From time to time women would slip out the door and come back with more wood for the two monstrous fires. They at least wore robes, but men wandering out to relieve themselves did not bother to dress, although even the thought of going out unclothed into that unbelievable cold made Rap shudder. The buckskins that the goblins had worn earlier were much flimsier than his furs, so obviously goblins felt cold much less than faun-jotunn halfbreeds did, and the hearth was a place of honor, rather than of comfort.
The meal was finished. The drinking continued. After an hour or two, the chief looked across toward Rap and asked Darad something. Darad grinned and beckoned. Reluctant, feeling horribly embarrassed and vulnerable in his state of undress, Rap rose and advanced to the edge of the ring of junior goblins sprawled around the hearth.
His hosts inspected him with curiosity, with amusement, then with contemptuous comments that he could not catch. There was laughter. He knew he must look strange to them—the reverse of the way they looked to him. He would seem a very pale brown, very stringy, and too tall. His tussock of unruly brown hair would be entertaining, also. The minstrel Jalon had told him that fauns had hairy legs, and certainly Rap’s legs had been busily growing hairy recently. They obviously amused the goblins.
But evidently he had overlooked the feature that amused them most. The chief said something that provoked especially loud laughter. Darad’s reply brought more.
He leered at Rap. “The chief offered to give me your nose, because mine is broken. I said mine was still prettier.” He laughed again and took another drink.
The goblins all had wide, plump faces, but their noses were thin and very long. They also had big ears.
“When do I get to eat?” Rap asked.
Darad showed his tooth gap in another leer. “Why waste good food?”
“What’s going to happen, then?” Even if courage was important, Rap just could not feel courageous, but now anger was coming to his aid. If they were going to kill him, he would rather they got started than just left him in suspense.
Again that wolfish grin. “Wait and see! I wouldn’t want to spoil your surprise.”
The chief turned and grunted an order. One of the youngest men sprang up and ran along the big room and out the door. As Rap watched with farsight, he hurried to the smallest building, the one where the boys and youths of the tribe were sitting or lying around a fireplace. There seemed to be one grown man there, perhaps a supervisor, and he now rose to follow the chief’s messenger. Yet, while the messenger ran back, the newcomer took his time, idly kicking snow with his bare feet, brazenly strolling through that deadly arctic cold while clad in nothing but a strip of deer hide.
He sauntered into the hall and up to the fireplace, folded his arms, and looked expectantly at the chief. He was not a grown man, but not far off it; about Rap’s age, almost as tall and twice the depth, a barrel-chested, powerful youth; as big as any goblin in the room. He already had more moustache than most, and the black rope of his hair hung almost to his waist. There were no tattoos on his wide, ugly face, but there was much arrogance.
The chief said something. The youth looked Rap over and then grinned hugely with his oversized teeth. He held a meaty arm against one of Rap’s to allow a comparison. The audience exploded in appreciative laughter.
“This is Little Chicken,” Darad explained helpfully. “High Raven’s son. You’ll be seeing more of him in future. More than you want, I fancy!” He laughed and then translated his joke for the benefit of the audience. They found it equally amusing.
High Raven must be the chief. That and his size explained this youngster’s superior air.
“Do I have to fight him?” Rap demanded, uneasily studying Little Chicken’s impressively thick limbs and chest.
“Just hold your end up!” Darad said, laughing again.
The chief snapped an order. Little Chicken nodded and grabbed Rap’s wrist. The goblins respected courage; Rap felt pushed beyond all endurance by this mockery and ill treatment. He jerked his arm away and swung a fast punch with his other hand.
He hit nothing. He had no time to register the horrifying implications of that failure before Little Chicken doubled him over with a left hook in the belly and then flattened him to the floor with a thump on the back of his head. Dimly he heard the audience erupt in screams of mirth.
Little Chicken might be shorter, but obviously his greater weight was combined with much greater speed. He kicked at Rap to drive home the point and his father shouted what sounded like a warning. So Little Chicken casually knelt, tucked Rap under one arm, and rose to wander away while the spectators were still bellowing and hooting and rolling around on the platform.
