“But a strong enough magician could still make the weather go where he wants it to go?” she persisted.
He sighed with reluctance. “A strong enough magician, and an area that doesn’t have a lot of Tradition dictating the kind of weather it gets, yes.
He could. Why?”
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She told him, and when she was done, his eyes were narrowed in speculation. “Interesting,” he said, chewing on his lower lip. “The thing about the open ocean is that you aren’t burdened with a lot of Tradition about what kind of weather should go where, and that’s more than half the battle. Very interesting…”
“Do you think it’s sent at us?” she persisted anxiously.
He shook his head. “I think it’s far more likely we’re getting tangled up in someone else’s fight. See, that’s the other reason you don’t mess with the weather. You don’t know who, or what else you’ll be affecting. They might take offense. You might actually hurt or kill someone. The Tradition might take a hand when someone else’s land is getting weather it isn’t supposed to, and the next time you try a spell, it could snap back at you. But I’ll look into this. If it is someone causing it, there are some counter-measures I can take, and if the weather patterns really are worsening, it might be enough for The Tradition to help me out.”
She sighed with relief, and smiled up at him.
“Thank you, Sophont,” she said earnestly.
He shrugged. “For what? I’m the Guards’
Magician—that’s part of my duties, and if you hadn’t brought the situation to my attention, since I almost never leave Ethanos, I might not have known about it until something enormously bad happened. I’m in your debt.”
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“No, now that’s my duty,” she responded with an embarrassed smile. “Noticing things and making sure people know about them.”
“Then we’ll call it even,” he replied. “Now if the Princess would excuse me?”
After he was gone, she wondered for a moment if she ought to report this to Solon. After all, it wasn’t what she’d been told to research…
Then again, telling someone when she found something odd, or an unexpected pattern, was part of her duties.
So she uncapped the bottle of black ink—for the
“not urgent” reports—dipped in a quill, and began.
In researching salvage rights, I made note of what seemed to me to be an unusual number of foreign wrecks from unknown lands washing up on Acadian shores in the past decade or so.…
CHAPTER FOUR
Solon thanked her gravely for her report about the strange weather. More importantly, as far as Andie was concerned, the Queen also took her aside just before the Morning Audiences.
“Solon and I are very glad you noticed this trend in the winter storms,” she said, with the slight downward turn of the corners of her mouth that was all she ever permitted by way of an expression signaling unhappiness. “I have asked not only Sophont Balan, but other Royal Sophonts to investigate this situation. If it is the effect of magic, and not some freakish trend in the weather itself, they will soon let us know and we will do something about it.”
But a horrible thought had already occurred to her. The Sophonts were not especially powerful magicians, those few of them that even were magi-
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cians. What if this was magic, and it was too strong for them? And besides, what could they do if this was due to some action in some other land?
“Majesty,” she ventured, “if it is magic—shouldn’t we find a Wizard or a Godmother and ask for his or her help?” Surely, since Acadia had no Godmother of its own, it was the duty of any Godmother hearing of the troubles to do something about them? Or a Wizard—they were equally obliged to set things right when magic was involved.
“One thing at a time, dear,” the Queen said indulgently. “First we should determine exactly what is going on, and decide what our actions should be.
Winter will not be here for months, yet. If we need one, Wizards are not particularly hard to find, especially not for a Sophont. But I wouldn’t like to trouble a Wizard if it turns out we don’t need him. It isn’t wise to annoy a Wizard.” She smiled a little. “I doubt that Balan would relish being a toad.”
Andie had to be content with that. Well, what else could she do? She wasn’t a Sophont, and she couldn’t send anyone to look for Wizardly help. She certainly didn’t have the right to issue commands to anyone, even if she knew who to issue the commands to.
And it wasn’t as if she didn’t have plenty to do now, she thought as she worked at her desk later that day. In fact, Solon had asked her to research so many things that she was actually spending as much, if not more, time in the library than she ever had in her useless studies.
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She was hard at work, when Lady Thalia entered her office bearing a bowl full of flowers.
Distracted for a moment, Andie looked up. Lady Thalia frowned.
“How long have you been here, bent over those books?” the Lady demanded.
Suddenly conscious of a stiff neck, Andie rubbed it distractedly as she tried to remember when she had started. “Uh—just after luncheon, I think,” she ventured.
“You look like a mushroom!” the Steward declared. “I am aware that young ladies are supposed to have delicate complexions, but you look as if we have been keeping you in a cave for weeks. There’s a crease between your eyebrows, and you’re squinting, and both of those expressions will give you wrinkles.
I very much doubt that you ever spent this much time cooped up indoors before Her Majesty began giving you responsibilities.”
“Uh—well, no, I didn’t, but—” Andie began.
