Oath of Fealty (21 page)

Kirgan Marrakai turned red. “No—no, my lord king, not at all. I’m sorry—I just haven’t seen—”

Kieri laughed. “At your age, I was the same. Tomorrow there will be dancing, and you can meet them there—or I can introduce you.”

The kirgan shook his head. “No, my lord, please! I am not here to—to prance about with foreign women—”

“That’s what your father said, am I right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, when else will you have the chance? You’re a well-bred, mannerly young man; you won’t do anything stupid. Have your
fun—meet them, talk to them. They know as well as you that it’s not serious.”

“But I’m supposed to be Mikeli’s envoy—”

“And you are, and I’ve accepted you as such. Now go enchant some of my younger subjects and keep them from making sheep’s eyes at me.”

The kirgan grinned. “As it is a royal order—”

“It is.”

“I obey with pleasure.” And he was gone, intercepting three who had been heading for their corner, no doubt to flirt with Kieri.

“What do you think of her?” Sier Halveric said, with a nod to the lady of Pargun.

“A good choice,” Kieri said. “If she does nothing overt, we can’t kill her. She’s obviously intelligent, and as people trust an old woman with her personality, they will tell her everything we wish they would not. She will go home stuffed with information like a southern date with chopped nuts. We can do nothing about that but note who talks most.”

“I’m still worried about your safety.”

“True, old ladies don’t fear death,” Kieri said. “If she wanted me dead—and she might—she would not hesitate to strike though it meant her own end. But I think her plots are subtler than that. She wants to know me, and take word back to Pargun of my weaknesses. It will be an interesting few days.”

“If she asks a private audience—”

“Alas, my time is already committed, since I did not know she was coming, and I cannot ask one of those already promised an audience to yield to her.”

“Thank the gods for that much,” Halveric murmured.

“You’re really worried,” Kieri said.

“Yes. Perhaps the Lady will know why.”

The Kostandanyan envoy bustled up and Kieri greeted him; Sier Halveric slipped away. Count Arpad began the chat with a question about the two Kostandanyan mercenary commanders Kieri had known in Aarenis—such different personalities. Kieri agreed: Sofi Ganarrion, flamboyant and socially ambitious, had been nothing like Count Visan Vladiorhynsich, grim and controlled. Arpad went on: And the Ganarrion girl marrying a southern noble, was that true?

“Sofi was trying to arrange it, but I hadn’t heard lately.”

“Well. You know what he claims—”

Kieri nodded. Sofi had dropped hints many times of his royal connections. Arpad talked on, finally bringing the conversation around to Alured the Black, the pirate-turned-forest-brigand-turned-ally who now claimed to rule a third of Aarenis.

“He’s a very ambitious man, Alured,” Kieri said. His mind wandered to Arcolin, now in Alured’s reach with only one cohort. Would he remember how dangerous Alured was?

“You’ve met him, then.”

“Oh, yes. Much younger than I, with a gift for command but also for cruelty.”

“No danger to us in the north, of course, but for alliances,” the envoy said.

“I would not be too sure,” Kieri said. “I deem Alured dangerous, wherever he may be.”

“Then surely it is unwise for any blood close to ours to become involved down there.” The envoy stopped and gave Kieri a meaningful glance.

Kieri stifled a chuckle. “What cause have you to interfere?” he asked instead, though he began to see what might be coming. “If her father approves—”

“We are supposed to give permission—”

Admission enough that Sofi’s occasional boasts were probably true.

“But I’m sure if someone with a more illustrious title were to offer for her—” the envoy went on.

Kieri raised his brows. “More illustrious than the ancient title of Fall?”

“Well, there is
one
.” The envoy gave him a meaningful look. Kieri almost laughed.

“I’m afraid Sofi and I have had words too often,” he said instead. “And besides, isn’t the girl already in the south? I could hardly leave Lyonya to go pluck her out of the Duke of Fall’s castle before the wedding.”

“We have others,” the envoy said, a bit sulkily.

