Finally the Healer was done, looked from one group to the other, and snarled “And tell your foolish masters that if they want any more tending for you idiots, they had better come hat in hand and prepared to grovel for it.” Then he turned on his heel and left. Amily saw the Prince smother a smile with his hand. And silence fell, as thick as the snow that was building up on the ground, and on the heads and shoulders of everyone here. She had expected the Prince to launch into a lecture, but he did nothing of the sort. In fact, he just—waited. And meanwhile, the servants of both Houses grew quieter and more nervous. Her hands got colder, so she put them against Rolan’s neck under his mane to warm them up. He didn’t seem to mind.
Finally, what the Prince was waiting for arrived.
An escort of Guards brought with them two mounted men. Amily knew them both on sight, of course. Lord Leverance and Lord Kaltar, the former already in his evening finery (but of course; he had three daughters to marry off) and the latter bundled up to his eyes in a cloak that did not quite conceal the fact that he was wearing armor.
Well . . . that’s curious. Still, it was only padded armor. Perhaps he had been sparring.
:Or perhaps he knew this was coming and he intended some wicked mischief,: Rolan observed suspiciously.
It appeared that the Prince had ordered the Guard to bring their Lordships here, regardless of what they were doing at the time, in order to hold them accountable for the actions of their men. Amily breathed in the freezing air, sharply. This was something of a gamble. . . .
Then again, they weren’t high enough, nor did they have allies enough, to make trouble for the Crown if they were offended. At least, not overt trouble. . . .
:Covert, however, yes,: Rolan agreed. :I would not have made this move. But . . . I am not the one wearing the coronet, either.: Amily sighed internally. Yet one more thing for Mags and her father to keep an eye on. Father might be best for this. Somehow manage to become their crony in two different personas. . . .
But Prince Sedric’s voice broke her out of her own thoughts.
“My lords!” the Prince said, his voice ripe with indignation. “I ask you, what is the meaning of this brute spectacle that played out here not a candlemark ago? Why were our peaceful streets turned into a battleground? What madness is this? It is Midwinter, the Festival of Peace! Will you turn it into a Feast of War?”
Amily was watching both of them closely, and it seemed to her that both of them showed just a fleeting glimpse of something other than the feigned surprise that spread over their faces. There is something going on here. Something none of us have guessed. She was just as glad that her Gift didn’t extend to reading human minds now . . . because the temptation to dig into their heads without their permission just might have been too great.
“Your Highness, I protest!” Leverance said, in a loud voice. “How could you think I had any knowledge of this? You can see for yourself that I was interrupted in preparing for Lord Jornan’s fete this evening!”
“And I was sparring with my Weaponsmaster,” Kaltar said smoothly. He glared at Leverance, accusingly. “But if this man has instructed his servants to do what he himself does not dare—”
“Enough!” the Prince roared, interrupting Kaltar before he finished, and without a doubt, provoked Leverance into a duel, as was his intention. He turned to the Captain of the Guard troop, and the Chief Watch. “Have you witnesses?”
At this point, Amily felt the best thing she could do would be to look as solemn and stone-faced as possible and take a lot of mental notes. She was very glad that she was seated in a Companion’s saddle, though. Rolan was almost as good as a stove.
:Thank you for seeing my true value,: Rolan chuckled. She forced herself not to smile.
They both stepped forward and bowed. “We have, your Highness,” said the Captain, as the Watch gestured to two of his men, who went into the tavern and brought out two men in server’s aprons. “And have sent for witnesses from the Bird in the Hand.”
Slowly, and with much “and then what happened?” the two servers told their story—which was remarkably brief, considering how long it took them to tell it. At least they corroborated each other.
“They been hearin’ how t’other lord’s men was a-gonna come down an’ break some heads—”
There was a long pause. The Chief Watch poked the second man in the ribs with an elbow. “And then what happened?”
He started a little, and took up the thread. “—aye, an’ Marster Jon, he tol’ ’em, don’t you make no pother here! Or you ain’t never drinkin’ here agin!”
Another pause. The Guard Captain nudged the first man. “And then what happened?”
“An’ they larfed, an’ said then they’d take it ’street, but no dogs was gonna make them turn tail an’ slink back home!”
A very long silence. With a sigh, the Chief Constable elbowed the second again. “And then what happened?”
“An’ Marster Jon, he tol’ ’em, you leave it t’Guard, m’lads! You tell th’ Guard!”
They seemed to think that was all they needed to say. The Chief of the Watch fixed the first man with a stern frown. “And then what happened?”
“An’ they said they would, but they looked all sideways, an’ we knew they wouldn’t—”
By the time they were finished the innkeeper from the Bird in the Hand had arrived, and with him one of his servers, a skinny little wench with a decided mind of her own, who took very little time to speak her piece.
“Oh yes,” she said, hands on hips, surveying the now chastened servants. “Oh yes. I know this lot—” and she pointed down the line of Leverance’s men. “A week an’ more it’s been, and every day, drinking up courage an’ tellin’ each other how they were going to break the heads of more idiots like themselves! They started to bring knives and clubs with them to drink, and today they finally made up their minds to go and be fools and start a ruckus! Men are idiots! I’ve said it afore, and I’ll say it again! Can’t get three of them in a room with beer without two of them buttin’ heads!”