Hands and feet trailing on the gritty snow, Rap was borne ignominiously over to the boys’ building and dumped in a corner. The boys clustered around to inspect the dazed and still nauseated captive. They found him just as entertaining as their elders had done.
6
Princess Kadolan peered around the south drawing room, being careful not to appear to be peering; she did not think it seemly for a lady to screw up her eyes merely to see properly. In a moment she located the burgundy dress she sought, and the high-piled honey-blond hair. She set off at a measured pace, smiling and nodding to a few friends. The big room was almost empty, and also strangely drab. The snow floating down outside had muffled the morning sun and muted the normally joyful tones of Angilki’s decor.
In searching out the brightest light for her sketch book, Inos had curled up on a love seat by the window. Her bright gown burned hot against the winter whiteness without and the potted plants within. Behind her, beside the casement, an oversize grandfather clock steadily chopped away at the seconds, contrasting the relentless march of time with youth and beauty. Portrait of an artist …
Kade knew well that in most women such a pose would be a deliberate stratagem, but in Inos it came from pure instinct. Imperceptibly Kinvale had melted away her awkward adolescence to reveal a stunningly beautiful young woman. She had gained poise and grace, and yet she still retained her bloom of innocence. That would vanish, of course, as soon as she herself became fully aware of the change, but—as Ekka had remarked only a few minutes ago—the smallest part of the problem now was motivating the prospective suitors.
Inos flipped over a page and frowned at it. Then she noticed Kadolan’s approach, sat up straight, put her feet down …
“Don’t get up, dear.” Kade settled at her side. “Does this snow make you homesick?”
Inos flashed her a smile that could have demolished an Imperial legion. “This? I don’t think a Krasnegarian would call this snow, Aunt. You couldn’t lose a horse in this.”
“You could barely lose a copper groat in it. No, unless it gets much deeper it should not spoil the skating party.”
“I hope not,” Inos said, gazing happily out at the winter-shrouded lawns and hedges. She had not known how to skate until a few weeks ago—skating was not a practical pastime in Krasnegar—but she had taken to it like a horse to oats. From her father she inherited a natural ability for such vigorous pursuits.
She glanced around to see who might be within earshot. Kadolan had already determined that no one was.
“You have come to scold me, Aunt. You have that this-will-hurt-me-more look about you.”
“Oh, dear! Am I becoming so obvious in my old age?”
Inos chuckled and reached out to squeeze her hand. “Of course not! I am teasing. But I certainly ought to know when I have distressed you; I do it often enough, do I not?”
“No, dear …” Kade found herself being studied by the greenest eyes in the Impire, large and deep and unreadable.
“Well, I did!” Inos said, much amused. “I was quite horrid to you when we first arrived, my dear Aunt, and I am truly repentant. But I am seeing that expression much less often, so either you have given up on me, or I am getting better. Which is it?” When Inos chose to be charming, she was irresistible.
“You are doing wonde
rfully, my dear.”
A tiny gleam of pleasure was masked at once by a coquettish smile. “But …”
“Well … That naval person has departed—”
“Captain Eggoli?” Inos contrived to look shocked. “Should he be traveling in his present state of health? In this snow?”
“He seemed quite eager to leave—and not at all eager to come and make his farewells to you.”
Inos threw up her hands dramatically. “And I did so hope to hear just once more how he keelhauled those poor mutineers! Surely it would have been proper for an Imperial officer to have come to say good-bye?” She could not quite keep the satisfied twinkle out of her eye, although she was becoming much more skilled at hiding her feelings now. Inosolan was much more skilled at almost everything now.
And it really was very funny.
“What I cannot understand,” Kadolan said, playing along, “is how a strapping young sailor like that could have come down with such a terrible cold when everyone else seems perfectly healthy.”
Still Inos kept a straight face. “I did hear rumors that he spent a night in a potting shed.”
