She shook her head, surprised at the sudden shift in subject.
“It’s a name that was given to Inisso. Does it not seem strange that a man of such vast power would choose to build his tower in a barren, isolated spot like Krasnegar? But he was not so crazy as he seemed, I think. This is a very strategic little town. It has the only good harbor in the north.”
Why was he telling her this? He seemed very solemn. Inos glanced at her father, and he frowned as if to tell her to listen carefully.
“Both Nordland and the Impire think they should own Krasnegar. Is that not so, Majesty?”
“It has always been so.”
“And it has always had a king, not a queen regnant!” Sagorn said triumphantly. “So you see, Highness, the thanes and the Impire will all take a great deal of interest in whomever you choose as husband. Yet they both need you.”
“Need me?” she asked. “Us?”
He nodded. “Need Krasnegar. There is much your father must teach you if you are to rule here after him. Salt, for instance. Even humble things like salt. The jotnar need salt to store their meat over the winter. Salt doesn’t sail well, so most of it comes overland from the south in the summer, to Krasnegar. Goblins and jotnar trade furs for it. The Impire wants furs. Things like that. The imperor would not like to see a jotunn king in Krasnegar. Nordland wouldn’t like you to marry an imp.”
“But they’ll both accept me as queen?” she protested, looking to her father. She had hardly ever thought about being queen. That would be after he died, and she was not going to think about that.
He nodded—a little doubtfully, she thought. “If you are old enough and strong enough, and if they approve of your choice of husband. Most husbands like to give the orders, you know.”
She snorted, not caring that snorting was not regal.
“Well, that doesn’t have to be for years yet, does it?”
For just a moment … Then he seemed to change his mind. “I certainly hope not. What I think my learned friend is saying, though, is that you may have to choose a husband quite soon—in a year or two, even. And your decision will be important to very many people. The God was telling you to remember love when you decide—a divine hint. Right, Sagorn?”
Inos spoke first, suddenly seized by a horrible doubt. “You’re not going to marry me off to some horrible old duke, are you, Father?”
Her father laughed. “Not unless you want me to. No, Nordland would not stand for it, anyway. That’s what I mean—your decision might start a war, Inos!”
She gasped at such a horrible idea, and swallowed the last of whatever it was in her glass. It made her cough. If enjoying this vile stuff was a requirement for adulthood, then she had farther to go than she had thought.
Her father rose. “I’ll send for some lunch, Sagorn, unless you’d prefer the hall?”
It was a hint of dismissal for Inos, and Inos had still not settled the terrible matter of the silk.
“No. A snack here would be fine,” the old man said, with a strange smile at her father. “As you know, Sire, I am not much of a party man.”
“Tonight, perhaps, though? I understand that we have a very fine minstrel visiting us. Kade is organizing something.”
Inos was being edged to the door. “Father? The silk?”
He looked surprised, then laughed loudly again. “Three and a half imperials, you said?”
She nodded miserably, and he laid heavy hands on her shoulders. “Inos, darling, that much would buy Meo’s whole stock!”
“Meo?”
He smiled and, perhaps, blushed a little. “Meo and I are very old friends. You used to play with the servants’ children when you were little; so did I. I’ve known Meo all my life. I even thought I was in love with her once. Who went with you this morning?” he added, suddenly suspicious.
She confessed—no one.
He sighed and patted her shoulder. “This has to stop, Inos! You’re growing up. You’re not a child anymore. You can’t run around by yourself. Nor with stableboys and scullery maids—clambering after bird’s eggs, digging clams … I’ve been neglecting you.” He chuckled. “Perhaps Meo thinks I have been neglecting her—I haven’t seen her in years. Or else she was sending me a message.”
“Message?”
He nodded. “A message that my beautiful daughter should not be wandering the town by herself. No, Meo doesn’t expect three and a half gold imperials!”
That was better. Much better.
