by Sharon Green
Her tone of voice said she couldn’t quite picture herself ruling at all, let alone for twenty-five years, and Lorand knew just how she felt. It was one thing to aspire to a High position, another thing entirely to try for the Fivefold Throne. There had been plays and books written about people who’d dreamed about that, and most of them were either comedies or tragedies.
“Of course, that explains everything,” the red-haired girl to Lorand’s left breathed, apparently having missed what Tamrissa had said. The girl looked as if she’d been struck with revelation, and a delightful one at that. “Now I understand why I qualified for testing this year rather than any other. I’m meant to be part of the winning Blending, to fulfill my full destiny and rule.”
“I’m afraid your destiny comes up a bit short for that,” a voice drawled, and Lorand glanced around to see that it was the fool Mardimil who spoke. “All members of the current Blending are from the nobility, which you would know if you moved in the proper circles. As the members of most of the Blendings before them were also the same, you should have chosen your place of birth a bit more carefully. Destiny favors those with all the proper qualities.”
“Obviously you’re all too jealous to admit the truth,” the girl said smugly, somehow managing to be even more annoying than Mardimil. “But now that I know what my purpose in life really is, I don’t care how jealous you are. When I’m crowned as one of the new Blending, I may even forgive you.”
And then the girl turned with a smile to her food, dismissing all the rest of the world as beneath her notice. Lorand exchanged a glance with Tamrissa, who wrinkled her nose in distaste and shook her head, then he began to pay attention to his own food. Even if he hadn’t been so hungry, there was nothing left to say to the red-haired girl who thought so much of herself. The idea she’d latched onto was tempting, but only a fool would think about it seriously…
* * *
Clarion was so hungry he all but inhaled what was put before him, barely even noticing that the house cook was more than adequate. He’d been prepared to eat anything at all, even lower-class food, just so long as it filled him. And diverted him from that fool of a girl across the table. To think that a female dressed in cotton would consider herself a possible candidate for the new Blending! She was as blind and empty-headed as the rest of her class—and seemed to match at least one member of his own class.
The memory of his conversation with Lady Eltrina still nettled, enough so that under other circumstances it would probably have ruined his appetite. As a courtesy he’d stopped to introduce himself, and then would have mentioned how inappropriate his current surroundings were. He’d expected a member of his own class to understand, possibly even without having to be told; what he hadn’t expected was to be cut short before the first word might leave his mouth.
“You’ve been told to go and do something, sir,” she’d said coldly when he’d stopped in front of her. “In your case you’ve been told to do two somethings, which should mean you have even less time to accomplish it. Beyond that, we have nothing to say to one another.”
Rather than argue, Clarion had bowed stiffly and continued on his way to fetch that idiotic identification card and the piddling amount of silver the woman had demanded. There wasn’t much of the silver left after that journey, so tomorrow he’d have to pay a visit to Mother’s bankers here in Gan Garee. A good portion of his last allowance still remained credited to him, enough so that silver would be the least of his worries.
He reached for another cut of bread, and found himself glancing involuntarily again at the girl sitting to his left. Jovvi Hafford, they’d said her name was, and the one at the head of the table was Tamrissa Domon. Both of them were dressed in silk and showed surprisingly good taste as well as something of well-filled purses, but that wasn’t what seemed to attract Clarion to them. He honestly had never seen two women more beautiful, and for the first time in his life there were stirrings within him which weren’t being banished by Mother’s presence. The stirrings were decidedly uncomfortable, but for some reason it pleased him that they remained. Perhaps he would even find it possible to do something about them…
But not at the moment. Right now it was his hunger that he assuaged, a prospect made even more pleasant by the appearance of platters of meat and bowls of vegetables in various sauces. The one lack was a decent wine to go with the rest, but in all honesty Clarion wasn’t certain he could manage wine right now. A single sip of it would likely stretch him out for the night, leaving all that marvelous food to go to waste. The tea they’d been provided with would have to serve, at least until he returned to himself.
