There was an edge, not quite concealed, about Barnesh around the edges of Yevgen’s level, low tenor voice. Gareth thought it might be Barnesh personally, rather than Barnesh the notoriously wily Maren king. “Yes, I imagine he has taken a keen interest,” Gareth kept his voice deliberately light and conversational, then dropped his tone to appear conspiratal and secretive. “Though, I must say as one of Kalasin’s relations, I must find your Majesty a far better connection for her than Barnesh. I believe my nephew and his wife were briefly considering his proposal some years ago.”
Gareth was interested in the way Yevgen’s fingers briefly tightened on the delicate crystal glass before being forcibly relaxed.
“A woman of the lineage and beauty of her Majesty should naturally receive many offers of marriage,” Yevgen managed, “I consider myself very fortunate.” He took a rather big swallow of the wine.
Duke Gareth now thought he had confirmed his earlier suspicions. He couldn’t quite see why either seemed so hesitant and formal about it. Love was not usual among royal marriages – but it was hardly a unheard of. However, his matchmaking days were long over, and he decided that this present generation should be left alone to sort it out. If they could deal with Barnesh, he thought, they could probably get around to talking to each other.
“A word about his Majesty of Maren,” Gareth continued his conspirital tone, “he is likely to demand compensation for settling thousands of Saren over the last two decades…”
“In the south of Maren, where there is a grand choice between swamp and wasteland, south Maren, where they have cultivated otherwise useless lands for him, paid his taxes, fattened his coffers, and starved by the thousands.” Yevgen had been doing his research. Gareth was impressed. Even if he was somewhat exaggerating the poor condition of that particular part of Maren, nonetheless, many of the new settlers had died of starvation after the majority of their meagre harvests were taken as taxes. He smiled his approval at the younger man, and then could not resist one more titbit, “oh, and should you ever invite King Barnesh to your wonderful home – and I have to say, none of his palaces can even remotely compare – you might need to warn your servants and those of your female knights unfamiliar with Eastern oddities. Barnesh has roving eyes and hands.”
Just at that moment, a K’mir clan leader came to persuade Yevgen away with talk of ponies for his postal service, and the King allowed himself to be taken away. Gareth watched with amusement the slight tension in the King’s shoulders after his last statements, and was suppressing a grin as Baron George of Pirate’s Swoop walked up quietly behind him. “And just what were you doin’ to the poor boy, your Grace?” he asked, having heard much of the conversation. “You weren’t telling him that about Barnesh Sticky-Hands for diplomatic reasons.”
“No, I wasn’t.” Gareth admitted. “Not really.”
Meanwhile, Kally was engaged in conversation with Alanna, Lianne, Buri, and a few of the K’mir who knew Buri slightly. Kel was off talking swords and horses with a bunch of Imperial knights over a pitcher of Riesling and a plate of chocolate over in a corner somewhere. Gradually, the K’mir drifted away, leaving Kally with the Tortallans.
“I never would have imagined that so much could be done so quickly, Kally,” Buri told her. “Look, K’mir and lowlander, mingling at a party and talking about their children, and the only knives in sight are with the catering staff. You’re done in two years what Warlords haven’t been able to do in two centuries.”
Kally tried to stop herself from blushing under the rare praise from her mother’s second, but failed miserably.
“I hear that King Barnesh is making a nuisance of himself on your border,” Alanna said after a few minutes silence.
“He has recently proposed a round of trade talks,” Kally didn’t answer the question.
Lianne raised her eyebrows. “Old Sticky-Hands? Ewwww…if you must invite him here, get all your staff to carry big sticks. Trust me, it saves a lot of bother.” She shuddered. “He’s so….urgh.”
Kally had the sneaking suspicion that her parents had reluctantly put Barnesh on Lianne’s unpromising shortlist of future husbands. It was not a pleasant thought.
The sight of Yevgen walking rapidly out into the chilly evening caught Radanae’s attention, just out of the corner of her eye. Frowning slightly, she disengaged from her conversation partner, a Tortallan knight who spent most of the time staring at her. Her mantle was lambswool rather than the usual silk, a concession to the cold, and her long undertunic had long sleeves, but she still felt the wind as she watched her friend pace outside the reception room.
“Is something bothering you?” she asked quietly.
