He seldom stayed in this place. He preferred his rustic lodges scattered throughout the country. He owned one formal suit of clothes for Court,
which he kept here and had not worn in nearly a year. He was relieved to find it still fit.

He sponged himself off, dunked his head in water, and brushed his hair. As he dressed he tried to recall the conversations he had had with King Prester and what he had heard of things at Court, but the fact that King Prester kept people in boxes and treated them accordingly made it completely impossible to really put the pieces together. Today's outburst was uncharacteristic. The king did not confide in his gamekeeper.

Thinking back he recognized an undercurrent of disdain for the peace with Thessany. They had more lucrative trade with their neighbors and even cordial relations with Catavic allies. The grumbling he had heard from time to time seemed the normal grousing of merchants. When he was a boy, the last war had been fought with an ally of Thessany and Thessany had provided the support needed to turn back Catanac.
Enough to fester in the king's mind all this time?

“I don't know enough,” he said aloud. “Which can be more dangerous than knowing too much—”

Dressed, he packed his belongings and set the pack by the door.

Hundreds of people already filled the main hall and the side galleries. Mindan liked the Court Hall when it was less peopled—the high columns supporting the multiple domes seemed like trees and when the morning light shot through the tall windows during summer it became a deep forest with secrets in the shadows—but on this day it felt only congested and unhappy.

He made his way to the space reserved for King Prester's chief ministers, which included Mindan, though he seldom attended the councils. As he joined the waiting officials he recognized few. Changes had been made since
his last visit to Court. Several of them smiled at him, even the ones he did not know.

He found Cestic. Mindan noted that he did not smile like the others. He nodded in greeting and adjusted his tunic.

“Is the party from Masady here?” Mindan asked.

“Not yet,” Cestic said. “If I were them I might beg the king's indulgence and return home.”

“You know what's coming?”

“I know what you brought back. I know if events unfold as our good king wishes, the future will be bloody. Don't worry, gamekeeper, I hold you blameless. What else could you do? But frankly I wish you had failed.”

Mindan kept silent.

The tenor of conversation changed suddenly. Cestic tapped Mindan's shoulder. “The king.”

King Prester, shimmering from the gold-threaded silver tunic and ermine cloak, stepped onto the throne dais. He wore the jeweled headband reserved for celebratory occasions and carried the scepter loosely in his right hand. All talk ceased throughout the hall as he gazed out at the assembled bodies, all dressed in their best and most colorful. Prester raised the scepter with a flourish and sat down. The chamberlain rapped his standard on the stone floor.