And until he had a tighter rein on his thoughts. Even as he let another bite of the tender roast melt in his mouth, his mind insisted on pursuing the thought that this was a twenty-fifth year. The present Blending would soon be replaced, and he happened to be right on the spot among those who would vie for the honor. Of course, his current companions were beyond consideration, but there were certain to be noble Blendings assembled for the contest. If he should decide that the effort wasn’t unsuitable for a gentleman like himself, perhaps…
“The mind of man is an amazing instrument,” a voice commented softly, and Clarion looked up to see that it was the man to his right, Eskin Drowd, who spoke musingly. “Before this excellent fare was placed before us, I could think of nothing but its imminent arrival. Now that I’ve consumed enough to assuage part of my hunger, my thoughts have found another topic to cling doggedly to.”
“The matter of the upcomin’ contest to seat the new Blendin’,” Vallant Ro, across from Clarion, said with a nod around his latest mouthful. “I have no real interest in it myself, but even I can’t stop thinkin’ about it. I have no true yearnin’ to rule anythin’ but the deck of my ship, but the idea of bein’ this close to and in the midst of the process that will seat the next holders of the Fivefold Throne… I must admit the concept is somewhat … thought provokin’.”
“It’s a bit more than that,” Jovvi Hafford put in with a smile before Clarion was able to repeat what he’d said earlier about commoners being unfit for the honor. “I’ve also been thinking about it, and all it’s done is bring me a great deal of confusion. I came here knowing exactly what I would do with my life once I’d put this test behind me, but now the test is behind me and my plans are in danger of crumbling to ruins. Part of me knows I haven’t a chance of winning to the Fivefold Throne, but thinking about the power and safety such a position would bring…”
She left the thought unfinished, but Clarion found himself nodding along with the other two men. Power and safety, two things the Seated Blending enjoyed above everyone else in the empire—and beyond. The adjoining realms of Gracely to the east and Astinda to the west had begun with their own Seated Blendings, but somehow the process had broken down through the centuries and now it was said that every High capable of drawing power had his own small area over which he ruled. The borders of their own realm Gandistra had been steadily growing over the years at the expense of Gracely and Astinda, which proved the point. The Fivefold Throne represented power and safety impossible to match anywhere on the continent.
“It’s been projected that in another thirty years or so, Gandistra will encompass this entire continent,” Drowd said, nearly reading Clarion’s thoughts. “Our expansion has been more rapid than most people realize, and I’ve even heard mention of the fact that across the seas are lands inhabited by unregenerate savages. If our expansion should become more rapid still, there may well be a place other than quiet retirement for this new, incoming Blending to go when their service to the empire is done. Savages need to be ruled by those with experience in ruling, and where would one find greater experience than among a retiring Blending?”
For the second time there was no overt comment on what had been said. Everyone seemed as taken by the concept as Clarion himself, even the fool of a girl sitting beside Ro. She’d held herself aloof from the conversation, undoubtedly to avoid more of t
heir “jealousy,” but her eyes gleamed in a way that said she pictured herself eventually bringing a large number of savages to their knees before her. The idea was absurd, at least with her in the picture…
“I’m not sure I approve of the idea of expanding to the next continent,” Jovvi Hafford said suddenly, a faint frown marring her beautiful brow. “I knew a seaman once who visited the Tondron continent at least three times a year, the freighter he served on plying the trade route which has been used for centuries. The people in Tondron aren’t savages, they simply have a way of life that doesn’t include being ruled by a Blending. Not a single Blending, at any rate. I had the impression that most people became part of one, but I never got the details involved.”
“That’s because the man had to be lying to you,” the red-haired girl said immediately with a sound of ridicule. “Only savages would consider getting along without a ruling Blending, and if you don’t believe that ask anyone in Gracely or Astinda. They don’t have Blendings either, and soon they won’t even have separate realms. You really must learn not to be so gullible.”