The innkeeper, with much bowing and scraping to the Prince, corroborated every word. Then the wench decided to repeat it. At that point, the Prince turned to Amily.
“Can you cast the Truth Spell?” he asked, quietly. “We’ll need one on Kaltar and one on Leverance, so it will take both of us.”
“I can, Highness,” she murmured, very glad now that Rolan had been ruthlessly drilling her in the only bit of conventional Heraldic Magic she could perform. It seemed that her ability to ride in the minds of animals was close enough to Mindspeech for her to make the Truth Spell work. In fact, that was one of the first things Rolan and the Dean had insisted she learn. She just didn’t think she’d have to use it so soon.
:You always have to do things before you think you are ready,: Rolan observed. :That’s just life.:
:Thank you, master philosopher,: she replied dryly, before returning her attention to the Prince.
“Good. Coercive, or just detection?” he pressed.
“I haven’t been doing this long,” she reminded him. “Detection . . . I actually haven’t tried coercion and—”
“Don’t try it now,” he ordered to her relief. “Coercion needs a lot of practice under controlled conditions. Detection will serve our purposes. You take Leverance, I’ll take Kaltar.”
He turned his attention to the two highborn, wearing his most implacable expression. “My lords, the King’s Own and I are going to impose the Truth Spell on you. This is not a request. You will speak the truth as you know it, or you will find that I am as harsh as my father can be.”
:An interesting way to put that,: Rolan said with amusement; Amily didn’t smile, but she agreed with her Companion, since in all the time she had been growing up at Court, she had never known King Kyril to do anything anyone would consider harsh.
Then again . .
. that was not a lie. Sedric would certainly be as harsh as Kyril. Sedric took strongly after his father, who was a master at implying things that were not true, while speaking the literal truth. Then again, Sedric was serving as the Herald-on-duty in the Central Courts. He was probably getting a lot of examples of just that from lawyers.
But this was no time for thinking about anything else but the task at hand, which was to cast the only bit of “real” magic that had survived the death of the last of the Herald-Mages. She half-closed her eyes, and recited a little rhyme in her head nine times, all the while envisioning a wisp of blue fog with blue eyes in the middle of it settling over Lord Leverance. As she finished the last of her nine repetitions, his Lordship began to glow within a nimbus of dim, faintly pulsing, blue light.
The citizens of Haven who were still here had likely all seen this before—and even if they hadn’t, they were not about to betray their ignorance by showing it. But the two crowds of servants hadn’t, and if the silence had been deep before, it was so quiet now that Amily could actually hear the snowflakes falling on her hood with faint ticking sounds. They were transfixed by the sight of their masters glowing with light, and no source of that light to be seen. And they looked terrified.
Lord Leverance was glowing much more strongly, and Sedric began with him first. “Lord Leverance, were you aware that your servants planned to ambush the servants of Lord Kaltar here?”
The man set his jaw, and grated out, “I was not.” The glow did not waver.
But that was all he said. Amily mistrusted it. Sedric needed to learn how to question a suspect better. Leverance had probably technically spoken the truth: he wasn’t aware his servants were planning on starting a brawl here. That didn’t mean he wasn’t aware they were planning on starting a fight, nor that he himself had not suggested that very thing.
Well, maybe that was Sedric’s intention—to see if these two were as good at telling the truth to suit their own purposes as he was. In any case, it was too late to advise him now. Sedric had moved his gaze to Kaltar. “Lord Kaltar. Were you made aware that your servants knew they were in danger?”
“No, Highness,” the old man said raising his chin. “I was not. But I did give them leave to defend themselves if they felt they needed to when we first arrived. If nothing else, there are footpads and robbers in the streets of this city.”
:More honest than his foe,: Rolan observed dispassionately.
“Well, they do not have leave now!” Sedric snapped. “Now hear me! Both of you! From this moment, your servants are forbidden to carry anything larger than an eating-knife! No cudgels, no clubs, no long knives, and by heaven no swords or bows or even a stone-sling! But there is more, my lords. Should there be brawling and fisticuffs in our streets, their positions in your household here are forfeit. You may send them home if you choose, but they will no longer serve you here. You will hire new servants who are citizens of Haven and can be trusted not to act like barbarians when there is a drop or two of liquor in them!”
There were gasps all around, and some of the men turned very pale indeed. Amily might have felt sorry for them if she had not been so angry with them—she didn’t know how likely it was that either of the highborn nobles would actually send their servants back to their home estates. But she did know that it would be an expensive proposition, both to provide for that, and to hire an entire new staff.
Which meant both lords would probably pack up everything and go home, if their servants started brawling, rather than going to the expense and difficulty of hiring an entire new household full of servants.
At Midwinter. When the servants that could still be hired were probably not worth having, and those who were worth having would know they could ask for and get better wages. No, their Lordships would probably decide just to pack up and go home.
Without achieving the goal they had come here to accomplish; getting spouses for their offspring.
