“I’ll know more when the Seamage Moudrost eventually catches up to me,” I sighed, “but once he does, and we strike a bargain, I have a suspicion that it’s going to require a titanic effort to fulfill the Vundel’s desires. Having a force at hand dedicated to doing that would be helpful. Conversely,” I added, as I poured her more wine, “it will be incredible fodder for some future epic,” I consoled. “We ephemeral humans love that sort of thing.”
“I’ve held this form for years, now,” Ithalia said, after studying me a moment. “And I’ve spent most of my time amongst your folk. Yet I still cannot tell when you wizards are joking, most of the time.”
“If it’s any consolation, my dear,” I smiled, “neither can we.”
Part Two
Spellgarden Summer
“While Minalan was in absolute authority over the Magelaw, he maintained a close and personal loyalty to his nominal liege, Anguin I, Duke of Alshar. Whether it was the wizard’s affection for the Orphan Duke or the Duke’s need for a fatherly figure without personal designs in his court, there was a genuine friendship between the two that surpassed the normal bonds betwixt vassal and liege. When Anguin sought to consummate his controversial and long-awaited nuptials with Princess Rardine, he contrived to invite Minalan and Alya to the affair, as members of his court, to face his future in-laws. That one of them was responsible for Minalan’s exile was well-understood by all parties. Yet Minalan’s inclusion was to prove fateful to all parties, as well.”
From the Scrolls Of Lawbrother Bryte The Wiser
Chapter Twelve
A Summer Wedding
Summer brought more than warm weather and sunny days . . . it also brought the day of the union of two great Ducal houses to hand. The time approached when I had to depart Vanador for a week to attend my young friend Anguin’s wedding to my former enemy Rardine. As she had also arranged for the assassination of his parents, and he had nearly exposed her mother’s illegitimacy, one could say that they had a complicated relationship.
But the two cousins had found common cause, affection and political advantage at pursuing a marriage that irritated Rardine’s mother and challenged her brother’s future as heir to the throne. Negotiations had dragged on all winter, as his ministers and representatives of the Royal Family hashed out the last details of a dowry agreement so complex it took four scrolls to detail.
Once the ink was dry on the agreement, however, the young couple pushed ahead, scheduling their nuptials for the earliest convenient date.
That happened to be just after Midsummer, on a minor religious festival in Falas. Anguin arranged for the celebration, and was using it and his wedding as a powerful, tangible sign of his rule over the once-rebellious capital.
Alya and I stayed with Pentandra for that week in the Tower of Sorcery, her official residence as Alshari Court Wizard. I was honored – it was a delightful place. Once the original palace of the Count of Falas, before the present palace complex was constructed a century before, the complex was a magnificent residence for the ducal court wizard. Though old, the tower was stately, constructed in the transitional style of the robust Middle Magocracy. Pentandra had spent a small fortune refurbishing and refurnishing it, after its previous residents (the last dregs of the Censorate of Magic) had fled to Farise.
She and Arborn were glad to host us for the event. They’d both had a busy few months since Anguin’s return, helping him restore his rule and punish the rebels who still lurked in Enultramar, not to mention adapting to parenthood. A baby can challenge a couple. Triplets? That took magic and Kasari dedication. It was tough work, I knew. But at least the facilities at the Tower of Sorcery were superior to the cramped space she’d worked in at the old palace in Vorone, and I said as much.
“The amenities are nice, and the shopping is far superior,” Pentandra admitted, the second day we were there, “but the city stretches out for so far along the river that it takes a while to find yourself in the actual countryside. I do sometimes miss that,” she said, wistfully. “I grew used to the proximity of nature in Vorone.”
“How is Arborn making the adjustment?” I asked, cautiously. Alya was safely settled in our chambers and Pentandra and I were enjoying a glass of Cormeeran wine on the balcony of the spire. It was the first time we’d had privately in months.
“Better than I figured,” she said, thoughtfully. “After living in the palace in Vorone, this wasn’t much different, from his perspective. One city is just as bad as another to the Kasari. Actually, I think he secretly enjoys it,” she confided with a smirk. “As dedicated he was to his duty, when we first came to Falas I caught him all but sightseeing in the city center!” she giggled.
