Dave Duncan - A Man Of His Word 1 - Magic Casement

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Magic CasementMagic Casement
Book 1 of A Man Of His Word
By Dave Duncan
ISBN: 0-345-36628-X
ONE
Youth departs
1
Since long before the coming of Gods and mortals, the great rock of Krasnegar
had stood amid the storms and ice of the Winter Ocean, resolute and eternal.
Throughout long arctic nights it glimmered under the haunted dance of aurora and
the rays of the cold, sad moon, while the icepack ground in useless anger around
its base. In summer sun its yellow angularity stood on the shining white and
blue of the sea like a slice of giants' cheese on fine china. Weather and season
came and went and the rock endured unchanging, heeding them no more than it
heeded the flitting generations of mankind.
Two sides fell sheer to the surf, pitted with narrow ledges where only the
crying seabirds went, but the third face ran down less steeply, and on that long
mad slope the little town adhered as grimly as a splatter of swallows' nests.
Above the humble clutter of the houses, at the very crest of the rock, the
castle pointed black and spikey turrets to the sky.
No mere human hand could have raised those stones in a land so remote or a
setting so wild. The castle had been built long centuries before by the great
sorcerer Inisso, to serve as palace for himself and for the dynasty he founded.
His descendants ruled there still, in direct male line unbroken... but the
present monarch, good King Holindarn, beloved of his people, had but a single
child-his daughter, Inosolan.
Summer came late to Krasnegar. When inhabitants of milder lands were counting
their lambs and chicks, the brutal storms still rolled in from the Winter Ocean.
While those lucky southerners gathered hay and berries, the wynds and alleyways
of the north lay plugged with drifts. Even when night had been almost banished
from the pallid arctic sky, the hills ashore stayed brown and sere. Every year
was the same. Every year a stranger might have given up hoping and assumed that
summer was not about to happen at all. The locals knew better and in patient
resignation they waited for the change.
Always their faith was rewarded at last. With no warning, a cheerful wind would
blunder in to sweep the ice floes from the harbor, the hills would throw off
their winter plumage almost overnight, and the snowdrifts in the alleyways would
shrink rapidly to sullen gray heaps sulking in shadowed corners. A few days'
rain and the world was washed green again, fair weather following foul as fast
as a blink. Spring in Krasnegar, the inhabitants said, had to be believed in to
be seen.
Now it had happened. Sunlight poured through the castle windows. The fishing
boats were in the water. The tide was out, the beaches were clear of ice and
obviously eager to be ridden on. Inos came early down to breakfast, busily
spinning plans for the day.
The great hall was almost deserted. Even before the fine weather had arrived,
the king's servants had driven the livestock over the causeway to the mainland.
Others would now be outside attending to the wagons and the harbor, cleaning up
the winter's leavings, and preparing for the hectic work of summer. Inos's
tutor, Master Poraganu, was conveniently indisposed with his customary
springtime rheumatics; there would be no objections from him, and she could head
for the stables as soon as she had grabbed a quick bite.
Aunt Kade sat at the high table in solitary splendor.
Momentarily Inos debated the wisdom of making a fast retreat and finding
something to eat in the kitchens, but she had already been noticed. She
continued her approach, therefore, practicing poise and trusting that a regal
grace would compensate for shabby attire.
"Good morning, Aunt," she said cheerfully. "Beautiful morning."
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"Good morning, my dear."
"You're earlier than-ooof!" Inos had not intended to make that last remark, but
her breeches tried to bite her in half as she sat down. She smiled uneasily, and
her sleeves slid quietly up her wrists.
Aunt Kade pursed her lips. Aunts could be expected to disaprove of princesses
arriving at meals in dirty old riding habits. "You appear to have outgrown those
clothes, my dear. "
Kade herself, of course, was dressed as if for a wedding or a state function.
Not one silver hair was out of place, and even for breakfast she had sprinkled
jewelry around her neck and over her fingers. In honor of the arrival of summer,
she had donned her pale-blue linen with the tiny pleats. Inos restrained an
unkind impulse to remark that Kade appeared to have outgrown the pale-blue
linen. Kade was short,
Kade was plump, and Kade was growing plumper. The wardrobe she had brought back
with her two years ago was barely adequate now, and the local seamstresses were
all at least two generations out of date in fashioning attire for ladies of
quality.