“No…I mean…yes…I mean…not really,” Yevgen sounded really confused. Radanae softly closed the glass door behind them, to ensure that no prying ears could hear. “I was just something that Duke Gareth said…about Barnesh…he said…he said that Barnesh had once been considered as Kalasin’s husband…I mean, of course, she must have had lots of proposals…”
Radanae raised eyebrows, but then decided that she had to dance around this issue very carefully. “Well…” she temporised, “that’s true. But I suppose there weren’t all that many that Jonathan and Thayet felt that they could consider for their eldest daughter. There was Emperor Kaddar, Barnesh, and whoever was King that week in Scanra. Tusaine is never really worth bothering about, there’s already an alliance with the Yamani...”
“So was that all it was…better in comparison to everyone else?” Yevgen wondered aloud to nobody in particular.
“Excuse me?” Radanae asked, but rapidly shut her mouth as a door opened further down and both she and Yevgen instinctively drew back into the shadows.
It was Kalasin and Lianne. Alanna looked about to follow them, but was detained by a small, but determined horde of Imperial knights who wanted to hear stories of Alanna and Buri’s previous adventures in the Roof.
“I wanted to tell you myself.” Lianne looked very much subdued, far more depressed than she had been at any other time since she had arrived. Radanae wondered if her enthusiastic planning the night before had simply been a cover for this. “I didn’t want the others to break it. You know how it is with Scanra and Tusaine?” it wasn’t really a question, for all the slight rise in the voice.
Kally nodded.
“They’ve given me until MidWinter,” Lianne continued miserably, “Guess who? Barnesh, the Crown Prince of the Copper Isles – you know, the one who’s probably mad, and some Gallan with dirt under his fingernails. I wanted to come to talk to you, I mean, nobody has arranged marriages anymore, except you, but you don’t count because you’re nuts about Yevgen anyway.” Apparently that was as much stoic princess as Lianne could manage, for the younger woman promptly burst into tears.
Kally silently handed over a handkerchief. Lianne blew her nose in an unladylike manner. “I can’t even be as dignified as you were about it,” she tried to joke, and failed miserably. “Why can’t I be like you?” she asked, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “You didn’t even flinch when they proposed Barnesh for you the first time – and that was before that poor Gallan girl became his fourth - you were younger than me then! And then there was Kaddar who everyone thought you were going to get. He wouldn’t be half so bad – Daine says he’s cute. Then when he runs off with some tart, you don’t even bat an eyelid, even though everyone else is much, much worse, and then look who comes for you! Prince-bloody-Perfect!"
Kally hesitantly put her arm around her younger sister. In her own opinion, no matter what Lianne had declared, Lia had been stoic enough to keep all that frustration and emotion under tight wraps, appearing as any younger princess eager for adventure over the last day or so. It took a lot of effort.
“He’s not, you know,” Kally said calmly.
“What?”
“Yevgen. He’s not perfect. Nobody is.” Kally seemed distant.
“He comes pretty darn close,” Lianne said spiritedly. “Look. The man looks like he fell off some temple fresco, or maybe a marble statue come to life. He has good manners and he can hold up half a conversation. He doesn’t even try to stop you doing anything, never makes you do anything, he treats you as an equal, and, if I’m not very much mistaken, I take it he’s very good in bed and you two burn up the sheets every night.”
“Lia!” Kally sounded shocked at her sister’s bawdy commentary. Radanae noticed Yevgen’s start at the comments too.
“Well, isn’t he?” Lia was persistent.
Kally answered in the affirmative. Radanae shot a look at Yevgen who was positively beaming. It was annoying. It had been longer than Radanae could recall since she’d had a boyfriend, and it was becoming a bit of a concern.
“Urgh. I don’t even want to think about what that’s going to be like for me,” Lianne continued. “With Scanra and Tusaine so unstable, we need more allies.” She sighed. “Liam and Jasson aren’t doing too well either. Negotiations are nearly over one of the younger Gallan princesses, and a Cathaki Duchess. They’ll probably send a letter in the next few months, if one of your husband’s friend’s spies don’t get hold of it first.” She quietened again.
“What are you going to do?” Kally asked softly.
Lianne gave a helpless little shrug. “I’m a princess, aren’t I? Born and bred to duty. You did it. I’m just not as lucky…”
“Oh Lia…”
“Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m perfectly able to do it for myself. We can’t all be as happy as you.”
“Excuse me?”
She snorted. “What? You’ve got your own country, you can do whatever you like, and you’ve got King Gorgeous who’s nuts for you – and you have the hots for, don’t deny it -in your bed. That’s five better than what I’ll get.”
