by Fran Jacobs
"You have enough food there to feed a small army," Teveriel said into my ear. I hadn't heard him approach and it made me start to hear his voice so close. I whirled around to face him and he grinned at me. "Sorry to startle you," he said. "I just thought I should come by and say a few words before I find myself otherwise engaged." He flexed his fingers.
"I have to admit," I said, "that I'm quite curious. We've gotten to know each other rather well now. We're friends, I suppose, and yet, I still haven't heard you sing and it's your profession."
"Friends, you suppose?" Teveriel asked, raising an eyebrow at me. "We are friends. After all we've been through I'm deeply hurt that you would 'suppose' it."
"Well," I said, a little nervously, as I still wasn't used to bantering with anyone outside of my family. "I'm a prince. I can't be actual friends with just anyone, you understand."
"Oh," Teveriel said, dragging the word out. "Now, that is a shame. There was I about to suggest that we go for a ride tomorrow, because I thought that we were actual friends, but if we are only 'suppose' friends, I guess I shall just have to go alone ..."
"No," I said, shaking my head, my pathetic attempt at banter forgotten. "Oh, no, Teveriel, I would love to go riding. It would be really good to get out of the castle."
"Good," Teveriel said, looking pleased. "I shall come to your chambers tomorrow afternoon to collect you."
"All right."
Almost as soon as Teveriel had left me, Gerian came over. I knew from the look in his eyes, as he approached me, that he was annoyed about something and it was more than my usual unwillingness to join him on the royal dais.
"I don't like you talking to that bard," he said.
"Why?"
"I just don't."
"Because he was brought to Court by Mayrila, and you don't trust her."
"Yes."
"Father," I began slowly, and took a bite of my honey-glazed cake instead of continuing immediately with what I was going to say. I saw an almost amused look of irritation flash in his eyes. The cake was sweet and it crumbled in my mouth. I brushed the crumbs from my doublet as I continued. "Teveriel didn't know that you didn't like Mayrila until it was too late. She offered him a chance to get in here at Court and he took it. He hardly knows her. If he did know her, then he would have known that neither you nor Grandfather like her. And he wouldn't have allowed her to introduce him to you because he would have known that that would have made you suspicious of him. As it has."
"Hmm." I could see the thoughts whirling in his eyes as he considered this. "Perhaps she didn't know how much I disliked her?" he suggested.
I laughed at that. "She saved my life, Father," I said, "but you've still made it clear to everyone that you dislike her."
"Yes," he said, and seemed pleased about this. "I have. I forbade Aylara, Kal and even your mother to talk about her in my presence, or in yours."
"Oh," I said. I wondered how Aylara and Kal had handled being told this, as I knew Silnia would have understood the reasons all too well. They had to be curious about why Gerian had gone to such lengths. He had allowed a woman whom he hated to save my life, and she had done so, doing what no healer had been able to do. Yet, he didn't trust her, or want her near me, or his daughter, or for anyone to mention her name. They had probably discussed it between them and listened to the gossip, but the idea of questioning my father, or disobeying him, would never have crossed their minds. As indeed it hadn't, as no one had mentioned Mayrila to me, not even as a passing thought. If I hadn't been so desperate to avoid the subject of talking about her myself, I might have been left to wonder why. Now, of course, I knew why. My father had told them not to.
"She can't be trusted, Candale." Gerian folded his arms across his chest. "Did she ever speak to you alone about anything?" There was an anxious look in his eyes as he asked this.
"No," I lied. "What would she want to speak to me about?"
"Nothing," he said quickly. "Nothing. I was just curious. I wondered if perhaps you had gone to see her, or she had sought you out, or something along those lines."
"No," I said. "No, I didn't. You told me not to have anything to do with her and I didn't."
"Really? That's unlike you, Candale, to do what you're told."
I frowned. I wanted to argue that he was being unfair about this, but he wasn't. After all I had been to see Mayrila and I had spied on her conversation with my father and grandfather, knowing full well Gerian hadn't wanted me to do either. "Occasionally I will, Father," I said instead.