“And the rebellion?” I inquired, almost as cautiously.
“All but gone,” she reported with satisfaction. “The Four Counts are deposed and mostly executed or fled into exile. A few of the midlevel rebels have escaped into the hinterlands, and a few have hanged themselves, rather than face the Duke’s justice. Anguin has established himself in power rather forcefully. Having Rardine at his side certainly helps.” That was far more admiration from Pentandra for the woman than I expected.
“Really? I thought she’d be full of scheming malevolence, by now,” I murmured.
“That woman understands power like no one I’ve ever seen,” Pentandra said, half critically and half in admiration. “She has been the force behind Anguin’s consolidation of the remaining high nobility. Rardine managed to broker an alliance between the remaining Sea Lords, secured the allegiance of the bulk of the fleet and the got the Vale Lords to firmly support our lad.”
“She sounds persuasive,” I mused.
“Anyone who objects gets an audience with Her Highness. They usually find some terribly good reason to withdraw their objections, afterward,” Pentandra informed me.
“So she’s the real power behind the throne,” I sighed, shaking my head. “I did not support the boy and his restoration just to see him become a puppet.”
“Oh, Anguin is no puppet!” Penny assured me. “He’s overruled Rardine a dozen times in matters of policy. In open court.”
“And he still lives?” I asked, shocked.
“She seems to welcome the correction, and she supports her intended husband all the more forcefully,” Pentandra explained. “It matters not what Anguin does. Where Rardine is concerned, his word is law, and she is the enforcer of that law.”
“That doesn’t sound like the brat I’ve come to know,” I said, skeptically.
“She’s not,” Pentandra affirmed. “She’s a far more evolved and dangerous brat. Rardine quickly made alliance with Lady Gatina, after she arranged the full Restoration in such a bold and decisive way. The two of them have become fast friends, as well as allies, and that makes Her Highness significantly better informed than a prospective bride usually is.”
“And Grendine’s hand?” I inquired, pointedly. I could not imagine the queen quietly accepting her estranged daughter’s victory over her without consequence. Grendine was the ‘Mother’ of the ‘Family’ – code words for being the head of the royal intelligence service. And assassination squad. Rardine was once her most trusted lieutenant; now she was a bitter rival.
“Entirely absent,” Penny assured, pleased with the report. “Rardine is livid with her mother, after Olum Seheri. And angry at her idiot brother and his wife. Every plot to infiltrate Enultramar by the Family has been exposed. Only one of the Family’s Daughters elected to follow Rardine here – the rest are Grendine’s creatures . . . and Rardine knows every one of them by face, operation and habit. Within a week she’d shut down the Family’s spies here. Any news Grendine receives of Alshar comes by gossip and Mirror Array, not Her Majesty’s trusted agents.”
“So Alshar is free,” I sighed.
“Alshar is free, united and about to be ruled by the most robust ducal family in three generations,” Pentandra corrected. “That said, Alshar is also a bubbling cauldron of chaos, once you look past the
surface. That’s one of the main reasons behind Anguin peeling off the Magelaw and the Wilderlaw into palatinates. It reduces the amount of attention he has to spare them. It will take years for the duchy to properly recover. But the wedding will help,” she predicted. “Everyone likes a wedding.”
“Let’s hope so. If we can get Anguin safely wed, then perhaps we can get on with our own lives. And get back to the war. Only . . .you don’t look like you want to get back to the war,” I observed. Penny looked tired, passing tired. Having a demanding job will do that to you. Having three or four demanding jobs rolled up into one compounds the matter. Raising triplet toddlers on top of that had taxed even her reserves, I could tell.
“I am in the war,” she corrected, frowning. “The swamps are overrun with undead. We’ve all but abandoned the southwestern counties. And with Farise in rebel hands, our merchant fleet can only proceed beyond the bay in heavily-guarded squadrons. It would be helpful for me to contend with it all if I didn’t have to worry about the ducal houses plotting to stab each other in the back. Believe me, Min, I’m in the war,” she promised.
“I blame the Remerans,” I mused, as I poured us each more wine. “Their biggest cultural export was the Game of Whispers. Both families have heavily intermarried into the Remeran ducal house. It’s made the Narasi pick up bad Imperial habits,” I teased.
