As they began to dance, Alyna said, with a hint of a quirky smile, “You asked me much earlier than at the last ball, Your Grace.”
“I should have asked you earlier. I’m trying to remedy that.”
“Are you being kind to an older woman?”
“No. I’m being careful with a friend and a powerful imager who likely holds at least part of my future in her hands.”
“I’m glad you started with ‘friend.’”
“You and Alastar are among the very few with whom I can be honest.”
“You still have your secrets.”
“As do you,” he replied, smiling. “But I’ve never lied to either of you, nor, from what I can tell, have you to me.”
“That makes you unique among recent rulers.”
“It also remains to be seen whether that’s effective or not.”
“Deception never served your predecessors well.”
“Sometimes,” Charyn admitted, “I wonder if anything will serve well, between the High Holders and factors, and now, even the crafters.”
“It doesn’t have to work well. It only has to work.” Then, before Charyn could reply, she went on, “Aloryana seemed happy dancing with you.”
“I think so. I certainly hope so. She worries about Bhayrn. So do I.”
“The younger brothers of rulers are always a potential danger. Those of unwed rulers are both necessary and a worry.”
“Even you seem to be suggesting I find a suitable lady.”
“Charyn … merely suitable will not be enough for you … or for Solidar.” Her words were delivered with a smile, but there was a firmness behind them.
“You and my mother agree on that.”
“That doesn’t surprise me in the least.”
Charyn laughed softly. “So how is Aloryana really doing?”
“Better than she believes. She works very hard…”
Charyn mostly listened for the rest of the dance.
Lady Fhaedyrk looked slightly surprised when Charyn asked her to dance, but assented. Their conversation was pleasant, but hardly memorable.
Factor Eshmael looked anything but pleased when Charyn asked his wife.
Orlandya, on the other hand, smiled and said to Eshmael, “Don’t deny me such a small pleasure.”
Once the music resumed and they moved away from Eshmael, she said, “Am I an obligation or a diversion?”
“A diversion, I sincerely hope. That is, a diversion from having to be most formal and correct.”
“I’m glad you explained. Is it true that the imager who entered with the Maitre is your sister?”
“It is indeed. She’s been at the Collegium since Ianus, and she’s an imager third. It’s likely that in a few years she’ll be a maitre, if she works hard.”
“Have there been other imagers in the regial family?”
“Not for generations, so far as I know. Are there any in your family?”
Orlandya laughed. “We don’t know of any.” The smile faded. “Tell me, are you angry with Eshmael?”
“Angry? No. But I don’t think he understands the depth of the anger and desperation felt by the displaced weavers and others. I suspect he believes that I don’t appreciate the situation of the factors.”
“Do you?”
“Probably not as much as he does. But I do understand the need to make silvers and not to lose them. I don’t see that as generating as much rage and desperation as that experienced by men who work hard and still can’t make enough to support their families.”
“Have you ever actually been in business or run anything?”
“Actually, I have. I have some lands that I was in charge of for several years before I became Rex. I took an active role in managing them and was able to increase yields and production significantly.”
“Is that … usual?” Orlandya offered a quizzical expression.
“I think I’m the first son in many years to do anything like that,” admitted Charyn.
“Are you going to do something about the fires and destruction?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Soon. As soon as a few details are worked out.”
“Is that an empty promise, Your Grace?”
“I haven’t exactly made any empty promises. Some that took some time to accomplish, but not empty ones. That’s one reason why some factors and High Holders are less than pleased with me. I won’t promise what I don’t believe it’s possible for me to accomplish.” Charyn managed a pleasant smile. “What about you? Where do you come from?”
“From here in L’Excelsis, Your Grace. My father was also a factor. Vhadym. Did you know him?”
“I can’t say that I did…”
Before long, Charyn returned Orlandya to Eshmael, with a smile and a nod, and then made his way around the floor, finally locating Alyncya, who happened to be talking to Ferrand, not exactly by chance on Ferrand’s part, Charyn suspected.
With a nod and a wink, Ferrand eased away. Charyn couldn’t help smiling as he neared Alyncya, who wore another peach gown, one somehow different from the last one, but how he couldn’t have said.
“I wondered how long before you asked me.”
“The first five dances are a formal requirement. You’re getting the first dance where I can escape protocol.”
“When you can … or when you choose to?” Alyncya’s tone was amused, if with a slight undercurrent.
“I think you’re also asking how tightly I’m committed to formality.”
“I just might be.”
As the music resumed, Charyn took Alyncya’s hand, saying, “I’ll have to let my actions tell you that. I hope you received my last letter … and your book.”
“What if it was a gift?”
“I’d be happy to have it, but it seemed that we should share it. Sharing thoughts about the poems seemed … right.” Charyn squeezed her hand, just slightly. “I tried to show you that by the three I picked out.”
“I know. Did you pick them out to appeal to me … or to you?”
“To let you know how I feel.”
“You’re gently direct, Charyn. It’s still unsettling.”
“I’m not naturally given to subterfuge.”
