by Jo Walton
This was, of course, as the Exalt would have delighted to point out, largely because of their different stations in life. Sher had the dignity and finances of his position, and Penn those of a country parson. Even his living as a parson had been Sher’s, or rather the Exalt’s, gift, and it takes a great deal of resilience in a friendship to be able to endure charity given by one friend to the other. It is often not the giver who resents this, who, though they have lost in worldly ways have gained the delight of heaven, and also the joy of gift-giving, but the one who must, having little, accept more than they can hope to offer in return. If there is a return expected and granted, as between Penn and the Exalt, where spiritual and pastoral duties were exchanged for worldly comfort, then all may be well. But with Sher, Penn felt he had been given much and was returning nothing at all. Naturally he resented this, and naturally, he tried not to resent it, and resented the necessity of effort. Equally naturally, Sher sensed both resentment and effort, which put a constraint into the ease of their relationship. Besides all this, Sher’s life remained very worldly and full of enjoyment while Penn over time grew more and more devoted to the Church and to his parish. They had in fact grown apart, and they both regretted this extremely, for they had at one time done everything together.
Thus when Sher returned with Selendra, still without the pink that would speak for itself, it was awkward for him to seek out Penn, more awkward than it would be if they had never been close. Selendra wished to accompany him, more to avoid being left alone with Felin than for any other reason, but he gently discouraged her. “I need to speak to your brother alone. We may need to discuss matters unsuitable for you.”
Felin was out when they returned, visiting parishioners. Selendra took up a book, relieved to be alone.
Penn’s office had a door, a very plain door that had been put in to replace the old carved door some generations ago. Sher knocked upon it with a careful claw. “Come in,” Penn called, dolefully. Sher entered, and stood looking about him awkwardly. The room was Penn’s, and held books and writing utensils which Sher recognized as Penn’s, yet in some sense it belonged to Sher, as did the whole parsonage. Penn was supposed to be writing his Deepwinter sermon, to be read to the congregation after he had kindled the fire, but he was in fact lying supine staring at the Order commanding his presence in Irieth and considering the sin of suicide.
“Sher!” Penn said, pulling himself up sejant and trying to smile. “Good to see you.”
“Good to see you, too,” Sher said, fitting himself with some difficulty into the study and closing the door.
“Not in trouble, I hope?” Penn asked, with a heartiness that sounded false in his own ears.
“I hope not,” Sher said, smiling awkwardly. “In fact, the opposite. I asked your sister Selendra to marry me, and she has agreed, once we have worked out a few details.”
“Oh thanks be to Jurale!” Penn said, and promptly burst into tears.
Sher was extremely puzzled by this reaction. “It’s not as bad as that,” he said. This had no effect. “I’ll take good care of her,” he tried. Penn sobbed on. “What’s the matter?” he asked at last.
Penn pushed the Order towards him. Sher took it and read it. “Selendra already told me about this,” he said. “You’re all going to Irieth, she said. I’ve offered you the use of Benandi House.”
“You may not want to,” Penn said, getting back a little control. “You may not even want to marry Selendra when you know.”
“Know what?” Sher asked. “I find it very hard to think of anything that would stop me wanting to marry Selendra.”
“Then that’s one burden you’ve relieved me of,” Penn said. “The worst of disgrace is bringing other dragons down with one.”
“Disgrace?” Sher asked quickly.
“Ah, yes, it’s different marrying the sister of a respectable parson and marrying the sister of a disgraced parson,” Penn said.
Here Penn did his old friend an injustice. Sher would never have considered marrying some abstract sister of a disgraced parson, nor indeed anyone who suffered under any great social burden. He would never, for instance, have contemplated falling in love with Sebeth. Yet now he had fallen so firmly in love with Selendra he would not have wavered whatever had happened to her family. “Tell me what the problem is,” Sher said, with commendable calmness.
“I heard my father’s confession on his deathbed, and it will come out in this trial, and I will be ruined and thrown out of the Church,” Penn said, succinctly.
Sher blinked several times. He considered and dismissed several responses. He was not, in fact, shocked that such a thing had been done. He had heard it whispered that the Old Religion was quietly thriving. He was, however, shocked that Penn, who he secretly thought had grown rather stuffy and conventional since he became a parson, had done it. “Can you get your brother to call off the case?”
“Not after the First Hearing,” Penn said. “He’d be subject to penalty for bringing it frivolously if he did that now.”
“Then can’t you get him to agree not to call you?” he asked.
“Avan did agree, it’s Daverak who has called me,” Penn said.
“Then how about Daverak?”
“He doesn’t care a mouldy plum about me.” Penn shook his head sadly, shaking tears from his snout.
The old school term made Sher smile in reminiscence. “Daverak’s your brother-in-law. Care about you or not, he can’t want you disgraced.”
“Berend is dead.”
“Even so, there are dragonets who are her hatchlings who are Daverak’s heirs. You could talk to him and emphasize the social side of this, the effect on him,” Sher said.
“I can’t bear the thought of his knowing,” Penn said.