"Hmm." He turned away and helped himself to a small plate that he began to load up with food. I moved along the length of the buffet table with him, watching him fill the plate with sweet cakes and almond biscuits. He had a sweet tooth and it was only because he kept himself so busy, fitting in hunting, sword training and long rides whenever he could, that he kept himself so trim. "This isn't about Mayrila anyway, Candale, it's about you and that bard."
"Father, I told you, Teveriel hardly knows Mayrila. He simply made a bad decision by allowing her to introduce him here at Court. There's no reason for you to be so wary of him."
"Perhaps," Gerian said, "perhaps not, but in any case, he's a bard, common born. Not really a suitable friend for a prince."
I nearly dropped my plate in surprise at that. It wasn't like my father to be so concerned with position like this. "You sent him to me as a distraction," I pointed out. "I wouldn't have met him at all, if not for that."
"I sent him to you to act as a distraction because we happened to pass him in the corridor and it was convenient, Candale. I didn't give it any more thought than that. I certainly didn't think that you would choose to become friends with him!" He turned to look at me and I could see that he was worried about this, that my friendship with Teveriel might lead to me being hurt, that if Teveriel and Mayrila were close friends I might somehow find out the secrets that he wanted so desperately to keep from me. I couldn't bring myself to tell him that he didn't need to worry about that, that I already knew his secrets about me. And I was touched by his concern, by his attempts to keep me safe and protected from the truth about myself.
"I'm sorry that you don't approve of him," I said slowly. "But I can't help that. He's my friend. And not for social standing, or position either, I'm sure of that. We're friends because we get on, because we enjoy each other's company. He speaks his mind, he's honest with me, and that's important to me, Father. I don't have any other real friends who will do that, except Kal, and he's with Lara most of the time now."
There was a pause and then my father nodded, a little sadly. "I do know how hard it is for you, Dale, to be sure of people. It was hard for me, too, when I was your age and, unlike you, I had no sibling to spend time with. There was only me." He turned to look out across the crowded dance floor. I turned with him and saw Silnia up on the raised dais with Sorron. Though my grandfather was talking to her, she was looking our way. "Your mother means so much to me," he said, "because she treats me in the way that you say Teveriel treats you, as a friend. She doesn't pander to my wishes, she isn't a sycophant, and I know how rare and important it is to find someone who will be honest with you. It's not easy being a prince sometimes." He turned back to me. "Your mother's worried about you, Candale. She worries that you'll fall ill again. What Mayrila said, about you being poisoned, that terrified her, and having your grandfather look into it has only given credence to Mayrila's story and worried her further. Why don't you go and dance, son? I know how much you enjoy that, and this is your ball. It will make Silnia happy to see you acting more like yourself again."
"I plan to, Father," I said. "I just have to find myself a partner."
"Well, that shouldn't be too difficult, Dale," he said. "Now I'll see you later. Try not to get too drunk and make a fool of yourself, all right?"
"I'll do my best," I replied, with a grin.
When he had gone, I reached for another small cake and, biting in to it, I made my way from the buffet table to stand more towa
rds the back of the hall, near the open doors. Even though it was a cold night, the hall was crowded, and with all the candles and my new, thick coat, I was already feeling quite warm. The breeze coming in from the open doors was refreshing and brisk. I could have happily stayed there for most of the night in peaceful solitude and just enjoyed the fast paced music. Only I wasn't given that chance. All too soon the 'wolves' descended on me. At first it was just three young ladies, giggling, as they slid through the crowd to join me. Moments later, two young men had joined them and before I knew it I was surrounded by a group of courtiers, some young, some not so young, all listening to me talk and laughing at my jokes.