Kally was counting on her fingers.
“Mutual affection – counts for two, and his looks get you a bonus mark,” Lia explained exasperatedly.
“You’re wrong about one, then,” Kally said. “I know he doesn’t care for me in that way.”
Lianne stared at her incredulously. “Are you blind? He practically worships the ground you walk on. He’s just too darn well-bred and polite to be as obvious as the squires back home were.”
“No, Lia. He’s in love with someone else. Someone he went to school with. I’ve met her – two years ago – she was in the assistance force. She’s beautiful.”
“So are you. And I’m not just saying that.” Lianne sighed. “Kal, have you ever thought that people can fall in love lots of times. It’s not as though feelings are finite or anything. It’s not as though once you love something, you can’t love something else. So he had a crush on a pretty girl years ago. I’m sure you’ve liked some of those boys back at the Palace. That doesn’t meant you can’t like him. And, sister dear, you more than like him, don’t you?”
“Yes…”
“See. There you go. Has it ever occurred to you that the other time was just a crush and you’re the real thing for him? Kal, I’ll never have the happiness that you’ve got right in front of you. Maybe I do read to many romances, but there is something special between you and Yevgen, or I’m not Lianne of Conté, and you’d be a fool not to grasp it.” She shook herself and then returned the handkerchief to her sister. “Now, I’m going to go in there, flirt outrageously, and not think about the shortlist until tomorrow.” With that, Lianne went back in, though Kalasin stayed outside.
Radanae dared a glanced at Yevgen, but found that he was staring at Kalasin, but in disbelief, rather than for the reason that Lianne had proposed. Radanae turned and opened the door to re-enter the reception room. She held up her hand to prevent Yevgen following her. “No. Stay. You’ve got the perfect opportunity now to say what you have to. Tell her.” She said sternly, then closed the door behind them, making sure that it was audible.
Further down, Kalasin jumped, and Yevgen cursed under his breath, damning all trained bureaucrats to a particularly unpleasant afterlife. With a quick, brief prayer to gods he only semi-believed in, he strode determinedly towards his wife, feigning surprise when she turned around.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know anyone was out here. I…came to get some fresh air. It’s very stuffy.” He was aware that he was rambling.
“Yes, well, parties do get that way,” Kally agreed. “The moon’s bright tonight,” she remarked, looking up at the sky.
Yevgen glanced back over his shoulder at the party. It was going very well without them. He looked over at Kalasin, noting that she had sensibly thrown a warm wrap over her evening dress – which was as practical as those things ever are.
Some part of him conceded that Radanae was right. Things needed to be cleared up before it interfered with their work. Another part, however, was elated by further confirmation that her words that morning were not merely spoken in the heat of the moment. There was too, that uncomfortable feeling, that burning sensation, when she had recounted all the other prospective grooms she’d had. Yes. Things needed to be cleared up.
“I was starting to get a bit of a headache in there,” he lied, “I’m just going for a walk in the gardens. Do you want to come?”
***************
Moonlight
The silvered threads in Kalasin’s favourite shawl glimmered slightly, touched by the moon. It was virtually their only illumination as they walked further away from the Palace, though truth be told, both had rather good nightvision. They made their way to a meeting point of all the gardens, where there was a stone fountain and small, carved benches.
Yevgen sat at one of them, resting his elbows on his knees and looking broodingly (something he did rather well, for all that blondes aren’t meant to be able to do it) at the graceful cascades of water. Kally sat down beside him. “Is your headache better?” she asked, unable to think of what else to say.
“Humm?” he sat up suddenly, “Oh, yes, it’s much better now. The oil lamps, perhaps. Remind me never to order both the lamps and the candles lit. Probably the competing fragrances.”
There was a moment or two of silence, broken only by the merry tinkling of water. “I…spoke to my sister earlier…” Kally’s voice was clear in the stillness, “it’s her turn to marry soon…she’s rather upset about it…”
“Oh, how so?” Yevgen asked politely, because there was something in Kalasin’s tone that begged the question.
Kally slumped, “Because the best prospect – politically, that is – happens to be Barnesh of Maren…”
“I won’t dispute that,” Yevgen agreed, “but I can see why she would be upset about it – I believe that he would be rather older than my mother – even were she still alive. Do you think that we should make some special effort for her during this visit? – for, if she told you just now, I must assume that the decision is very much imminent.”
