Saviar realized something he had never before considered: the limitation of the Knights of Erythane to two dozen active warriors had, shockingly, not resulted in a waiting list. Nearly every male child in Erythane, and through much of the other areas of the Westlands, dreamed of a chance to join them. Their name was legend throughout the world for their honesty, wisdom, weapons skills, and courage. Girls dreamed of marrying one, and nearly all Western boys hoped to become a knight someday.
Economic factors kept many away. Boys who needed to earn money for the household often did not have the opportunity to spend the necessary years training. Of those who did, few made the cut. The intensity of the training undid most of them. Others did not have the moral capability, the absoluteness of honor that allowed the knights to put justice not only above their own comfort, but above life itself. The protocol destroyed others, the depth and breadth of patience still more. Some simply did not have the quickness of thought, the natural intelligence to respond in dire or significant circumstances. The sheer enormity of the weapons training, though not as focused or complete as the Renshai’s, was made up for in scope. For, while the sole focus of the Renshai universe was the sword, knights learned to wield pikes, staves, axes, shields, spears, bows, and other weapons Saviar could not name.
There was nothing more to say. Saviar had no intention of harming his father and the other knights, nor of returning home without confronting Chymmerlee. He would never make a promise to the contrary and besmirch his honor. Instead, he turned on his heel and calmly headed back into the forest. He could feel the knights’ stares on him as he disappeared deeper into the foliage.
The effort of scaling the wall of Béarn Castle winded Tae, and that irritated him more than the pain that irregularities in the mortar slashed in his hands and feet. From the parapet above his head, a guard waved a friendly greeting that Tae did not dare to return. The guards’ knowledge and approval of his climb took away most of the fun and all of the excitement; but, for now, it seemed necessary.
In Stalmize, Tae had skittered up and down the castle walls for exercise. He had climbed Béarn a few times in the past, always to secretly find Matrinka and without the knowledge of those on patrol. Gradually, he was working his way back to his former skill, but it seemed grindingly slow and frustrating. He had to keep reminding himself that just making the climb was a huge leap forward.
Tae had tried to make his choice of location seem casual, random; but he knew this spot well. Shortly before the war, he had climbed at this exact place and twenty years earlier as well. Tae pulled himself to the fourth-story window ledge, his first opportunity. Below that level, glass protected the windows from intruders.
Tae peeked into an empty bedroom, the bed tightly made, the furniture plain and utilitarian, without personal keepsakes and bric-a-brac. Apparently, it had served as guest quarters for someone who had left after the war, perhaps a general or captain. Tae glanced upward to the gauzy curtains fluttering from the window above him, Matrinka’s room. Whispers of sound drifted to him on the wind, undecipherable.
Tae resumed his upward journey with slow caution, and the sounds gradually sorted themselves into the soft, familiar voices of Matrinka and Darris. Tae crept ever closer until he managed to discern actual words, currently Matrinka’s.
“. . . love each other. You know how strong that is.”
Darris sounded exasperated. “They’re sister and brother, Matrinka. By all the gods, that’s . . . that’s incest.”
Tae froze, the topic too provocative to abandon. He knew he should announce himself, to let them know he was listening but found himself incapable. It was not weakness that held him in place; it took far more energy to cling to a vertical surface, unmoving, then to dive inside a window. He simply had to know.
“Not really.”
“Really.”
Matrinka did not give up. “Not by blood.”
“Blood isn’t everything. Sometimes, it is of no damned significance whatsoever. Do you really think Griff loved Arturo any less than I did?”
Tae cringed. The name of the late prince flowed easily off Darris’ tongue, but that did not address the volcano seething below the surface. They had lost the blood son of Matrinka and Darris on a ship scuttled by alsona. The entire crew was believed to have lost their lives, though some of the bodies, including Arturo’s, were never found. The sharks, it seemed, had made short work of them.
Matrinka’s voice quivered; but, to her credit, she did not lapse into tears. “I know Griff loves all of his children. He shows no favoritism toward those who carry his blood. But sometimes . . . I mean . . . even Marisole knows you sired her.”
