Kings Of The North Part 10

"Yes, my lord," they said.

"You will find me understanding of honest mistakes," Dorrin said, "but I will not tolerate squires claiming precedence they have not earned or making mischief with one another. Now: each of you go, tack up your own mount, and do the work I had a.s.signed you today."

"Yes, my lord."

She watched them cross the yard to the stable. Would her rebuke hold them even a day? Maybe. And here came her new steward, no doubt with something else for her to solve. Well, she had accepted the king's commission; she had been confirmed as duke; she had better, as she had advised Beclan, be what she seemed.

Chaya, shortly after Midsummer Feast

Even with the Midsummer Festival over, Kieri could not return to the ossuary immediately. He presided at the King's Court; he had more meetings with his Council. In addition, he had already planned his next a.s.sault on human-elf rivalry: a joint hunt. Both races enjoyed the sport and surely-he hoped-could forget their animosity in the pleasure of a day in the field. He had found an auspicious day, according to advice from both Siers and Orlith; he could not change that now. His grandmother did not deign to answer his invitation, nor could he compel her, but his declaration of a Royal Hunt meant all others he invited must attend. The human and elven huntsmen did not quite glare at one another when he called them into his office together-a good sign, he hoped.

The night before the hunt, he was awakened by noises outside but went back to sleep when the Squires at his door did not alert him.

"What was that kerfluffle in the courtyard last night?" Kieri said as the breakfast dishes were removed and the little rolled pastries brought in.

"It is the Pargunese again, Sir King," Sier Halveric said. "You would not believe-"

"What have they done this time?" Kieri asked, reaching out to the taig. No disturbance enough to signal danger to the realm...a few ripples here and there, travelers, but certainly not an army. Reports from traders on the river road and fisherfolk in Lyonya's few river-side towns included mention of Pargunese troops seen across the river, but nothing too ominous. Yet.

"Sent a pledge of peace," Halveric said, with the air of a man with a good tale he wants to tell. Around the table, growls of disbelief. "Indeed they have, though: she arrived last night, or rather hours before dawn this morning, on a lathered horse with only two exhausted attendants chasing after her. Their king's daughter, they said. They want a wedding."

They all looked at him; Kieri knew exactly what they were thinking. The King must marry, must get an heir. But not, Kieri thought bitterly, an enemy's daughter, no doubt a pale frightened child forced to this-the King of Pargun had a certain reputation.

"I'm not marrying a Pargunese," Kieri said. They looked at him. No one said anything, but it might as well have been scribed on their foreheads in silver and gold: the King must marry...someone. Perhaps marrying a traditional enemy would bring peace between the realms.

"And there is word," Sier Halveric said, "that a delegation from Kostandan is within a day's ride with the daughter of their their king." king."

Kieri felt his brows rise, wrinkling an old scar. "I thought they were allies, Pargun and Kostandan."

"Against Tsaia, certainly. But in hope of influence here, perhaps rivals. We do not know whether Kostandan knew of Pargun's plan, or vice versa."

"The Pargunese knew," Kieri said. "Or their princess would have made a grand entrance, not come hurrying along the road to throw herself at the gate in the dark."

Two princesses! He felt a headache coming on. What was he supposed to do with two princesses, but bow over their hands and be polite? He had already met all those daughters of n.o.ble Lyonyan families, and one of Prince Mikeli's letters revealed that Tsaian n.o.bles would be more than willing to have the King of Lyonya consider their daughters, too. All the women had been beautiful; no doubt these princesses were beautiful. Those he had spoken to were all intelligent, or seemed so. All courteous, as pleasant to the ear as to the eye. But beauty and fine manners were not enough. He wanted a woman whose character he could trust.

Not the daughter of a devious, cruel king, whom he had long suspected of collusion with those who had killed Tammarion and their children, a king who had sent troops into Lyonya to kill him before he could even be crowned.

Before his Council could say anything, he went on. "Sier Belvarin, I trust you will locate suitable accommodation for the visitors. It would be discourteous to house the princesses anywhere but here, and their escorts or chaperons of rank, of course, but with the delegation from Prealith-" diplomatic, not accompanied by any more marriageable girls, he hoped "-we must be sure we don't end up with no room to move." Dzordanya, that mysterious land, had as yet sent no one.

"Sire." As he stood, they all stood.

"And don't forget, we ride to hunt this morning. With so many visitors, we must have game." He saw the looks they gave one another. Huntsmen could provide game-did, during the closed season-but could not accomplish his larger aim: reconciling humans and elves to one another. Even at informal breakfasts, and more in the formal councils, elves and humans were proving a difficult team to harness. The euphoria of finding a suitable king and crowning him had evaporated since his coronation, and years of distrust and bickering had formed habits he must, somehow, break.