“It is too early for me to think of marriage,” Kieri said.

“It is never too early to secure the succession,” the envoy said.
Kieri remembered that the Kostandanyan princes were usually married off before they reached majority.

“I’m sorry,” Kieri said, nodding across the room as if in answer to someone. “But I must see my seneschal—”

Out of the room, in the passage, it was quieter and cooler. Kieri went on, flanked by his Squires, to the small parlor he’d had readied in case he needed it. Here, where he expected solitude, he found the Lady of the Ladysforest, his elven grandmother. As at their first meeting, he was at first struck dumb by her beauty and power; she appeared no older than a maid of twenty but carried with her the silvery radiance of the elvenhome kingdom, a glow that expressed her power. She smiled.

“If you need solitude, Kieri, I will go, but I was hoping to talk to you about the Pargunese lady.”

“As long as you do not talk to me about marriage, I am content,” Kieri said. “I just escaped from the Kostandanyan envoy, who would like me to marry one of Sofi Ganarrion’s daughters.”

“Isn’t he—”

“A mercenary commander in Aarenis who claims some connection to that throne, yes.” Kieri sank into one of the chairs. “I know Sofi. I would not marry one of his get for all the gold in the mountains.”

“Then let us speak of the lady of Pargun,” his grandmother said. “A subtle woman, for a human; more layers than an onion. What did you think of her?”

“The same,” Kieri said. “She spoke to me of peace between our realms, and laid fault on both sides for past conflicts.”

“So also would we, if we were asked,” the Lady said. “Though I suspect we would apportion it differently than she. Was it then an offer of truce or an end to war?”

“Not really,” Kieri said. He glanced at the table where he had arranged refreshments; before he or a Squire could move, the Lady poured water into two goblets and brought them to hand—all without moving. Kieri repressed the shiver he felt. He had seen her use greater magicks, but this homely familiarity chilled him. “We agreed that war is unpleasant, that peace is preferable—but that is all. I find it hard to trust such statements from a Pargunese.” He took a swallow of water.

“She may find it hard to trust them from you,” the Lady said. “I think it is a good thing that the word was so much as mentioned between you. If this enmity could end—do you truly want it to end, Grandson?”

“I do,” Kieri said.

“Then you must make the effort.”

“Without risking the security of the realm.” On that he would not yield even to the Lady.

“I do not ask you to do that,” she said. “But security is not just a matter of armies and weapons. It is also a matter of friendships.”

Kieri tried to imagine being friends with the king of Pargun and failed. “I understand that,” he said. “Yet the Pargunese and Tsaians have been enemies for a very long time.”

“And you are not Tsaian. This is a chance for a new relationship, Grandson. Do not waste it.” She rose and was out of the room before he could say more, withdrawing her light.

Kieri looked at his Squires, both of whom looked alarmed. “I have been scolded,” he said. “And perhaps she has the right of it.”

“The elves always want peace, Sir King,” Edrin said. “And peace is a good thing; nobody questions that. But sometimes … sometimes it just can’t be.”

“
They
can withdraw to the elvenhomes,” Panin said. “It’s easy for them to avoid conflict.”

“They are as the gods made them,” Kieri said. “After a lifetime of war, I am finding that I, too, yearn for peace. And I don’t think it’s entirely my elven blood.”

“Yet every day you find time for sword practice,” Edrin said.

“Of course,” Kieri said. “Wanting peace does not bring it … and if trouble comes, a king or a realm must be prepared.” He stretched, and stood. “Besides—I like swordwork. It’s like riding, that way—it forces concentration, and thus opens up the world. But now, it’s time to return, before someone thinks I’ve fallen asleep.”

The reception was just as noisy as ever, but the room quieted as he entered. “My friends,” Kieri said, “I am reminded that tomorrow is the coronation and I, at least, must have some rest and the palace must prepare a feast. I would not stint your pleasure, but perhaps—”

“Of course, Sir King,” Sier Halveric said, picking up the cue neatly. “We also have duties tomorrow and it would be well to rest
now.” He collected his family, and the others, the nobles and the envoys, all found a place in the line that snaked past Kieri, bowing and speaking farewell. At last they were gone, and Kieri went upstairs to his own chamber.

