“She has probably got the trays ready,” said Hoftstan, but went off toward the kitchens to do as Ninianee requested.
“I gather you are still having some difficulties with Maeshar?” Kloveon said, making conversation to fill the long moment before the new arrivals presented themselves in the Great Hall. “I recall he approached you about becoming your official suitor last year?”
“He did. I refused.”
“So you would not compromise Vildecaz’s independence,” said Kloveon smoothly. “A prudent decision.”
She couldn’t tell how much of his observation was ironic and how much was courtesy, so she replied, “That was my intention,” not quite honestly as the second blast of trumpets warned that the visitors were now inside the walls of the castle. “Well, it won’t be long now.”
Kloveon only smiled.
* * *
The toasts had been drunk and the Welcoming Ritual completed by the time Erianthee reappeared, now dressed in a gaunel of blue-lilac Mozh-cloth over a guin of sheer, shining white; her hair was braided, wrapped, and tied with golden ribbons that complimented the coronet circling her brow. Her cheeks were pink from her rushing, and her brown eyes sparkled. She respected Maeshar and his company of nine men, then smiled as she saw the Housekeeper-General approaching. “Ah. Here is General Rocazin, coming to impart what we have to offer you.”
General Rocazin was in her second-most-formal gaunel, with wide double-sleeves lined in elaborate brocades, one of silver-on-green, and one of violet-on-turquoise. She respected the latest gathering of guests, nodded to Ninianee and Erianthee, saying, “In the name of the Six Founder Gods and Goddesses, you are welcome to Vildecaz Castle. May you never regret the time you spend here. The meal to be offered to you will begin with fried new cheeses with a topping of nectarous Nyth-root, served with puff-bread and new butter; then sliced braised ducks in a sauce of plums and cherries, with side-dishes of ring-carrots in herbed cream and bent-neck squash with pepper and butter; then a spitted bison, basted in wine and pureed rose-hips, with side dishes of thimble-cabbages cooked in milk; a dressing of chopped nuts and bread-crumbs with bacon cooked in spirits of wine and sweetened puree of chestnuts; and a salad of diced apples, onions, boiled cardoons, broiled asparagus, and Aon-nuts with berry-vinegar; this with a tube-bread stuffed with nuts and olives; next a Dej-sturgeon stuffed with minced Boarthine crab, currants, cardamoms, and sweet-barley; with a side-dish of shredded turnips and smoked cheese with garlic-butter, served in a casserole, accompanied by wedges of apple-bread; to be followed with a stew of boar and venison cooked in pheasant-broth with summer vegetables; last a tart of fall fruits compote with clotted cream, and a sweet of honied machei-fruit and sugared almond-butter, accompanied by brandied butter-cake. There are beers and wines for every course, along with water from the Lachnath spring, and liquors from the Drowned World ” She respected the guests a second time and clapped her hands to indicate that the food would be served almost at once.
The dinner-gong sounded, summoning all the guests to the Great Hall for the evening meal, and the response was prompt: Yulko Bihn and Dinvee ae-Semilgai appeared as if produced by one of his spells, both of them in their most impressive clothes and decked in extra jewels, most of which were genuine and not simply magical; General Rocazin performed the introductions, and almost at once had to include Kloveon of Fauthsku and Doms Guyon to her role of guests. Hoftstan Ruch and his wife, Lumiren Koriat, resplendent in her Justice’s gainnel, arrived next, and then Heijot Merinex. Other local worthies followed the Castle magician, all in their formal regalia, all talking animatedly, anticipating a rousing afternoon. The aroma of excellent food was filling the Great Hall, urging the guests to the tables more rapidly than any spoken invitation would do. The Captain of the Night Guards, Senijer ae-Miratdien entered the Great Hall last of all, declaring the portcullis lowered to ensure an undisturbed feast.
“Would you mind very much if I sat next to you, Duzna Ninianee?” asked Doms Guyon, respecting her as he spoke. He had all but materialized at her side as the formalities began, in unusually splendid dress; a beautiful hupslan of Haorein-brocade and a heavily embroidered sajah of Adamine-velvet. His hair was pulled back from his face and he was and wearing a double-tiered coronet that Ninianee didn’t recognize. Courtesy entitled him to the seat, but he made a point of asking.