Darris’ tone became accusatory. “You told her?”
“I didn’t tell her anything. She figured it out.” There was a short pause, the rustle of movement, then Matrinka continued, “It’s not hard, Darris. The bardic curse is always passed to the firstborn child of the previous bard. She carries it, ergo . . .”
“. . . ergo,” Darris repeated with finality. Tae heard movement, perhaps pacing, then the bang of a fist against wood. “Damn it, Matrinka. I’m sure a lot of people have figured it out, but they don’t say anything because they want to pretend. If they don’t consider it too long, they can deny it.”
“Well, Marisole thought about it. A lot. And why wouldn’t she? It’s her past and her future. It’s who she is.”
Tae knew the entire situation. Darris and Matrinka had loved one another for decades, but the statutes of Béarn were strict on whom royalty could marry. Darris did not meet the criteria, and they seemed doomed to remain apart. When the populace demanded that Matrinka and Griff marry, Griff had found the solution. She became the first of his wives, the official queen; but it was Darris who shared her bed, who sired her three children. Griff claimed them, and Béarn remained happy. Now, apparently, Marisole had fallen in love with one of Griff’s other children. Tae ran their names quickly through his mind. Matrinka had borne Marisole, Arturo, and their younger sister, Halika. Griff’s elfin bride, his true love, had born him only the hideously abnormal Ivana. Xoraida, the third of Griff’s wives, was the mother of Barrindar, Calitha, and Eldorin. Of them all, Barrindar was the only living male.
“She is,” Darris started slowly and distinctly, “a princess of Béarn and the next bard. Those titles come with enormous benefits and, also, responsibilities. She has to understand she will not always get her way.”
“But they love each other.” The conversation had come full circle. “You, of all people, know the agony of needing with all your heart someone you can never have.”
More sounds of movement, this time solid. “She’s a child. She doesn’t know what she wants yet.”
Matrinka snorted. “She’s older than we were when I conceived her.”
“Times have changed.”
“Have they?”
“Situations have changed. Things have gotten more complicated. Matrinka, we can’t just reveal our indiscretion to the world and expect no repercussions. When Griff agreed to the arrangement, he did us an enormous favor. We can’t dishonor that sacrifice by divulging it.” Darris paused, then ended decisively, “Marisole will have to live with that understanding.”
Tae had heard more than enough. Morality had not featured strongly in his upbringing, his father an organizer of criminals and his mother murdered by Weile’s enemies; but he still felt guilty eavesdropping for so long on friends. With deliberate awkwardness, Tae clamped a hand over the sill as if just arriving, drew up to the ledge, and crouched in the window. He found Matrinka perched on the edge of the bed, her features pale, her dark eyes moist, and her hair a thick and shaggy cascade. A simple shift covered her plump, ample curves; and two cats shared her lap.
Darris stood beside her, staring at Tae. He looked wan and thin, as if he had aged decades in the last few months. Bags dipped darkly below his eyes. “Tae? What are you doi
ng here?”
Matrinka answered before Tae could. “Losing his touch, apparently.” She turned her attention on the Easterner. “We heard you.”
For once, Tae did not banter. He did not want them to figure out he had spied on them. “Hello.” He clambered fully through the window, hopping to the floor.
Darris watched him without a hint of smile. “Tae, we’re approaching forty. Don’t you think it’s time to quit scurrying around like a child? Especially so soon after you almost died? What if you had fallen climbing up here?”
Tae shrugged, pretending the thought had never occurred to him. Had he felt unstable, he would have scrambled back down or balanced on a sill. “Then I’d be almost dead again. And your sweetheart would have to pull me from the brink . . . again.”
Darris fairly growled. “Kindly refrain from referring to the queen of Béarn as my ‘sweetheart’.”
Given the recent topic of discussion, Darris’ surliness made sense. Of them all, he had matured the most; circumstances had forced the change upon him more heavily than Tae or Kevral, Ra-khir or Matrinka.