Coming here in the first place was an expense; she knew for a fact that although both of the Lords had and maintained manors here in the capital, they also both—until now—had rented them out for several years running to other highborn who did not have such a convenience. So not only was coming here an expense, they had actually lost some income by doing so this year.
Which meant that getting their children properly matched was very important to them.
And when highborn like Leverance and Kaltar were thwarted in something very important, they very seldom blamed themselves or their own actions. They almost always took it out on their underlings.
Things would not be very pleasant—for the menservants at least—in either household if that happened. This threat alone should keep the servants from brawling in the street.
“Am I clear?” Sedric demanded. You could have cut the silence and spread it like butter, it was so thick.
Both of the lords nodded grimly. Sedric dismissed his Truth Spell; taking that as her cue, Amily closed her eyes and imagined the eyes of the wisp closing, and the fog lifting. When she opened her own eyes, the blue glow was gone.
“You have our permission to take your men and return to your manors,” Sedric continued. “But!” he snapped, as the men began to stir, “Lord Leverance, you will go first, as you clearly have an important engagement to attend. You will take King’s Own Herald Amily with you. Lord Kaltar, you and your men will follow, when I hear from Amily that all of Leverance’s people are behind his walls.”
:Oh that will do wonders for Kaltar’s temper,: Rolan said, with grim amusement. :Being made to wait in the cold, while his rival gets back to his nice warm manor . . . I suspect Sedric does not believe the story that he was sparring and means to punish him for lying.:
:Let’s hope it’s enough to teach him to keep leashes on his dogs,: she replied.
—
Amily accompanied Lord Leverance as she had been ordered; she hadn’t quite known what to expect. Initially, his Lordship had been polite, but did not seem to have changed his opinion of her.
Of course, part of that opinion was that he still did not quite believe she actually was the King’s Own . . . but at least he made some attempt at conversation, even if he was (unconsciously, perhaps) talking down to her.
She ignored that, politely, and to fill the very awkward silence, pointed out which manse, manor or mansion belonged to whom all the way up the Hill. She carefully took the path that avoided the street on which Lord Kaltar’s establishment had been built. Lord Leverance kept his horse to a walk; obviously he intended to keep Lord Kaltar waiting in the cold for as long as humanly possible.
“I hadn’t quite realized how many . . . er . . . self-made men there were on the Hill,” Leverance said, after she’d pointed out Master Soren’s home, reminded him that Soren’s niece Lydia was now the Princess Royal and wife to Sedric, and also reminded him that Soren held open house all during the Midwinter Season. “I hadn’t opened up the house for the Season in . . . well . . . since my marriage. I don’t recall so many being here then. . . .”
“Oh they were there, I just suspect you didn’t cross paths with them much,” Amily said. “There are very few who feel they can afford to spend the Season in leisure. Their business often picks up during the Season, rather than shutting down, even those that deal in foodstuffs. So usually, they don’t hold parties, or only hold one and that just for chosen business associates. And when their sons and daughters attend fetes, if you didn’t already know who their parents were, you’d be hard-pressed to tell them from the highborn.” She allowed herself a tiny smile. “If anything, they tend to be better-dressed than their highborn friends.”
He actually laughed a little at that. “I suppose that would be true. And there’s no shame in marrying into such a family. My daughter Brigette has her heart set on it, in fact.”
The snow was still falling and showing no signs it was going to stop soon, and she wondered how Lord
Kaltar was faring. Probably fuming.
:He is. Sedric is amused. He doesn’t mind being out in the snow, since otherwise he would be attending a Court session intended only to tender Midwinter Greetings to him and Lydia. Poor Lydia is having to stand in for both of them.: Amily smiled; now she was getting the same sort of benefits Mags had enjoyed all this time, like knowing what another Herald was doing no matter how far she was from him.
She listened to Lord Leverance describe his two eldest daughters’ ambitions, and found his depictions strikingly like what she had heard from the girls themselves. Which was interesting; either they had taken their cues from their father, or he had actually listened to them.
:It’s most likely that they took their cues from Leverance,: Rolan observed. Amily tended to agree. Neither girl struck her as being at all independent or rebellious, so they simply adjusted their wants to fit what their father wanted for them.
“And what about the youngest?” she ventured.
Lord Leverance smiled, but shook his head. “A head full of fancies, that one. And I might have thought to cure those fancies by wedding her to a good, steady, older man who would settle her down but. . . .” His voice trailed off, and he cleared his throat self-consciously. “My wife’s father had the same notion, and I was the good, steady, older man. She was only fourteen. My father much approved the match. He advised me to make an early mother of her, so I did. I . . . sometimes think I marred her, rather than made her.”
Startled, Amily cast a sideways glance at the man. His expression suggested he was telling nothing less than the truth. She decided to step around that particular sinkhole, most carefully. “So why marry Violetta off at all, at least this Season?” she replied. “It isn’t as if she hasn’t got years to settle down and become more . . . practical. Your older girls seem as determined to win in the marriage market as you are to have them succeed; they are pretty, accomplished, and I think you have nothing to fear there. I would be more surprised if you did not see them both betrothed by Midwinter Day. There’s time enough for Violetta.”
Closer to Home: Book One of Herald Spy Page 22