As Allis represented the unattainable Tremontine ideal for women, so did Issak for men: tall, broad but not barrel-shaped, slim of waist and hip, all his gestures great and small as perfect as his form. The smooth incline of his back as he kissed his dinner partner's hand; the light touch of his long fingers as he held his wine glass; the summoning of a footman, called over without so much as a word or a nod--
He looked up at Temmin. Issak's eyes were the same deep green as his sister's, but while her gaze invited, his gaze commanded. The Embodiment smiled up at him, unblinking, until Temmin colored and averted his gaze. He realized the air beside his right ear had stilled. Ellika no longer prattled but studied his face, amused and sympathetic. "Gently, Tem, gently," she murmured, putting her hand over his. "Go gently, little brother."
CHAPTER THREE
Temmin danced every dance until the Obbys went home, even though Allis had no spots on her card left; most of the dances involved changing partners, and he made sure he danced in her group. He racked his brain for clever things to say when they partnered, failed, and settled for staring at her every chance he got over the shoulders of his partners. More than one young lady told her maid later that though the Heir was handsome, he was unpardonably rude; you'd think he'd never seen an Embodiment of Neya before!
Temmin himself remained oblivious; the only person he saw was Allis, though he noticed her brother more and more. While Issak usually danced in different sets than his sister, he sometimes ended up next to Temmin, or even dancing with him in the figures where the sexes broke apart. Each time they met in the dance, Issak's effect on Temmin grew, and Issak seemed to sense it. A close pass brought their faces within inches, and Temmin swore Issak nearly kissed him. It should have displeased him, and he wondered why it didn't.
Halfway through the ball, Allis and Issak partnered for the traditional dance between brothers and sisters, and Temmin dragged Sedra onto the floor. "Do stop gawping, Temmy," Sedra murmured as his head whipped around to keep the Obbys in view. "You're embarrassing yourself."
"Am I?" said Temmin, turning his face to hers. "I thought everyone was watching them." In fact, the crowd had pulled back to form a clear circle around the twins. They're perfectly matched, he thought, like carriage horses--no, that's a horrid thought, like--well, like two beautiful things that look alike! He sighed to himself; love poetry was out of the question.
He let Sedra steer them out of sight of the Obbys. "You don't know what you're getting into when it comes to them," she said.
"Probably not," he agreed, "but I should very much like to find out."
Temmin's new best friend Fennows buttonholed him time and again, and wouldn't stop pestering him about Ellika. Temmin found this irritating, as it cut into his questions about Allis. He found the only way to shut Fennows up was to suggest a bumper of sparkling wine, and soon the two sat before the fire in an unoccupied salon off the ballroom proper, empty wine bottles in an untidy pile under a table.
"So, in the City two days, eh?" said Fennows, refilling Temmin's glass. "Someone like you, I should like to know how many tasty bits you left behind in Whithorse!"
"Tasty bits?" said Temmin. "The only thing I left behind in Whithorse was my freedom. And my best friend," he added, glowering at the pimply young man across from him.
"You'll have plenty of good hunting here, my friend. You--you can have any girl you please! Good-looking, the Heir--" Fennows burped. "Excuse me. No girl'd turn you down, not even the daughters of the nobility if you wanted 'em. My position gets me plenty, I assure you, but--say, are you sure you can't put in a good word with your father on my behalf? Corland is important to the empire, and Papa pays a good deal of tribute. Past time for the ties between us to get stronger. Matrimonial, I should think."
"I don't think Elly is in the marriage market," said Temmin. "At least she hasn't said."
"She's not the one who decides whether she is or not, now, is she!" said Fennows. "I'd treat her like a precious--a precious--thing, I dunno, statue, gem, some such, I should think. All she'd have to do is stand in the middle of the room, just stand there and listen, and I'd make her appreciate the life of the mind, like poetry--I write poetry, d'you know--and I know she'd come to love it, if she'd just give it a chance! I'd protect her from all that is coarse and impure, from those stupid, handsome things she likes to dance with--I tell you what it is, old man," he added, wobbling forward in his chair. "I tell you what it is. I’ve done a great deal of thinking on this. Women are a separate species. They're not like you and me a-tall."