“It is. It is. Far sooner than anyone would have liked. Yevgen…about this morning…” she hesitated. “I know…well…it wasn’t the most eloquent way…but I meant it, everything. I am so very lucky to have you, and Lianne just made that very clear to me. It’s not…comparisons…or anything. Even if we were just…ordinary…I would still feel the same way. Look, I am sorry, I know that you don’t feel…” she drew back slightly in surprise as his arms went around her and pulled her towards him in a gentle, but very, very passionate kiss.
“No, Kal,” he said, somewhat breathlessly, when they broke free some minutes later, “I know this is much overdue – but please, listen. I’m…not…really all that good with words, oh, I can make a pretty speech to Council, I can insult sycophantic envoys, but, really, not with anything that really matters. I was trained as a soldier and a politician – neither an occupation where a surfeit of sincerity is particularly desirable. But what I am trying to say – in a rather rambling and somewhat ineloquent manner is that…well…umm. Kalasin, please, do believe me when I say I love you. And I do.” He added, somewhat uselessly.
Kally looked closely at him for a few seconds. He coloured slightly (though she knew that through his posture, rather than being able to see the change in his complexion in the dark), but did not look away under her gaze. His eyes, even darker now than usual because of the lack of light, seemed to burn – though Kally was otherwise sure that it was biologically improbable. However, it was only for a few seconds, just a few seconds for Kally to register what he had just said, and to pull Yevgen closer, dragging his head down (while she was considered tall for a Tortallan woman, he still had several inches advantage over her) to hers. He seemed more startled at her sudden movements than surprised at her actions, and then shocked her in his turn by pulling her down onto the immaculately kept grass.
Though Kalasin later thought that it was very, very selfish of her, for some time afterwards, little sisters, and their misery in this particular aspect of their lives, could not possibly have been any further from her mind. It was far, far more agreeably otherwise engaged.
Lady Keladry, the second female knight in Tortall for over a hundred years, caught the movement out of the corner of her eye. It was the Imperial Ambassador, the young woman gave Kel a subtle ‘thumbs up’, which she then interpreted to mean that the reason for the King and Queen’s absence from the reception was for a positive reason – as far as Princess Lianne was concerned. Kel sighed. While she did not participate in the Court gossip circles, nobody in the Palace, or even Corus, was unaware of the intense speculation concerning the betrothal of the younger princess. In the almost-two-years since Kalasin’s wedding, the tales of the bridegroom had been exaggerated, as such things always are, and now King Yevgen of Sarain was the most perfect, chivalrous, courtly and handsome knight ever to set foot upon the earth, at least as far as the Court Ladies were concerned. Any conversation that concerned Lianne’s possible betrothals invariably contained “…poor girl, well, she can’t be expected to be as fortunate as her sister…”
Lianne’s inclusion in the party going to Sarain was meant to give her a break from the speculation, to allow her to get away from the streams of envoys anxious to secure a young bride with both Tortallan connections and beauty that came from her notoriously attractive parents. Kel also suspected that another part of King Jonathan’s – if not Queen Thayet’s – objectives was to let Lia see that arranged marriages could turn out well, that Roald and Shinko were not an anomaly. In Kel’s humble opinion, not at all affected by the fact that she didn’t particularly like King Jonathan personally (mostly), that aspect of the Sarain trip was a spectacular failure. For a start, both Lianne’s new in-laws were young, attractive, thoroughly pleasant, passably sane, had no antisocial habits or unspeakable hobbies, were quite madly in love with her siblings, and her siblings were equally in love with them. Kel rather thought that Crown Princess Shinkokami and King Yevgen would make any prospective bridegroom look rather second-rate, much less the considerably worse pool that was left for Princess Lianne.
Much to Kel’s surprise, though, the diplomat did not return to the milling crowds in the party. Instead, she appeared to check herself midstride, and then give the room a narrowed glance, before gliding off. Curious, Keladry followed, until Radanae stopped in a corridor, and took a good look around (Kel hid in a shadowed alcove), before saying, “Kel, come out. I know you’re there.”
Keladry was about to reveal herself when a panel high on the wall moved softly aside, and a figure jumped out and landed perfectly right in front of the Imperial. The figure was a young man – some years younger than Radanae – probably about Kel’s own age – tall, with dark hair, a lean but muscular build, and an air of dangerous competence. He was dressed as an aristocrat, though in dark, dull colours. It was unlikely that he’d be noticed in the corridors, but in the event that he was, very few would have challenged him. There was an astounding resemblance between them, and their relationship was obvious even before Sir Kelvar Gavrillian gave a suspicious bow to his sister and asked, “How on earth did you know I was up there?”