Out the window, a clear night, heavy with stars. He stood there awhile, smelling the fresh air, the sweetness of the first flowers just coming into bloom, looking at the stars, memory and hope melding as he thought of the next morning. He had come home, but too late for his family; he had become what his father had once hoped, but by a path that might make him fail … no, he would not think of that. He went into the bathing room without lighting a candle, stripped, dipped some of the cold water waiting for morning and a fire to become his bath, and washed off the sweat and smell of the evening. He still found Lyonyan nightclothes strange; he pulled on his old nightshirt, hung the sword on its hook by the bed, and stretched only once before falling asleep.

D
orrin Verrakai rode into Harway at the head of her cohort, still wearing Phelan’s maroon and white. She had briefed Selfer on what she expected, and on what her new powers were. She told him what Paks and the Knight-Commander had said about the melding of her years of military experience with the magery, about Falk’s blessing. Selfer nodded, though he said little; she thought he was less worried than before about the magery. She repeated what she’d told Kieri, that in their last session, she had held an entire Field of Falk motionless at once and stopped arrows in flight so they hung in the air.

In the market square, forty Royal Guard Light Cavalry awaited her, all muffled in fur-lined cloaks against the cold. The commander introduced himself as Sir Valthan Destvaorn.

“My lord—lady Duke,” he said. “It is the prince’s wish that I give you his messages; I have arranged lodging for you and your soldiers.”

“Thank you,” Dorrin said. She did not dismount; it had been a hard, cold ride that day and she longed for a hot drink and something soft to sit on.

“Are these the same as battled for Duke—the king—on the way to Lyonya?” he asked.

“They are indeed,” Dorrin said.

He looked them over, his expression wary. “They are the former Duke’s troops, are they not? Mercenaries?”

“Indeed. And my cohort these many years. And at the moment, tired and cold, so let us proceed to lodging, where I will be pleased to explain more, if you wish.”

“Oh … certainly …” He wheeled his horse in line with hers and pointed with his crop. “That way, away from the river.”

The inn he had chosen was the largest, with ample stabling for their mounts and pack animals. Selfer took charge of settling the animals and the troops; Dorrin followed Sir Valthan into the common room and through to a private parlor.

As she hung up her cloak and warmed herself at the fire, he ordered in a pitcher of sib and sweet cakes hot from the oven.

“Since the prince wrote you,” he said, when he returned, “we have captured those Verrakaien in Vérella. You know the Duke and his brother who attended court there are dead. The kirgan and a younger boy are in custody, as well as those Verrakaien in the royal service, and a few others visiting in the homes of loyal lords. But we have not captured other Verrakaien we know of, and we do not have a complete list. We have blockaded the roads that enter Verrakai lands, but after the first attempt to enter and arrest those at Verrakai House resulted in loss of that patrol—”

“What happened?”

“We found bodies just inside Verrakai boundary stones,” Valthan said, grimacing. “And were ordered to wait until the new Duke—you—arrived before trying again. We’d heard all of Liart’s priests were killed in the battle you were in—”

“All of them there were killed,” Dorrin said.

“Well, there must have been more,” he said. “There’s dangerous magicks—traps, confusions of trails. And that patrol—” He looked hard at her. “We are charged to give you escort into the Duke’s … your … domain. To assist you in taking your place as the new Duke. Do you anticipate resistance once you show your insignia?”

“Yes,” Dorrin said. She poured herself a mug of sib and let the hot liquid burn down her throat. “My relatives will not yield to me because the prince named me duke; far from it. Surely the prince has told you that I left the family and was stricken from the rolls when I won my ruby.” She touched the Falkian ruby. “They wanted no part of me; I wanted no part of them.”