By noon, Kieri was ready to smack heads together. His hope that good sport would overcome prejudice had proven too optimistic. The two groups of n.o.bles, elves and men, mingled only when his eye was on them, and then only formally. When the red-and-black hounds scented game, the pale hounds were called off by the elven huntsman on the grounds that it was not the proper day for scenting: this was a day for gaze hunting only. They had said nothing about that upon setting out, and from their expressions were looking for an excuse to resent any questions he might ask. He did not ask.

When the pale hounds took off shortly after that, the red-and-black hounds lay down instead of following. Kieri whirled to see the repeated signal by their huntsman.

"Whyfor?" Humans might resent his questions, but not so lethally as the elves.

"The pale hounds riot, my lord. My Cherry gave no tongue. I would not have them taught bad manners."

"They saw something..."

"So they they say." The look the huntsman flashed toward the elf n.o.bles who waited politely for the king to lead the chase was poisonous. "No say." The look the huntsman flashed toward the elf n.o.bles who waited politely for the king to lead the chase was poisonous. "No proper proper hound can both scent and gaze." hound can both scent and gaze."

"Bide here, then, until I return," Kieri said. The huntsman opened his mouth, but the look Kieri gave him shut it again. Kieri lifted his reins. "Come, gentlefolk," he said in the pleasantest tone he could manage, and Oak broke to a gallop. Behind him, the soft thunder of hooves indicated that they'd all followed. They'd better, he thought. He would deal with the huntsman later.

Still, after the first stag fell to his arrow and the hunt settled to business, he felt it had not been a useless endeavor. Both packs of hounds ended up working together; some of the men and elves exchanged near-friendly banter along with compliments on a good shot or a handsome mount. The hunting party returned in late afternoon, followed by the pack ponies laden with enough game for what he was already calling-in his own mind only-"A Feast of Princesses."

What mattered more than princesses were the two packs of hounds now trotting along side by side, the set of their ears and tails suggesting the kind of cooperation he'd hoped for. He glanced around. Though the bulk of the elves still rode to the left, the heart-side, and the bulk of the men still rode to the right, the sword-side, he saw man and elf chatting peaceably in the middle, both individuals and small groups. He hoped his father and sister would have approved.

Once back at the palace, he was immediately besieged by the Pargunese princess's guardian, a sour-faced woman who declared herself Countess Settik. Complaint after complaint, starting with the baths.

"Barbaric," she said. "Tubs, as if we were piles of dirty clothes! And so small. And dirty bits of weed thrown in!"

"Herbs," Kieri said. "To scent the water."

"At home," she said, "we have proper proper baths. We don't have to climb up steps and into cramped little tubs-we step down into heated pools where the water moves and is always fresh. It is an insult to guests to make them use what is nothing more than an oversized bucket. You must grant us the use of your bath. If you are ashamed to be seen as the G.o.ds made you, we can bathe at a different time, but I will not-not, I tell you-fold myself into that-that baths. We don't have to climb up steps and into cramped little tubs-we step down into heated pools where the water moves and is always fresh. It is an insult to guests to make them use what is nothing more than an oversized bucket. You must grant us the use of your bath. If you are ashamed to be seen as the G.o.ds made you, we can bathe at a different time, but I will not-not, I tell you-fold myself into that-that article article again." again."

"I use one," Kieri said.

She sniffed. "I don't believe you. No king would."

"I do not know what your baths are like," Kieri said firmly, "but everyone here uses a tub. If you insist, you may inspect my bathing room-"

He had not believed she would be so rude, but she did insist, complaining all the way to and from it of other indignities: being lodged across the hall from the princess instead of in an adjoining room, having no separate kitchen where food could be prepared under her own eyes. Kieri declined to inflict her on his own cooks. Nor did she approve of the King's Squires Kieri had a.s.signed to the princess Elis-all, he insisted, honorable women.

"They wear trousers," the woman said. "And they bow instead of curtsy. It is unnatural."

"It is required, when they are on duty," Kieri said. The last of his patience vanished. "You must excuse me; I have urgent business." She glared but let him go. He wondered if her husband was as difficult and suspected he was. It would take a difficult man to survive her.

Two princesses would take up the time of at least four King's Squires each, day and night: two-thirds of the women on the list of Squires. He'd have to pull some in from other tasks-riding courier, for instance. He went into Garris's office and found him scowling at the chart he'd made of King's Squires and their a.s.signments.

"It's going to take eight King's Squires, minimum, to keep a guard on both princesses."

"I know," Kieri said. "Plus mine-you're sure you can't cut that back?"