"Oh, they'll do," Inos said airily. "I'm only going along the beach, not leading
a parade. "
Aunt Kade dabbed at her lips with a snowy napkin. "That will be nice, my dear.
Who is going with you?"
"Kel, I hope. Or Ido... or Fan..." Rap, of course, had long since departed for
the mainland. So had many, many others.
"Kel will be helping me." Kade frowned. "Ido? Not the chambermaid?"
Inos's heart sank. It would not help to mention that Ido was an excellent rider
and that the two of them had been out six or eight times already recently in
much worse weather than this. "There'll be somebody. " She smiled thanks at old
Nok as he brought her a dish of porridge.
"Yes, but who?" Kade's china-blue eyes assumed the tortured look they always did
in these confrontations with her willful niece.
"Everyone is very busy just now. I shall need to know who is going with you, my
dear. "
"I'm a very competent horsewoman, Aunt."
"I'm sure you are, but you must certainly not go out riding without suitable
attendants. That would not be ladylike. Or safe. So you will find out who is
available and let me know before you leave?"
Restraining her temper, Inos made noncommittal noises to the porridge.
Kade smiled with relief... and apparently with complete innocence. "You promise,
Inos?"
Trapped! "Of course, Aunt."
Such babying was humiliating! Inos was older than Sila, the cook's daughter, who
was already married and almost a mother.
"I am having a small salon this morning. Nothing formal, just some ladies from
the town... tea and cakes. You would be very welcome to join us."
On a day like this? Tea and cakes and burgesses' fat wives? Inos would rather
muck out stables.
Disaster! There was no one. Even the youngest and most inadequate stableboy
seemed to have been assigned duties of world-shattering importance that could
not be postponed. A frenzy of activity possessed everyone still remaining in the
castle, and there were few of those anyway. The boys had gone to the hills or
the boats. The girls were busy in the fields or the fish sheds. There was no
one.
No one of her rank! That was the real problem. All of Inos's friends were the
children of her father's servants, for Krasnegar possessed no nobility below its
king, and no minor gentry either, unless one counted the merchants and
burgesses. Her father counted them; Aunt Kade did so unwillingly. But servants
and gentry alike, the boys were vanishing into trades, the girls into matrimony.
There was no one around with leisure to escort a princess, and the prospect of
that spirited gallop along the sands began to fade like a mirage.
The stables were almost deserted, by man and beast both. As she went in, Inos
passed Ido bearing a bundle of washing on her head.
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"Looking for Rap?" Ido inquired.
No, Inos was not looking for Rap. Rap had long since gone landward with the
others and would not be back before winter. And why should everyone always
assume that it had to be Rap she wanted?
She spent a wistful while agrooming Lightning, although he did not need it. What
he needed was more exercise. She had inherited Lightning from her mother, and if
her mother had still been alive, then they... well, no point in thinking about
that. As Inos left the stable, she passed old Hononin, the hostler, a gnarled
and weatherbeaten monument whose face seemed to have been upholstered in the
same leather used to make his clothes.
"Morning, miss. Looking for Rap?"
Inos snorted a denial and pranced by him, although snorting was not regal. And
probably that way of departing was what the writers of romances called a
"flounce," and that would not be regal either. She would not be able to go
riding, and Aunt Kade would know she was still around the palace. Would she hunt
down her niece to impose the tea-and-cake torture on her? With some relief, Inos
decided that Aunt Kade probably wanted her at the affair no more than she wanted
to attend. Unfortunately, Kade might decide that duty required her to promote
Inos's education in the social graces.
At that point in her misery, Inos found herself out in the bailey, and there was
a wagon heading for the gate.
She had promised Kade that she would not go riding alone. No one had said she
could not go down to the harbor unaccompanied... or at least into the town
itself... not recently, anyway. The guard was the problem. The token sentry
would not likely say anything; but nosy old Sergeant Thosolin liked to sit in
the guard room and watch who came and went all day. He might consider that he
had authority to question Princess Inosolan. Even if he didn't, he probably
would.
She hurried across the cobbles to the wagon, then strolled casually beside it as
it clattered and jingled through the archway. There was just room for a slim
princess to walk between the high rear wheel and the greasy black stones. The
noise reverberated astonishingly in that narrow space. She was shielded from the
guard room; she marched past the sentry without a glance; a moment later she was
in the outer court, feeling like an escaped ferret.