“Those words were very carefully chosen.”
“I haven’t exercised, at least I hope I haven’t, any subterfuge with you. I’ve had to as Rex. I don’t like it, but it’s proved necessary.”
“I can see that.” She squeezed his hand gently.
“I was very glad for the faint question mark beside the third poem you marked.”
“You read closely, don’t you?”
When it means so much … yes. “I try.”
“Why did you mark ‘Choice’? It’s…”
“Not thought to be a typical love poem? But it is. Listen …
“The chorister in surplice green
Invokes the deity unseen
With word and music most sublime
And ritual from ancient time.
“Pray tell us now, and if you can
The worth of rites so born of man,
Or if the moons of hunt and love
Will lift us best to sky above.”
“You memorized it?”
“How could I not?”
Charyn thought that she shivered slightly, and he added, “I copied the ones I marked and several others.”
“Just the love poems?”
He shook his head. “I liked some that weren’t, like ‘The Streets of Gold.’ The image he sets of the past in the first lines … ‘When Variana’s streets were paved with gold / and the Pharsi of Naedar were still recalled…’”
Abruptly, she looked away for a moment, then back. “You really don’t do much halfway, do you?”
How can you answer that? After a long moment, he finally said, “Not if it’s important.”
A faint smile appeared. “I think a better answer might be, not if you can help it.”
Charyn just looked at
her.
“Your Grace … I do believe the music is over.”
Charyn flushed.
Alyncya smiled. “Thank you … so much. Will I see you later?”
“You will. I have a favor to ask. I promised to introduce someone to you. Would you mind?”
For an instant, Alyncya stiffened.
“No … it’s not my mother,” said Charyn with a smile. “If you wouldn’t mind…”
“How could I mind?”
Ignoring the question, Charyn said conversationally, “I’m glad you met Ferrand, already. Besides being my cousin, he’s also a friend.” Then he turned toward Aloryana, who was talking to Alastar, and guided Alyncya toward his sister. As they approached, Alastar turned toward Chelia, asking her for the next dance.
“Aloryana, this is Lady-heir Alyncya D’Shendael. Alyncya, this is my sister, Imager Third Aloryana D’Imagisle. Aloryana wanted to meet you and asked if I would make an introduction.”
“If you would excuse us, Charyn,” said Aloryana pleasantly.
“I will see you both later,” replied Charyn, stepping back and moving away, hoping that the two would get along.
“Thank you,” said Aloryana, who turned to Alyncya. “Charyn has mentioned you often, but he’s said very little…”
Although he desperately wanted to hear more, Charyn kept a pleasant smile on his face and moved away, looking for an unattached young woman. He saw Kayrolya D’Taelmyn talking with Ferron D’Fhernon, but decided against interrupting, for several reasons, including the fact that he saw Ferrand approaching.
Then he saw Bhayrn exchanging a few words with High Holder Laastyn. Bhayrn shook his head to whatever Laastyn said, then said several words before turning away.
At that moment, Charyn caught sight of Shaelyna D’Baeltyn, standing beside her parents. That made it easy, and he joined them. “Shaelyna, if I might have the next dance?”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Her smile was poised and pleasant, as it always seemed to be. “I wondered if we might see you.”
“How could you not?” Charyn smiled pleasantly as he took her hand and they began to dance.
“The young imager you danced with … that was your sister, wasn’t it? I almost didn’t recognize her in gray and green. I didn’t realize she was an imager, but then, she wasn’t at the Spring-Turn Ball, and she had been at the Year-Turn Ball.”
“We discovered she was an imager right after that.”
“That must have been quite a surprise.”
“Very much so.”
“Does she also play the clavecin?”
“She does. We even occasionally played a duet together.”
“My parents were quite surprised at how well you played that evening you invited us to the Chateau. I was as well … and then to hear Lady-heir Alyncya play…”
“She plays very well. Well enough to be a musician. That was a surprise to me. Do you play?”
Shaelyna shook her head. “Nothing like either of you. Ferrand really is your cousin?”
“Oh, yes. Second cousins. We had the same great-grandparents. My grandmother was the sister of his grandfather.”
“He’s quite pleasant, and cheerful.”
“I’ve always found him so.”
After that dance, despite wanting to ask Alyncya to dance again, Charyn asked Faerlyna D’Kastel, and then Diasyra D’Taulyn, simply because she was sweet, intelligent, and a good dancer.
Then he went and found Aloryana and asked her to dance, not asking the obvious question until the music started and they were actually dancing.
“How did it go?”
“She’s very intelligent. She might be smarter than you are.”
“That wouldn’t surprise me. She’s also a better musician. Did you like her?”
“Charyn…”
“Well?”
“I do like her. She might be too good for you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I think you attract her and scare her.”
“I could say the same about her. I’m incredibly attracted to her and yet … well, I’m scared she’ll reject me, and that would…” He shook his head.
“Don’t look now,” said Aloryana with a smile. “Mother is introducing herself.”
Charyn swallowed.
“They’re headed to the sitting room.”