"You may be one of the two best blades in the kingdom, Kieri, but I'm not risking your life. Not until you're married and your heir is shoulder-high."

Kieri shook his head but didn't argue. "So we're tying up half the King's Squires on palace duty...well, maybe the princesses won't stay long once they figure out I'm not going to marry them. Her. Either one."

"You might," Garris said. "If you did, it might seal a peace with whichever-"

"And make an enemy of the other. No. Anyway, they're just girls. Who's where?"

"Of the women? Aulin's been on duty with the Pargunese-her name is Elis-today. She says the girl's very tense and frightened of something, so she asked to stay on tonight. She'll need help tomorrow. Arian's somewhere between Riverwash and here; she left three days ago with a message to the river guard. Binir should be on the way back from Prealith. Lieth's here, of course, and I can subst.i.tute men for the women in your rotation if that's acceptable."

"Certainly," Kieri said. "At least for a while." Once more he thought how comfortable he found the women Squires, with their easy competence. A pity they were all so young; he put that out of his mind, watching as Garris wrote out a new chart. "Do you need a clerk a.s.sistant, Garris?"

"No-not yet. When you get up to fifty Squires, then I will."

"If more princesses show up at one time, it may come to that. When you've finished, come have supper with me-somewhere far away from the Pargunese girl's dragon guardian. That woman is nothing like Hanlin at the coronation and much more like what I thought of as Pargunese."

"Thank you," Garris said. "A turn of the gla.s.s, maybe one and a half. How did the hunt go?"

"Very well. Ample game for a banquet tomorrow, and at least some of the hounds and people were mingling."

"You can't hurry things here, Kieri," Garris said. Then, with a sly wink, "Except perhaps your finding a wife and getting an heir."

Kieri rolled his eyes and made his way back to his bathing room. There, relaxing in his steaming tub of herb-scented water, he wondered about the Pargunese baths. How did they have hot pools in winter? Did they have hot springs near the palace? But hot springs usually stank-surely they didn't bathe in water that smelled like rotten eggs. Though that might explain their sour att.i.tude.

He heaved himself up and submitted to Joriam's pitcher of rinse water, then dried himself with towels warmed by the fire. His bath was fine enough-more luxurious than he'd had for most of his life. He did not need whatever it was the Pargunese woman thought better.

Though the evening began quietly enough eating supper with Garris, after supper he had to decide where the Kostandanyan princess and her retinue should be housed, and that meant conferences with half a dozen servitors. Twice the steward brought him demands from Countess Settik and once from the count, who wanted his horse moved to a different stall and all the Pargunese mounts fed only the oats carried on the Pargunese pack horses. Kieri called in the Master of Horse.

"We just put those oats in the bins-I can scoop out the top layer, but-"

"Put some oats in a separate barrel for the beasts and tell him those were his oats," Kieri said. "Sprinkle a little salt on them, and the horses won't know the difference. Neither will he."

By then it was time to make his way upstairs and inspect the guest suite for the Kostandanyan princess-he'd decided to put her as far from the Pargunese as possible-and then he slipped out for a few minutes into the rose garden, now lushly perfumed with both the roses and night-blooming flowers. He sat on his favorite bench and breathed in the mingled scents, sweet and spicy, trying to regain the sense of peace and confidence his elven tutor insisted he needed to connect most powerfully with the taig.

In the near-dark, with the water gurgling and splashing as it ran through the garden, he relaxed slowly, touching first the garden's taig and then that to which it was connected. Outside the palace enclosure, just across the way, the trees on the margin of the King's Grove...and then, as his taig-sense expanded, the King's Grove itself, every tree distinct in its ident.i.ty, its history...He sank slowly into a trance, now more familiar than the first time it happened, touching and being touched by the trees and through them other trees and all that "tree" meant-past, present, future, from the root-clutched rock below to the creatures that lived on and or visited it. He roused only when the clamor of another arrival in the palace courtyard broke through the reverie.

He took a last stroll around the paths in the garden and went up to his own rooms, not risking confrontation with another group of angry foreigners. His Squires could tell him what the Kostandanyan girl was like.

Shortly, the steward came to tell him that the Kostandanyan princess, by name Ganlin, seemed to have been injured on the way-she limped at least-and might be too fatigued to attend a banquet the next night. Kieri considered the likelihood that Count and Countess Settik would be angered by delay-probably, but he was not inclined to coddle them-and reset the date.

On the night of the dinner, the two princesses and their guardians appeared at opposite ends of the pa.s.sage and stopped, obviously startled to see one another. The princesses, Kieri noted, looked surprised but delighted; their guardians glared.