Her father chuckled. “I’m very tempted to send the guard down to arrest her for extortion and then sentence her to stay to dinner, but her neighbors would gossip. Did she have any other quality stuff?”
With sudden excitement, Inos remembered what the God had said. “Only one other silk, Father. It had flowering trees on it. Apples, she said. Do apples really grow from flowers? But she has a drooly turquoise satin and three soft linens and a roll of silver mohair—-”
He laughed. “I was going to send you out with your aunt this afternoon, but perhaps I’ll come as well. If Doctor Sagorn will excuse me for a little while, I shall visit my old friend Meo. She’s a widow now. I expect she’s lonely. But you can have all of those, and more besides—all the fine dresses and gowns we can make or find for you.”
“Father! You mean it? But—but why?”
He smiled sadly. “I wasn’t going to tell you yet, but I suppose I must. Because you have to leave Krasnegar.”
6
I loved a maiden,
Maiden oh …
I loved a maiden,
Long ago .
I left my land, I left my kin,
I left my all, her heart to win.
Maiden, maiden, maiden oh …
Long ago …
Jalon’s voice floated through the great hall like flower petals. Inos felt shivery listening to it. She thought of the glory of the God she had seen that morning; she thought of moonlight on snow, of the string of pearls she was wearing, and of white gulls against blue sky. Great beauty always made her shivery and she had never known such singing. Any other minstrel she had ever heard was a honking goose compared to this Jalon. The hall was full of people, yet there was no sound except the tremulous throb of the harp and a gloriously clear tenor voice floating under the high rafters.
Flower petals!
Inos was sitting with her father and his guests at the high table, on the dais at one end of the great hall. More townsfolk and the senior castle staff flanked tables along both sides. At the far end the lesser folk sat on the floor in front of the big fireplaces. The stones above them were black with the grease and smoke of centuries, and the high rafters overhead were black, also. Many a winter’s day she had shivered at this table, staring wistfully along the length of the hall to the leaping flames hissing and spluttering as grease dripped into them from the creaking spits, a princess envying servants. But today the hearths were dark and bare and the hall was hot, not cold. The sun loved Krasnegar in summer and would not leave it. Men fell down from exhaustion before the sun did, and after an hour or so it came smiling back, ready for another endless day. So the sun was still shining in the windows, laying sparkling bridges of light across the room in the floating dust.
I gave her gold, and rubies, too,
I gave my all, her heart to woo.
Maiden, maiden, maiden oh …
It was warm up there at the high table with her father and Aunt Kade and all the distinguished guests who had been rounded up from the town at very short notice to hear this minstrel … and perhaps to say good-bye to Princess Inosolan? No, never mind that.
Aunt Kade had dug out her ancient lapis lazuli velvet, which made her seem plumper and shorter than ever and was usually worn only at Winterfest. It was much too hot a garment for this weather and her face was pink and shiny as she smiled contentedly around at the guests. She’d had her hair blue-rinsed. Smiling at the thought of Kinvale? Not No! Think of that tomorrow.
Mistress Meolorne was there, beaming happily, p
erhaps musing on all the wonderful fabrics she had sold to the court that afternoon—and all of them for less than a single imperial, as the king had predicted. He and she had laughed together like old friends.
Her father did look tired, almost as if he were sitting in shadow when everyone around him was in sunshine.
There were merchants there, with their wives, and a few ship captains, and the bishop and the school teachers; old Kondoral, cupping his ear, tears running in his wrinkles; Chancellor Yaltauri; and Master Poraganu. There were few of the castle staff, for so many were away in the hills, and especially not many young folk, but she could see Lin, who had broken his arm cutting peat of all things—how could he have managed that?—and Kel and Ido and Fan …
And Rap of course.
They were all sitting on the floor at the far end, near the great fireplace—small, wide-eyed children at the front, cross-legged or hugging knees, entranced by the music; the junior staff like Rap gathered behind him. As always, the palace dogs had clustered as close to Rap as they could get.
