Heroes' Reward (29 page)

He looked
disconcerted. “Well … I … thank you, Lady Aryne.”

Huh. Maybe he
wasn’t used to hearing apologies from his customers?

“Thank you for
your understanding.” Aryne bowed again and swept out of the shop with great
aplomb.

Well done.

A handful of
people descended upon Aryne as soon as we entered the camp. Maid Kryys, Maid
Slof, Maid Otto, and Lady Chain. Hair, cosmetics, dress, and supervision.
Because that night’s test was to be a demonstration of courtesy and culture,
and Aryne had to dress for it.

Taro itched to
be part of the preparations because he thought he had better taste than just
about anyone else, and he was probably right. However, he found very disturbing
the idea of seeing naked someone he had known when she was still a child. He
did linger near Aryne’s tent, though, should anyone ask for his advice. No one
did because Lady Chain was just as convinced of her superior taste as he was of
his.

One advantage
Aryne had over Green, especially for this test, was that she was beautiful
while Green was not. For some reason, beautiful people were seen to be more
intelligent, more talented, and harder working than those who were plain. If
they were beautiful enough, they didn’t even have to speak in order to appear
witty. Others would enjoy their attention, do all of the talking, and leave
believing they’d just been involved in a brilliant conversation. It was
possible for a beautiful person to alienate others, of course, but they really
had to work at it.

The whole thing
was kind of stupid, but that was just the way people were.

It took over two
hours to bathe and dress Aryne, because such things always demanded a ludicrous
amount of time. Her dress was of the finest red silk cut in the latest fashion.
It fell against the arms and torso without being tight. The neckline was
perfectly balanced between too modest – no one wanted a monarch who found
sexuality at all distasteful – and too revealing – no one wanted a monarch who
was ruled by a constant craving for sex. A light trail of white stitching along
the neckline, cuffs, and the hem of the skirt allowed the white Shield braid to
appear a natural element of the gown rather than an eyesore.

Actually, the
combination of the colours had a strong visual impact. Not in a tacky way. They
just really jumped out.

Her hair was not
so fashionably tied. It was a little too short for the stupidly elaborate
collection of coils and spirals and the high tower that were currently in
vogue. Instead, her hair was sleekly pulled back from her face, which put her
beautiful black eyes and fantastic cheekbones on display. At the back of her
head, her hair was coiled into a circle of secure braids that ended in loops
down her neck and shoulders.

She wore small
teardrop rubies in her ears and a thin ruby choker. She carried a very light
scent of sandalwood. On her feet were sandals crafted from strips of red
leather.

None of these
items had been demanded from merchants for free. The Triple S had paid for all
of them, and at a fair price. That had been important.

She stood
straight and tall, shoulders back and head held high. She shone with an aura of
dignity I’d never seen in her before.

The rest of us
were dressed as elegantly as we could manage. I was told the ‘quality’ of each
contender’s followers would be considered important in judging the contenders
themselves. This meant looking our best while taking care not to overshadow
Aryne.

Druce wore blue,
her gown of slightly more modest design. There was no additional stitching to
incorporate the black braid. For some reason, the black braid never interfered
with the look of clothing the same way the white braid did. Her hair
was
piled up into a tower. She’d been the sacrificial lamb, poor thing. She wore
sapphire studs in her ears and a simple sapphire choker.

My dress was
also of the latest fashion, as no one would let me get away with anything less.
Green, with white stitching. My hair had been styled in the same manner as
Aryne’s, and I wore only the smallest of emerald earrings and choker.

Taro wore black,
as he did when he wanted to look imposing, a closely cut tunic and trousers,
with low black boots. His hair was tightly pulled back and he wore a small
emerald stud in his ear. He was gorgeous, of course.

Brown wore a
simple dress in healer’s red. Source Zoffany wore traditional black, waistcoat
and trousers with robes over everything, the front hanging open. Sato wore the
same, except in white.

The Commissioner
and all of the soldiers wore their uniforms, their buckles, belts, and boots
shining.

After we reached
the palace, we were shown to the largest dining room. The enormously long table
was covered with centrepieces that were bursting with expensive white tren
blossoms. Kind of ostentatious. I quickly counted the flatware at each setting.
Thirty ivory pieces, including a pair of chopsticks and fish forks.

If Green’s
people thought they were going to trip Aryne up with forks and spoons, they
were in for a shock.

Green wore a
dress similar in design to Aryne’s, but in orange. Orange suited Green’s
colouring, but I hated orange, so I hated her dress. The current hair fashion
wouldn’t flatter Green’s face. Instead it was loosely bound into a bun at the
nape of her neck. Diamonds sparkled in her ears, at her throat, around both
wrists, and one all fingers. Tacky. And she wore a delicate diamond tiara,
clearly meant to suggest an entitlement to the crown.

Subtle.

Green sat at the
head of the table, which was what I’d expected, but Aryne was placed at the
foot, stating her status as inferior only to Green’s. If I had been Green, I
would have stuck her in the middle on the side of the table. That’s where
people who didn’t really matter were usually seated.

Which was where
all of Aryne’s supporters were placed. We couldn’t even speak to her.

The Minister of
Water Works was on my right, and Lady Ralentine was on my left. Both of them
had sworn oaths to Gifford and Green. I greeted them and braced myself for some
hellishly awkward conversation.

“Lady Aryne is
unexpectedly impressive,” said Ralentine, all out of the blue.

“Unexpectedly?”
I echoed. “Why would you anticipate anything else?”

“Everyone knows
she’s from Flatwell,” the Minister interjected. “Those people are so
uncivilised.”