If a king could safely walk unaccompanied around the town, then his daughter
could, yes?
Inos did not ask the question aloud, so no one answered it. She was in no
danger. Her father was a popular monarch and Krasnegar a very law-abiding place.
She had heard tell of large cities where what she was doing might be foolish,
but she was certain that she would come to no harm in Krasnegar. Aunt Kade might
object that being unaccompanied was unladylike, but Inos could see no reason why
her father's independent kingdom need be bound by the customs of the Impire.
A single wagon road zigzagged down the hill, but Inos preferred the narrow
stairways and alleys. Some of those were open, some roofed over. Some were
bright and sunny, some dark, others partly lighted by windows and skylights.
They were all steep and winding, and this fine day they bustled. Inos was
recognized often. She received smiles and salutes, frowns and surprised glances,
all of which she acknowledged with a confident and regal little nod, as her
father did. She was growing up-they must expect to see her around often in
future. And yet, hurrying down the steep little town, Inos saw no one of any
interest, only thick-shouldered porters and wide-hipped matrons, tottering
crones and stickymouthed toddlers. None but the dull remained in Krasnegar in
summer.
From time to time she caught glimpses of slate roofs below her and the harbor
below those. Two ships had arrived already, the first of the season, and there
she was headed. The early arrivals always made Krasnegar nervous, for in some
years they brought sickness that would slash through the town like a scythe-it
was less than two years since one such epidemic had carried off the queen. But
the harbor was where the excitement would be, where the fishermen and whalers of
Krasnegar itself mingled with visitors come to trade, stocky, urbane ships'
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captains from the Impire and the foreboding flaxen-hair jotnar of Nordland-tall
men with ice-blue eyes that could send shivers down Inos's arms. She might even
see a few sinister goblins from the forest, each leading a party of his wives,
loaded with bundles of furs.
Then Inos stumbled to a halt halfway down an open staircase. It was wide and
sunny. It was deserted except for two women standing in conversation, but one of
them was Mother Unonini, the palace chaplain. From the way the two were poised
to move, they were just about to complete their chat. If Mother Unonini looked
up and saw Inos unescorted, she would certainly have questions to ask.
A door opened beside Inos, emitting a woman with a package under her arm. Inos
smiled at her, took hold of the door, and went in, closing it firmly in a tinkle
of silver bell. The small room was lined by shelves bearing rolls of fabrics.
The large lady in the middle was Mistress Meolorne. She looked up, hesitated,
and then curtsied. Rather flattered by that, Inos bobbed in return. She had come
shopping, she decided-a most ladylike occupation to which no one, even Aunt
Kade, could possibly object.
"Your Highness is the only lady in Krasnegar who could wear this. "
"I am? I mean, why do you say so?"
Mistress Meolorne beamed and bunched rosy cheeks. "Because of the green, your
Highness. It exactly matches your eyes. Your eyes are exceptional, remarkable!
They are the key to your beauty, you know. I believe you have the only truly
green eyes in the kingdom."
Beauty? Inos peered at the mirror. She was draped in a flowing miracle of green
and gold silk. Of course she had green eyes, but now that she thought about it,
who else did?
"Imps like myself have dark brown eyes," Meolorne said.
"And the jotnar have blue. Everyone but you has either brown eyes or blue."
Rap had gray eyes, but Meolorne could not be expected to know a minor palace
flunky. Everyone else was either jotunn or imp, one or the other. Imps were
short and dark. Jotnar were tall and fair. In summer, jotnar turned red and
peeled disgustingly. Imps tended to sicken in winter.
"I'm neither, am I? Mistress, I don't think I've ever thought of that!" Inos's
father had brown hair and... brown eyes. Paler brown than most, she decided.
"You are a diplomatic compromise, your Highness, if I may say so? Your royal
father rules both imps and jotnar here in Krasnegar. It would be inappropriate
for him to favor either one or the other. "
Inos was about to ask if that made her a halfbreed, then thought better of it.
Of course the kings of Krasnegar could not be a pure strain. For generations
they had played off their predatory neighbors by taking wives from first this
side and then that. Normally when imp and jotunn married, the traits did not
mingle, and the children took after one parent or the other, but so many royal
outcrosses had eventually produced a true mixture in Inos. She must remember to
ask her father about it. How curious that she had never noticed before! She was
neither tall nor short. Her hair was a rich deep gold, not the flaxen of a
jotunn. She did not peel in summer-indeed she took on a splendid tan. And she
certainly did not pine in the long nights, as the imps did. She was a true
Krasnegarian, and the only one.