“He’s going to know if you tell the whole world in court,” Sher said, a touch of impatience in his voice. “Illustrious, isn’t he? Daverak? I’ve met him, I think. He cares a lot about rank and things like that. I’ll come with you to see him if you like, it might help.”
“That would be extremely kind of you,” Penn said, then laughed through his tears. “Oh Sher, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to talk to you like that when you’re so good to me.”
“Don’t forget I have a vested interest in keeping you out of disgrace. I might not care, but my mother would, and Selendra has made it a condition that my mother be enthusiastic.”
“The Exalt will never do more than tolerate—” Penn said, staring.
“The Exalt will do a great deal more than that,” Sher said, his voice hard. It softened to a teasing tone. “But it will be a great deal easier for me if she sees you as a respectable parson who is almost always here for Firstday and never ever flies even over a ravine or goes hunting.”
Penn laughed. When he had just taken up his cords he had slipped them for a day’s hunting with Sher and only narrowly avoided being recognized.
“You have my blessing for marrying my sister,” Penn said. “Her dowry is inadequate enough, but no doubt you have enough for two.”
“Her dowry is magnificent,” Sher said. “Hasn’t she told you?”
Penn stared at him. “Told me what?”
“About the treasure we found?”
“Treasure? The dragonets are always talking nonsense about that treasure but surely it isn’t real—”
“Real. Treasure. Gold. Jewels. Very valuable treasure. Your dragonets and Selendra and I found it, and divided into four parts I’d say it would be worth several hundred thousand crowns each, if not more. I haven’t been trying to get it out, because of the snows, but come spring your two hatchlings will be receiving a fortune, and so will Selendra. So none of you will have to worry about gold, no matter what else, and no doubt my mother will be pleased to see that I have enlarged the coffers of Benandi as no heir has before me for several thousand years.”
It was on his land, and he could have claimed it all, but what good was gold to him compared to the good it could do to his friends? Penn looked stunned
. “I had no idea,” he said. “I should apologize to Wontas for disbelieving him.”
Sher laughed. “I’ll come with you to speak to Daverak,” he said. “I’ll arrange about the treasure in the spring. And I’ll marry your sister as soon as it’s convenient for us all.”
“That’s wonderful,” murmured Penn.
“And now I know you still break the laws of the Church from time to time, how about a day’s hunting when we get back? All of us, Felin and Selendra too?”
Penn opened his mouth, couldn’t speak, caught between tears and laughter. After an endless moment, laughter won.
14
Coming to Irieth
52. A SIXTH PROPOSAL
The Illustrious Daverak brought his household to Irieth for the hearing. Only the dragonets and the as yet unhatched eggs stayed in Daverak, along with sufficient servants to take care of them. Although it was not the time of year for Irieth, he had Daverak House aired out and completely opened. Haner, clutching her Order, came along meekly. She brought Lamith, less to burnish her scales than to run interference. She had plans of her own for how to spend her time in the capital. With Lamith on hand to say she was unwell or engaged in female pursuits she could be free to go about her own business.
They came up by train and arrived on the seventh day of Deepwinter, a week before the day set for the trial. Haner spent the first day overseeing the servants as they draped the walls with tapestries packed away while the house was empty. Only the sleeping caves were underground, in what amounted to arched cellars. Most of the house stood clear in the air. Some rooms even had windows. Haner had never seen anything like it and didn’t like it at all.
Daverak, not without some hesitation, had listened to his attorney’s advice and invited Frelt to stay with him. This was a complete surprise to Haner. She only just managed not to recoil when she saw him in the outer corridor of Daverak House. He was his usual dapper self, well burnished and handsome enough in his conventional way.
“Respected Agornin,” he said, bowing. “I’m glad to see you well, and offer you my condolences on the loss of your sister. May she be reborn with Camran.”
Haner had never liked the slightly proprietary way Frelt spoke about the gods. She bowed. “Greetings, Blessed Frelt, what brings you to Irieth?”
“The same thing that brings you, this sadly mistaken court case your foolish young brother is bringing.” Frelt shook his head in mock sadness.
“You are to give evidence?” she asked.
“Yes indeed.” Frelt nodded several times. “I shall be one of the most important witnesses I’m afraid, witnessing to what was said and done in the undercave as well as to your father’s beliefs and state of mind.”
Haner looked down her snout at him. There was no point in saying that he knew nothing about her father’s state of mind. “I hope you’re not nervous about it,” she said.
“No, a parson gets used to standing up and talking,” Frelt said. He smiled at Haner, showing his teeth. She was the youngest of the Agornin sisters, and not the prettiest, he thought, but she was more timid than Berend and quieter than Selendra. She might be just what he needed.
“Where are you staying?” she asked, conventionally.
“Why, Illustrious Daverak has been kind enough to offer me the hospitality of his house,” Frelt said, with a leer.
“Then we shall no doubt be seeing a lot of you,” Haner said, her heart sinking.
“How pleasant that will be,” Frelt said. “Do you miss Agornin?” he asked.
“Yes,” Haner said, stepping unobtrusively a little away from him.
“I have been considering taking a wife,” Frelt said, baldly.
“I hear that many maidens come to Irieth to find husbands,” Haner said, backing even farther away.