“Even the Queen doesn’t spend the entire day working.” Lady Thalia crossed her arms over her chest and leveled the kind of stare at Andie that her governesses had used when she had been particularly obtuse. “This report is not going to be harmed if you take some time in the garden, but you might be harmed, or at least your eyesight might be, if you don’t. Do you want your eyes to get worse?”
Lady Thalia could not have chosen a better moti-vator than that. Her eyesight was bad enough now….
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“If you think it will help,” she replied, still reluctant to abandon her duty.
“I think if you don’t, you will be harmed. Go.”
From the look of her, Lady Thalia was not going to leave until Andie did as she wanted.
It was a worrying thought, that her eyes might get worse. So worrying that it didn’t even occur to her why she had avoided the garden in the past until she got there, and then it was too late to turn back.
There were fundamentally two kinds of people who came to the Court: those who came with a purpose, and those who came to be amused.
Of the first sort, there were those like Solon, Lady Charis, Lady Kyria—working members of Cassiopeia’s household, acting as advisers or with household functions—and there were those who came because they might have to wait some time before Her Majesty could hear a petition or act on a problem. Then there were those who came with the singular intent of making some alliance within the Court—a marriage, a trade contract.
But there was, of course, the second sort.
Members of the noble houses who had nothing particular to do with themselves, and, obliquely, those attached to the ones with a purpose, such as spouses and offspring or other relatives. They were here looking for amusement, or at least, entertainment of a sort they couldn’t get at home. By its very nature as the center of Acadian society, the Court attracted better musicians in a greater variety, better actors and 88
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players, better poets. Ethanos was the capital, and as such also had a wider range of entertainments, from the public speeches of philosophers and politicians at the Academias, to th
e playhouses and, yes, broth-els (though Andie wasn’t supposed to know about those). If you had money, the markets had plenty of things you certainly wouldn’t see at home. If you didn’t, you could still spend hours being housed, fed and entertained at the Queen’s expense.
It was those latter, the folks that had no real purpose here except to see and be seen, who thronged the gardens whenever Court was not in session.
This, Andie remembered as soon as she was a few yards into the gardens, her eyes adjusted to the light, and she saw dozens of eyes fixed on her as the new-comer. There was a strange hunger there, as if they would devour her if they got the chance. They were watching intently, looking for any crack in Andie’s armor, any sign of weakness.
A few weeks ago, none of these folk really knew her by sight; in her usual plain tunic, she could have passed herself off as a servant sent to get flowers, broken off a few blossoms and left.
Not anymore. Now she was known, and if she turned and fled, tongues would wag. She would be watched, as a cat watches a mouse, more than they watched those that were already familiar to them. She was, at this moment, an unknown quantity. They hadn’t yet categorized and measured her. All they knew of her was that she had begun appearing at the One Good Knight
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side of the Queen, looking infinitely more adult than she had a few weeks ago, and suddenly being treated by her mother and Solon as an adult. Although the court had made no formal announcement, the tacit understanding was that the heir had been “accepted”
in a way she had not been until this moment. And the tongues must have begun to wag. Had she a lover?
Would she take one? Was she only what she appeared to be on the surface, studious, serious and sober, or was there a hidden side to her? That was another common amusement among these folk—gossip. And if she was going to attain any level of respect, she was going to have to walk right into the nest of vipers with her head high and face them down.
So she smiled blindly at the inquisitive faces, and kept right on walking, nodding in greeting as she passed people who saluted her.
Those nearest the entrance to the garden were the oldest, and probably the worst of the gossips—they had positioned themselves so they could see everyone who came and went, and were gathered into pairs, trios and quartets. They were mostly women, though there were a few dyspeptic-looking men among them.
Several benches were arranged under the shade of the ornamental trees, some even built around the trunks of those trees. None of them, however, were directly lining the path, so at least she didn’t have to run a gauntlet of those avidly staring faces.
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so evident. Instead, she found herself among the purely idle and mostly young. “Young,” that is, when compared to the first lot. They ranged between her mother’s age and her own.
There was a musician with a harp under one tree, and a half dozen ladies, some with embroidery or some other form of fancy-work in their hands, though by the number of stitches they took, they would be old hags by the time the pieces were finished. Not far from them was another group, listening to one of their number reading. These girls were probably either safely betrothed, already married or unlikely to make any catch at all. Those who were actively looking to ensnare a husband were otherwise occupied.
A number of games were being played—bowls, ring toss and lawn tennis, though the word played probably conveyed far more of a sense of motion than was actually going on. The young women were hampered by long skirts and petticoats, not to mention that they appeared to possess no athletic ability whatsoever. The young men spent all their time, it seemed, in returning errant balls and rings that somehow found themselves in the flower beds or shrubbery. There was a great deal of flirtatious laughter, fluttering of eyelashes, and coy blushes on the part of the females. On the part of the males, there was indulgent laughter, would-be witty remarks and some exchange of jealous glares.