"They're not?" said Temmin.
"No, no!" said Fennows, settling back in his chair. "Not a-tall. Think of your sisters, eh? Not like us, I should think, not a-tall. No appreciation of the real things in life, of the life of the mind. No appreciation. They're all clothes and simpering."
"I'd like to see Sedra simper, that'd be a sight," said Temmin, blinking.
"And then!" Fennows said, leaning forward again. "And then, there are species in the species!"
"I don't get--get your meaning," said Temmin, dribbling from his glass. He scrubbed at his waistcoat, relieved the wine was white; he'd catch it from Jenks otherwise.
"Well!" said Fennows. "Can't say a merchant's daughter is the same species as our sisters, I should think! And then there're maids! And then the ladies of a house, d'you know!"
"What makes 'em species in the species?"
Fennows laid out his philosophy, a neat deck of cards kept in his head: "You can keep a merchant's daughter, but you can't just tumble 'er. You can tumble a maid any time without keepin' 'er, but if you get 'er in the family way you have to pay 'er a bit and support the brat at a Mother's House. Else she'll go to the Father's Temple for justice, didn't she, and then there's a fuss. Justice for a housemaid, feh." Fennows considered his glass, then said, "And ladies of a house--different species altogether. More like us. They'll do anything with anyone, and they're business-like and friendly. Don't expect anything from you but your coin. No pretending, just fucking. Know how to treat a man. Oh, you can make an appointment with a Beloved at the Lovers' Temple, but then they make you think about it! Gods, I'd keep any number of merchants' daughters to stay out of that pink marble heap, but for Neya's Day! Now, that's a sight worth seeing, I should think! Ah, Farr hang it, dead soldier," he finished, shaking the last drops from the current wine bottle.
"Hang on," said Temmin, "hang on, it's a ranking? Women like our sisters, then merchants' daughters, then maidservants, then...ladies of a...house? What ladies?"
"I mean whores, old man, what d'you think I mean!" hooted Fennows.
Temmin frowned. "Whores? Wouldn't do. Hussies. Dishonorable. Wouldn't like 'em."
"That's what's so good about them! They have no honor! No, rank women all you'd like, they're none of 'em like you and me," Fennows said. "Not properly people, are they? Don't understand 'em a-tall."
"I understand my sisters--mostly. They're certainly people! Sedra has a--what d'you say?--a life of the mind. That's all she has! I don't know any merchants' daughters--"
"Yet."
"--And I've never met a--a whore--what house are you talking about, anyway? As for maids, all the maids I know are people," said Temmin, thinking of the pleasant, motherly women who attended the Queen and his sisters--the last women in the world he'd "give a tumble." Aloud, he said, "What else would they be?"
"A different species!" declared his companion. "You can't say you treat 'em the same as your sisters?"
Temmin's thoughts turned from from the ladies' maids to Mattie, whose soft breasts had until that night been the focus of his daydreams, and little Arta, whose happy face and trim figure caught his interest on sight. Allis Obby had supplanted both, but oh, they were different from the ladies' maids he'd known since childhood. "No," he said, "I can't say as how I do."
Temmin woke late the next morning hungover for the second time in a week, and cursed Fennows. When the room appeared more level, he gingerly stepped out of bed. "Jenks!" he
called, then louder, "Jenks!" to no reply. He shambled into his study, hanging onto the furniture and the doorframe, but Jenks was nowhere. He tugged on the bell rope, and a pink-faced footman entered. "Bring me some sort of--something. Tea. Toast. And something for my head. Find Jenks! He'll know what." Pagg damn that Jenks, he grumbled to himself. Always under foot until you needed him.
"Very good, gentlemen," said Harsin to the table full of ministers. "You know our concerns, and we are aware of yours, so let's be at it. We will be busy the rest of the morning, and so we will resume tomorrow." With that, Harsin left his conference room, his secretary trailing behind him.
"The Queen is waiting in your study for the discussion of the Prince's further education, Your Majesty," said Winmer.
"Alone?"
"Yes, sir."
