Trouble with Kings (8 page)

Did she like her work? She had not liked the prospect of going to Drath. She hadn’t complained, but I’d been aware of it. And had paid no attention, any more than the people I dealt with during Jewel’s and my journey across Lygiera paid to me.

From the alacrity with which Debrec had accepted Garian’s invitation to go back to Carnison without me, I had discovered her dislike of Drath was more like hatred. Garian had met my brother’s honor guard at the border and had insisted on his own escort, and his own servants. It had seemed more diplomatic to concur, especially with my maid so unwilling to go on. On our arrival, while he was still acting the courting swain, he’d assigned Netta as my maid. She had been kind, efficient and untalkative.

What did those women think? I had never thought to ask Netta, and I don’t know that she would have answered, but I resolved to talk to Debrec on my return home.

Which was accomplished without any trouble. We had to wait out one day in a remote inn, while rain swept through. We spent it sitting by a cozy fire. I described all the prominent figures of court. Jewel listened with close attention, sometimes asking questions that I answered guardedly. I remembered how awful Garian’s slanders made me feel. I tried hard to be fair to Spaquel, and I avoided naming any more of the people I liked least.

We ran out of coins on the last day, and so we arrived in Carnison’s outskirts late after sunset, our insides gnawing with hunger, and poor Bard’s head drooping. I was still wearing that limp bonnet, cast aside by some town girl and snatched on a raid by one of Jaim’s fast-riding outlaw women.

As we wearily closed the last distance, I compared my journey home with the journey outward. I had never seen any of the towns or villages through which my closed carriage had dashed. I’d only seen some of the countryside, and then the well-ordered courtyards of royal posting houses. Servants had all deferred, smiling, where I walked; when I sat down, food appeared instantly, and the beds were down-stuffed, aired and fresh. I never had to carry anything more cumbersome than my fan.

The city streets were busy with traders, sellers, loiterers, running children who’d been freed from the day’s labors, and savory smells drifted from every inn, hostelry, bakery. We passed a couple of the bake-shops that Maxl and I had explored when we were small and had ventured out into the city on our own. Time and duty had confined Maxl, and when he’d stopped the forays I had as well. My regret for those thoughtless, fun-filled days vanished when at last I spotted the towers of the palace.

We rode up the royal avenue of tall cedars, Jewel stiff and straight-backed, her breathing audible. I pulled off the bonnet and shook my hair down. I was Princess Flian, and I was home.

The familiar chords of the sunset bells echoed up the walls when we reached the stables. The stablehands stared at us in surprise and perplexity, some of them in the act of lighting the night-lamps.

“Yes, it is I, Flian. Take care of Bard, please,” I added to the stable master, who bowed. “He’s been a wonder.” And, lest gossip race ahead and alarm Father, I said loudly to Jewel, “And so we win our wager, do we not?”

Her thin arched brows rose, but she said in an equally modulated voice, “Yes! We won our wager!”

I could see the mental shrug that passed through the stablehands. Oh, well, then, our odd appearance was accounted for by some strange bet, incomprehensible to anyone but the aristocracy.

We walked inside.

“Wager?” Jewel whispered.

One of Maxl’s stewards approached and I breathed, “Later.”

“Your highness,” the steward said, bowing. “Would you like to be announced?”

Question infused his request—why was I here? Ought he to have known?

For a moment I envisioned the grand announcement and dramatic appearance, but that did not seem right. “No. I’d like to surprise them, thank you. Are they in the rose room?”

The steward bowed and permitted us to pass. The staff was going to find out about my appearance before Papa did. I didn’t mind that. What I did mind was court.

The rose room was my father’s favorite informal interview chamber—and sure enough, there was Maxl, helping Papa to rise.

“Papa,” I exclaimed as soon as the door was opened. I ran inside.

Papa sat back down, surprise creasing his tired face, gladness widening his brown eyes as I kissed his hand and forehead.

“Flian,” he murmured. “Daughter. Did I know you were here?”

Maxl gave me a warning look. I straightened up, aware of the people in the room, all staring. Ignaz Spaquel, nosy old Duke Ydbar, Gilian Zarda—three of the very court people I’d hoped to avoid.

I forced a smile. “No. A surprise, all in fun. A wager.”

“Why don’t you tell us about it over dinner?” Maxl suggested. “We were about to part to get dressed.”

