Unicorn Saga - The Unicorn Peace Part 50

An hour later, wearing pale blue with dark gray pip- ing, bathed, shaved and scented, he was shown into Marianna's bedchamber on the top floor. It had a big window that opened onto the roof and the midday sun shone in brightly. The Lady of the Holding was propped up in the grand, carved bed, wearing a pale green night- robe, with a matching ribbon securing the pulled-back hair. There was an open account book on the counter- pane beside her. She did not look up and he had a moment to study her. The first thing that registered was that she was plump, a mild shock in one who has always been thin. The second was the enormous bulge beneath the covers. She glanced in his direction and her face lit up. She is truly beautiful, Jarrod thought as he smiled at her.

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"Jarrod! They didn't tell me that you'd arrived. When did you get here?"

"Just over an hour ago," he said, advancing to the bedside. "Long enough to have a bath and a meal and don this finery." He extended his arms and rotated to display the clothes. "What do you think?"

"You look very handsome and everything seems to fit properly," she said. "I was afraid that the sleeves and the trousers would be too short."

"No, they're fine, though I shall have to watch what I eat. My new man gives me to understand that robes are unwelcome here."

"Well, as my husband, you are required to show an amount of state. The tenants expect it. It's important for our standing in the region and people are very sen- sitive to that. In a great many cases, their self-esteem is attached to us. Besides, most people tend to be afraid of Magicians and especially of Mages."

"It's a shame, then, that I can't do anything about my height," he said with more asperity than he had intended.

"Now don't be difficult, Jarrod dear," she said with unwonted calmness. "You have to realize that, at Gwyndryth, you have to play the part of my husband- What you do at Stronta, or at Celador for that matter, is entirely your affair, but here we have customs and traditions that go back for centuries. What matters here is the peace and productivity of the demesne and of my father's tenants. There are certain obligations that come with your position. You will have to pre- side at Hall tonight for instance, and we shall have to have a feast for the va.s.sals and tenants in your honor."

She looked up at him and smiled. "I can't promise that we won't have to give a feast to celebrate," she

276 patted her stomach with both hands, "the arrival of this one."

Jarrod sat down on the edge of the bed and reached out a tentative hand.

"Go ahead," she said. "It won't bite."

He placed his hand gently on the swelling covers. All he could feet was the curving counterpane with its welts of embroidery.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

"Oh, I feel bloated and uncomfortable," she said as if ticking off her blessings. "My back hurts, I feel as if I need to go to the garderobe every ten minutes and my feet and ankles are swollen." She favored him with a mincing smile more usually seen on the faces of Court ladies making light conversation.

"Most of all, and most oddly of all, I have the dis- tinct feeling that this is not my body. It does what it wants and I have no control of it. It is as if I were outside myself observing this other person. At other times it is as if I were trapped in someone else's body."

"Is there anything that I can do?" he asked.

She laughed. "Not unless you have a spell to speed delivery and make it painless." Her eyes widened sud- denly and she caught her breath.

She grabbed Jarrod's hand and pulled it back to her belly. He felt the baby's kick clear through the covers.

He looked at Marianna, his own eyes round.

'*Oh G.o.ds," he said. "It's alive."

"It's a very active little person," she replied in a tone of amused resignation.

"When ... ?" he began.

"Soon," Marianna said. "Pray to the G.o.ds that it be soon."

"And the Wisewoman's good, is she?"

"b.l.o.o.d.y woman treats me like a fragile child," Mar- ianna said with a flash of her old belligerence. "She's 277.

even got Merry convinced. Bland food, no wine, no mandragora-you'd think I'd never had a baby be- fore."

"I'm sure they know best," Jarrod began soothingly and then changed his tack when he caught the look on her face. "Well, I'll undertake to put on a brave show at Hall if you promise to behave yourself."

She made a face. "I don't have much of a choice do I?" she said with a trace of bitterness. "The unspeaka- ble Jaffney won't let me do anything. Every time one of my factors visits, it takes a battle royal to get him ad- mitted. The harvest is in and all the shipping arrange- ments have to be made. We had a b.u.mper crop this year and the Isphardis are paying a decent price for a change." She tapped the account book. "If I can ar- range for quick delivery before the other Holdings get themselves organized, this will be the most profitable year I've ever had. I should be down at Seaport. Instead of which, I'm cooped up in this room."

"Can't Sir Kerris help?" Jarrod inquired mildly. "He seems to be a competent man."

"Oh, he'll make a good enough Seneschal. He's well liked and he's honest. But he knows nothing about commerce. In fact he would be highly offended if I sug- gest that he get involved. My factors are good, but they need watching. If you don't keep a sharp eye on them, they'll rob you blind."

Jarrod noticed that her explanation of her business difficulties had restored some of her good humor. 'The Oligarch Olivderval thinks highly of your trade ven- ture," he remarked, "and coming from her, that's quite a compliment."

Marianna smiled. "It doesn't stop her from driving a hard bargain," she said. 'The men are far easier to deal with."

I'll just wager they are, Jarrod thought. "Well, I'm

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pleased to see that you are looking so well and I'm glad that I got here in time. And don't worry, I shan't let you down with the tenants." He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead and then made his escape while she was still in a good mood.

The Lord Chancellor hesitated before entering the Privy Chamber. He had been announced and the Queen had to have his report, but he knew that she would be distressed by the news and, given the wrong royal mood, such distress could result in the removal of his head. The trouble was that Her Majesty had been in a series of terrible moods ever since the wedding. He drew a deep breath and plucked up the front of his robe. Whatever the outcome, he would make a suitable entrance. He cleared the sill and let the garment go as he advanced into the presence. The skirt of his robe swept the floor and gathered sweet herbs as he crossed the room. The Queen, dressed this day in an eye-disorienting combi- nation of plum and puce, sat waiting upon the throne while her ladies-in-waiting chatted quietly. He came to a halt and bowed deeply.

''My Lord of Brynhaven, we are pleased to see you,"

Naxania said, though she looked far from pleased.

He cleared his throat before speaking. "I am here to report to Your Majesty upon a development in your realm." He was nervous and he sounded stilted. Nax- ania had a very poor record of dealing graciously with bearers of bad tidings.

"And what is it that our Lord Chancellor has to tell us?" Naxania inquired.

"The Duke of Abercorn is dead, ma'am."

He stood and waited for the tongue-lashing.

"It is not unexpected," the Queen said mildly.

"Mage Courtak is his successor of record," the Chan- cellor added.

THE UNICORN PFACE + 279.

"We know that. We do not like it. but we know that."

There was no mistaking that tone of voice. She looked at him and Brynhaven felt a shiver of fear between his shoulder blades. "What to you intend to do about it?"

she asked sharply.

"Do about it. Majesty? I do not understand. There is nothing I can do about it. There is no other direct heir.''

"Then find one."

"I am sorry. Your Majesty, but there is no other di- rect successor, and, much as I would like to please you, ma'am, with Jarrod Courtak, the discoverer of the un- icorns, living, there is nothing that can be done."

"Are you telling me, Chancellor," she said with ter- rible quiet, "that if it is our royal will that this Courtak be destroyed, or, more simply, deprived of his inheri- tance, that you would not obey us?"

Lord Brynhaven's chin descended to his chest and he swallowed. He did not think of himself as a brave man, but in this he knew that he would have to oppose her.