“That seems an unwise thing to do. The whole night?”
“A good part of it, I expect. He has very strong opinions.”
“Of himself, you mean? Oh, Inos! How could you?”
“Me? I wasn’t there!” With demure innocence, she turned to gaze out at the big cottony flakes drifting past the windows. Eventually she looked back at Kadolan, and then they both laughed. Their laughter was rather long and immoderate for high-born ladies.
Inos recovered first. She smoothed her sketch book with her hand, took a deep breath, and said, “He really did deserve it! I don’t mind the ones who are looking for wives, Aunt. I mean, I don’t mind them looking. I mind some of them thinking I would be interested … Oh, I’m not saying this very well.”
“Take your time, dear. I think we ought to have this out now.”
Inos looked startled. “Hair down? A woman-to-woman chat?”
“A lady-to-lady chat.” The sort of chat they could not have enjoyed even a few short weeks ago.
“All right! You and the dowager dragon—”
“Inos!” Kadolan murmured reprovingly.
“Hair down, Aunt! You two have been parading your breeding stock—”
“Inos!” She chuckled. “All right, but why do you think I had hysterics that time at the Kinford Horse Show?”
“I knew exactly why, dear, and so did everybody else.”
“And I should have grown out of it by now? I’m sorry, Aunt. I just can’t take it all seriously!” But her fists were clenched.
“You have to, my dear. You will be a queen one day. Your choice of husband is a matter of state. You know that.”
Inosolan sighed and pouted. “Father promised I was not being sent here to be married off!”
“Your father wants you to choose, for love. Few kings would be so considerate. Obviously there is no one suitable in Krasnegar, so he hopes you will meet someone here. Here you have been introduced to some of the most eligible—”
“Dullest, fattest, oldest—”
“Don’t be so conceited,” Kadolan said primly. “People do visit Kinvale for other reasons than you.”
Her niece colored slightly and said nothing.
“Also, Ekka has many other ladies visiting, also. She can hardly hand her gentleman friends a menu when they arrive, now can she?”
Kadolan did not add that all those other ladies were in despair, that Ekka’s renowned matchmaking venture had not produced an engagement in months, that no living, breathing male guest had eyes for anyone but the fabulous princess.
Inos nodded repentantly. “I am trying, Aunt. I really am! I made some mistakes at first, but I think I’m doing all right now.”
“You’re doing splendidly, my dear. I’m very proud of you.”
“Well, then! But there have been one or two, like the hearty Captain Eggoli . .” The big green eyes grew round with wonder. “He really believed me! He really thought I was going to meet him in the potting shed, of all places, so he could—”
“I think I can guess what he thought.”
Inos chuckled again, then sighed. “It isn’t fair! It just isn’t fair! Just because they’re bigger and stronger than we are, they think they can run the world to suit themselves. And run us, too.”
Kadolan could remember thinking things like that. “We are not totally without resources. Captain Eggoli is much bigger and much stronger than most, but he looked very miserable as he left. His nose was red, and his eyes were puffy as lambswool bedsocks.”
Inos sniggered, then became suddenly wistful. “Oh, we can win a point or two, now and then. But it still isn’t fair.”
“No, it isn’t. What are you going to do about it?”
“Oh! I’ve just made an epochal discovery, haven’t I? Inosolan’s Guide to the Universe! I suppose everyone sees it in her time! Did you experience the same shattering revelation at my age?”
“I was older than you, I think. But it is the way of the world, and we must just play the cards we are dealt.”
“Or refuse to play at all?”
Kadolan sighed quite genuinely. “No, my dear. That is not an option—not for anyone, and especially not for you. And even if the rules are unfair, all we can hope is that everyone plays honestly.”
Inos showed her teeth. “I’ll keep them honest!”
Overconfidence would be her next danger, of course. Regretfully Kadolan decided that she would have to be frank, although she hated to hazard this precious bridge of trust and understanding they had so painfully built to each other. But now the stakes were high, time was very short, and the perils great. She reached out to the sketch book on Inos’s lap and turned back the page that Inos had so casually flipped just before seeming to notice her aunt’s approach.