"The bronze for your complexion, the gold for your hair, and the green for your
eyes," Mistress Meolorne murmured. "It was designed by the Gods especially for
you."
Inos looked again at the miraculous fabric that enveloped her. She had never
owned anything like this before. She had not known that such material existed.
What a gown it would make! Gold dragons on green fields and fall foliage...
Whenever she moved the dragons shimmered, as if about to fly. Aunt Kade would be
ecstatic over it and delighted that Inos was taking an interest in clothes at
last. And her father would certainly not object, for she must expect to start
playing her part in formal functions soon, as she neared her coming of age. She
would ask Kade to advise her on the design.
"It's the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," Inos said firmly.
"I absolutely must have it. How much is it?"
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2
No one had ever suggested that Mistress Meolome might be a sorceress, but the
thought occurred to Inos as she panted up the last alleyway that led to the
castle. Three and a half gold imperials? How had she ever been bewitched into
agreeing to pay so much for a mere swatch of silk?
Aunt Kade would have hysterics.
Aunt Kade must not be allowed to find out.
The best strategy was certainly for Inos to go to her father at once and explain
that she had saved him the trouble of choosing a birthday gift for her. True,
her birthday was still some time off. Also true, he had never given her anything
worth three and a half gold imperials-not close, even-but she was growing up and
she needed such little luxuries now. Surely he would understand when he saw the
silk itself and she explained why she had chosen it and why it was so suitable.
He would be pleased that she was beginning to take more of an interest in
ladylike matters... Wouldn't he?
She had some jewelry of her own that she might be able to sell-if she was able
to sneak back into the town again. She might raise a hall imperial that way. A
straight "three" would sound a much neater, rounder sort of number.
Father would understand, of course, that the only alternative was his dear
daughter's tragic suicide from the highest battlements. Possibly she could live
without the silk-she had managed so far-but she could certainly not endure the
shame of having to return it. So he would congratulate her on her good taste and
see that the money was sent as she had promised.
Wouldn't he?
She reached the top of the lane and paused to catch her breath, and also to
reconnoiter the courtyard. There was only one gate to the castle and it opened
into this cobbled outer court. Now there was no wagon in sight to provide cover,
only a few ambling pedestrians. The summer sun was high enough to smile in over
the ancient stone walls and brighten the pigeons that strutted around, cleaning
up the horse droppings. Relics of winter snow bled quietly to death in corners.
A man-at-arms was standing as rigid as his pike beside the gate, with two mangy
dogs snuffling aimlessly beside him. Within the big arch of the entrance, nosy
old Thosolin would be lurking in his guard room.
It was none of Thosolin's business, she decided firmly. Whether or not he had
the right to stop her going out, he certainly could not stop her coming in. She
did not recognize the petrified man-at-arms, but he looked as if he were taking
his job unusually seriously and so would not interfere. She squared her
shoulders, adjusted the silk below her arm, and began to march.
She had every right to go into the town by herself, and if she chose to do so in
shabby old jodhpurs and a leather doublet that might have been thrown out by one
of Inisso's stablehands, well, that was certainly not Thosolin's business
either.
She wondered who the guard on the gate was, he must be somebody new. It was not
until she had almost reached the arch that--
He rolled his eyes in alarm and almost dropped his pike. Then he came even more
stiffly to attention, staring straight ahead, not looking at her. Inosolan
bristled angrily.
His cone-shaped helmet was too small, sitting like an oversize egg in the nest
of his unruly brown hair. His chain mail was rusty and much too large. His very
plain face was turning from brown to pink, showing up his freckles.
"What on earth are you doing?" she demanded. "I thought you were off on the
mainland."
"I'm just back for a couple of days," he muttered. His eyes rolled warningly
toward the guard room door.
"Well, why didn't you tell me?" She put her hands on her hips and inspected him
crossly. "You look absurd! Why are you dressed up like that? And what are you
doing here? Why aren't you at the stables?"
Pudding, the gang had called Rap when they were all small together. He'd had
almost no nose then, and not much more now. His face was all chin and mouth and
big gray eyes.
"Please, Inos," he whispered. "I'm on guard duty. I'm not supposed to talk to
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you."
