by Sharon Green
Clarion sighed as he paused to sip at his tea, remembering how distressed he’d felt over that decision earlier this morning. At first he couldn’t think of a thing that would help him accomplish his aim, and that included a place to start. After all, how can you repair your lacks when you don’t even know exactly what those lacks are?
And then that practical joke had been played on him, which at the time had seemed to make things worse. He’d gotten out of bed to pace while he considered his problem, and after a moment or two he’d noticed the oddest thing: a tiny thunderstorm raining all over his right arm. Where the miniature clouds had come from he had no idea, but the sleeve of his nightshirt was becoming drenched along with his arm.
Trying to move away from the thing had been useless, as it had followed relentlessly with its small lightning flashes and matching rumbles of thunder. After another moment Clarion had lost patience and had used his talent to separate the components of the little storm. With air surrounding those components and refusing to let them come together again, the storm had had no choice but to dissipate completely. Clarion had been outraged that someone would play such a foolish trick on a man of his place in life—but then another thought had come to him.
“Could this possibly be the way members of the lower classes make overtures of friendship to one another?” he’d muttered aloud. “If the person chosen as victim protests in anger or upset, they’re rejected as being too stuffy to associate with. But if they laugh, or possibly turn the tables by pretending nothing has happened, they’re considered acceptable.”
It was only a theory, but Clarion needed very badly to be considered acceptable to join some group. Only by observing and listening would he discover those areas where he lacked knowledge or experience, and then he could see to repairing the lack. It would have done him a good deal more good if he were among members of his own social class, but the proper people weren’t here just now and these lower class representatives were. He would simply have to cope as best he might, and then, at the first opportunity, move his efforts to the vicinity of those who really counted.
And so Clarion had dressed and gone down to breakfast, only to be delightfully surprised when that fellow Coll made the opening advances for him. The apology had been totally unexpected, and it had thrown Clarion far enough off balance that he’d responded unthinkingly in what had turned out to be the best way possible. Clarion’s admission of ignorance over certain matters had brought a sympathetic and helpful reaction from Coll, and possibly would do so again once the man was over his distress at what had become of his friend.
Clarion pushed his empty plate away and sat back with his teacup, satisfied in more ways than one. He would have to encourage as many conversations with these people as possible, during which he would strive to learn what had been kept from him by accident. And in the interim he would consider what he’d decided about his current position, which could well change his mind even more in relation to those tests.
Becoming a member of the new Blending… Of course it was a position for a gentleman, how could he have thought it might not be? And it was also one that no one could possibly consider useless or foolish…
* * *
Vallant came down the stairs feeling faintly annoyed, but that feeling disappeared entirely when he caught sight of his hostess standing in the hall below, speaking to two of the servants. Today she wore a dress of pale yellow embroidered with small ivory flowers, and the night’s sleep seemed to have worked really well for her. Incredible as it was, she looked even more beautiful than she had yesterday, something Vallant would have sworn was impossible. He slowed his pace on the stairs, deciding that that would be the perfect time to offer that apology he’d decided to make. As soon as the servants were through speaking to her, he would take their place.
But in the meanwhile he had a few minutes, so he used them to wonder what could have gotten into that man Pagin Holter. The little groom hadn’t seemed to be the sort to play practical jokes, so maybe the tiny thunderstorm that had tried to drown Vallant in his room had been more of a challenge. It could have been a matter of, “Look at what I can do,” but if so even that matter was taken care of. Removing all the moisture from the miniature clouds had ended the storm and any challenge together, the whole thing done firmly but quietly.
Which ought to end the matter completely. Vallant had decided against mentioning the incident if Holter didn’t, and the groom probably wouldn’t. When your challenge is accepted and met with very little fuss, it doesn’t become something to boast about. Vallant would have enjoyed knowing why Holter had challenged him in the first place, especially if it had been the matter of becoming one of the new Blending. He himself had very little interest in the possibility, but maybe Holter hadn’t realized that. If so, he really ought to tell him—
Vallant’s thoughts broke off when he saw the servants getting ready to walk away from Tamrissa Domon, his signal to start moving closer. His timing was good in that he’d just finished descending the stairs, so he ambled over and stepped into the place the servants had just left.
“Excuse me, Dama Domon, but I’d like to speak to you for a moment,” he said when she raised those incredible violet eyes to look up at him, “I owe you an apology, and I’m always rather strict about payin’ my debts.”
“Are you really,” she said rather flatly, a tinge of pink coloring her cheeks. “I should think it would be easier to do things that don’t require apology. Then you would have fewer debts.”
“If I ever become perfect, I’ll certainly follow that advice,” Vallant answered, not at all encouraged by her manner but determined not to let the matter go. “At the moment I’m still an ordinary human, however, so the apology is in order. Yesterday, in the bath house, I doubted your word about bein’ the mistress of this house. As I’ve since been proven mistaken, I offer my deepest and most sincere apologies.”
“Is that it?” she asked, interrupting Vallant’s most charming bow. “You’re apologizing for doubting my word?”