Frelt laughed. “You included? I wondered if you might like to return to Agornin with me, Haner?” He advanced towards her.
“No, sir,” she said, and fled. She could hardly believe his effrontery.
She fled to the dining room, where Daverak was waiting. “Here you are at last, Haner,” he said. “Have you seen the Blessed Frelt?”
“He’s just coming,” she said. In Daverak’s presence she felt safe at least from being pressed as Selendra had been pressed. She thought of dear Londaver and felt reassured. A moment later Frelt came in, as composed as if nothing had happened. He ignored her and talked to Daverak. The conversation largely concerned the forthcoming trial. Haner sat quietly saying nothing, and was ignored. Food was brought in, beef that was not very fresh. Haner ate as swiftly as she could, hoping to be able to escape sooner.
“Mustan tells me they may well ask about Bon’s intentions in making the will,” Daverak said.
“As I said at the time, I’m quite sure they were as you think,” Frelt said.
“Haner?” Daverak asked.
“What?” She looked up, surprised to be addressed. “Father’s intentions? I knew nothing about them, I told you that and I shall tell the court that.”
“Good. I know you won’t say anything to harm me. You understand where the meat comes from to sustain you at least.” The threat was veiled only by the thinnest smile.
Frelt smiled at Daverak’s hard tone. “I’m sure Respected Agornin would do nothing impious,” he said.
“I will tell the truth as it says on the Order I was sent,” she said in an even tone. “I may not know much, but what I know I will say.”
“When I have destroyed your brother you will have your reward, in your dowry, as I told you,” Daverak said. Haner shuddered a little, and knew that Frelt saw her shudder.
“I’m not sure the maiden wants to marry,” Frelt said, silkily.
“Oh, she has a hanger-on already, Londaver, a neighbor of ours at home,” Daverak said casually, but not cruelly.
“That explains it,” Frelt said. “She should have said that when I made her an offer, instead of running away. I don’t know what she was expecting.”
“You?” Daverak looked up at him, blood from the beef dripping from his jaws. He managed to put more contempt into the single word than Haner could have managed in a week.
Frelt laughed, awkwardly. Haner stood. “I’ve finished, I think I’ll retire,” she said.
“No,” Daverak said, shortly. “Sit down.”
Haner sat obediently.
“Frelt, I don’t know if you’re ill, or what it is that makes you think you could aspire to marry someone connected with my family, but put it entirely out of your mind,” Daverak said. This was much more polite than he would have been had he not known he needed Frelt’s evidence. “You should marry someone of your own station, a parson’s daughter,” he went on. “I’ll see if I can find one to put in your way. Now do enjoy the hospitality of my house, but leave my sister-in-law alone.”
Frelt spluttered. “I had no intention of making unwelcome advances.”
“You can go now, Haner,” Daverak said.
For the second time that evening, Haner fled.
53. LEAVING BENANDI
Felin could almost have felt sorry for the Exalt in the whirlwind of preparations that followed Sher and Selendra’s Deepwinter flight. Sher had always before tried to charm and cajole his mother, or else ignored her entirely and taken himself off. Now he was making demands, and being insistent. He demanded that Benandi House in Irieth be opened instantly, that they remove there immediately, that they hold an entertainment while they were there for whatever company might be found in Irieth in midwinter, and that hospitality be offered there to the parsonage family. In the midst of this, he demanded that his mother welcome his intended. Felin might have laughed at the confusion this caused, had she not been able to see the Exalt’s genuine distress.
“He’s completely set on having his own way,” she told Felin, grimly, while at the same time making lists of what must be packed. “I could have been doing this for weeks past except that he refused to consider a move. Now it’s all to be done at once. No, you can’t help,
I know what’s to be done.” A hot tear trickled down her snout. “I have lost my son now. That it’s my own fault doesn’t make it any easier to bear.”
“You haven’t lost him,” Felin said. “Selendra will make you a good daughter-in-law if you’d just accept her.”
“After this beginning? I think not.” The Exalt sniffed, and was all practicality again. “You could tell me how many servants you’re bringing, and if you really want to help, perhaps you could arrange to reserve four carriages on the train for us from here to Irieth.”
Felin left the Exalt to get on with creating order.
She found Sher sitting in the parsonage talking to Selendra and the children. Sher looked dazed, like any bridegroom. The children looked excited. Wontas was still limping, but only a little, Felin assured herself, as she did every time she saw him. He would heal so that nobody would know the difference. Nobody would think him a weakling in danger of consumption. Selendra sat curled up, with Gerin between her and Sher. She would have looked like a bride, except that she remained the shimmering and pure gold she had been since Felin had first met her. She would not talk to Felin about it, saying only that she had made conditions to Sher and would not go further than she might turn back until those conditions had been met. Felin feared for the conditions, and feared for Sher—except that when, as now, she saw Selendra looking at Sher she was reassured by the love that was plainly visible in her slowly turning eyes. Worse than Selendra’s refusal to talk about her conditions was Penn’s refusal to discuss Selendra’s coloring. He grew embarrassed and changed the subject every time Felin tried to raise it. Selendra was his sister, of course, but he was a parson and not usually squeamish about such matters.