“And just because she managed to keep you alive after a shooting . . . stabbing . . . drowning . . . and . . . and shark attack doesn’t mean she can save you from your own stupidity.”
“Well, I was rather counting on it.” Tae gave Matrinka a smile. “After all, most would think the shooting, stabbing, drowning, shark attack was a perfect demonstration of my own stupidity.”
Another cat slunk out from under the bed, gray and covered with cobwebs. It jumped onto the coverlet to join Matrinka and the purring felines in her lap. Paws appeared under the door, sweeping, and the gray leaped down to examine them.
Matrinka put a hand over her mouth to hide her own smile.
If Darris saw any humor in it, he gave no sign. “I’m serious, Tae. You’re a king, now, with only one heir, and him a Renshai. You have to stop taking unnecessary chances.”
What? And become boring, like you? Tae kept the thought to himself. Neither of them would appreciate it.
“Even if you still have the skill, why take a chance getting caught climbing in the queen’s window? The guards of Béarn are competent and on high alert in the wake of the war.”
Tae dismissed the danger with a wave. “Don’t worry about the guards. I paid them off.”
“What?” The word was startled from Darris, and a look of abject horror overtook his homely features.
Matrinka only laughed. “He’s kidding, Darris.”
Darris turned Tae a grave look. He had to know.
Tae suspected Darris could not withstand another jest, so he only nodded.
Darris continued staring at his old friend. “You’re not funny.”
Tae resisted the urge to point out Matrinka’s laughter as evidence to the contrary. “Damn. And I had so wanted to become my own jester.”
Darris only grunted and turned away. Tae thought he caught a ghost of a smile on the bard’s large-lipped face.
“Actually, I came to talk to Matrinka. Do you mind terribly?”
Darris’ stance relaxed. He seemed almost relieved as he turned back to Tae. “Not at all, old friend. I’m sure His Majesty misses me. When I’m not there . . .”
Tae cringed. Darris did not have to finish. “Rantire?”
“Who else?”
The overeager Renshai had made a promise to Colbey’s son that she would always keep Griff safe, and she accepted her duty with a devotion that nearly drove the king to madness. It was the job of the bard through the centuries to serve as the king’s personal bodyguard, and the two had made an uneasy agreement. When Darris was with King Griff, Rantire found other things to do, usually hovering nearby awaiting a lapse. And, when Darris was not with Griff, he was honor-bound to let Rantire take his place.
Still, Darris paused. The bardic curse inflicted him with insatiable curiosity and the unquenchable desire to know all the information in the universe. “May I ask why you wanted to see Matrinka?”
Tae could not help teasing. “I never properly thanked her for saving my life.” He winked, as if plotting something lascivious.
Clearly in no mood for jokes, Darris scowled. “Fine, don’t tell me.”
The gray cat batted at the paws reaching from the other side of the door, and they retreated. The gray stalked closer. A paw shot out suddenly and hooked her foot. Startled, the gray leaped straight into the air.
Tae gave Darris a break. “Matrinka and I have had a brother/sister thing going for a long time. I just need a sister right now. I’m sure what we have to say will be far less interesting than whatever King Griff is doing with his foreign guests right now.”
Although his interest was piqued by Tae’s words, Darris could hardly remain. The curse forced him to consider what he was already missing. He finally managed a thin smile. “Fine. Behave yourselves. This is a queen’s bedroom.”
Tae saluted. “No wild pillow fights, I promise.”
Pushing aside the gray cat with a booted foot, Darris opened the door. The gray ran around him to zip through the crack, and three more sidled in, including the silver-striped Imorelda. Darris stepped out and shut the door behind him, careful not to smash any tails or paws.
Imorelda raced for the bed, mewling a complaint the entire way. *What took you so long?* She sprang to the coverlet and quick-walked to Matrinka’s arms.
