by Matt Heppe
Chapter Seventeen
“I think I need a rest,” Hadde said. “My head is spinning just trying to keep up with these dances.”
“Let’s refresh ourselves with some wine,” Morin replied. He took her by the elbow and led her from the dance floor. Bright streamers and pennants filled the Great Hall, making the atmosphere festive and light. It was a huge change from the ominous tone of her previous visits. The nobles, too, were clad in their finest. Gold, silver, and jewels sparkled everywhere. It was as if the Wasting didn’t exist.
“I’m sorry for stepping on your foot,” Hadde said.
“You dance as if you’ve been doing it your entire life.” He motioned to a servant and took a pair of fine silver cups from the man.
“You lie, but it’s kind of you to say so.” Hadde took the cup of cool white wine Morin offered. The cold drink was a welcome relief. The crowded press filling the Great Hall, combined with the dancing, had her flushed.
She sipped her wine and surveyed the room. Leaning close to Morin, she whispered, “Everyone is looking at us.”
He smiled and glanced around. “Not us, you. You’ve turned quite a few heads this evening.”
“It’s the dress. Thank you for sending it. I never thought I would put one on again.”
“The dress is magnificent. But on any other woman it wouldn’t be as fine.”
“You’ve a way with words, Prince Morin.”
“I mean every one of them. Here, let's move away from this crowd.”
“The feast was wonderful,” Hadde said as they walked from the refreshments table.
“Only twice a year do we eat like that.”
“It makes me feel guilty,” Hadde said. “I can't help thinking what it’s like in Long Meadow. My parents are probably eating horsemeat and split peas.” She paused. “I should be home with them. I wish your brother would let me leave.”
“I’ll take care of—” Morin stared across the room. “What is he doing back already?”
Hadde followed his gaze.
Astor, strode across the hall toward them. His fine black clothes were travel-stained, making him appear out of place amongst the elegant nobles. A huge grin spread across his face as he approached.
Morin left Hadde’s side and embraced his friend in a back-pounding hug. “Astor! Back already? You’re smiling too much for something to have gone amiss.”
The two men had attracted the attention of many standing nearby. Astor glanced at the crowd. “Bad weather forced me back.” And then, more quietly, he said, “Good news.”
“Yes?”
“We should talk. Now.”
Morin looked at Hadde. “Would you mind if I took a moment with Astor?”
“Not at all,” Hadde replied.
“I—um,” Astor said, looking Hadde up and down. “What happened to you?”
“A model of eloquence, my friend here.” Morin laughed.
“I—just, you look beautiful, Ambassador Hadde.”
“Thank you, Sir Astor.” She glanced at the revelers surrounding them. Most had returned to their own conversations, or at least had pretended to. “Don’t worry about me, Prince Morin. I can fend for myself.”
“Thank you, Hadde.”
As the two men departed, she turned and headed for the refreshment table. She helped herself to another cup of wine and stood by one of the huge pillars holding up the vaulted ceiling. Across the hall she spied Maret among a group of maidens tracking Morin’s progress. They looked like a pack of wolf pups pondering how they would take down a stag. They didn’t even know the hunt was over. Hadde smiled at the thought. It gave her more than a small amount of pleasure she could claim Morin as her own. Now the fine ladies of Salador were envious of her.
Just the act of appearing at Morin’s side had changed Hadde’s status in Sal-Oras. Noble men and ladies who had never given her a kind glance were eager to speak with her tonight. It was the dress, she was certain. Everyone knew Morin had given it to her. Did they think they could gain his friendship through their kindness to her?
She sighed. Better to not think about it. It wasn’t her future. Her future was Landomere and the struggle against the Wasting.
“Would you do me the favor of this dance?” a voice asked from behind her.
Hadde gasped and took a step back. “No!”
Waltas leered at her. “Come now, I’m not going to accost you in the Great Hall, am I?”
Hadde searched the hall for Morin.
“Don’t worry, he came to see me. We have an understanding.”
“An understanding? What understanding?” She glared at the earl. He just grinned in reply, as if he had no fears in the world. Not at all like a man with a trial by combat looming ahead of him.