“One hint, little brother,” she rolled her eyes, “when you hide in a ventilation shaft when your sister’s around don’t wear the cologne she commissioned for your last birthday. Though I have to confess I suspected something of the sort when Kay and Justinia seemed so complacent about Evie, and then I heard something scrambling around in the shafts earlier, and I’m sure that there are no rats here. Last I heard you were drinking rotgut with radicals in Bersone. So, spill.”
The Swords might technically have more power than one minor functionary in the Service, but younger brothers know when their elder sisters are not to be trifled with. This was one of those times.
“Maren,” he said reluctantly. “Rislyn is concerned about Barnesh – oh, not in itself – she’s concerned that other princelings around our borders can think they can muck around with us if we continue to let him make noises around this little border. No real problems in Sarain itself – oh, I mean there are a few die-hards on both the Saren and K’mir sides, but most of those groups are the ones that we’ve set up anyway, so there should be name lists and evidence on your desk – as soon as you get one – if you ever need to use them. The Service…sorry Rad, the Service isn’t quite equipped for this sort of espionage. You lot do better in established contacts. Swords are better at this sort of thing.”
It was an age-old rivalry, so Radanae let it stand.
“How many of you?”
“Not that many. Mostly in Maren and the borders, though, yours truly arrived a few days ago. A few keep an eye on Evie – pure gossip, and back-up protection only, I assure you,” he added hastily “nothing like that.” He meant that Rislyn had no reason to believe that Yevgen was a challenge to her Diadem.
Radanae sighed. “You still on official duty, or can you take a break? There’s roast duck with plum sauce and those steamed crepes you like so much.” They walked back towards the reception. Though Keladry shrank back as far into the alcove as she could and drew a convenient hanging over the entrance, she could have sworn that Radanae briefly looked in her direction, and winked.
Talking to female Imperial knights and K’mir clanswomen, with their freedom to contract marriages with whomever they chose depressed her, and talking to Saren women, who had vehement objections to the custom of picking their own husbands without their family’s consent, depressed her even more, so Lianne was over at a refreshments table getting herself another comforting serve of crème caramel when he entered.
‘He’ was tall, dark, and, in her own opinion at least, very handsome. Dressed in sombre colours, but rich fabrics, he moved gracefully around the room. Lianne only became aware that she was staring when he came over to the buffet and picked up a plate, selecting dainties along the way.
“Your Highness?” she turned to see Radanae, eyes snapping with mirth and barely able to hold back a grin. The Imperial beckoned the young man over – for, close up, Lianne could see that he wasn’t much older than her – he was probably barely out of his teens, in his early twenties at the most. “Princess Lianne, might I present my younger brother Sir Kelvar Gavrillian, Dux Tertia. Kel, her Royal Highness Princess Lianne of Conté, daughter of King Jonathan and Queen Thayet of Tortall.”
Kelvar quickly put his plate down on the table and bowed over Lianne’s automatically raised hand. There seemed to be a slight tension in the air, a slight spark. Kel’s sister could barely contain her delight, despite her excellent and thorough diplomatic training. It was all she could do not to skip as she made her way to the orchestra and ordered a waltz.
Some time later in the evening, the King and Queen rather sheepishly slipped in a side door, hair mussed, clothes rumpled, torn, grass-stained and with several buttons missing. Radanae noticed but did not give them much mind – after all, there was a far more interesting game at foot now. She gave them a nod in the direction of the dance floor, and then made concerted efforts to ensure that nobody impeded the royal couple's progress as they made they way up to their bedchamber.
“I’m afraid this has had it,” Kally said sadly, holding up the blue wool shawl. “You officially sent it with the sapphires as a betrothal gift,” she informed Yevgen.
“Yes, I remember it,” he answered, much to her slight surprise. She had known that he was aware of the beautiful collection of sapphire jewellery that was his betrothal gift (his mother or one of his sisters, or otherwise a functionary had picked them), but not that he had known of the shawl. “It’s a wedding shawl – it’s meant to be able to be passed through the betrothal ring.” He told her, “they’re most common among the wealthiest knightly families, because they’re so difficult to make, and require the very finest wool from a particular breed of sheep or goat – I forget which. I’ll get you another one if you want.” He offered. “It’s my fault it’s a bit ragged, anyway.”