He made the welcome speech he'd planned and then led the way into the dining room. With most of the Council gone for the summer, Kieri had invited others to fill out the table, including off-duty King's Squires. He hoped seeing the women Squires in formal garb would convince the princesses' guardians that they were well-bred, proper ladies as well as Knights of Falk and King's Squires.

Formal attire for women had never caught Kieri's interest; he had seen a lot of it since being crowned, but knew he understood little of the covert messages sent by the length and cut of a sleeve, the width and draping of a skirt, the amount and placement of lace.

On his right hand, Elis of Pargun wore pale blue, and on his left hand, Ganlin of Kostandan wore pale green. They faced each other across the wide table; somewhat to Kieri's surprise they were not eyeing each other with jealous speculation.

Countess Settik had already complained about the seating, insisting that Elis should sit beside Kieri at the head of the table, that no proper banquet could be given with one long table instead of a U-shaped arrangement, the head table seating at least five. Then she had tried to insist that she sit next to Elis, "as is only decent," but he was not about to have that poisonous woman any closer to him than he must.

He found the two princesses puzzling. Elis, the taller, had silvery-blond hair and light gray eyes; she sat erect, almost stiff, in a blue gown that lent only a little color to her eyes and none to her face. She spoke little to him, in a cool, remote tone, answering his first polite questions without enthusiasm and ignoring Sier Halveric to her right. Mostly she looked down or across at Ganlin. Her hands were larger than he expected; they looked strong and capable; he saw a mark on her heart-hand that might have been a training scar. He wondered what had made it.

Ganlin, another blond, had more color-hair more yellow, blue eyes, and more color in her face. More animation in her voice and face, too: Kieri noticed her smile for the man on her other side, Sier Belvarin. She answered Kieri's questions with a smile. And yet-she looked most at Elis, as Elis looked most at her. And yet again, Ganlin's hands looked like Elis's-more the hands of a young woman trained to boys' pursuits than the soft hands of an idle princess.

Kieri glanced down the table. Countess Settik, across the table and down eight places from Elis, was obviously trying to catch her eye and signal something. The man next to her, Sier Halveric's eldest son-in-law, a man of phlegmatic temperament, already looked frayed, and Kieri was glad he hadn't asked any of the younger men to sit there. Elis avoided her guardian's gaze. Ganlin's guardian-one of her aunts, he'd been told-was chatting with Garris, the King's Squire next to her.

No, Kieri thought, nothing could make him marry a Pargunese. Yet courtesy demanded that he share his attention between the two girls. Perhaps if he got them talking more..."Do you know each other?" he asked. They locked gazes across the table at each other rather than at him. Both flushed a little; he had the sense that one wanted to nudge the other under the table, but it was too wide.

"Um...no, lord king," Ganlin said, with Elis a beat behind with her. "We've met, lord king. That's all."

So both were prepared to lie; Kieri had not lived so long not to recognize the signs of a covert agreement of some kind. "Well," he said, "perhaps you should become more acquainted. Pargun and Kostandan are, after all, neighbors."

"My guardian wouldn't-" "They don't want-" came simultaneously from both girls.

Oho. Another complication. He could imagine that the guardians would have preferred to present only their own princess to avoid compet.i.tion, but since they were both there, surely it was natural for girls that age to spend time together. He struggled to find some topic that might interest them, but he had no idea how princesses were reared, what they valued. Taking a cue from their hands, he said, "Do you like horses?"

A patch of color came out on Elis's cheek. "Very much, lord king," she said quietly. "I-I like to ride. Fast."

"Then you should ride," Kieri said, relieved to have found some common interest. "We have both an indoor school and the Royal Ride-a long stretch of gra.s.s through the forest. Perhaps if Ganlin-"

"I like to ride," Ganlin said without his asking. "But-but more informally."

Kieri felt his brows rise. "Informally?"

"My-my aunt thinks it improper to ride astride."

"Does she indeed? Here, most women ride astride," Kieri said.

"Really?" Elis's voice rose; down the table, Kieri saw Countess Settik glare at her, and Elis looked down.

"My aunt says it's not proper for a princess," Ganlin said more quietly. "Certainly not while visiting...I used to..."

"We both did," Elis said under her breath. She stabbed a medallion of venison with unnecessary force.

"Then consider that you are free to use the Royal Ride," Kieri said, applying himself to his own meal. He glanced down the table to where Arian, just back from Riverwash, was listening to Count Settik of Pargun and Kaelith doing the same with Ganlin's male escort-her uncle or uncle-in-law, Kieri a.s.sumed. It would have been pleasant to have them at his end of the table; the Squires often ate with him. For a moment, he transposed the Squires and princesses, imagining them as the latter, but he put that out of mind.