Waltas glanced at the nearby partygoers. “I’ll just say… we can all be friends now.”
She turned and had only taken a step when he said, “Don’t turn your back on me.”
She wheeled on him. “Champion Nidon is supposed to kill you at some point, isn’t he?”
His eyes widened briefly at the mention of Nidon’s name. But then he smiled and shook his head. “All that’s left is for me to beg forgiveness and all will be well.”
Orlos had been right. “And what of my forgiveness?” It felt like the ancient spiridus was speaking through her.
“You don’t matter. Only Nidon.”
“Is that so? I’ll have to remind him that his honor has been stained and his name is less than it used to be.” She turned her back on the earl.
“You’ll pay, you bitch,” he hissed as she walked away. “You common whore!” The few people close enough to overhear his last words glanced sourly in his direction.
Hadde ignored him and kept walking. Morin was still engrossed in his conversation with Astor. As Hadde scanned the room for any sign of Nidon, a Lady in Waiting stepped in front of her. The woman was tall and beautiful and stared down her long nose at Hadde.
“Ambassador Hadde, Her Royal Highness, the Queen, wishes to see to you,” the woman said.
“Me? You’re certain?”
“I’ll take you to her.” Her guide turned and sauntered to the base of the dais, never looking back to see if Hadde followed or not. The queen sat upon her throne, deep in discussion with an elderly woman seated on a short padded stool.
“Wait here,” the escort commanded, before abandoning Hadde to join six other Ladies in Waiting gossiping in a huddle.
Hadde stood alone waiting for some sign of what she should do. She couldn’t imagine any reason for the summons. Queen Ilana was a cold woman, but she didn’t have any reason to harbor a grudge against Hadde.
At least none she knew of.
The queen seemed not to have noticed that Hadde had arrived. In vain, Hadde scanned the hall for Morin. Instead, she spotted Nidon in conversation with a young noblewoman. The knight shifted from foot to foot. He looked awkward and afraid in front of the tiny woman. Not far from him, King Boradin stood in the middle of a large group of noblemen at the outer edge of the dance floor. He looked bizarre with the shield, Forsvar, on his back.
“The queen will see you now.”
Hadde jumped at the unexpected voice.
“Thank you,” Hadde replied. The Ladies in Waiting stopped talking as Hadde approached the queen. Ilana wore a dress of cream and white decorated with hundreds of lustrous white beads. Already beautiful, she was dazzling in the rich gown.
Hadde bowed. “Your Majesty.”
“Please be seated, Hadde of Landomere.”
Hadde sat, careful to keep her moccasins concealed beneath her hem.
“You’re dressed like a queen,” Ilana said, looking Hadde up and down.
“Thank you, Your Majesty. The dress was a gift.”
“Yes, of course it was. When I said that you’re dressed like a queen, I meant it quite literally. You’re wearing my mother-in-law’s dress.” The queen laughed—a joyless sound. “Don’t worry, she has been dead for some time now.” Ilana
bent forward and traced her finger along the open collar. “I see it has been tailored to fit your daring sense of style.”
“It was that way when it was given to me.”
“Was it now?” Ilana sat back in her throne. “He thinks of everything,” she said as she looked over the dance floor.
Hadde followed the queen’s gaze, but couldn’t make out the object of her attention. The Ladies in Waiting stood at the bottom of the dais, pretending not to pay any mind to Hadde and Ilana. Beyond the ladies, dancers swirled across the floor. Hadde caught a glimpse of Morin dancing with Maret. The maiden’s face beamed with joy. “Ah, you see him now. Did you know that he was supposed to marry me?” the queen asked.
Hadde shook her head, wondering where this was heading. She had no doubt that Ilana would take the conversation to a bitter end.
“Everyone expected Boradin to marry an Idorian princess,” Ilana continued. “I was the second choice and should have married Morin. And then that silly Idorian wench had to fall ill and die. I married Boradin. Morin was quite crushed.”
Hadde looked at the queen, not knowing what to say.