Before the children, flanked by the lesser tables, the center of the hall was empty except for one chair, and, on that chair the minstrel sat and pleated moonbeams.
I loved a maiden,
Maiden oh …
I loved a maiden,
Long ago …
I traveled land, I traveled sea,
I traveled all, by her to be.
Maiden, maiden, maiden oh …
Long ago …
Mother Unonini was not there. Mother Unonini was under the care of the physicians, resting in a dark room on a light diet, and Inos could not help but think that there was a small good in that evil, and the thought made her feel guilty,
The fearsome Doctor Sagorn was not there, either—another small good. Even if he was an old friend of her father’s, his glittery eagle gaze and beak nose still frightened her, and she was quite happy that he had pleaded travel weariness to excuse his absence.
Jalon’s song ended and the hall exploded with applause—clapping and cheering and drumming of heels on the stones. The minstrel rose and bowed to the king and then to the rest of the company, and then he came back up to his seat at the high table.
“Your throat must be dry, minstrel?” her father said.
“A little, Sire. And the audience could use a rest, also.”
“That I do not believe. Steward!”
Jalon gratefully accepted a new tankard and said something about fine northern beer before quaffing it. All around the hall conversations began to poke up like spring flowers through snow, as the spell he had painted faded away.
“The imperor has appointed a new marshal of the armies, minstrel?” demanded one of the pompous burghers.
Jalon smiled vaguely. “The old one died, didn’t he?”
The burgher made an impatient noise. “But the new one? Is he warlike?” Inos could not recall that burgher’s name. He looked like a rooster, with red wattles and hair that stuck up. He had perhaps drunk a little too much of the fine northern beer.
“I expect so,” Jalon said. “They usually are, aren’t they?”
“And the witch of the west is dead?” another asked.
The minstrel looked blank and then said, “Yes,” uncertainly.
“This dwarf who’s replaced her—what do you know of him?”
“Er … nothing? Yes, nothing.”
One of the stately matrons frowned at him severely. “Then the Four now consist of three warlocks and only one witch, isn’t that so? Only one of the wardens is a woman, Bright Water.”
Jalon looked even more blank. “Her Omnipotence Umthrum? She’s a woman, isn’t she?”
There was a long, puzzled pause, and then a little, ferrety sailor said, “She died years ago. Before I was born.”
The minstrel sighed. “I’m afraid politics is not a great interest of mine, master.”
Jalon had come from Hub itself, capital of the Impire. The honored guests, eager for news and gossip, had been firing questions at him all evening, but he never seemed to have answers. He was a very sweet young man, Inos thought, but as insubstantial as a morning mist. She wondered how he ever found his way from castle to castle or town to town; he was probably always fro-ing when he should be to-ing, she thought, and chuckled to herself, with a glance in the direction of Rap.
“We have heard rumors of much dragon damage in the southern provinces,” another burgher proclaimed, meaning it as a question to Jalon. “On Kith, especially.”
“Oh?” the minstrel said. “I’m afraid I must have missed that.” The worthies of Krasnegar exchanged glances of exasperation.
“What sort of gowns are the ladies wearing in the Impire these days, Master Jalon?” That was Aunt Kade, who must be worrying about all those fabrics and how many of them she could purloin for her own use and where she would find enough seamstresses to sew them all in the few days before departure.
“Very high waists,” Jalon said firmly. “Flowing out like trumpets at the floor, with fairly short trains. Puffed at the shoulders, sleeves tight at the top, flaring at the wrist. Lace cuffs. Necklines are high, with lace trim, also. Floral prints are very popular, in cottons or silk.”
The table reacted with stunned silence to this unexpected note of authority. Inos noticed that her father was grinning.
“Master Jalon is a fine artist, also,” the king remarked. “Would there possibly be time for you to paint my daughter’s portrait before you leave, Jalon?”
Jalon studied Inos for a moment. “Had I a lifetime to spend I could hardly do justice to such beauty, Sire.”