A typical
allegation from people who had no idea what they were talking about.
Aggravating. It never failed to astonish me, how many people were prepared to
express opinions as facts when they didn’t know anything about the subject.
“That is the common misconception, I fear.” I emphasized ‘common’ in the hope
that the Minister and the Lady would recognize it as a verbal shot. “However,
my time there showed me a people who were not only extremely well-mannered and
informed, but one that observed a very sophisticated system of rules and
positions. True, there are significant differences, but Aryne enjoys great
intelligence and has had no difficulty becoming accustomed to our ways.” Though
she thought some of our ways were asinine.

This was a
chance, perhaps, to moderate people’s opinions of Aryne, at least a little.
Though Ralentine’s and the minister’s opinions were probably hampered by their
oaths to Gifford.

Oh my gods.
Gifford was dead. Did that mean the casts supporting the oaths were eliminated?
That could change everything. Possibly that was the reason for the slight
resistance to Green seething under the surface, and the slight weakening of
hostility towards the Triple S.

I bit my tongue
to ensure silence. It was difficult to hide epiphanies from an audience.

Gifford had died
months ago, so if the casts were to fade, they would have done so then,
wouldn’t they? Had those who had sworn oaths known Gifford was dead long before
Green had reached Erstwhile and told them?

“You’re reputed
to be very logical,” said Ralentine.

“So I
understand.”

“You can’t think
it logical to put such a young person on the throne.”

“Lady Aryne is
very logical herself, and she knows the value of advisors. It’s just a matter
of finding the right ones.”

“Meaning you and
Source Karish.” Ralentine’s tone had a slightly sarcastic edge.

“Not at all.
Source Karish and I will be returning to Flown Raven once the Empress is
chosen.” Kebit hadn’t even been sent to participate in the Triple S campaign.
To me this suggested that he didn’t have a great deal of talent, and if that
was the case, there was no reason for him and his Source to remain in Flown Raven.

Besides, Fiona
liked having us there. Given her generosity regarding the efforts of the Triple
S, I was sure the council would be agreeable to accommodating her wishes.

“Then some other
Pair.”

“It has never
been the custom of the Erstwhile Pair to advise the monarch.”

“It has never
been the custom of the Triple S to attack Erstwhile, either.”

That wasn’t an
honest interpretation of the facts. “All we have ever wanted was the
recognition of our rights as guaranteed by the Tripartite Act. We all hope to return
to our proper roles once this is over. Should Lady Aryne ascend to the throne,
she will need competent advisors who live in Erstwhile. Advisors who represent
all sectors of the people, including the High Landed and members of the
Council.”

My words must
have satisfied them in some way, perhaps because I actually meant them, and the
conversation declined into weather and fashion and the shocking price of beef,
now that there was so little of it to be found in the area.

I tried to keep
an ear focused on Aryne, but I couldn’t hear her over all of the chattering in
the room. She looked composed, though.

After dinner,
there was dancing. For some reason, dancing with people I’d probably be trying
to kill under other circumstances was more disturbing than eating with them.
And I had to watch every word I said, because every single partner questioned
me about Aryne, no doubt hunting for knowledge of her weaknesses. I tried to
portray her as competent but not too threatening. Just threatening enough not
to be perceived as spineless. It was a fine line to walk and I had no idea
whether I was successful at it.

The dancing was
dangerous due to the cracks in the marble floor. People had to step carefully.
Some tripped and even fell down. It wasn’t an elegant affair.

Then the music
took a sharp right into dangerous. It was a waltz played with drums and
piercing trumpets instead of the more common soothing strings and woodwinds. I
had always found the idea of a martial waltz ridiculous. A waltz was supposed
to be a serene activity. Why anyone would use it to inspire violence was
baffling.

Of course, it
didn’t push regulars to actual violence. It just tended to encourage them to
pick up the pace. For a Shield, though …. While most people were influenced by
music, moved to sadness or cheer or even anger, Shields experienced reactions
that were far more intense. We were too easily driven to tears, to violence, to
lust. It was one of a Source’s responsibilities to subdue his or her Shield,
should that Shield lose control.

And I, lucky
thing, was particularly sensitive to music. After merely a few bars, my heart
started pumping faster and my mind was filled with images of running and
jumping and hitting people in the face. I could only vaguely hear those around
me, the music pounding in my ears. The only voice to pierce the fog was someone
shouting, “Stop the godsdamned music!”

Arms circled me
from behind, and I struggled until the words were spoken directly into my ear.
“It’s Taro. I’ve got you. Listen to me. Hear me.”

I pulled in a
few deep breaths. In slowly, out slowly. I focused on Taro’s voice as he
repeated the words, and the sensation of his embrace. Calm down. Calm down.

It took a few
moments more to remember there were two other Shields in the room. Right then,
I didn’t care about Sato. Aryne held my concern. She wasn’t as sensitive as I,
but she was sensitive enough.

Taro and I
quickly pushed through the crowd. Aryne was easy to find. She was in a circle
of space, where the nearest dancers had drawn back to avoid her behaviour.
Druce’s arm was around Aryne’s waist, and the Commissioner was standing on the
other side, a hand on Aryne’s shoulder.

Aryne and Druce
looked furious.

I wondered what
Aryne had done.

Green, standing
a few feet away, called out, “Do you truly wish for a monarch who can’t control
herself when common music is in the air? A Shield who can’t be controlled by
her own Source?”

Druce was
significantly smaller than Aryne. She
would
have trouble restraining
Aryne when needed, and it appeared that the Commissioner had had to give her
assistance.

People were
whispering, and most of their words were not complimentary.

Damn it.

Firen didn’t
need to announce who’d won the test, because it was dead obvious.