“Certainly not,” she said, the heightened color in her face belying her easy response. “As the man responsible for our entertainment tonight, you should be next to me or my sister.”
“I rather think Kloveon would dislike giving up Erianthee’s left to me, and it would be the height of audacity to take your father’s place.” He cocked his head toward Maeshar of Otsinmohr, who was embarked on a recitation of his genealogy with Yulko Bihn. “Who are all those fellows? And why has Maeshar seen fit to bring them with him?”
“I don’t know,” Ninianee said, as if admitting to a failing in her character. ‘You may have to ask Maeshar about them.”
“Maeshar hasn’t bothered to introduce them?” Doms seemed amused by this lapse.
“Not that I am aware of,” she said evasively, not wanting to admit she had no desire to know who those men were. “And I paid little attention while General Rocazin announced them, though I probably should have,” she added, moving to take her place at the High Table. “I know I should have made an effort, but – “ The memory of the way the men had behaved when they came upon her earlier that morning welled afresh in her thoughts. “It’s not as if we will entertain them again.” She was to the right of Nimuar’s chair – which would remain unoccupied through the afternoon and evening – as Erianthee was to the left of it. “General Rocazin will sit to your right.”
“Very proper,” said Doms, smoothing the front of his elegant straw-colored hupslan; his icy eyes scanned the room. He looked down at Ninianee. “For the sake of courtesy, would you consider permitting me a place near you?” He took the device that hung from his gold collar – a handsome expanse of gold and bi-color tourmalines and the image of Kylomotarch, the Forgetter, and patron god of the Drowned World – in his hand to add weight to his supplication. He waited until Ninianee sat down, then seated himself beside her. “You’re worried about your father?”
“Not worried – say rather, a bit apprehensive,” she answered carefully, holding out her goblet as one of the pages bore a ewer of wine to her. “Yes, if you would.”
The lad filled her goblet, then looked to Doms. “Noble guest?”
“Much appreciated,” said Doms, offering his goblet; while the page did his task, Doms added, “I can understand why you might be, Duzna.”
“I will leave this ewer on the table and go fetch a second one,” the youngster declared, and set actions to his words.
As soon as the lad was gone, Ninianee said, “I suppose I should thank you for what you’ve done, helping us this evening as you have pledged to do.”
“You may do so when I am done,” he responded.
Ninianee glanced away. “But I may not still be here when your performance is over.”
“Surely you don’t dislike me so much that you would ignore my entertainments,” he protested.
“I wish I could remain,” said Ninianee, with such sincerity that Doms’ full attention was caught by it. “I have . . . a pressing engagement that I must keep. I apologize for not being able to remain, for, truly, I would like to hear your songs and see what astonishing things you may do.”
“All without magic, only with practice and skill,” Doms reminded her with an easy, elegant gesture of his hand that ended in him offering her a red-silk flower. He lowered his voice, and said, softly and quickly so only she could hear, “If it is my talents you wish to know, you have some knowledge of them before now: I am a finder. Keep that in mind, Duzna. You are fixed in me as a scent is in the nose of a Boarthine wolf; do not hope to elude me, Ninianee. You will never go so far that I cannot find you.”
She felt her pulse race and for a long mo
ment she said nothing while she made sure she would not give herself away. “Do try the wine,” she told him when she was fully in control of herself again. “I think you will find it most satisfactory. It is nine years old, and at the peak of its vintage.”
“No doubt,” he said, accepting her rebuff with a hint of amusement. “The wine and fruits of Vildecaz are known throughout Theninzalk, and prized on all Six Worlds.” His smile made it plain that he was in no way bothered by her abrupt change of subject.
“It’s thanks to our wines and our preserved fruits that my sister and I can afford to dress well, and our duzky is still independent,” said Ninianee, making this remark a toast. “And thanks to our wines and fruits means thanks to Hevomaj, the Stalwart, and Lorjoran, the Provider. Also to Shandreij, who is goddess of Vildecaz’s orchards.” She lifted her goblet and held it out to him as their custom demanded, all the while trying to make as little contact with him by touch or glance as she could without openly rebuffing him.