“Why, certainly. I’m glad to be home, Papa.”

My father patted my hand, and once again Maxl helped him to rise.

From behind I heard Gilian whisper to her friend Elta, “My dear. Will you
look
at those gowns. If you can bear it.”

When I turned they raised their fans, but their eyes betrayed derisive mirth.

Jewel’s cheeks glowed, but she said nothing.

Leaning on his cane, Papa started out, his own people closing in behind him.

Gilian bustled in little steps to the side door, the little-girl flounces at the shoulders of her gown twitching. She was followed by Elta, who sent a scornful glance over one thin shoulder, as though memorizing details of our horrible clothes. Then they were gone.

I led the way to Maxl’s suite, through the stately outer chambers to the room he called his lair—a room with shabby, comfortable old furnishings and lots of books.

He appeared moments after we did, looking tense and tired.

“Oh, Maxl.” I ran to him. “I have so much to tell you.”

“I figured that.” He hugged me, giving a wry laugh. “Just because of the length of your typical lack of communication, I knew
something
must be going on. A couple days ago came word about your sudden, almost wedding. Lady Ordomar’s message was incoherent. I’d been wondering what to do. Whether or not to tell Father. Then yesterday—well, here you are. How did you get away? And are there going to be repercussions I need to plan for?”

He sank into his old chair. I regarded him fondly—and with relief. That’s why he’s going to be king, I thought. He looks ahead. I barely notice the here and now.

Maxl turned to Jewel. “Ought I to rise? I am Maxl Elandersi.”

“No, no bows or titles or trumpets. I am Jewel Szinzar.” She uttered a faint, almost soundless laugh. “I’ve never had bows or trumpets, yet, and I shouldn’t know where to begin.”

Maxl’s smile had reached his eyes and Jewel’s tension eased.

“We met in the mountains,” I said, and when Maxl’s attention turned to me, Jewel gave him a covert heel-to-toes scan. Maxl looks much like me: plain, medium height, slim build, fair hair, but his eyes are brown. “Life there is, um, somewhat rough and ready.”

“It’s true,” Jewel said, palms out. “Rougher than ready, I confess.”

“Trumpets you shall have, whenever you wish.” Maxl smiled. “In the meantime, welcome to Carnison.” He waved a lazy hand, a glance toward me expressive of question.

Jewel dropped into another chair as I began a swift outline of what had happened to me. Papa always dressed slowly.

When I’d reached the end, I sensed from the shuttered look to his brown eyes, which were so much like Papa’s, that Maxl had his own news. So I ended, “…and Jewel and I rode here without incident. But you said ‘yesterday’. And I am going to hate it, I can tell from your face. What?”

“The rumor reached us yesterday that you ran off from Drath with Jaim Szinzar for a romantic tryst. I’m afraid it’s all over court.”

“Of course it is,” I said with cordial disgust, thinking:
Gilian is here
.

Maxl gave a brief, preoccupied smile. “Well, your showing up a day later, dressed like that, will scout the rumor”—he turned to Jewel—“or it might complicate it.”

“I can be a lady of mysterious origins, if you like.” Jewel’s merry grin dimpled her cheeks. “I would love an alias.”

“No need.” Maxl laughed. “What worries me most is what Garian, Jason, or even Jaim will do next, when the rumor reaches them in turn that Flian is back here—and can tell us the truth. Begging your pardon, but the Szinzars have a long history of taking whatever they want—”

“The rulers only.” Jewel crossed her arms. “Jaim has a sense of honor. He was
driven
to become an outlaw.”

I held my breath, but Maxl was ahead of me. He did not argue, and Jewel relaxed again, seeing that he was not going to attack her beloved brother.

“What I need to find out is what your older brother wants,” Maxl said.

“Power, of course,” Jewel retorted. “That’s an easy one. Conquer for the sake of conquering.”

“Then why didn’t he take Drath? Despite all Garian’s wily games, or maybe motivating them, must be the knowledge that Jason could point his sword and send his army against Drath any time he wanted, poorly equipped or not. All those years of war games in your central plains make for a formidable foe even if the command is poor—and I don’t get any hints that Jason would be a poor commander.”

“No,” Jewel grumped, elbows on her knees and chin in her hands. “Even Jaim says that.”

“So what does he want? And what’s behind the rumor of restlessness in Dantherei and Drath and Ralanor Veleth and Narieth—summer maneuvers and field exercises and couriers riding hither and thither? I can believe Garian would play games for the sake of the sport, but not Jason.”