“Listening without preconceived ideas isn’t being gullible, my dear,” Jovvi corrected gently with an amused smile before Clarion could jump to her defense. “I can see how well you like the idea of lording it over everyone for the rest of your life, but just because you were allowed to do that until now doesn’t mean you’re guaranteed to contmue doing it. For your own sake, you’d better stop being so gullible.”
A definite sound of scorn came from the redhead, and then she was back to being aloof and no longer a part of the conversation. The behavior was obviously typical of her, but happily it supplied a reason for Clarion to speak to the vision on his left—but not in a way she might find daunting.
“Nicely done,” he complimented Jovvi, smiling as warmly as possible while pretending to be just another ordinary person at the table. “It’s quite obvious the girl will never learn the truth of her position, but fear of being put in her place might manage to keep her quiet. I’m Clarion Mardimil, Air magic.”
“So your identification says,” Jovvi replied with a marvelous smile, sharing the jest with him rather than making him the butt of it. “And what do you think of the plans to extend our influence, Clarion Mardimil? Are you for allowing people the freedom to do as they please, or for smothering them with your own definition of what’s right?”
“Definitely freedom,” Clarion replied immediately, startling himself. He had been raised to accept the idea of a completely directed life without question, but something odd seemed to be happening to him. Just exactly what that was Clarion hadn’t yet figured out, but it earned him an even more delightful smile from Jovvi.
“I would have expected no less from such a handsome gentleman,” she murmured, the words tingling along his spine like a caress. The power of her lovely blue-green eyes began to bring an uncomfortable hardening to his groin, but then she looked away to the servants who had reappeared with another offering.
“Is that sherbet?” she asked, then made a sound of satisfaction when her observation proved itself to be true. “How delightful. Now my palate will be cleared for the next course.”
That was the purpose of sherbet, of course, and Clarion was delighted to see that she knew it. That certainly took her firmly out of the category of peasant, something Clarion didn’t want to believe of her. Nevertheless he meant to avoid stressing his true place in life, to also avoid the loneliness of standing aloof. The Lant female had done that to herself, obviously not having grown up in the sort of isolation which Clarion had. But he had no intentions of repeating that, not again, not here… Clarion turned to his own sherbet, but in a moment the conversation was taken up again in a different quarter.
“I’m inclined to agree with Mardimil and the lovely Dama Hafford,” Ro said from across the table, looking at Drowd. “If people in other lands have found a way to live that pleases them and does us no harm, what right do we have to interfere with their lives? It would be the most colossal arrogance to assume that we know better about what’s right for them.”
“My dear Ro, arrogance doesn’t enter into the matter,” Drowd returned with a deprecating laugh. “As the more civilized of the two groups, we do know better about what’s right for them. If you wish, you may think of them as children and ourselves as adults. You do agree that adults are best suited to know what’s proper for children?”
“Not under all circumstances,” Ro came back immediately, dismissing the claim with a sharp gesture. “Some parents twist the lives of their children to satisfy their own wants and desires, a point we agreed on not many minutes ago. The child who grows up to live accordin’ to other people’s ideas of what’s right usually ends up completely out of touch with the world as it really is. A truly wise adult teaches a child to rely on his or her own talents and abilities, and supports the child’s ambitions. To substitute your own ambition means you’re really an overgrown child yourself, not an adult.”
“What you say is quite true,” Drowd agreed with a gracious nod as he applied himself to his own sherbet. “The overgrown child, impressing his or her own narrow viewpoint on a true child, usually produces an offspring out of touch with reality. That, however, doesn’t hold true for the actual adult who tends to teach proper attitudes rather than false ones. Were you taught not to steal as a child?”
“Of course,” Ro answered with a snort. “I was also taught what happens if you try it anyway. When you’re a child, you tend to think of yourself as the only one with magical ability. You learn better when you try to sneak away with a coolin’ cherry tart, and Cook uses her own talent to show you your mistake. So what’s your point?”
“The point, my dear Ro, is that small children may consider a particular action pleasant and therefore proper, but that doesn’t necessarily make it proper. The adult knows better from having lived longer in a proper way, and therefore is entitled, no, honor bound, to teach the child. You do believe in adults fulfilling their duty?”
