by Andre Norton
"My lord, it is well you have come." She turned to her ladies. "I will speak with my Lord Royance in private. You may all withdraw." They left quickly,
Marcala at their heels.
The Queen waved Royance to the stool her new lady had just vacated and dropped her needlework into the sewing-box table at hand. Royance raised one eyebrow and pulled up his accustomed low chair instead.
"You have news for me?" She took the posture that she did so often lately, with hand laced over hand as if the double touch of the Rings was somehow needed.
Instead of answering directly, he addressed what had surprised him. "Your
Majesty has added to her household."
"What aid any can give in this uncertain time is to be cherished," she replied, thinking quickly. "If rumor is true, the Lady Marcala is no innocent bud; there are stories in plenty to assure us of that. However, I am told she has tried to mend her ways and has striven for many months to be as she is today, accepted here. I have very little support in the eastern land and I am willing to allow her to prove herself. To have a source of information from that direction is good—at least for the present."
Royance had taken his favorite posture of hands with fingers steepled, as if to mock some position of petition.
"Your Majesty is ever alert to what can be done," he said, but there was a tone in those words that warned her.
"Yet I feel, my lord, that your approval is lacking. This lady is what she is."
"And," he said, "His Highness the Prince is also what he is." He was becoming harshly honest. The words hung heavily in the air, full of meaning.
Yes, perhaps he had a point. She thought again. Since most of those who had influence at court already knew that Florian was no prize in any matrimonial race, it could be gossiped that she had arranged what she could to see him married, even though any alliance she made with the Lady Marcala on his behalf would certainly have been lack-witted.
What Royance did not know—what even Marcala did not know—was that she had already determined that dalliance with Florian could lead to an aroused interest on the part of Harous. That portion of the planning she intended to keep to herself. Royance's arrival was premature, though not entirely unexpected. Now much depended on just how much he would believe of what she would share with him.
"I am not matchmaking. Such a plan," she said evenly, "would serve nothing. Do you believe that the Council would accept such a suggestion? I think not."
He surveyed her and then slowly nodded. "Your Majesty is correct, of course. I think, however, that you do plan some twisting of fate on your own."
"If so," Ysa returned, "when the time is right, be sure that you will be made aware of what is happening." She smiled inwardly, secretly delighted. This was something she had not even considered before! Marcala's presence would make the choice of Laherne as Florian's bride even more desirable, if she were clever about using the opportunity. And she would be. "Now surely, the story of this lady's arrival is not all that brought you here?"
For the first time, his thin lips sketched a shadow of a smile. "You are correct. There is something else. There is a stirring along die Bog borders.
Recently—"
"Recently there have been hunting parties in that direction, I know." She waited to see if he would mention Harous.
"That, and the fact that the Sea-Rovers have settled into the Ashenkeep. They patrol the lands of what remains of Ashenhold, but so far, they have not in any way approached us. I have had report that their leader is a High Chief known as
Snolli, and if so, we may eventually have to deal with a very wily and well-experienced warrior."
"Have the Sea-Rovers shown any desire to enter farther into Rendel? Such has not been reported to me." For an uneasy moment, she pictured Harous meeting with this Snolli, and not to any good for her own cause. She had at least two lurkers combing the district by the sea, but they had not reported any sight of Harous in the eastward direction. The man was far from a fool and could, she was sure, detect any eyes she tried to put on him while away from the city. So much would depend on Mar-cala…
Royance faced her squarely over his steepled hands. "There has been no direct contact with the Sea-Rovers.
Perhaps we should move in that direction ourselves—"
He never finished his thought. There was no polite scratching this time. The door to the Queen's chamber crashed open and Florian stood there.
He swayed a fraction, and by that and his flushed face, Ysa guessed that he, as had become usual, was following his father's search for strength from a bottle.
"You have some message?" she asked in the coldest voice she could summon. "It must be important indeed that you forget all courtesies, Florian, and interrupt my conversation with the Lord Royance."
The sneer on Florian's face was very clear to see. He sketched a bow that nearly cost him his balance. "Lady Mother, we are in perilous times."
"Yes," she returned, and waited. He must be made to say what had brought him here.
"The King holds to life by a weakening thread."
It was not like Florian to be so roundabout. Perhaps it was a sign that he was unsure of himself.
"The King lives." Her voice was colder still. She raised her hands so that the light in the room winked on the Rings. "By the aid of fate, he shall be with us for a time, and we cannot guess when he will go."
"It is against all custom, Madam Mother, that he leaves the rule in your hands.
He has a son, come to man's age, or at least near enough. I would be what is proper—Regent—until he departs."