“Thank you so very much.”
“You’re very welcome.” She smiled wickedly at him. “I like sometimes seeing you being unsettled.”
“Wait until you like someone and have me and Mother interrogating them. Or perhaps Maitre Alastar and Maitre Alyna.”
“I can wait.”
“What else? About Alyncya.”
“I told her I wouldn’t tell you, and I won’t. You need to ask her.”
Charyn, unfortunately, could respect that.
After finishing the dance with Aloryana, and surrendering her to Ferron D’Fhernon, Charyn went to one of the sideboards and took a goblet of the Tacqueville white, looking around to see if he saw Ferrand. He did, but Ferrand was clearly enjoying a dance with Kayrolya D’Taelmyn. Charyn couldn’t help but smile. Ferrand deserved someone like Kayrolya, and they seemed to go together well.
He glanced toward the other sideboard, where several High Holders were gathered, but then he realized that there were two separate groups. One group consisted of the young High Holder Laevoryn, High Holder Ghaermyn, and someone else facing away from Charyn. The other three were High Holder Khunthan, High Holder Basalyt, and High Holder Plessan. Charyn wondered what the two High Councilors were discussing with the younger Plessan.
After another dance passed, Charyn eased his way around the dance floor to where Alyncya stood with her father.
“Good evening, High Holder Shendael.”
“Good evening, Your Grace. I see your sister was present.”
“She asked to be here. She asks very little, and there’s little that I can give her now that she’s an imager.”
“Except all the important things,” said Alyncya.
“I try to provide those as well.”
“If you two will excuse me…” The High Holder eased away.
“Would you like to dance?”
“I’d rather not. I’m warm. Could we walk over to the window, the open one beyond the sideboard?”
“We certainly could.”
In a few moments, the two stood at the window, looking westward into the evening sky. Charyn looked sideways at Alyncya, taking in her profile, her high forehead, straight strong nose, but not excessively so. Beyond her, he could see both moons, Artiema about to set, with Erion the hunter higher in the western sky, pursuing.
“It’s a pleasant evening,” he ventured, then added, “I’ve thought about you a great deal.”
Without looking at him, she replied in a low voice, “And I, you.”
Charyn waited, uncertain as to whether to speak, then forced himself to wait.
“When I came to the Year-Turn Ball, I never expected…”
“Nor did I.”
“You were … attached.” Alyncya’s voice was even. “I knew that even before your mother told me. Do you think all men have mistresses?”
“From my life,” replied Charyn, dreading where the question was leading, “I couldn’t say. I know that my father, from the time that I can remember, never had a mistress. I understand that, while my grandsire turned to other women, that was after his wife had several lovers.”
“You know where I’m headed. You’ve had a mistress.” Alyncya’s voice was cool.
“One. A tutor and a mistress. She was the one who truly taught me to play the clavecin. She also taught me a great deal about people.”
“Usually, men have mistresses after they’re married … when they tire of their wife.”
“Or, occasionally, as I noted, when their wife tires of them,” replied Charyn gently. “Strange as it may seem to you, I didn’t seek out a mistress. My mother chose Palenya for me, and Paleny
a had to approve of me as well.”
“Your mother? Was that because she feared your taste in women?”
“No. It was because she feared I’d turn out like all the other men in her life.”
“All of them? She actually said that?”
Charyn nodded. “Word for word. You can ask her, if you wish.”
“I just might.”
“That might be for the best.”
Alyncya looked into his eyes and offered a smile, an expression somehow rueful, amused, and sad all at once. “From your answer, I doubt I need to. But I will. Not this moment, but later.”
“How was your conversation with Aloryana?”
“She’s charming … and very protective.”
“Would you care to—”
“Not at the moment. Not any time soon, in fact. I promised I wouldn’t. It’s up to Aloryana.”
“Shall we dance?”
“Must we? I’d rather you kept talking to me.”
“I’d rather you did some of the talking,” said Charyn.
“She hasn’t been in the Chateau for some time, has she? Palenya, not Aloryana.”
“She left more than six months ago. She’s now the musician for the Collegium.”
“She’s the one playing the clavecin, isn’t she?”
“She is.”
“She’s not what I expected.”
“She’s the one who really taught me how to play the clavecin. She, and in a way, Aloryana.”
“Your sister loves you a great deal.”
“I love her.”
“She said that she asked to meet me, and that you agreed.”
“She did, and I did.”
“I’m very glad of that.” Alyncya finally turned to face him, her hand reaching for his.
For long moments, they just stood facing each other, holding hands.
Charyn felt strangely, totally exposed.
“I need to know you better.”
“And I need that from you,” he replied.
“This won’t be easy … for either of us.”
“No … it won’t.”
“I don’t mean about your being Rex … or all the terrible problems you face.”
“I know what you meant.” He paused. “I think I do.”
She smiled warmly. “That’s one of the things I like about you.” She glanced toward the musicians on the dais. “I do suppose we should dance.” The hint of almost a grin appeared. “That way…”
Endgames Page 44