“What else is there to apologize for?” he asked in turn, feeling somewhat confused. “I covered the matter of bargin’ in on you at the time, a circumstance which you should have understood since you shared it. What else did you have in mind?”
“If you need me to tell you that, then I’d be wasting my breath,” she returned, looking up at him defiantly. “By all means have your fun, Dom Ro, but don’t make the mistake of getting in my way when the tests begin again. Unlike you, I mean to go through to the very end of them, and I refuse to let some overgrown child upset me. I will win through, do you understand me?”
“Overgrown child?” Vallant demanded, well on the way to being thoroughly outraged. “Yes, Dama Domon, I believe I understand you all too well. You’re clearly used to gettin’ your way in life, through your beauty if not through the sharpness of your tongue. I’ve known other women who believed their beauty excused any action they took, but they were just as mistaken as you are. And if you think there’s somethin’ wrong with occasionally havin’ fun, you must be a good deal older than you look.”
“You’re quite right, Dom Ro,” she said, her face now pale rather than flushed, her voice trembling faintly. “I’m completely used to getting my own way because of my beauty, and the practice is much too pleasant to give up. Unlike you, I dislike giving up, preferring instead to stand victorious and proud. And now, if you’ll excuse me—”
“Just a moment,” Vallant said, moving to his left to keep her from stepping around him. “That’s twice you’ve said somethin’ about not bein’ like me, and I don’t care for the tone of your insinuations. Just what do you find so terrible about me?”
“I can’t stand someone with talent being too afraid to exercise it,” she answered, now clearly fighting to keep her voice steady. And her eyes, the indescribable look in those breathtaking eyes… “It may sound good to say you have other things to do with your life, but I think the truth is you’re just too afraid to try somethi
ng you may fail at. Warla is like that, and a lot of other women, but I’ll never be. That, Dom Ro, is what I—dislike about you, and now I will appreciate your getting out of my way.”
Vallant felt a very strong urge to continue the argument, but the girl’s trembling had become more visible and he could almost feel the tension in her. It had to be his imagination that he could see a hint of flames beginning to burn in her gaze, but he still bowed curtly and stepped aside. After what she’d said to him he didn’t want to talk to her, maybe not even to continue the argument. A quitter and coward, that’s what she’d called him, and how do you speak politely—or even argue evenly—with someone who thinks that about you?
As soon as her path was clear she moved toward the dining room, her back straight and her head up but her pace a little too fast to be called a stride. She all but ran to get away from him, possibly to keep from contracting the dread disease that he suffered from. She’d sworn she’d never be that pitifully low and despicable, but she did seem to think the condition might be catching…
Vallant turned away from the door she’d disappeared through, fighting to control the emotions exploding inside him. How dare she call him such terrible things without knowing anything about him? Even if she had known him she wouldn’t have had the right to judge, not when he was the one who had to live in his skin. He wasn’t a quitter, and it wasn’t cowardice…
It was just fear. Vallant took a deep breath, then admitted to himself what he would never admit aloud. He was afraid to try for anything but being what he was, the captain of a ship. Almost everything else required being indoors too much of the time, possibly even being inside some place that wasn’t easily gotten out of. That idea was enough to frighten the manhood out of him, to turn him as weak and helpless as that child she’d named him. He couldn’t help it, couldn’t control it—and couldn’t make it stop.
“So why bother thinkin’ about what I might do under other circumstances?” he murmured, the bitter end of the argument he would never put into words. “Go ahead and call me a quitter, it won’t change anythin’. I can’t change what I am even if the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met disapproves. I’m used to bein’ a disappointment to beautiful women, especially the ones accustomed to gettin’ their own way.”
Vallant made a sound of sour amusement, wondering why he always seemed to attract that sort. Or be attracted by them. Her violent refusal to join his counter-illustrious ranks was something different, but the rest of Dama Tamrissa Domon was probably just like Mirra, the girl he’d thought he would be happy to marry. Happy, certainly, he would surely be happy. But not with Mirra and not there, in stifling Gan Garee. He would get back to the Sea Queen, and then he would be happy.
He waited a few moments until he was completely back in control of himself, and then he went to the dining room to join the others for breakfast.
CHAPTER TWENTY
By the time I got my plate filled with the breakfast I really needed, I almost had full control of myself again. But that didn’t mean I’d figured out what that Vallant Ro was up to. First he puts together a tiny thunderstorm to rain all over my nightdress, and I have to get rid of it by using my flames to evaporate the moisture in it. That makes me determined to tell him off properly, but before I can, he comes over to apologize.
But not for playing that childish joke. He apologizes instead for doubting me the day before, when I hadn’t even known he was doing it. Giving him the chance to apologize for the joke as well turns out to be a waste of effort, since he then pretends he knows nothing about it. And after everything he’s done, he then has the nerve to ask why I don’t like him!
Only the fact that there were other people around kept me from shaking my head as I sat down at the table. One word had led to another with Dom Ro, and when he’d gotten angry I’d felt that very familiar clutch of fear in my middle. But this time I hadn’t let it paralyze me the way it usually had with Gimmis, and I’d been ready to protect myself with everything I had. The man must have seen that because he’d stepped out of my way, and I’d been able to escape here to the dining room.