"Where is Teacher? Where's the Colonel? I thought they would wish to participate in this."
"They are elsewhere," said Winmer.
"I don't want them elsewhere, I want them here," said Harsin. "See to it, Winmer."
"I will try, sir, but I'm not sure either of them is within reach."
Harsin raised a brow at this, but said nothing. He walked into his study, to find only his wife waiting for him. Her face was blotchy, and the cameo pinned to her breast rose and fell in time with her rapid breathing. "A by-blow!" shouted Ansella.
"You've been at the Keep all of three days, and your dramatics are already boring me! What now?"
"A by-blow, a bastard," she said. "You promised me! You promised me no child would come out of all your whoring!"
"I prefer the term 'engagements,'" said Harsin. "And no child has come of any of them."
"That you knew, apparently!"
"Annie, you attack me in my ignorance," said Harsin, sitting down. "Please enlighten me."
Ansella trembled, her fair brows low. "Do you perhaps remember in all your 'engagements' a maid at Whithorse named Tellis Ambler?"
"Tellis Ambler? Tellis..." said Harsin, rolling the name around his mouth as if calling up the memory of a wine.
Ansella let out a disgusted breath. "It would have been about the time Temmin was born."
"Ah!" he said. "Oh, yes. I remember her."
"You have a daughter. Her name is Mattisanis."
"Do I!" said Harsin with a surprised smile. "Is she as pretty as her mother was? What's she like?"
"She's a maidservant, is what she's like!" said Ansella. "Until this morning, she worked at Meadow House for my mother!"
"Until this morning--Annie, what have you done?" said Harsin. "You will not harm this girl."
"I haven't done anything to hurt her," said Ansella, turning away. "I know the girl, and her mother, and I'm clever enough to know who's really to blame. I sent Teacher and the Colonel to deal with it."
"Without consulting me? Whatever for? I'll have Winmer arrange a stroke of good luck for her, and there's an end to it."
"Don't bother. They went by mirror early this morning. She has to be out of the way as soon as possible, out of the province if they can manage it!"
"How did you discover all this?"
Ansella paused, considering. "The Colonel has known all this time, and didn't tell me to spare my feelings until circumstances required it. He's always been very considerate of me. Unlike you!"
Harsin shrugged. "Tellis was a maid, of no consequence whatsoever. I didn't even remember her name until you told me."
"She was of consequence to me! You--had her when I was in labor with our son!"
"Just the once, not an ongoing affair, unlikely to result in any sort of child--an impulse."
"An impulse like your father's many 'impulses' that litter the countryside? I'd think you have enough ongoing affairs not to need 'impulses.' Do you intend to leave Temmin with bastards to deal with as well? This House has enough trouble with your half-brothers. How many have you sired on your little 'impulses?'"
She leaned forward as she spoke, shaking with effort; she was as close to dissolving into pure rage as Harsin had seen her in years. "Don't agitate yourself, Ansella, if I had a son other than Temmin, we'd know. This is a girl," said Harsin, "a girl I had no idea existed until today. She's no threat whatsoever to Temmin." Ansella laughed. "D'you see some threat I'm not seeing, wife?" he demanded.
"Harsin, your son kissed her."
"So?" said Harsin.
"He found her with a young man and she let him--touch--her in exchange for keeping her job."
Harsin's brows rose, and he pursed his lips. "Interesting! He threatened her?"
"No," admitted Ansella. "But apparently she was quite frightened."
"Sad for him it was his half-sister. Ah, well, Teacher will sort it out. He didn't leave her pregnant, I hope? I suppose Teacher can take care of that, if it comes to it--take her to one of the better Mother's Houses, perhaps even arrange a quiet marriage," he said. He dropped into his favorite chair, a tufted leather wingback near the hearth. "Will you sit?"
“Pregnant?” said Ansella, white-faced. “How can you be so cavalier about such a disturbing possibility!”
“I’m not cavalier, I am pragmatic,” he snorted. “I find the prospect mildly unsettling myself. Is she?”
“No, she is not. Temmin is still innocent.”
“As far as you know.”