“That just makes it interesting, but no less problematic,” she countered with a chuckle. “Anguin has planned a full week of banquets, hunts, events, jousts, parties and receptions to celebrate his nuptials. He will host Their Majesties and their entourage at the palace, during their stay. As members of both the Royal and Alshari Ducal courts, you are obligated to attend a lot of them,” she reminded me. “That should be fun, with the Prince’s enmity still fresh in mind.”
“Yes, I’m not looking forward to it,” I agreed, glumly. “Any chance his heart has softened since he exiled me?”
“From what I understand, it has hardened more,” she said, shaking her head. “Rumor has it that he tries to distract himself with military concerns and affairs of state. Particularly the Wenshari matter.”
“There’s a Wenshari matter?” I asked, surprised.
“When isn’t there?” Penny complained, loftily. “Remere has always had a Wenshari matter. Now the Kingdom does, as well. More so, now that Wenshar is united under one sovereign count.”
“So what’s the nature of the Wenshari matter?” I had to ask, didn’t I?
“Merwyn is conducting maneuvers and threatening Wenshar, seeking to pare it off into their sphere of influence,” Pentandra explained. “A common ploy, to challenge the new regime. It’s nothing new,” she dismissed. “Hells, at this point it’s almost traditional. It’s certainly nothing to concern the Royal Court with. But Tavard wants someone to fight, and he doesn’t know how to fight the enemy he should, in Farise. So I think he’s trying to drum up a chance for glory against the Merwyni, gallantly defending Wenshar. Or at least that’s what I’m guessing.”
“If he’s patient, Korbal will come to him and he can bathe in glory,” I observed. “You know he’s going to strike back against us, after the indignity of his loss at Olum Seheri. Dragons were but the most impulsive of his retributions. When he sends the Nemovorti and their draugen against us in earnest, then Prince Tavard will have foes to slay to his heart’s content.”
“Yes, but he doesn’t want those foes,” Pentandra clucked. “He found out after his ‘victory’ at the Poros that defeating gurvani isn’t nearly as honorable as fighting his fellow nobles. And the Nemovorti? I think he fears such a contest, after the attack on the royal palace,” Penny suggested, frankly. “Merwyni knights are far less intimidating to his honor than the living dead. Or sorcery. When he saw what they did to his father’s palace, and the devastation of Castabriel, it unnerved him mightily. The fact that you were present at both occasions is one of the things that adds to his resentment of you.”
“Damn it, I was being helpful! I suppose it’s a burden I will just have to bear. Thankfully, his cousin is more cheerful. I look forward to seeing the Orphan Duke in the fullness of his power. I didn’t think it would happen in my lifetime.”
“Nor mine,” Pentandra agreed. “Nor in my girls’.”
I got my chance to enjoy the company of the duke the very next day, as I was invited to a hunt with Anguin and his gentlemen in a park near the palace. The estate was called Foxdale, due to an abundance of the little predators haunting the hedgerows of the park, but the Duke intended to hunt boar.
“Honestly, I’m not much on hunting at all, but with all these Wilderlords in my court, it’s difficult to get anything done unless I include such entertainments regularly. And I like ham,” he confided, at the pre-hunt festivities, when I had a moment alone with him. “Better than I like killing a helpless fox.”
“I’m just happy it’s not hawking,” I confessed. “I didn’t bring my giant falcons.”
Anguin looked the part of a dashing young sovereign, now. He’d grown into a man’s body, his shoulders broadening and his jaw firming with his maturity. Better, he was firmly in command of his court – of everything – in a way his late sire, Duke Lenguin, never had. Lenguin always seemed to be at the mercy of his court; Anguin unquestionably commanded his.
There were more than twenty of us in the hunting party, mostly high nobles and honored guest, including several men I knew on sight. Count Marcadine was there with two of his senior vassals, all dressed in fur-trimmed cloaks thrown back against the summer heat. Lord Furitus was also there, no longer hiding his white hair and violet eyes from the court. He had become high in Anguin’s counsels, and his son, Atopol, was one of Anguin’s gentlemen-of-court.