She tossed her head. "Indeed? I shall speak to Sergeant Thosolin about that. "
Rap never suspected a bluff. "No!" He shot another horrified glance toward the
guard room.
He had grown, even in the short time he had been gone, unless it was those
stupid boots. He was taller than her now by quite a bit, and the armor made him
seem broader and deeper. Perhaps he did not look quite so bad as she had thought
at first, but she would not tell him so.
"Explain!" She glared at him.
"A couple of the mares had to come back." He was trying not to move his lips,
staring straight through Inos. "So I brought them. I'm going back with the
wagons. Old Hononin had nothing for me to do, with the other ponies away. "
"Ha!" she said triumphantly. "Well, you still aren't doing anything very much.
You will take me riding after lunch. I'll speak to the sergeant."
A mixture of fury and stubbornness came over his face, wrinkling his wide nose
until she half expected the freckles to start popping off like brown snowflakes.
"Don't you dare!"
"Don't you speak to me like that!"
"I won't ever speak to you again!"
They glared at each other for a moment. Rap as a man-at-arms? She remembered now
that he had expressed some silly ambition to play with swords. It was an idiotic
idea. He was tremendously good with horses. He had a natural gift for them.
"What good do you think you're doing standing here with that stupid pike? "
"I'm guarding the palace!"
Inos snorted before she remembered again that snorting was not regal. "From
what? Dragons? Sorcerers? Imperial legions? " He was growing very angry now, she
was pleased to see, but he made a great effort to answer civilly. "I challenge
strangers." Tommyrot! She suppressed another snort; and there, as if sent by the
Gods, a stranger came strolling across the yard toward the gate.
"Right!" Inos said. "Challenge this one."
Rap bit his lip. "He doesn't look very dangerous."
"Challenge! I want to see how it's done." He clenched his big jaw angrily.
"Stand back, then!" As the stranger drew near, Rap swung his pike to the level,
took one pace with his left foot, and demanded loudly, "Who goes there--fiend or
froe?"
The young man stopped, raised his eyebrows, and considered the question. "You're
new at this, aren't you?" he asked in a pleasant tenor.
Rap turned very red and said nothing, waiting for an answer. Inos suppressed a
snigger, letting just enough escape that Rap would know it was there.
"Well, I'm not a fiend." The stranger was quite young, slim, and not very tall,
but a blond jotunn nonetheless. Anyone less like a fiend Inos could not imagine.
He wore a brown wool cloak with the hood back, a leather doublet, and rather
baggy brown hose. She decided that his clothes were all too big for him, which
made him seem shabbier than he truly was. He was fresh-faced and scrubbed and
clean-a point of note in Krasnegar-and the sun blazed on his white-gold hair.
"Definitely I'm not a fiend," he repeated. "I'm a wandering minstrel, so I
suppose I'm either a to or a froe. Yes, I must be a froe. "
"What's your name, minstrel?" Rap demanded hoarsely.
"My name is Jalon. " But the stranger's attention had wandered to Inos. He
bowed. "And I know who this is. Your humble servant, Highness."
He had big blue eyes, with a dreamy air that she found quite appealing. On
impulse, she held out her hand. He took it in his long minstrel's fingers and
kissed it.
"I saw you when you were very small, Highness." He had a charming smile. "I knew
then that one day you would amaze the world with your beauty. But I see that I
underestimated it." He was a very nice young man.
"If you're a minstrel, why haven't you got a harp?" Rap was still holding his
pike at the challenge position.
"How long did you see me?" Inos asked. He could not be so very many years older
than she was. She could not recall any minstrel so young. Perhaps he had been an
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apprentice accompanying his master.
He smiled vaguely at her and turned to Rap. "Harps are heavy. " He pulled a pipe
from a pocket in his cloak and played a trill.
"Do you sing, too?" Rap was still suspicious.
"Not at the same time," Jalon said solemnly.
This time the snigger escaped completely, and Rap shot Inos a murderous glare
from the corner of his eye.
Jalon did not seem very worried by the pike. "But I do play the harp and there
used to be a good one on the mantel in the hall, so I can borrow that again, I'm
sure." He did not seem as if he would be very worried by anything at all-and
there certainly was a harp on the mantel.
"Wait here!" Rap put his pike over his shoulder rather clumsily and swung
around, stamping his boots and apparently headed for the guard room.