All of them watched her covertly as she passed, One Good Knight
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the girls with speculation, the men with assessment.
She fought down a flush, realizing why the men were watching her. After all, the young men were here to make an advantageous marriage right along with the young women, and what could be more advantageous than to wed the Princess?
It made her feel a little ill.
And of course, the girls all knew this, and they were jealous, because no matter how stunningly beautiful they might be, nothing they could offer could compete with a crown.
Desperate now to find someplace out here where she wasn’t going to be stared at, she finally remembered a spot she used to use to hide from her governesses and nurses. It would do, provided that she could get up into it wearing a gown rather than a tunic—
She hurried, attempting to look as if she was not hurrying, toward the bottom of the garden near the edge of the drop-off that separated the Palace gardens from the Palace kitchen-gardens, and some huge, ancient apple trees, so old that the fruit they bore was usually inedible, hard and woody. The trees were allowed to remain because they were sturdy and provided a good windscreen, as well as a visual screen for those in the privacy of the Palace garden. With a quick look around to make sure she wasn’t being watched, she used the long, double-wrapped cord-belt at her waist to tie her skirt up above her knees, then removed her sandals, tied them together and slipped them through the belt at her waist, and began climbing.
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Only when she was safely settled in the huge fork halfway up the tree, hidden from below by a mass of foliage, did she breathe easier. From here, she could see without being seen, and no one ever came down here for flirtatious courting. The trees were too leafy for grass to grow under them, but the ground was also too dry for moss to grow, either, so unless you brought a cloth to spread (and what noble of any age, accustomed to servants doing everything for him or her, would ever think to do so?), it wasn’t a surface conducive to sprawling at one’s leisure without a certain amount of planning. The view of the town was good, but there were equally good views elsewhere. It was too open for conducting a torrid love affair, not open enough to supply a good back-drop for a stroll designed to display clothing or personal attributes.
But from up in the fork it was possible to observe without being observed. One thing she had definitely noticed—the new oculars were much more secure on her head than the old ones. Lady Kyria was, without a doubt, a master designer.
She never used to come up here without a book, but after a moment of regretting that she hadn’t snatched one in blatant disregard of the fact that she was supposed to be resting her eyes, she decided to make the best of the situation and see what she could learn by studying these hangers-on to her mother’s Court.
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that among the flirting couples were a few who seemed genuinely fond of each other—even in love.
It was easy enough to pick out which they were; there was an absence of calculation in the way they moved, looked at each other, interacted. The others sensed it, too; even if they weren’t aware of it consciously, they responded to those little signals that seemed to bind the couples together with reactions that were as varied as the individuals. Some put on airs of superiority, as if they were above such a display of emotions. Some acted as if they found it amusing. Some showed every sign and symptom of raw envy, but only when they thought they were not being observed.
She was surprised to feel a surge of sympathy for the latter. Yes, certainly, they should know very well that so far as the game of alliance and political maneuvering went, no one was going to take feelings into consideration. But that didn’t stop people from seeing that once in a while it was possible to marry for love, or at least, with affection. And even if you wished both parties well, when such a thing was out of your reach, it was hard on you….<
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And it was even harder to keep from thinking, “if only.”
She recalled crying out with frustration one day, after yet another long lecture on the duties and responsibilities of her royal birth, “If people are supposed to marry each other for politics, why did God create love?”
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The answer her governess had given her was devas-tating in its cynicism and blunt cruelty. “Love,” she had said crisply, “exists so that peasants will put up with their miserable lives and willingly pair up to create more peasants to perpetuate the workforce. It has no place in the considerations of a noble or royal house.”
Of all the things that a governess had said, that one remained in her memory to haunt her. She had wondered then, and she wondered now, was the woman right? Were love and affection nothing but illusions?
If Cassiopeia’s court was anything to go by, it certainly seemed so. Andie couldn’t recall her father, but the Queen didn’t seem to miss him in the least, and although she never spoke of him in a deprecating manner, she also never mentioned him with any more affection than she would have for an ornament that had been broken and thrown away. And yet, it was Cassiopeia who had been elevated from the ranks of the nobles to marry the Crown Prince, and not the other way around.
Really, the only people who ever did talk about caring for someone had been her loyal Six…who were, of course, of that peasant class her governess had alluded to.
And yet that just felt so wrong, as if there was something missing, a component necessary to life, or at least, to living.
It was with a feeling of grim resolve that she turned her attention away from the happy couples, and refocused it on the unhappy singles. Watch and One Good Knight
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