The Duke’s Forrester, Baron Arborn of Lotanz, was in attendance. My stoic Kasari friend looked like a courtier, compared to how he usually dressed, but with his handsome features and his distinctive bearing he stood out from even the Wilderlords. And Count Salgo, old friend and comrade, was enjoying his new position of Count of Rhemes in grand style. He loved a good boar hunt, too.
But then there were others I didn’t know: Sealords from the Great Bay, Coastlords who had supported Anguin’s claim to his throne during the rebellion, Vale Lords who’d ridden down from their upland estates to cleanse the capital of rebels and then stayed to support the Duke and celebrate his wedding.
Over them all, Anguin ruled both in practical terms and socially. The Orphan Duke strode and spoke with full confidence, greeting us all by name and laughing at casual jests as they were inevitably made. He was a man of good humor, for one who had been so touched by tragedy. And he seemed genuinely happy when he spoke of his bride.
It was a festive occasion that introduced me to the Alshari method of boar hunting. Three specialized types of dog were used to first scent, then drive and finally attack the pig, which was their sole objective. The specimen they flushed out of the underbrush was huge, too – a muscular boar with seven-inch tusks and a vicious gleam in its eyes.
I rarely indulge in such sports, but there was a certain compelling element to watching grown men swarm after the boar like a band of boys chasing a cat. It was an exciting afternoon, as the beast proved both daring and dangerous, slaying one of the hounds that pursued it and wounding two others. It was further touched with drama when, at the final struggle to bring the boar to bay, a slip of his heel sent Anguin dangerously close to the beast while the dogs bayed angrily at it.
Before I could raise my hand to cast a spell, Count Marcadine had interposed his long body betwixt the boar and the duke, his spear held steadily to fend off the tusks. At the same instant, Arborn made a diving roll that put him at his liege’s side, and Anguin’s bodyguard and elder, illegitimate half-brother, Gydion, took a firm position on his other side, interposing his body betwixt boar and brother. Gydion’s greatsword put an end to the beast in one decisive two-handed blow.
The three men quickly hauled the fallen duke to safety, though he was never truly at risk. Bu
t it was exciting, and it gave Anguin a chance to reward the three for their quick actions at the feast that night.
It was a merry evening, and Anguin’s gentlemen filled Foxdale Hall with laughter and song in celebration of their duke’s wedding. Most of the jests were ribald and hinted at the challenge the duke would have in taming the princess . . . always couched in innuendo or even poetry, if the courtier was talented thus and so inclined.
I expected to hear more passive enmity for Rardine under the jests of the Alshari, but I was mistaken. Remarkably, the gentlemen in court seemed to have a grudging respect for the Castali princess who had been their enemy for so long. Her ruthlessness in purging the government of rebels had seen many great houses fall . . . and many others rise to replace them in importance. There was admiration of her stoic endurance of her cruel captivity. Having her mother’s enmity helped; some of the gentlemen were old enough to remember the schemes of young Grendine in the Alshari court.
As the next day heralded the arrival of Rardine’s royal parents, I was glad to have a little fun before I had to contend with House Bimin. The new Royal Court Wizard brought the entire family through the Ways to the palace, allowing them to arrive in all their regal splendor. But they weren’t a particularly cheerful bunch.
King Rard was in the best mood of them all. Though he was smiling and pleasant, e seemed to have aged a decade since the death of his grandson and the attack on his palace. His once-golden hair now shone nearly white under his crown, and his beard was far more salt than pepper, now. While his eyes were still filled with care and deliberation, there was also a dogged weariness that filled them when they darted from one courtier to another.
Grendine was icily cold to the Alshari. Many of them still despised her from her own tenure within the ducal court, and had been glad to see her married off to Castal, twenty years before. Seeing her return was caustic . . . but seeing her return as a guest, instead of a conqueror, brought them some solace. Her ire with her disobedient daughter bought Rardine a little more respect from her own court as a result. It was clear to all that behind Queen Grendine’s frigid façade, there was deep envy of her daughter’s full possession of Alshar. As much as Grendine had schemed on Castal’s behalf to gain it, it was a delight to some patriotic Alshari to see her in such a position.
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