“I would have taken him as a lover.” Ilana sighed. “But my husband is incredibly jealous. He watches me like a hawk. Why do you think he lets Morin run off on his adventures? To keep him away from me. Well, that and to keep Morin from rebelling again. Did you know about that? That Prince Morin is a traitor?”
“I don’t want to hear this,” Hadde said. The man the queen described wasn't Morin.
“But you will. I am the queen.” Ilana paused and gave Hadde an icy smile. “Did you ever wonder why my husband keeps Forsvar with him at all times? The last time he let it out of his sight—years ago—Morin attacked him. Boradin barely fended his brother off.
“Did you know that their father turned Morin into a bastard, just so he couldn’t have the throne?” Ilana shook her head. “Imagine that… Morin’s father had his first marriage, to his dear departed first wife, declared null, making Morin a bastard and giving the throne to his legitimate son, Boradin.”
Ilana laughed. “But, I don’t tell you these things because I want to. You poor, innocent common girl. I tell you these things to save you. You’re so naïve, so trusting. I tell you these things to save you from heartbreak. What you want, you cannot have.”
“I just want to help my people.” Hadde caught Morin’s eye as he whirled across the dance floor, Maret by his side. He gave Hadde a wink as the dance carried him away.
“He will do anything to become king,” Ilana whispered. “And if he succeeds, he will take me as his wife and adopt Handrin as his heir. You, Hadde, are just a momentary distraction from grander schemes.”
Hadde wanted nothing more than to escape Ilana’s venomous tongue. None of it was true. Morin couldn’t be the man the queen described. But somewhere deep inside, a worm of doubt gnawed at her.
Boradin arrived, marching up the steps to the thrones, leaving a band of noblemen at the base. He swung the shield off his back as he approached. Hadde started to stand, but Boradin motioned for her to remain seated.
“A study in contrasts,” he said, admiring Hadde and Ilana as he sat down. “White and black but both beautiful. What was it the Ancient philosopher Endanar said? White and black, day and night, life and death, you cannot have one without the other.”
“Yes, I’m certain I read that somewhere,” Ilana said, looking away from him.
“Hadde, I know that you’re anxious to return home,” Boradin said, “but you’ll be happy to hear I’ve made some progress on your Token. I found a scrap of a prophecy by Ergos the Blind. It starts, ‘the archer’s offspring shall,’ but the rest of the text is corrupted. But I’m certain that Orlos or I will find the full text soon.”
Hadde’s heart skipped a beat, and a trickle of sweat crept down her back. She nodded, attempting to appear calm, not daring any reply.
“The archer’s offspring… you’ve no children, correct?” Boradin asked.
“I’m barren,” she blurted out. “I cannot have children.”
“Not for lack of trying,” Ilana said, flicking an invisible mote of dust from her dress. “As we all know.”
Boradin ignored his wife. “At least the prophecy gives us a place from which to start.”
“It’s time, Your Majesty,” Fenre the steward called from the base of the dais.
The king nodded and waved him off. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Ambassador Hadde. Bah, I always dread these events, but once I get to them... I do have some fun.”
Standing, Hadde bowed and backed down the dais. Relief at escaping the royals flooded through her, but it was tinged with fear. Fear that Boradin would soon discover the rest of the prophecy. And fear that the things Ilana said might be true.
As Hadde reached the floor Boradin stood and, taking the queen’s hand, raised her to her feet. The music stopped. A herald blew a fanfare. All turned to face the pair as they descended the dais. They halted on the lowest step.
“I wish to attend to one matter before I call out the Winter Swan,” Boradin said to the crowd. All stared at him expectantly. “Squire Melas, Maiden Jenae, come forth.”
The two young people slowly made their way through the crowd. Melas walked proudly, a broad smile across his face. Jenae blushed under the attention of the gathered nobles. Melas bowed, and Jenae curtsied before the king and queen.
“Squire Melas,” Boradin said. “I received good news today. An answer to an inquiry I made of Maiden Jenae’s father some time ago. Would you like to know how he responded?”
“I would, Your Majesty.”