He staggered a couple of unsteady steps forward, but Royance had risen and now put himself between the Queen and the Prince.
"Your Highness, as you know, this is neither the time nor the place for such an act." He might have been speaking to some underling who had presumed far too much. "The passing of the Rings must be done before the full Council. Do you call for such a meeting, then?"
Ysa did not await her son's answer to that. Instead, she caught and held his eyes. "You have made this demand before, and also while you were in your cups.
The Rings rejected you then. Do you think they will come freely to you now, and are you willing to take that risk before the great nobles of this Kingdom? That previous attempt could be excused, covered up. But to make another, and to be so disowned again, will be known throughout the realm only too quickly."
He licked his loose bottom lip. Beneath his rich short cloak, his shoulders hunched.
"Listen well," he said. A small spatter of foam appeared in one corner of his mouth. "There is no doubt that I am who I am. There is none other who can take my rights from me." He swung around to face Royance more squarely. "You are the premiere lord here. The rules of law are known to you. Will you permit the Queen to break those that are the most important? Think on this, my lord. How many of those Houses will raise a Crown chant for a woman? I am your only choice.
Remember that!"
He slewed around again, keeping his balance only by chance, and staggered out of the door. Royance spoke first into the shocked silence.
"Your Majesty, unfortunately, there is much in what he says. Also, he is stirring up a pot of trouble, news of which is already spreading beyond the palace."
She looked at him straightly. "The Rings have refused him once, even at the hour when the King seemed to be dying. Would you have me summon those of possible descent and have a choosing before the Council?"
He shook his head. 'There must be truth between us on this matter. Perhaps it will come to that," he said heavily. "There is no other heir—"
"Alas for our country, you are correct, my lord."
She refused to allow herself even to conjecture on an alternative. No, there was no other possible heir in the direct line.
Kasai had volunteered to bring Snotti the dreadful news, and the others concurred gratefully. Only the Spirit Drummer could do this and not risk the wont of Snolli's wrath. Now he knelt unchar
acteristically before the High Chief, his head bowed.
"If you have bad news for me, Spirit Drummer, then spit it out," Snolli said.
"It is more dire than you can imagine, Chieftain," Kasai replied. "Obern is dead."
Snolli didn't stir in his chair, though an observant onlooker might have noticed that his fingers tightened on the arms. "Did he die well?"
"Very well, Chieftain. We were attacked by three of those terrible birds we saw once before as we sailed along the Bog-cliffs. Bravely, he drew the wrath of one of them and gave the rest of us time to make our escape."
"I see. Then he will be mourned properly."
"There is further news."
"Another death?"
"No, Chieftain. On our way back to the keep, we met some of the men from the
Kingdom, very important men to hear them tell of it. They wait outside. I told them you might be occupied with mourning."
"No, this is not yet time for it. Tell these very important men to come in."
But as the company of a dozen Rendel men entered the chamber that Snolli had set aside as the one where he conducted the business of New Void, he drew a trembling hand across his eyes. Then he arose, as was proper, and offered the weaponless hand of friendship to the one who, in spite of his youth, seemed to be the leader. All frills and lace and perfume and velvet clothing, the young man touched Snolli's hand with just the tips of his fingers.
"I am Prince Florian of Rendel," the young man said, using the Trader speech that was universally understood. His accent was heavy and more than a little affected; obviously, this was an unfamiliar language to him. "And I am addressing—"
"Snolli, War Lord, Chieftain of New Void."
Florian smiled. "New Void, is it? We have long known this fragment of land as
Ashenhold. But no matter." He turned and gestured.
One of the men with the Prince stepped forward. "I am Count Dakin, one of Prince
Florian's friends. The Prince is not fluent in Trader speech, though he understands it well enough. Therefore, I will speak for him in important matters. We come in peace. As you can see, all swords are fastened with peace ties."
"I knew this before you came through the door. None of my men would have allowed you in without this token of your intent." Snolli allowed himself to smile.
"They think to protect me."
"Oh, I have no doubt that you are still a ferocious warrior, for all of your years," Florian said with the carelessness of youth.
Snolli frowned, not bothering to try to hide it. "You must know that you come at a poor time. Under the best of circumstances—which these are not—I have little patience for mincing court manners. Therefore, I must ask you to state your business plainly."
Florian seemed a little taken aback. He looked around, obviously annoyed at the stark room and the lack of comfort, but he swallowed any rash comment he might have made.
Dakin took it up smoothly. "Then, plainly, my Prince's business is this. He seeks a treaty with you. We have common enemies, and as the saying goes, the enemy of my enemy might not be my friend, but in parlous times, that will do just as well."