“I made sure of it,” Ansella said, staring him down. “I made sure he had absolutely no opportunities to turn out like his father and grandfather. I raised him in accordance with Venna’s Way. He’s a virtuous boy!”
"He's an unnatural boy, you mean!" said Harsin. "What does the Sister's Way have to do with it? The girls have to pass Her test, but he certainly doesn't have to! How could you do something like that to him?"
"I've done nothing but keep him safe. That's all I've ever done, is keep my children safe!"
"He's safer here than anywhere, and his virginity is no one's business but his own!" boomed Harsin, rising from the chair. "And that's the last word on the subject!"
Ansella closed her mouth. Her trembling stopped, but the rims of her eyes showed red around the blue. She searched for words. "You may not believe it, but your whoring endangers your children," she finally said.
"Annie," he said, opening his hands in conciliation, "this is nothing new. We were not a love match, as you're so very fond of reminding everyone, and we both have lovers. Why are you so angry?"
Ansella's face mottled, red and white. "Don't you dare paint my one--my one--relationship in the same light as all your mistresses!"
"I've never shamed you, nor have I ever put a one of them above you!"
"You've never had to! I've been a thousand miles to the west all this time!"
"And whose choice was that!"
"As far as I'm aware, it was mutual!" She marched through the door and slammed it behind her. Harsin heard her slam the door to his receiving room as well, but knew that once she made it to the hallway, she would be composed enough to avoid strong emotion in front of the servants. He sighed.
"Winmer," he called, "As soon as Teacher and Colonel Jenks return from Whithorse, bring them in. And I don't care how fucking early it is, I'm in need of a brandy."
Teacher and Colonel Jenks--for Jenks was no corporal--arrived before the brandy. The Colonel let Teacher give the details of their trip, standing back from the King in what anyone else would see as respect, but which Harsin knew was something less. "Thank you. Teacher, please stay. Colonel, you're dismissed." Jenks tapped his heels, bowed, and left, his manner stiff and formal; Harsin wondered if the man would ever forgive him for the past, and wondered again why he cared. He turned to the pale figure by the fireplace. "I want you to show her to me. My daughter."
"Very well." Teacher faced the great mirror over the mantel. "Show me Mattisanis Dunley of Reggiston."
The reflection rippled once and reformed into the kitchens of the Whithorse Estate's Great House. The servants ranged around a long table with Crokker at its head. The perspective narrowed more, onto a girl with Harsin'
s own dark hair and her mother's heart-shaped face. Easy smiles flashed over her open, sweet face as she passed dishes and drank her tea, until a footman entered the room. Her eyes hardened, and Harsin's own implacable nature flashed across her face before she turned her back on the young man. In spite of his mercenary words to his wife, the King's heart twisted. "Another spirited daughter," he murmured. "Another child I don't know."
"There you are, Jenks!" exclaimed Temmin. "I've been calling and calling!"
"I'm very sorry, sir," said Jenks, walking through the study to the bedchamber. "I was unavoidably detained. I'll draw your bath, shall I?"
"I woke up and you weren't there," said Temmin, following him. "I hate that! I've been up for a couple of hours, had to call a footman for some sort of breakfast!"
"I'm glad you got something to eat, then, sir," said Jenks, turning on the taps.
Temmin sat on the closed commode and winced at the sound of the falling water. "Pagg damn, my head! You can't have been a very good orderly for Uncle Pat if you were in the habit of just--disappearing whenever you felt like it!"
"My service with Lord Patrin is not yours to criticize nor speculate upon, Your Highness." The big man stalked from the room, and Temmin followed, the belt of his robe trailing behind him.
"It's not my fault you never made officer! I'm sorry, Jenks, but my head is pounding--oh, is this the same stuff as last time? Thank the gods!" Temmin drank off the contents of an offered glass in one gulp. "Merciful Amma, that Fennows is a pain!"
"You thought Lord Fennows interesting enough to get drunk as Farr with him last night," said Jenks as he took the empty glass.
"What else was I supposed to do with him! He wouldn't leave me alone, and kept prattling on about Ellika--I think he wants to marry her, Jenks."
"So I've heard from a number of sources, sir."
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