Boradin smiled. “The answer was ‘yes.’”
For a moment nothing happened. Hadde scanned the audience. All beamed at the scene before them. Hadde could hardly believe what she was seeing. Here were two young people who wished to declare themselves to one another. Not only were their fathers involved, but now the king.
“Well, then, young squire. What are you waiting for?” Boradin asked.
“I, ah, yes, Your Majesty.” Melas turned to Jenae and knelt before her. “Jenae, long have I loved you from afar. And now, at long last, I’ve permission to do as I’ve long desired. Jenae, will you do me the pleasure of becoming my wife?”
“I will, Melas. I love you so,” she replied.
A cheer rose. Hadde smiled and joined in the applause. The Saladorans were so odd. They even needed the king’s permission to declare their love. They couldn’t even kiss right, she thought as the two lovers exchanged a quick peck on the cheek.
“And now it’s time for the Squires and Maidens to retire,” Boradin said as the applause faded. “All of them,” he added, staring at the two lovers in front of him. "Although, perhaps, the Squire Melas might be permitted to escort the Maiden Jenae to her hall."
The squires and maidens bowed to the assembled lords and made their way from the hall. “And now the climax to our feast.” Boradin raised his hands above his head. “Behold the Winter Swan.”
The huge doors at the opposite end of the Great Hall swung open. Six liveried squires marched into the chamber carrying a large cloth-covered table. On the table stood a beautiful ice sculpture of a swan. The crowd silently parted as the squires brought the sculpture to the center of the room. After gently lowering the table to the floor, the squires bowed to the king.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it is midnight,” Boradin called out from atop the dais. His voice carried easily across the room. “Fall is ended and winter is upon us. But in our hearts we know a new spring is on the way. Let us rejoice this night, and let the warmth of our merriment melt the Winter Swan. Strike up the Dance of Spring.”
Applause greeted his words. But to Hadde the king’s words had seemed flat and joyless. As if Boradin didn’t truly believe that a new spring would come. He took the queen’s hand and led her to the statue.
“I see you had a private audience with the queen,” Morin whispered.
Hadde whirled to see Morin smiling
at her.
“And the king as well,” he added. “Did they have anything interesting to say?”
She opened her mouth, but didn’t know what to say. The queen’s words burned within her and she wanted Morin to dispel them. But she couldn’t bring herself to speak. She glanced at the royal pair. “Morin, do you believe in prophecy?” she finally asked.
He frowned. “It’s hard to say. There is so much of it, and so much is false, it’s nearly impossible to use. But in the right hands, and interpreted properly, it can be very powerful.” He took her elbow and led her away from the dais.
“Orlos warned me of a prophecy that he has discovered. ‘The archer’s offspring shall slay the sun.’”
Morin stopped and gave her a sharp look. “He warned you?”
“He said that the king could interpret it as a threat.”
Rubbing his face with his hand, Morin glanced at his younger brother. “Does he know of it?”
“He has only discovered the first part.”
For a short time Morin stood and stared off. Shaking his head, he took Hadde’s hand in his and smiled at her. “I hardly think my brother would move against you. I mean no offense, Hadde, but what threat are you? Come, we’ll join them. It’s the Dance of Spring.”
“I don’t know this dance.”
“It’s simple.”
As the music began, everyone in the hall faced the Winter Swan and walked slowly to the right. The crowd soon organized itself into a half dozen rings surrounding the table. Despite the morose tolling of the music, the people in the crowd appeared unaffected and wore smiles on their faces.
The music unexpectedly stopped and Hadde bumped into Morin. All around her the dancers released their neighbors’ hands and gave a single clap. Hadde, not expecting it, was late in clapping. Others were late as well, shielding her from embarrassment.
The circles started in the opposite direction as the music began again. This time the rhythm was faster and the tune more upbeat. There were steps that went along with the dance, but Hadde couldn’t make out what they were. She skipped along with the momentum of the group.
When the crowd stopped and clapped a second time, Hadde got the idea. Off they went in the opposite direction. Faster and faster the dance repeated until the guests were almost jogging around the Winter Swan.