“Your duzky, although small, is a rich one,” said Doms, doing his utmost to make polite dinner conversation. “You are very fortunate to have such a prosperous homeland.”
“So I am.” She regarded him for a long moment, distrusting the emotions that the impact of his gaze stirred in her.
“I am glad that the storm drove me back to Valdihovee, so that I might once again have the opportunity – “
“How pleasant to see you again, Doms Guyon,” said Erianthee as she came to take her place on the other side of the duzine chair. “You are doing us a great service.”
“You are gracious to say so,” Doms responded, respecting her. He nodded to Kloveon.
“This is a fine occasion,” Kloveon declared as he sat beside Erianthee. “I am honored to be part of it.”
“You are most welcome here, Kloveon,” said Ninianee when Erianthee remained silent a little too long.
“I thank you, Duzna. And, Duzna Erianthee, I am grateful that you will receive me so handsomely.”
“You are here in your office of Imperial Courier,” said Erianthee cautiously. “I would be intolerably lax if I did not show you the regard your office commands.”
“And, I would hope,” said Kloveon with practiced smoothness, “with the kindness of friendship.”
“Of course,” said Erianthee, hoping she did not appear as confused as she felt. Why did this man always find the one way to fluster her? She flashed him her best smile and was relieved when he answered with one of his own.
The first of the waiters appeared, bearing the start of the feast: fried cheese with Nyth-root, puff-bread and new butter. Maeshar stood for the Meal Rite for Visitors, and, when General Rocazin was through, added his own benediction to the occasion. “For the Porzalk Empire, may this duzky remain as prosperous and bountiful in future as it has been through decades past. May all who visit here prosper and thrive. May the favor of the gods never leave you. May Agnith, the Preternatural, continue to guide and protect Vildecaz.”
This was greeted by shouts of agreement, and one of Maeshar’s guests shoved himself so far back in his chair that he and it fell over. Hollers of laughter met this mishap, and as the raillery spread, Kloveon whispered to Erianthee, “You must not be distressed, Duzna. They are Maeshar’s guests, not yours. Any bad cess that comes from his act does not accrue to you.”
Torn between gratitude and indignation, Erianthee swallowed her pride and murmured, “That’s kind of you, Mirkal.”
“I’ve offended you,” Kloveon said softly. “I had no such intention.”
“No, not offended,” she said, and touched his hand, so briefly that it might have been an accident. As Erianthee sat down again, there was a call of trumpets from the gallery, and the meal was officially underway.
* * *
As the meal came to an end, Ninianee rose and addressed the gathering in the Great Hall; the guests were now quite boisterous and it took a long moment for the room to quiet enough for her to be heard. “Most honored visitors to Vildecaz Castle: I regret that I cannot stay for the entertainments arranged for your delight. I leave you in my sister’s capable hands, and I know you will have a far more enjoyable time than I will. I ask you to pardon the necessity that calls me away, and not to lessen your delights on my account.” She respected the gathering and then stepped away from the dais, grateful that she had almost half an hour to sundown. Starting for her apartments, she saw one of Maeshar’s company – a whipcord fellow of perhaps thirty with dissolute features and a leer of a smile in an expensive but old-fashioned hupslan and sajah – slip furtively into one of the withdrawing rooms near the Great Hall, his clothes somewhat in disarray, his weapons-belt still holding two short-swords, against all courteous conduct. The man’s presence bothered her enough that when she reached her apartments she said to Giuynee, “One of Maeshar’s guests went into the Blue Salon. He may not be alone. Could you find out the reason for it for me?”
Giuynee looked startled. “You want me to do this – not a page or a guard?”
“You don’t need to speak to him; just tell him that, as he is new to the Castle, you were concerned, and you are offering your assistance.” Ninianee rubbed the front of her gaunel and tried to decide where to store it so that it would attract no notice. Giuynee took good care of her clothes, and she would look askance at Ninianee’s getting undressed while there were so many guests at Vildecaz Castle. She wished she had contrived to spill some wine on it, which would account for her actions. But she had used that ploy before, not two months ago, and she didn’t want to repeat her device again quite so soon. She finally settled on a few bruises, tokens from the night before, and a collection of scratches along her flank. She had just removed her gaunel when Giuynee returned, her color slightly heightened.