Inos felt herself blush and everyone else laughed. They did not have to laugh quite so hard, she thought.
The minstrel turned back to the king. “If I can lay my hands on materials, Sire … they might not be readily available here. But a drawing, certainly. It would be a labor of love.”
“Could you sketch us some of these gowns you have just described, Master Jalon?” Aunt Kade inquired, blinking eagerly.
“Of course, Highness.”
Aunt Kade beamed with evident relief and turned to Mistress Meolorne to ask her opinions on seamstresses.
Inos looked longingly at the young folk beyond the tables. They were chattering and laughing, Rap telling a story, Lin topping it. What use was it to be a princess if you could not do as you pleased? Why did she have to be trapped up here with all these stuffy old folks? Quietly she eased her chair back.
Aunt Kade’s head flicked round. “Inos?”
“I thought I might—”
“Let her,” the king said softly. He did not say “It is the last time,” but she thought that he was thinking it.
Gratefully Inos rose, smiled a politeness around the guests, and muttered something inaudible. Then she hurried across the so-empty center of the hall to the group on the floor. The young ones saw her coming and started to open a path for her, and they cleared an opening all the way to Lin and Rap. Rap shoved at a couple of dogs, and Lin heaved himself aside one-armed. Now why did they all assume she would want to sit just there?.
But she did.
As she settled down, he turned to look at her and his big gray eyes grew even bigger at the sight of the pearls.
They smiled doubtfully at each other.
“How was the man-at-armsing?” she whispered. .
He grinned sheepishly. “Boring!”
She smiled. Good! In that case … “I’m sorry I was nasty to you, Rap.”
He turned a little pink, looked down at his knees, and said, “Then we can still be fiends?”
They sniggered in unison.
She put her hand on the floor, next to his.
His hand slipped over hers.
No one would notice.
He had big, strong hands, warm and calloused. Man’s hands.
Yes, he was taller. It had not been the boots, and his worn old doublet was tight across the shoulders. A friendly smell of horses always hung around Rap.
&nb
sp; Running about with stableboys, her father had said …
“Rap, I’m going away!”
She had not meant to mention that problem. He looked at her with surprise all over his plain pudding face, though it was a lot less pudding than it used to be.
“South,” she said quickly. “To Kinvale. To learn how to be a lady. With Aunt Kade. On the next ship.”
Inos bit her lip and stared at the distant high table. The hall had gone rather misty.
His hand tightened on hers. “How long?”
“A year.” Inos took a deep breath and made a big effort to be regal. “You see, the duke is a sort of relative—Duke Angilki of Kinvale. Aunt Kade was married to his uncle. And my great-grandfather’s sister was his … Oh, I forget. Inisso had three sons. One became king here after him, one went south and became duke of Kinvale, and one went to Nordland. Kalkor, the thane of Gark, is descended from him. But it’s much more complicated …”
She stopped, because Rap would not be interested, and it was not very nice to talk of all those ancestors when he did not have any. Well; none that he knew of, she decided. He must have had just as many as she had, only not of noble blood. Her father said that the branches of her family tree were all knotted. There were not many noble families in the north country, so they tended to intermarry every few generations, as soon as it was decent.
Inisso had had three sons. Apparently that was important.
“When you are queen of Krasnegar, then I shall be your sergeant-at-arms,” Rap said.
Oh, Rap!
“I would rather have you as master-of-horse, I think.”
“Sergeant-at-arms!” he insisted.
“Master-of-horse!”
Pause. “Both!” they said together, and laughed together.
Apparently Jalon was not going to start singing again just yet.
For a few minutes nothing more was said, and Inos realized she was sitting smiling like a dummy at Rap, and he was smiling just as stupidly back at her. Why should she be smiling at a time like this?
Go away? To-horrible Kinvale? What good was it to be a princess if you had to do things like that? And creepy old Sagorn had hinted that she might start a war if she ever fell in love with a man …
A Man of His Word Page 5