They exchanged shy grins as they undressed properly. If they gave each other rather more assistance than was strictly necessarily, well, their clothing was rather damp from the grass, and had been very hastily pulled on before they returned to the Palace. Some clear thinking individual – probably Yevgen’s valet or Kally’s maid – had prepared a hot bath, steaming with the heady, intense scent of sandalwood and rose. Yevgen gave a little sigh of delight as he sank under the water, then held out his arms to assist Kally in after him. Their bathroom was huge – one of his few completely decadent indulgences (though there was one not very much smaller in the Queen’s wing) – the size of a not-that-poor peasant’s entire home, with a sunken tub that could easily accommodate six or seven. Luckily, the Palace was built on hot springs, and there was also an enormous copper urn in the bathroom with its own brazier, otherwise it would have been impossible to fill. There was a larger facility on the ground floor, complete with steam rooms and pools of differing temperatures large enough to swim in, but Yevgen and Kally tended to visit it separately after a well-documented incident that the staff (and most of Sarain) were still sniggering about.
After the inevitable activities that took place in the bath, she lay back in his arms, and then asked the question that had plagued her as they had scampered through the reception room.
“Who was that dancing with my sister?”
“That? The man in the charcoal?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, that. Kelvar Gavrillian, Radanae’s younger brother. One of Rislyn’s Swords.”
“Excuse me?”
“They’re elite military units. Perhaps the closest analogy would be a cross between your father’s Own, and the Service, only with less preoccupation with good manners. Rislyn’s bully-boys and girls, basically.”
“Oh,”
“But he’s a perfectly fine person,” Yevgen felt compelled to add, hastily, then sobered a little. “Though, it is the first sign I’ve had that he’s visiting. Radanae would have told me if he was dropping in…”
“Is that odd?”
“Only the Service wasn’t told – which is unusual. Ris would leave all but the most sensitive assignments to them. Two possibilities – and the first is the most probable – that the Maren and Tusiane situations worry my sister more than one should suppose. Swords often take the very highly specialised assignments – elite guard units, personal bodyguards, infiltration into specific groups, especially if the Service hasn’t got its preferred amount of coverage yet. The Service tends to take care of the more mundane tasks.”
“What’s the second?”
“The second what?” he asked
“You said that there were two possibilities.”
“Well, the second is more of an improbability. If it were true, I would be dead by now. The Swords are sworn to uphold the Empress. The other reason they would be coming here would be to kill me.”
Kally sat up with a start, but Yevgen coaxed her back down into the water. “As I said, that’s highly unlikely. Swords have the priorities set right. If Kel was an assassin – and they wouldn’t send him anyway – he’d have killed me before going to the party. Anyway, that sort of operation would have to take care of Kay first, because she’s the stronger claimant. Now, do you want me to scrub your back? There’s this little grass stain right here that’s not coming off….”
He was charming, and gracious. He was also extremely wealthy and connected to the greatest Imperial families. Even though he wasn’t the heir to the family fortune, his personal inheritance was staggering by Eastern standards. Even the modest private estate he would have as a younger child wasn’t all that much smaller than Maren. All right, the last two were pure speculation – but Lianne didn’t care. All she knew was that in the vast reception room of her sister’s beautiful Palace, lit by a thousands of candles, and illuminated by the moon streaming in the crystal skylight, she had fallen in love.
“Who was that young man you were dancing with, Lia?” Duke Gareth asked his younger great-niece, though he already knew.
“Kelvar Gavrillian. He’s Radanae’s younger brother,” she said dreamily, only peripherally attached to the world.