Snolli's eyebrows rose. "It is worth thinking on, friend Florian. Prince
Florian," he corrected himself, noting how the young man's face darkened. The young royal was quick to take offense. That was valuable information to have.
"Please forgive a father who is a little addlepated at the moment. My son is newly dead—"
"My sympathies on your great loss," the Prince said.
"How great you cannot know unless you have sons of your own."
"Not that I know of. I am still unwed."
The Prince actually sniggered at his own jape, and several of his men smiled as well. Snolli made sure his own expression did not change.
"Thank you for your understanding," he said. "Please know that a treaty between ourselves and the Kingdom of Rendel is something we desire very much. Excuse us for the moment, though, for before we can work out the terms, we must undergo a period of mourning. If it helps, think of my dead son as a Prince of our kindred—a standing similar to your own position."
Florian couldn't be insulted by this, though Snolli knew he would like to be.
Dakin touched Florian's sleeve.
"We can leave the draft of the treaty with these good people and meet with them at another time, when they will not be distracted by sorrow. By then, they will have had time to look over the terms—which they will agree to, of course—and also to prepare a feast for us all. What say you, sir?"
"Oh, very well," Florian said, a trifle peevishly. "Still, it's a long ride back."
"Give your paper to Kasai, here. He is one of my trusted advisers. Baland, who serves as what your people might term our seneschal, will gladly provide you with food and drink, such as we have. We fled our homeland with little more than what was on our backs, and our stores were much depleted on our journey. As you can see, we have not even enough chairs to allow all of you to sit in comfort, nor a table around which to discuss your interesting offer. Still, what is in our power to share, that we gladly offer you."
"You are very gracious," said the man who had spoken for Florian. "And chairs matter not at all to great princes.
Thank you—what title should I use for you?"
" 'Chieftain' will do. It is what my people call me."
"Then thank you, Chieftain. We will leave you to your mourning, and will look for a messenger in due time to tell us that our negotiations can be mutually agreed upon."
With a courteous bow, Dakin pulled a roll of paper, tied with red ribbon and heavy with wax and seals, out of a carry-bag and handed it to the Spirit
Drummer. Then the men left the audience room, all but shepherding Prince Florian ahead of them.
As the Prince departed, Snolli could hear the youth's somewhat nasal voice raised in complaint. The Trader speech was indeed close to the common tongue used in Rendel. He could pick out a few words, and knew that Florian was unhappy because there was to be no feasting, no drinking, and no opportunity to sample the charms of the Sea- Rover maidens.
Beside him, Kasai spoke up. "I don't need a Spirit Drum to tell me about that one. He is trouble on horseback, Chieftain."
"Nor do I need you or your drum to tell me this, for I knew it from the moment I set eyes on him. Prancing catamite. He is as bad as the stories have him.
Worse." Snolli sighed heavily.
"I wonder, too, at why they come seeking treaties from us, when by all right and custom, it should be the other way around. After all, we could be considered intruders here," Kasai said. "You'd think they'd want us gone, rather than offer us the hand of friendship."
"Be that as it may. Sometimes we needs must treat with those we would otherwise despise, and this seems to be one of those times. Furthermore, we have not yet even read the proposed treaty and have no idea of what it contains. It might very well not be to our liking. However, that is a matter for another day. Now.
Are the scouts who were with Obern close at hand?"
"Outside, and if it hadn't been for Prince Florian barging in, they would have presented themselves to you long before now."
"Give them food and drink as well, and tell them that I ride with them within the hour. We must bring Obern's body back for a proper burial."
"Yes, Chieftain, though I suggest you wait until morning. Night draws on."
"No, I must go. You will stay here, though. I want you to look over this treaty so that we can discuss it when I return. Oh—please send a messenger to Neave and tell her the sad news."
Kasai nodded, and left the audience chamber, treaty paper in hand.
It was a very long night for Snolli, and a long ride to the place where the
Sea-Rovers could cross over the river into Bog territory. Among the Sea-Rover kindred, it was customary for warriors to have little to do with their children.
Snolli hadn't realized until Obern's reported death how fond he was of the you
th. Obern had always been there, solid, dependable, reliable—the best backshield any father, let alone a chieftain of Snolli's rank, could hope for.
New Void would be poorer for Obern's absence. He resolved to pay a little more attention to Obern's son, once the child was old enough to be interesting.
But though they searched the place where the attack had come from the giant birds and found the spot where Obern had last been seen, just before he fell, they could not locate a body. Kather volunteered to climb down the cliff-face and search, while the others stood watch to guard him from any renewed attack from the foul Bog-birds that might come. Despite his best efforts, he found nothing.