“I know why he wanted privacy,” said Giuynee in a stifled tone.
“What’s the matter, Giuynee?” Ninianee asked, unused to seeing Giuynee shocked.
“He is Rothireon Dachdoj, Firnij of Lenj. He was occupied with two of Ver’s assistants – one boy, one girl.” She shook her head.
“That shouldn’t astonish you,” said Ninianee, puzzled by her dismay. Lenj was known for its acceptance of sexual experimentation.
“It wasn’t what you’d expect; he was working spells on them, not enjoying their bodies. He had both of them behaving very strangely. One of them was using a long kitchen knife to ruin a pillow.”
Ninianee blinked in astonishment. “Why would he abuse our hospitality so egregiously? Using our servants to work his magic!”
“He told me that in Lenj such is the custom,” said Giuynee in patent disbelief.
“Then Lenj must be a much odder place than it is reputed to be,” said Ninianee. “Not that there are not some peculiar customs in the Porzalk Empire.” She felt the passing day as a kind of under-the-skin itch, and she realized she would begin her Change shortly, so she said, “I need to be alone. These bruises are aching and I will need to be left to myself if I am to heal them. No one is to enter my rooms until morning.” Briefly, she wondered if this Rothireon Dachdoj was one of the men who had accosted her, and decided it was much too easy to think so.
“I shall inform General Rocazin,” said Giuynee.
“And if you will, tell her I would like to keep you as my waiting-woman for another month. If this does not upset her rotation too much, that is,” said Ninianee, offering Giuynee as much of a smile as she could muster.
“This is a great honor, Duzna,” said Guiynee, and added, “I will see to it that you are undisturbed until morning.”
“I thank you,” said Ninianee, then said, “If you are able, find out what this Rothireon Dachdoj, Firnij of Lenj has done to our servants, and for what reason. Custom or not in his homeland, it is offensive here, and as such, we ought to have an explanation for his behavior. Ask the servants if they can recall anything, and let me know what they say.”
“This evening or tomorrow morning?” asked Giuynee.
“Tomorrow morning
is as good a time as any,” said Ninianee as a slippery chill ran up her spine. “I must retire,” she told Giuynee and made a gesture of dismissal. “If you will excuse me?”
“Thank you again, Duzna,” said Giuynee, leaving Ninianee alone in the room.
* * *
The outer gardens of Vildecaz Castle were elegant little wildernesses, with artfully meandering brooks and lovely little grottos where one could have the illusion of being far from other humans, for these were designed to have no direct view of the castle. The grounds were planted with flowering shrubs and a number of exotic trees, making them all the more admired. The full moon poured down its radiance on these gardens, making them appear truly enchanted. In the depths of the spinneys, martens, stoats, and redcoons hunted mice, unwary birds, and each other; rare Gaz-owls hooted in the trees and hung on silent wings over the gardens.
At another time, Ninianee might have admired the splendid evening, but now, in her Challim deer form, she could only look for shadows where she could hide until dawn. She picked her way among the trees, her ears turning at every hint of sound, which was how she came to notice the sound of voices coming from the grotto dedicated to Lorjoran, the Provider. She held her position and listened.
“ – do you think it will take?” The voice was male, filled with urgency, some of which was sexual, some of which was more sinister. “We have to find it.”
“I know, I know,” said the woman, making this simple acknowledgment intensely seductive.
“If Nimuar isn’t here, then – “
”Shussh,” she admonished him caressingly. “There’s time enough for that later.” Then, a bit petulantly, “Don’t tug – you’ll tear it.”
“If I can reach you all the sooner, so be it,” said the man. “Will the seneschal tell you what he knows?” The last was a bit rushed. “You’ve had long enough to work on him, haven’t you? Don’t hurry me. Not yet.”
The Vildecaz Talents: The complete set of Vildecaz Stories including Nimuar's Loss, The Deceptive Oracle and Agnith's Promise Page 11