Gareth exchanged anxious looks with Alanna and George. Buri was still at the party, for once distracted by finding some long-lost distant relatives and was now engrossed in conversation. They all knew one of the main reasons for Lianne’s accompanying them was to take her mind off the depressing process that was choosing a bridegroom for her. The last thing they needed was a handsome, charming young Imperial to take her mind in a completely different direction. He could not deny that the young knights here in Sarain were vastly more appealing to a young woman than the unappetising short-list that had been formulated at Council. In other circumstances, another match with the Empire might have been very advantageous, especially this one. Sir Myles of Olau, who was interested in the particular identifies of the knights sent as the initial delegation to Tortall nearly two years ago, had managed to obtain sketchy details of both those knights and their immediate families. The Gavrillians were one of the oldest, most powerful, and certainly one of the most wealthy Houses in the Empire. They had produced an impressive strings of warriors and generals for successive Empresses, and though the current scion’s avid interest in politics and diplomacy was quite odd, her two brothers were two of the most highly regarded young knights in the Empire. At any other time, Gareth would have no hesitation at all encouraging Lianne’s interest. But now…with Scanra always so unstable, and Tusiane hovering on the edge of anarchy, an alliance closer to home was vital. Negotiations with Galla and Cathark for Jasson and Liam were nearing completion. Maren and the Copper Isles remained the only missing pieces – and Maren was vital, if only to keep Tusiane in check. Gareth sighed as the drowsy attendants opened the doors to their wing for them. Despite his reputation as a stern disciplinarian, he was not a harsh man, and it bothered him more than he cared to admit that he was going to have to be the one to dash his niece’s dreams.
Kally woke the next morning feeling completely and utterly relaxed. There was a slight movement beside her and she turned on her side to see Yevgen siting on the side of the bed, getting dressed.
“What time is it?” she asked, getting up on her elbows.
“Far, far too early,” Yevgen leaned back and kissed her affectionately. Kally grabbed hold of his arms and tried to prolong it, but he drew back with some reluctance. “No,” he said, mock-sternly, “you know what always happens after that, and I’ve got an appointment down at the practice courts.”
“Oh? With who?” Kally sat up, interested. That she was doing annoying things to his concentration wasn’t at all on her mind.
“Your uncle,” he said, much to her surprise. For some reason, his fingers were very slow in doing up the buttons on his shirt. “Well, not your uncle exactly. It sounds like most of the Tortallan knights. He wants to have a look at Imperial swordsmanship.” He gave up on the shirt, pulled it off and flung it onto the floor. “Alright,” he said, collapsing back onto the wide expanse of the bed and letting himself be pulled under the sheets by Kally, “I’m sure he won’t mind if I’m half an hour late. Or forty five minutes,” he corrected, a few seconds later.
Kally remembered that it was one of her mornings with the female knights only when she came down the stairs an hour later, still lacing up her shirt, to find a group of them waiting in the large courtyard. They exchanged smirks among themselves, and gave her a collective suggestive look (and an equally inappropriate look at the retreating Yevgen’s backside, that Kally did not think at all polite), before indicating that she should begin her thrice-weekly torture.
Kally was told that she wasn’t considered at all bad even by Imperial standards, though she rarely felt like it, as most of the female knights in Sarain were the ones with the better martial skills. However, they were good teachers, and took care to explain to her all the different moves appropriate for each type of weaponry. As she had started so late (or so they claimed), and had comparatively little time, they were only working on the weapons that they felt she was most likely to use – sword, dagger – and unarmed fighting. Her archery was fair by Imperial standards, and really required little further technical work, just practice, and even her critical new friends had to concede that she was a gifted equestrienne.
She was a quivering, dripping wreck by the time she finished, experiencing quite a different form of exhaustion as she had only a few minutes before, only not quite so pleasant. Yevgen was still half-killing young Tortallan knights that she vaguely recognised from her girlhood. Kally walked towards the small Tortallan audience, trying to neaten herself up as she went.
Lianne was standing against one of the pillars, not paying any attention at all to the fencing bouts, instead engrossed in conversation with young man.
“My brother,” came Radanae’s clear, slightly dry voice just beside her. Kalasin started slightly, then turned to see the Imperial dressed in practice clothes, holding a practice sword, and looking slightly mussed, though Kally could not recall seeing the other woman on the practice courts. “As you can see,” Radanae continued with a graceful little inclination of her head, “my brothers got the looks, the athletic ability, and the charm, I got the money and the brains, and I can’t say that I didn’t get the better half of the bargain.”
Kally felt a slight edge in the other woman’s voice. It was true that both Rory and Kelvar could be considered handsomer than their sister – but Kally felt that was more due to the fact that features that were strong on large men were simply harsh on a smallish (at least by Imperial standards – Radanae wasn’t much shorter than Kally herself) woman.
Lianne’s laughter spilled across the courts, a genuinely happy sound, the first time, Kally guessed, that her younger sister had laughed in a long time. She glanced quickly across at Radanae, who raised an eyebrow, then winked.