Drowd now wore a rather self-satisfied smile, but Clarion was too distracted to be annoyed by it. The conversation between Drowd and Ro had been strangely disturbing, but before Clarion was able to discover in what way, Ro responded to the question put to him.
“I most certainly do believe in adults fulfillin’ their duty,” Ro replied, not in the least daunted. “But before you can call such fulfillment a grand and wonderful thing, you first have to learn their definition of what’s right. But the easiest way to discover whether you’re right is to take the situation and turn it around. You think well of forcin’ other people to live accordin’ to your concept of right, but how much would you enjoy bein’ forced to live accordin’ to theirs? As long as their way doesn’t harm you, the best – adult—solution would be for everyone to live accordin’ to their own beliefs.”
“That’s begging the question,” Drowd countered, no longer as pleased or self-satisfied. “If something is right, it’s right for everyone. If it’s wrong, it’s wrong for everyone. That’s something you can’t argue with.”
“It’s something I can argue with,” Jovvi said before Ro was able to respond, startling Clarion. The beautiful woman was still serene, but no longer amused. “As Dom Ro said earlier in a different way, what’s right for you doesn’t necessarily have to be right for me. For instance, I know someone who doesn’t want to let me out of her sight. She pretends that her actions are for my benefit and protection, but in reality she’s serving herself. And since even stealing can be considered right under the proper circumstances – as, for instance, to save your life—I seriously doubt if there are many universal rights and wrongs to begin with. You’d do well, Dom Drowd, to reexamine the basis of your beliefs.”
Drowd came back with something to continue the argument, but Clarion no longer listened. He’d been shaken by Jovvi Hafford’s words even more than by Ro and Drowd’s, but the confusion buzzing around his head refused to let him understand why. What they’d said didn’t appl
y to him in any way, so why were his hands cold and nearly trembling, and his mouth dry? The situation was quite ridiculous, but banishing it was apparently beyond him.
Clarion sat back in an effort to regain control of himself, and had almost managed it by the time the next course was brought. Chilled fish with a tangy sauce it was, just the thing to attract his weakening but still-active appetite. The others also let themselves be somewhat distracted by the newly arrived dish, but not to the point of abandoning their discussion. Their pointless, ridiculous discussion which had nothing to do with him, and which he therefore ignored. Leave it to the lower classes to upset a gentleman without even knowing they did it.
After the chilled fish came tidbits of chicken and various sauces to dip them in, and that finally settled Clarion’s hunger. A light dessert of banana slices mixed into buttercream topped it all off, and by then no one at the table was still part of a discussion. Everyone seemed to feel the waves of exhaustion rolling over them as strongly as Clarion did, so he wasn’t the only one to finish his tea, rise and bid a general good night, and then head for his room. Clarion had meant to discuss the size of his quarters, but at the moment it was simply too much trouble. Tonight he felt he would find it possible to sleep propped in the corner of a broom closet, but tomorrow would surely be another matter.
Yes, tomorrow he would speak to the lovely Tamrissa Domon, possibly with as much success as he’d had with Jovvi Hafford. Clarion climbed the stairs to his room with a smile of anticipation on his face, but that uncomfortable hardening had returned to his body. He usually had to exercise hard to rid himself of the condition, but possibly tonight his exhaustion would see to the matter. Tomorrow, however… Yes, tomorrow would definitely be another day.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Jovvi awoke to moderate sunshine coming through the curtains, and spent a moment enjoying the feel of the bed and the lack of a servant determined to wake her. That happened only rarely at Allestine’s residence, as Allestine believed in allowing her ladies only enough sleep to keep the blush of good health in their cheeks. Perhaps twice a year a holiday was declared and everyone was permitted to do as they pleased, but usually that happened only during some terrible storm that no one was able to get through. With Allestine even a shopping trip was business, as it let the girls show themselves off around town to men who might not know what marvelous courtesans her residence housed.