That would not do at all! Inos did not want Sergeant Thosolin, and perhaps
others, coming out and seeing her wandering unaccompanied, carrying home her own
purchases. "Rap? Should you go off and leave me helpless with this dangerous
stranger?" Rap stopped and spun around, almost grinding his teeth.
"And the castle!" she exclaimed. "What if a troll comes, or a griffon? And
you're not here to guard us! "
"You come with me, then!" He was quite furious now.
"No! " Inos said. "I think you should take Master Jalon to the guard room with
you if you think he is dangerous. You are welcome in my father's house,
minstrel." That sounded very gracious and regal.
The stranger smiled and bowed to her again. He strolled toward the guard room
with Rap. Inos lingered for a moment, then slipped through the archway,
unobserved and very satisfied.
Like the town itself, the castle was all up and down, and she was soon puffing
again as she hurried up the endless steps toward her chamber. Halfway there she
met old Kondoral, the seneschal, picking his way carefully down an especially
dark staircase. He was small and stooped and white-haired, with gray, withered
skin and eyes so rheumy that she did not like to look at them... but quite a
pleasant old relic when he did not talk your ears numb. His memory for recent
events was failing. He repeated the same stories endlessly, yet he could
remember the remote past quite well.
"Good day to you, Master Kondoral," she said, stopping.
He peered down at her for a moment, clutching the rail. "And to you, Highness."
He sounded surprised, as if he had expected someone much younger.
"Do you know a minstrel called Jalon?" Inos was still bothered by her inability
to recall that polite young man. Minstrels came but rarely to remote Krasnegar.
"Jalon?" Kondoral frowned and pulled his lip. "Why, yes, my lady! A very fine
troubadour." The old man beamed. "Is he come here again?"
"He is," she said crossly. "I don't remember him,"
"Oh, no, you wouldn't." The old man shook his head. "Dear me, no. It has been
many years! But that is good news. We shall hear some fine singing from Master
Jalon if his voice has not lost its thrill. I remember how he brought tears to
all our eyes when he sang `The Maiden and the Dragon'--"
"He doesn't look very old," she said quickly. "Not much older than me." Well,
not very much.
Kondoral shook his head again, looking doubtful. "I can recall hearing tell of
him when I was young myself, my lady. This must be a son, then, or grandson? "
"Perhaps!" she said, and dodged quickly by, before he could start reminiscing.
Several staircases later she reached her summer chamber, at the top of one of
the shorter spires. She had taken it over the previous year and loved it,
although it was much too cold to use in winter. It was circular and bright, with
walls so low so that the high conical ceiling swooped almost to the floor. There
were four pointed dormer windows and from here she could look down on all of
Krasnegar. She laid her precious packet of silk on the bed and started pulling
off her riding clothes and dropping them on the rug.
To the north lay the Winter Ocean, sparkling blue now and smiling under the
caress of summer. The swell broke lazily over the reefs, showing hardly any
white at all, and seabirds swooped. To the west stood the castle's towers and
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yards, roofs and terraces, a thicket of black masonry. Southward she could see
the town, falling away steeply to the harbor. Beyond that lay the beach and then
the hills, rounded and grassy. Those hills were certainly part of her father's
demesne. He also claimed the moors that lay beyond the horizon, although she had
seen those only rarely, when she had gone hunting with her parents.
Stripped to her linen, Inos grabbed up the silk and attempted to drape it over
herself as Mistress Meolorne had done for her. She did not succeed very well,
but the effect was still spectacular. Never had she seen such a fabric. She had
not known that threads could be so fine, so soft, so cunningly woven; nor that
it was possible to make such pictures with a loom. Gold and green and bronze-the
colors shone even brighter in her room than they had in the dingy little store.
And there was so much of it! She tried arranging a train and almost fell over,
making the golden dragons writhe. Originally it must have come from distant
Guwush, on the shores of the Spring Sea, Meolorne had said-a great rarity in
these parts. She had bought it many years ago from a jotunn sailor, who had
probably looted it in a trifling act of piracy. Or perhaps it had come over the
great trade routes and been pillaged from some unfortunate city. But it was old
and very splendid and obviously destined to display the royal beauty of the
Princess Inosolan of Krasnegar. Three and a half imperials!
Inos sighed to the mirror. Her father must be made to understand. Suicide was
the only possible alternative.