The big clock tick-tocked, tick-tocked, thin-slicing eternity.
Kade said, “It’s a very good likeness, my dear. I had not realized how talented you were.”
Inos was scarlet, eyes glinting furiously. She did not speak.
“Tell me about him.”
“I love him.”
“Yes, I think you do. But tell me about him.”
“What more is there to tell?” Inos was hurt now, and angry, and defensive. “What else matters?”
“Quite a lot, dear. You see, Sir Andor was a mistake.”
Inos drew a deep breath, and Kade interrupted before emotion could provoke indiscretion.
“I mean that he was not invited here to meet you. He was not invited here to meet anyone. He was not invited here at all, Inos. He brought letters of introduction, of course. It was the duke who asked him to stay.”
“Oh.” Inos was far from stupid. She smiled triumphantly. “So it was chance? Not the dowager dragon? The Gods intervened!”
“Possibly. The trouble is … his letters were signed by some very odd people. His Grace has many curious friends for a man of his rank—artists and builders. The nobility write introductions for one another all the time, of course, but one of Sir Andor’s references came from an artist, and another from a scholar. Most nobles would not accept such letters.”
“And the others?”
“From quite minor gentry. Ekka has been making inquiries. They now admit that they hardly know him.”
A dangerous frown came over her niece’s face. “Are you suggesting that Sir Andor is a fraud? An imposter? Because—”
“I’m not suggesting any such thing, Inos. You spent five weeks in each other’s company. You must have talked about yourselves. So you tell me about him.”
Inos turned away quickly to stare at the window. Her hands moved restlessly. “He had to leave upon a matter of honor. It may be dangerous, he said. But he promised to return, and I certainly trust—”
“That wasn’t what I asked, dear.” Kade spoke softly, treading gently. “Who is his father? Does his family have money? Land? Titles?”
Looking suddenly much younger—looking rather like a cornered fawn—Inos said, “Those things do not matter!”
“They do not matter very much, I agree. A good man is a good man, and I believe that your father might even accept a commoner, if he was a man of honor and good qualities. But they may matter if Sir Andor deliberately set out to win the heart of a princess by pretending to be something other than what he is.”
“He did. Did win the heart of a princess.”
“Then it does matter. Inos, you must see that?”
Again Inos turned her head to study the snowy scene beyond the casement, the drifting flakes. The big pendulum behind her stroked more seconds off their lives.
“Yes,” she said at last. “I see. I do see, now. I don’t know—he told me nothing about his family.”
“You did not ask?”
“No. I didn’t. I would now, I think … He is knowledgeable, very well traveled. He has had very wide experience. And charm! Oh, Aunt, you must admit he has charm!”
“Mountains of charm! Ranges of mountains of charm. Very good company, I agree. Krasnegar would be a much brighter place with Andor there.”
“Even the jotnar would like him! In a week he would have the rock itself turning cartwheels.”
“Polar bears would bring him the catch of the day.” That had been a childhood joke between Kade and Holi.
Inos missed it. “He is obviously a gentleman.”
“Obviously he acted like a gentleman while he was here.”
Inos blushed furiously. “Yes, he did!”
“I did not mean it that way, dear. He did not say when he would return?”
“No. But he will! I am certain.”
“Then we must just wait, I suppose.”
“And meanwhile keep the parade going?”
“Ekka says she has almost run out of candidates.”
“Good!”
Kadolan bit her lip. Obviously this conversation had served its purpose and should now be drawn to a close, but she had one more necessary spoonful of wisdom to administer. It also would hurt, but better to hurt more now, while Inos was already upset, than to wound her again on another occasion. Still no word had come from Krasnegar, and there should have been something. It would not be fair to burden Inos with mere suspicions—and Kade kept reminding herself that they were only suspicions—but time might well be running out, and the child had perhaps forgotten the stakes in this game she was being forced to play.
A Man of His Word Page 19