Jewel shook her head. “You don’t know him.”

“Maybe you don’t,” Maxl retorted, but with humor.

Jewel’s lips parted, then she rubbed her chin. “Have you met him?”

“Yes. Once. Eight or nine years ago. Right before he took the reins of government from your mother.” Maxl looked over at me. “You were spending the summer at Great-Aunt Delila’s, learning from that old harpist from Sartor. Jason was on a tour. He was full grown, and I was only a short, yapping pup of fifteen or so, and I thought rather highly of him. He was quiet, but not contemptuous, even when I followed him around.”

“Jaim did that as well,” Jewel said. “Until he started to hate Jason.”

“He was only here a couple weeks, but that was long enough for me to form a good impression. Next I heard was the news of the takeover, which surprised no one, since by then I’d comprehended how badly governed Ralanor Veleth had been. After that we heard about reforms. Real ones. The edict banning torture in capital crimes, and instituting the use of the truth-herb kinthus to get true testimony, was the first, and several centuries overdue. But he also granted civilians the right to civilian trials by peer, and the next thing we heard was that those warlord dukes were rising against him for cutting into their ancient rights.”

“I vaguely remember those days,” Jewel said. “That’s when he turned so nasty.”

“Next we heard he was preparing for war. And nothing has contradicted that since.” Maxl shook his head.

I said, “All that will probably matter some day, but what I want to know right now is, what shall we do about Spaquel? I’ve sworn all kinds of revenge since that first week in Drath.”

“The Duke of Osterog,” Maxl reminded me gently. “Remember he has inherited. Everyone else in court remembers. He sees to it. As for what to do? Nothing,” he finished with obvious regret.

“What?”

“The only good spy is a known spy. You are not going to tell any bad stories on Garian, either, only that you two did not suit, and we will continue to be unaware of Spaquel’s true loyalty to his Drath kin. Until I can find out more, we will be very, very nice to him.”

“
You
will be,” Jewel huffed. “I am only nice to people I like, and I already hate him almost as much as I hate Jason.”

Maxl studied her, then turned to me. “As well you are back. There’ve been changes in the music gallery, and Master Drestian has been fretting about making decisions without your approval.”

“But that was why we hired him, because he’s the best we could find.”

“You’ll have to deal with it all tomorrow.”

“I will. How is Papa?”

“As well as can be expected. He’s taken the notion that he’s going to die soon. He wants to make one last Progress and then abdicate. He keeps saying that we young people are playing dangerous games, too dangerous for an old man, but we must learn to control power before it controls us.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, clasping my hands tightly.

“I wish I knew. No, I wish I knew who’s been saying things to upset him—or if, once again, he’s seeing more than I assume he is.” Maxl got to his feet. “Right now we have to get dressed and nip down to the dining room.”

“Come, Jewel. I’ll find something of mine to fit you and we’ll have the seamstresses up here tomorrow.”

“A wardrobe fit for a princess,” Maxl said, turning around.

Jewel drew in a deep breath, her eyes wide with pleasure.

“So she’s not going to be a mystery woman?”

“No. She’s who she is—you met in Drath—because not only will it scatter the rumor about Jaim and you, it will be, oh, a message of rare ambivalence for our friends to the east.” He smiled, a gentle smile, but his eyes, which were usually so good humored, were now rather sardonic.

“Ah.” Jewel laughed. “I’m either a gesture of friendship—a visiting Szinzar—or I’m a hostage. Right?”

“That’s it.” Maxl’s smile deepened. “You do not object?”

“Contrary.” She snickered. “I adore it. Hostage! For once I can at least pretend to have some importance to somebody. What a change!”

Maxl laughed. “But you must be nice to the new Duke of Osterog, though in private we may continue to call him Spaquel. You must be ever so polite, and people will notice you being ever so polite, because a hostage is interesting, and interesting people are very popular.”

Jewel sighed, but with an expression of delight. Maxl had managed to find exactly the right thing to say.

Chapter Eight

Though Jewel professed to have spent most of her life mewed up in a castle that was more of a garrison than a home, someone had seen to it that she was trained in courtly manners. I had only to explain some of our own usages and teach her the dances. Maxl served as a willing partner after she and I had traversed the steps enough to give her confidence.