But why had she promised that the money would be sent that very day? She should
have left herself more time for strategy. Yet a gown fashioned from this glory
would be worn only on special occasions, so it would last for years. She had
stopped growing taller, so she would not grow out of it. She still had to grow
more in other directions-she certainly hoped she had more to grow in other
directions-but that could be handled with a little discreet padding that could
be removed when it was no longer required. She wondered how much padding Aunt
Kade would allow.
Well, there was nothing to be gained by standing in front of the mirror. She
must talk to her father. She began to fold the silk again, while pondering what
to wear for the interview. Probably her dowdy brown worsted, too small now and
patched. That would do very well.
3
It took Inos some time to locate her father, but she was eventually informed
that he was in the royal bedchamber, which was astonishing news at that time of
day. It also meant more stairs, but anywhere meant more stairs in Krasnegar.
The royal chamber was located at the top of the great tower, known as Inisso's
Tower, and she wound her way up the spiral stairs that ran within the walls.
There were far too many levels--throne room, presence chamber, robing room,
antechamber... Pausing to catch her breath in the withdrawing room, Inos
wondered, and not for the first time, why in the names of all the Gods her
father did not move his quarters to somewhere more convenient.
The withdrawing room was her favorite, though. When Aunt Kade had returned from
Kinvale two years ago, she had brought a whole roomful of furniture-not the
heavy, antique, stuffing-falling-out furniture that cluttered most of the
palace, but supremely elegant gilt and rosewood, with incredibly slender legs,
with roses and butterflies embroidered on the cushions, and the woodwork all
glossy. There was no room more gracious in all of Krasnegar. Even the rugs were
works of art. While Inos would never be so disloyal to her mother's memory as to
admit the fact, she loved the withdrawing room as Aunt Kade had remade it.
Sufficiently recovered to move, she crossed the withdrawing room, went up more
stairs, across what they now called the dressing room, but which had been her
bedroom until quite recently, and finally-more slowly than when she had
started-up the final stair to her father's door.
It was ajar, so she walked in.
With very mixed feelings, she glanced over the clumsy, massive furnishings. She
came here rarely now, and for the first time she saw how shabby they all were,
the trappings of an aging widower who clung to old familiar things without
regard to their state of wear. The crimsons had faded, the golds tarnished,
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colors and fabrics become dull and sad. The drapes were shabby, the rugs a
disgrace. Her mother's portrait still hung over the fireplace, but it was
blurred by smoke stain.
Many, many icy mornings Inos had cuddled into that great bed between her
parents, under the heaped furs of winter, and yet those memories were overlain
now by a last transparent image of her mother, burning away in fever when the
great sickness had come on the first ship of spring and stalked all that
terrible summer through the town.
Never mind that...
No one was there!
Furiously she pouted, glaring around as if the furniture itself were at fault.
The drapes on the four-poster were pulled back, so her father was not in bed,
and she could not imagine him going to bed in the middle of the day anyway. She
eyed the wardrobe, but the chances that King Holindarn of Krasnegar would hide
inside a wardrobe did not seem worth crossing a room to investigate. The windows
were deeply recessed, but on those, also, the drapes were open. There was
nowhere...
Uneasily Inos turned to retrace her steps and then hesitated. A vagueness
niggled at the back of her mind. She took another quick glance around, shrugged,
and moved toward the stair again... And stopped again. Her scalp prickled. There
was something wrong, and she could not place it.
Well! Setting her teeth firmly, she faced the room. Forcing oddly reluctant feet
to move, she began to walk very slowly all around the chamber, looking
suspiciously at everything, in everything, and even under everything. This was
her father's bedroom and she was a princess and there could not possibly be
anything dangerous to explain this curious apprehension she--The high dresser at
the far side had been pulled forward, away from the wall.
No, that could not be important...
WHY?
Why had the dresser been moved? And why had she not noticed it at once? With
goose bumps crawling over her arms, she forced herself to peer around behind
this errant dresser. The door there was ajar. The shivery feeling vanished,
leaving a sense of disapproval. Why had Inos never known that there was a door
there? She glanced up at the horizontal beams and the planked ceiling. In all
the other towers, the top room had a pointed roof, as her own chamber did. So
there was another room above this one! She had never realized.
How very curious!