*******************
Letters/ Meanwhile…
Dear nephew and niece, Gareth wrote, then paused. It was a delicate subject, and he wasn’t quite sure how to put it. He took the easy exit and decided to write about things that Jonathan and Thayet would like to hear.
Kally seems very happy here, he continued. King Yevgen is a fine young man and treats her with the utmost courtesy and respect. They seem to have genuine affection for each other, and it is very touching to see. They almost remind me of you two at the beginning of your reign, though they do not turn up late to meetings with inadequate excuses and sheepish expressions. (That was carefully worded. Yevgen thought it beneath his dignity to offer such excuses and saw no reason to be ashamed. Kally was following his lead, though Gareth did not think that Kally’s parents wanted to hear that.) However, I wish I could say that familial ties and love have been an advantage in negotiations – for they have not. We have concluded the trade and defence pacts, and I am satisfied with the results. Tough – but I have to admit that they are fair to both sides. Copies, of course, are enclosed.
The Saren Palace is completely rebuilt, though I am sure that Buri could tell you far more about it than I could (that is, if she ever finishes that scent-drenched epic she is writing to Goldenlake), our accommodations are comfortable, and the catering and staff are excellent. You should consider poaching one or two, but I have the feeling that your excellent son-in-law would probably try to skin you alive, as he is justifiably proud of his abilities as host. Might I suggest a State visit, or even a private call upon your daughter? I assure you that the food is well worth the trip.
On another note, however, Lianne appears to have formed an attachment with a young man who is visiting Sarain. His name is Sir Kelvar Gavrillian, and he is the younger brother of the young knight who caught Myles of Olau’s interest nearly two years ago. Further details of this young man are attached behind the trade and defence agreements. Radanae Gavrillian is here as well, officially as Imperial Envoy, unofficially, I believe, co-ordinating the Imperial Intelligence activities this side of the Roof.
I have subtly indicated to Lianne that such an attachment may not be advisable in the current climate (as you may imagine, Alanna is no help whatsoever in these matters, George sensibly does not cross his wife, Buri only speaks of it to declare the men on the Council shortlist ‘slimy’, and Lady Keladry seems most determined to spend her days on tests of skill with the Imperial knights, and not to be involved in anything even remotely unmilitaristic), but she does not appear receptive.
I fear that this will end with pain on both sides. I respectfully seek your thoughts on this matter,
I am,
Yours, etc
Gareth, Duke of Naxen.
He laid down the pen with a sigh, and examined the letter critically. Not perfect, he decided, but it conveyed the point well enough. He hunted around for his sealing wax, and eventually found that one of his dogs was holding it in his mouth, and sitting up. Gareth patted the terrier and pressed his seal onto the letter, before tossing it into the pile that would be delivered back to Corus.
Dear Kay and Justinia,
I hope you two have come to your senses after that ridiculous experiment with the weather/earth magery. However, you will be disgustingly pleased to know that it did appear to have something approaching the desired affect. Evie and Kalasin are all over each other like turtledoves now that each does not have to be pretend to have only friendly feelings for the other. They are continually running into meetings late with suspiciously wrinkled clothes and very badly concealed hickeys. It’s like being back at the Academy again during springtime (or any other time, to tell the truth). It’s positively sickening. By the by, whose idea was it to send Kel over? I must say, it was inspired. Princess Lianne has fallen quite devastatingly for him – and my brother is as interested as he has ever been in a girl. Added to that, it will comprehensively irritate Barnesh no end. Did you know that the latest intercepts have him offering practically half his treasury as a bride price for her? The sleazy git’s been single nearly two and a half years, probably a record for him, hoping for one or other of the Conté princesses. How I wish I could see the look on his face when this attempt falls through.
Yes, she is Gifted – not as powerful as Kalasin, but come on, who is in the Empire these days – and really very pleasant. Not as assertive as Kalasin is, but what can one expect from Easterners? Everyone is well, otherwise I wouldn’t have bothered with sending them to you the slow way. I’m nearly out of the powder, and more won’t come for three weeks.
Yours etc
Radanae
P.S. Is it just me, or are everyone’s hormones going overboard now? Are you two still happily bachelored, or do I have to grit my teeth and buy more engagement presents? It’s really disturbing here. There is absolutely no free talent of that sort, though I continue to take that foul-tasting tea in a sort of desolate hope.
P.P.S. Don’t show this to Lara. I have sent her a nothing-letter about the weather. She really doesn’t need to know about Evie.