I could say anything I wanted to my gathered menagerie of richly dressed, simpering idiots, no matter how foolish, or dull, or offensive, and they would just agree with me. As a child I had taken great pleasure in saying idiotic and contradictory things, just to see how far they would go in agreeing with me. As I'd gotten older I'd found that the courtiers were a captive audience for my stories which I loved to tell, both true accounts of things that had happened to me, or something that I had made up off the top of my head. Unfortunately, they weren't a trustworthy audience. Even though they would listen to me, I could never be sure if it was because they enjoyed my stories and jokes, or because they wanted to be seen associating with me. Being a prince meant I had no need for social climbing, but for everyone else a prince meant status, political and social, and possible gifts of land, money or titles. For women there was even the chance of a marriage proposal, or, if they couldn't become my wife, then they might become my mistress. I had received so many offers from women, both scarily direct and confusingly mysterious, that I couldn't keep track of them, but due to my upbringing I had taken no one up on any of them. I knew full well how my family would see me if I accepted such offers. Besides, I didn't want to be with someone who only wanted me because I happened to be a prince. No, I wanted what my father and sister had found, someone who loved me for me, and who could be honest with me, not a simpering sycophant. Everyone at Court wanted to be seen as the friend of the prince and I didn't want to be friends with any of them.
That didn't mean, of course, that I didn't enjoy the attention.
I entertained myself with my little gathered group for perhaps an hour, or two, until the endless giggles and transfixed expressions began to wear on my nerves. Before I had fallen ill I'd had a lot more patience with this sort of thing, but now I just couldn't be bothered with it. And in the back of my mind I found myself worrying about everything I was saying to the courtiers, as Kal's words came back to haunt me. I'd always been aware of the times when I had told a completely fictional story, but when I talked about things that had happened to me, I began to worry that perhaps they hadn't happened after all and that made me feel uncomfortable and self-conscious.
After a while my discomfort and paranoia became too much for me and, desperate to escape, I turned to the nearest girl who happened to be the plump, blonde, and always happy, Lady Keyla.
"Would you like to dance?" I asked her.
"Oh, yes, Prince Candale," Keyla said, her eyes very wide.
"Excuse me," I said to the gathered courtiers, and taking Keyla's arm, I led her out onto the dance floor.
I took her hand, placed my other hand on her ample waist, and we joined the dance. She surprised me by being graceful, moving well with me as our feet glided through the complex, fast-paced steps. She was soon out of breath, her brown eyes shining as she gasped her way around the dance floor. "Would you like to take a rest?" I asked her.
"No," she said. "Oh, no."
Around we whirled some more, moving gracefully through the crowd and easily through the steps. Soon I was out of breath, too, in a good way. It felt so exhilarating to dance like this. For the first time since I had fallen ill I felt my old self again and, even though I was hot and tired, I didn't want to stop.
The current tune finished and another one started, this time accompanied by a singer I hadn't heard before. The voice was rich, deep, and, as Keyla and I spun around, I saw that it was Teveriel. I had to stop and listen, staring at him through the crowd with amazement. He was really good! His voice was strong and seemed to dance over the notes, while his long fingers moved deftly on the strings of his lyre. I didn't know the song he was singing, or even the language, but it still sent a shiver down my spine and all the little hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
"He's really good," Keyla whispered, catching the direction of my gaze as she pressed closer to me to try and avoid being jostled by those still dancing around us.
"Yes," I agreed. "He is." It was no surprise to me that he was seated at the Middle Table for meals. It would be even less of a surprise if Teveriel found himself made the official Court Bard, given a spot at the High Table and a fancy suite of rooms. He was extremely talented and I couldn't see my grandfather letting him get away, no matter how my father felt about him.
When a hand touched my arm, I forced myself to turn away from Teveriel and look down at the young page girl who had come up beside me. I smiled at her and saw a faint trace of blush stain her cheeks. She was obviously new to Court if a smile from a prince made her so embarrassed. "I have a message for you, Prince Candale," she said nervously.
"Oh?"
"From your tutor, Lykeia. He asks if you would meet him by the fish fountain in the Square Garden."
"Really?" That seemed odd. Why would Lykeia send for me in the middle of the ball?
"He says that it won't take long. He just said that he had something important to discuss with you. He said that you would know what it was about."