Procrastination was not one of her failings. Carefully holding her precious silk
away from the cobwebby back of the dresser, Inos moved to that diabolically
tempting door.
She saw steps, of course, as she had expected-another flight curved around
inside the wall, just like all the other stairs. These were very dusty. The tiny
windows set every few paces were exactly as she would have expected, also, but
gray with grime and draped in cobwebs. The musty air was rank with the odor of
mold. A secret room? How very, very interesting! Now she did hesitate, but only
for a couple of seconds. Curiosity overcame caution and even the silk was
forgotten as she slipped through the narrow gap and started to climb.
Quietly, though.
Probably there was nothing up above here at all, and her father would welcome
her just as happily as he would do anywhere else. On the other hand, it was very
peculiar that she had never heard anyone ever mention this unknown room. It
could not be any of her business. She was trying to be on her best behavior. She
was holding a packet of silk that had cost three and half imperials.
She...
" . . is much too young!" said her father's voice.
Inos froze against the icy stones of the wall. She was almost at the top and
obviously the door was open. The voice had echoed as if the unseen chamber were
bare and unfurnished.
"She's not as young as all that," another voice replied. "You take a good look
at her. She's very nearly a young lady now. " Her father muttered something she
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did not catch.
"In the Impire they would regard her as old enough already," said the other. Who
could that be? She did not recognize the voice, yet it must be someone who knew
her, for there could be no doubt who was being discussed.
"But who? There's no one in the kingdom."
"Then Angilki, perhaps?" It was a dry, elderly voice. "Or Kalkor? Those are the
obvious choices."
Now Inos could guess what was being discussed. She gasped, and for a moment
considered marching straight in through the door and announcing that she had no
intention of marrying either Duke Angilki or Thane Kalkor or anyone else for
that matter. So there! Only the packet of silk stopped her.
"No, no, no! " her father said loudly, and Inos relaxed a fraction. "Either of
those two, and the other would start a war."
Or I shall! she thought.
An infuriating silence followed, one of those pauses when meanings pass without
words, in smiles or nods or shrugs, and the speakers are not even aware that
they have stopped speaking. But eavesdroppers are. It was not regal--it was not
even polite--to eavesdrop. Inos knew that. But she told herself firmly that it
was not polite to talk about someone when they were not there, either. So she
was perfectly entitled to listen to...
"I never met Kalkor. " That was her father again, farther away.
"You can live without the experience, my friend."
Friend? She knew of no one who addressed the king that way.
"Bad? "
"Rough!" The stranger chuckled quietly. "Typical jotunn... winter-long drinking
parties, probably wrestles she-bears for exercise. Sharkskin underwear, I
shouldn't wonder."
"That one's out, then!"
Inos certainly agreed with her father on that.
"Angilki's too old for her," he said. "It will have to be a neutral. But you're
right about Kinvale. Next year, perhaps. " The stranger spoke quite softly, so
that she had to strain to hear. "You may not have that much time, friend."
Then another pause, but not so long.
"I see! " Her father's voice, curiously flat and expressionless.
"I am sorry."
"Hardly your fault! " The king sighed. "It was why I sent for you-your skill and
your honesty. Honesty and wisdom. And I knew you would not hold back the truth."
Another pause. "Are you sure?"
"Of course not." Inos heard footsteps on bare planks, receding. Then the
stranger, from farther away: "Have you tried this? "
"No! " That was her father's monarch voice.
"It might tell you."
"No! It stays shut!"
"I don't know how you can resist."
"Because it causes trouble. My grandfather discovered that. It has not been
opened since his time."
"Thinal saw one like it once," the visitor muttered. "It stayed shut, also. For
the same reasons, I suppose." She had no idea what they could be talking about.
They seemed to have moved to the far side of the room, near the south window.
She strained to hear the voices over the thumping of her own heart.
"Even if I am right... about you... then there might be hope... if we two were
to cooperate. "
"No, Sagorn, my friend. I have always refused and I always shall, even for that.
Don't think I don't trust you." The stranger-Sagorn?-sighed. "I know whom you do
not trust, and you are right. And you have not told your daughter?"
"Heavens, no! She is only a child. She couldn't handle that!" Handle what? Inos
wanted to stamp her foot with frustration, but of course she was hardly daring
to breathe, let alone stamp.
"But you will? " Another pause.
"I don't know," her father said softly. "If... if she is older when... or maybe
not at all."
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