Able to continue on to the dining room, I amended as I began to eat. Gimmis was dead, so I no longer had to think in terms of escape. I was now a free woman and would stay one, no matter how many people tried to change that. Vallant Ro hadn’t liked being called a quitter, but I’d suddenly seen he was precisely that. A grown man of his size, handsome and charming and filled with an unconscious but very forceful authority; what could he know about fear, and how hard some people had to fight not to fall victim to it? Winning my way through the tests could well mean escaping the fear for good, so that was a goal I refused to abandon.
I spent a few moments simply eating, but then an anomaly in my private arguments pushed forward to take my attention. I’d accused Vallant Ro of being afraid to exercise his talent to the fullest, and then I’d silently demanded to know what he could possibly understand about fear. If the man pretended disinterest in the tests to keep from finding out how far his ability could take him, he had to be afraid of something. It was impossible to imagine what that something could be, since Dom Ro appeared to have enough self assurance to supply a small town.
And enough size and presence to protect himself from anything. I glanced at the man where he sat, almost at the other end of the table, and a pang of guilt came when I remembered everything I’d said to him. He ate as silently as everyone else, giving full attention to his meal, but he no longer looked angry. Disturbed, yes, but no longer angry, and it came to me that it might be my turn to apologize. Even in spite of silly practical jokes.
Breakfast continued along in the same silent way, as though all of us were too wrapped up in private thoughts for casual conversation to divert us. Many of them must have been thinking about my own main topic, which was the reminder we’d been given about this being a twenty-fifth year.
Funny how I’d known that without having considered it, as though it were so far out of reach that it wasn’t worth thinking about. Now it was no longer that far out of reach, even though my becoming a member of the new Blending wasn’t very likely. No matter how much gold my father had we still weren’t members of the nobility, and all of the most recent Blendings had been composed of nothing else. What I now wondered, though, was the possibility of a way around that…
Breakfast broke up in almost the same order it began, except for Vallant Ro being one of the first to leave. I decided to try to find him in order to offer that apology, but he wasn’t in his room or anywhere else I could find. Then I was captured by members of my staff who needed instructions on various dealings with our guests—in spite of my no longer being in charge of anything—and that took up most of the rest of the morning.
By the time I escaped from updating household records and approving menus and setting up service rotations – it was such a relief not to be in charge for the length of the tests—it was time for lunch. This time there was some small amount of conversation, but none of it touched the topic of the new Blending. It seemed we were all saving that for another time, and even before we rose from table we were told the coaches had arrived to take us for those fittings for our new clothes.
Two coaches were pulled up in front of the house, back-dropped by the storm clouds which had been gathering for the last hour or two. We three women took one of the coaches together, which meant one of the men had to ride with us. It was something of a relief when that turned out to be Eskin Drowd, the young academician and Earth magic applicant. I’d been afraid it might be Vallant Ro, who hadn’t given me the chance to apologize—but who had taken to staring at me in a very odd way.
“My goodness, what a terrible burden this is to bear,” Dom Drowd said with a grin as he settled himself beside Beldara Lant. Jovvi Hafford sat to my right, the place she’d chosen after Beldara had taken the seat opposite mine. “Three exquisitely lovely ladies, and myself the only man amongst them. Ah well, life demands that we take the bad with the good.”
“The device was quite simple, dear lady,” Dom Drowd replied with his own laugh. “I realized almost immediately that each coach would only seat four comfortably, and therefore made certain to be the last of the group. I’d hoped, you see, that you ladies would travel together, and fortune smiled on my carefully thought out preparations.”
“How odd,” Beldara said, giving him a very cool look. “I could have sworn you’d forgotten to bring your silver down to lunch with you, and had to be reminded to return to your room to fetch it. Or wasn’t that you who was nearly out the door ahead of everyone else?”
“I would never think to cast doubt on a lady’s word,” Dom Drowd returned, his tone still easy but all amusement suddenly gone from his eyes. “If that’s what you wish to believe, please continue to do so. My previous remarks stand as they were made.”
“As if that alone makes them true,” Beldara returned with a smile of ridicule. “Nothing you say rings true, especially what you’ve had the nerve to comment about me. A man with true intelligence would know enough to sit quietly and not make a fool of himself.”
“It takes wisdom to recognize foolhardiness, Dama Lant, which means you don’t qualify,” Dom Drowd countered in a drawl, smiling at the girl without true humor. “I suspect your jealousy now begins to get the better of you, since you’re no longer among those who worship you as unique. Haven’t you yet realized that your only true competitor among us is the lovely Dama Domon? You and she share the same aspect, after all, so why do you spread your vitriol among the rest of us? Do you fear, perhaps, that we will prevail while you do not?”
“I fear nothing where you’re concerned,” Beldara returned with scorn, but then her rather intense gaze came to me. “But I must say I hadn’t realized that Tamrissa and I shared the same aspect. I hope you won’t be too upset when I outdo you, dear. I’m sure you’re really very good, but I’m better. You’d be wise to accept that truth now, to spare yourself disappointment later.”