The queen clutched Imorelda with evident love. One of the cats in her lap, a half-grown black kitten flew under the bed in what looked like a single motion. The other, a fat orange tom yowled a challenge at Imorelda. Tae gathered the tom into his own lap to rescue it from Imorelda’s wrath and nearly suffered a scratch for his effort. Fluffed to twice its normal size, the ginger tabby joined the kitten under the bed. Its tail stuck out, lashing in angry bursts.
*I’m still recovering,* Tae sent in his own defense. *And I had to get rid of Darris.*
*He’s been in a snit since the war started.*
*War does that to people.*
Matrinka looked enviously between man and cat. “Talk to me, Imorelda. Talk to me.”
Remaining quiet in deference to any conversation cat and woman might exchange, Tae glanced around the room. The lovingly carved furniture, passed through royal generations, now bore scars and scratches. Clearly, unruly cats had used them as claw sharpeners and teething objects, rendering some of the detailed bears into shapeless lumps. Matrinka had lost many of her knickknacks to playful kittens and had stored the others away for safety. Now, the room seemed sparse, so much less an extension of Matrinka’s sweet personality. The castle had far too many cats.
*She has too many cats.* Imorelda’s announcement startled Tae, especially so close to his own thoughts. She pulled out of Matrinka’s arms and headed toward Tae.
*Tell her that.* Tae wanted to encourage their communication. Matrinka desperately missed Mior, Imorelda’s mother, and the once-unique bond they had shared.
Imorelda curled up in Tae’s lap. *I have told her. But I don’t want to talk to her any more.* Sullenness accompanied Imorelda’s sending, and it surprised Tae. Usually, the females could find a lot of material just in their mutual disdain for him. The explanation came swiftly. *She wants me to have . . . * Disgust practically slammed Tae’s mind. * . . . kittens.*
As much as he loved her, Tae could not take Imorelda’s side. *You promised her you would.*
Imorelda let out an audible yowl. *Only because she tricked me!*
At the time, Tae had been locked in Béarn’s prison learning the language of the enemy. He had not paid much attention, but the details he knew came back to him now. *You told her she had to clean them and feed them, and she took you up on your offer. That’s not really a “trick”.*
*I don’t want any nasty little brats.* Imorelda turned her back on him, though she remained in his lap.
Matrinka sho
ok her head. “She’s mad at me.” Her kind, brown eyes had gone moist.
Tae hated to see Matrinka sad, more than anyone in the world. “She doesn’t understand.”
*I understand. She doesn’t understand.*
Tae ignored the cat to focus on Matrinka. “She’s only thinking of herself and in the moment . . .”
*Kittens are stinky, brutish, and demanding.*
“. . . She’s giving no thought to our futures, nor the world’s need for her and her kind.”
Imorelda went suddenly silent. *What do you mean?*
Currently unable to hear Imorelda, Matrinka continued the conversation, “She’s a cat, Tae. You can’t expect her to think like we do.”
Imorelda pinned the side of Tae’s hand between her paws. *Was that an insult?*
*No, dear one. Just a statement of fact.* Tae turned his attention fully back to Matrinka. “Mior understood, didn’t she? I mean, she knew she would . . . before you . . . ?” He hoped Matrinka could figure out what he meant.
Matrinka flushed. “I think we just got lucky that she had her litter when she did. I thought she was unique until Imorelda spoke to you, so I didn’t encourage or discourage her.”
Imorelda jumped back in. *She didn’t pester my mother to make kittens. Why pick on me?*
Tae put a hand on Imorelda, urging restraint. He had not yet struck to the heart of his point, and he realized avoiding the significant word was not helping. “How did Mior . . . die?”
Matrinka gave Tae a curious look. “You know she died from old age.” The moisture gave way to tears. Matrinka had never gotten over losing her best friend. “We never talked about the differences in lifespan between cats and humans. I didn’t want to think about it, and if she did, she never told me.”
Matrinka jerked her face toward Imorelda, and Tae felt certain she had suddenly realized she might have raised a topic he had deliberately kept from the cat.
Tae nodded encouragingly. He had never broached the subject with Imorelda but intended to do so now. It might be the only way to get her to bear those hated, but necessary, kittens.
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