"Oh. All right. Thank you."
The girl gave me a clumsy curtsey before she slid away through the crowd, leaving me standing there, chewing on my lower lip. It was so unlike Lykeia to do this, but it could only mean that he had found something important in the library about the Shadow Seer, something that he didn't think could wait. That filled me with unease and fear. What could it be that was so important that it couldn't wait until morning?
"Excuse me, please," I told Keyla. "I'll be back in a few minutes and then, perhaps, we can continue our dance?"
"Oh, yes," she said. She gave me a slight curtsy and I slid away from her and through the gathered crowd of dancers, heading towards the door.
I saw Trellany, standing by the buffet table, engaged in a conversation with Davn. In the circumstances going anywhere near Davn was the last thing that I wanted to do, but I didn't want to go outside on my own. There was something odd about that message. Why had Lykeia sent for me to come to him in the gardens, and not to his own room, or even, the library? Why hadn't he come here to the hall to find me himself? It was all a little strange and I had an uneasy feeling about it in my stomach. I would feel better if I took Trellany with me. If it turned out to be nothing and I was just being paranoid, I could send her away again. Better to be safe, after all, than sorry.
"Trellany," I said, "a moment, please."
She turned to smile at me and behind her I saw Davn frown. I found myself smiling, too. Even if I was just being paranoid, it was worth taking Trellany with me just for the annoyance it would serve Davn. Besides, I was doing her a favour. She could not be interested in Davn. No one could. She would probably be grateful for the chance to escape from him.
Trellany moved toward me, away from Davn so that he would not overhear our conversation. "Yes, Prince Candale?"
"I have to go outside, meet my tutor," I said softly, aware that Davn was still watching us with dark, hard, angry eyes. "It feels a little odd. I'm sure that I'm worrying about nothing, but would you come with me?"
"Of course," she said. "It is my job, after all." She turned back to Davn. "I'll be back soon," she told him, and turned back to me. "Lead the way."
The Square Garden was one of the castle's oldest. It had been created for my great, great grandmother, Queen Yvoriane. She was a Syilisan by birth and more used to the traditional, orderly gardens of her home
. So when she had married King Lissedel and moved to Carnia, he had given her the garden to make her own.
The Square Garden was completely symmetrical with ordered flowerbeds on either side of the path that went down the middle of it. Each flowerbed was organised by colour and there were six flowerbeds in total - white, purple, blue, red, yellow and pink. The flowers were Syilisan and had a heady exotic scent and strange shaped petals. Many of them had strong, medicinal properties and the garden attracted gardeners and healers from all over the kingdom who came just to see the strange flowers and to experiment with their healing qualities. Tall statues of dancing women lined the pathway at evenly spaced points, and in the centre of the garden was the fountain. It had been created by my grandfather's mother to a Herandoran design. Three stone fish, with large lips and huge, vertical-slit carved eyes, lay in the centre of the hexagonal stone base, their tails up behind them to join together. Balanced on the top of those tails was a large, stone sphere and it was out of this that the water descended - when the fountain was working, that was. It hadn't worked properly since I was a child. The fountain showed the signs of its age, was covered in algae, and was worn and crumbled in places, yet there was still a bright look to those fishes' eyes and the scales were still perfectly clear and smooth. As a child I had often liked to trace my hands across the stone surface, feeling the scales, rubbing those large fish eyes. There was something so mysterious about a fountain, the way it stood for so long, watching the world change and age around it. Perhaps it was just the romantic streak in me that made me think that way. I knew that neither my sister, nor my father, paid that much attention to fountains or statues in general.
The garden was dark when Trellany and I entered it, which wasn't too much of a surprise. As the weather was growing cold, people had stopped heading out into the gardens at night so there was no reason for it to be lit, but it still would have been nice to be able to see where I was going. It was completely deserted, too, but I had expected that as well. Everyone would be in the Rainbow Hall, dancing, drinking and enjoying themselves, as I was starting to wish that I was.