He shook his head impatiently. "Nay, she is too timid for that. She thinks herself at fault for that she insulted me by being suspicious, and now she feels a fool. She will not advertise that to her friends."
"Like as not; but we might be wiser to prevent the chance altogether."
Kynon turned sharply to stare at her. "To kill her? I say no!"
She laughed in his face. "Scruples, son of Accolon? Who would have guessed it?--Well, no doubt it would raise more questions than it would silence, if Athwenna were to meet with some accident or other. There would be inquiries, for one thing, and you would certainly have to face a truth-senser--it being known that you have spent time with her." Arianeira's beautiful face hardened. "But, Kynon, let there be no mistake here. If I see or sense that she is about to betray us, she dies, and that is that... Any road, it is in my mind that Tindal will serve my designs--our designs--to far better result."
"And if he does not?"
"We are no worse off than before. It will mean only delay and some difficulty, a little risk; the which we had already been prepared to deal with. But I do not think Tindal will prove so delicate of sensibility as your Athwenna."
"You have a plan, then."
Arianeira's lips curved in a smile. "Always."
*
When the beautifully lettered invitation arrived, delivered to his rooms by a retainer clad in the blue and silver livery of Gwynedd, Tindal was flattered and excited, but not, truth to tell, completely surprised. He had had a feeling that it was only a matter of time before the Princess Arianeira sent for him, and he had been right--as usual; though he was never to know he had been but her second choice.
In the weeks since his arrival in Keltia, Tindal had kept a profile lower even than usual. Except for the command appearance at the royal ceili, he had consistently declined the hundreds of social invitations with which all the Terrans had been inundated. He rather thought, however, that this particular one would be well worth accepting.
"Thank Her Highness for me," he said, on being assured that a verbal reply would be both sufficient and correct. "And tell her that I accept with very great pleasure the honor of her invitation."
On the night appointed, the page returned to Turusachan, to convey Tindal by closed chariot to the Gwyneddan palace. The high-rent district, thought Tindal, impressed, peering out the coach's windows as the silver and blue chariot rolled silently past exquisite brughs, the town-palaces of some of Keltia's oldest and wealthiest families, each in its own gardens.
Arriving at Llys Don, the Court of Don, maenor of the Princes of Gwynedd since the City was built, Tindal was flustered to see that a sizable crowd had gathered to watch for him.
"They heard that you would be the Princess's guest this night," explained the page, "and they wished to greet you suitably. It is a very great honor for Gwynedd that you have come," he added shyly.
Tindal nodded, distracted. He had not bargained on the omnipresent public curiosity, did not enjoy it, and would prefer not to have it generally gossiped that he had been Arianeira's guest.
Nothing to do, however, but brazen it out. He stepped down out of the chariot's upholstered innards, smiling and acknowledging the cheers, and disappeared into the palace
The entire household had assembled in the lower hall, and Tindal found himself being addressed by a white-haired old man with a proud military bearing and a warm smile.
"The greeting of the gods to you, stranger," he said in a surprisingly strong voice. "I am Pendaran, rechtair to the Prince. I welcome you in his name to his house."
"And I add my welcome to Pendaran's," said Arianeira, coming down the sweeping stone staircase. She had taken particular pains over her appearance tonight, and she knew that she was looking her best.
Tindal, bowing deeply to her, took in at one admiring glance the long sinuous line revealed by the clinging blue velvet guna, set off by wide jewelled bands at her wrists and hips. A sapphire-studded fillet circled her wide forehead, and against it her silver-blonde hair burned like gilt flame.
"Highness."
Arianeira smiled, well pleased by his reaction. "Shall we go up?"
Tindal followed her up the stairs to the Great Hall, noting the luxury all around him: gold-threaded tapestries on the marble walls, light-sconces cast in solid silver, priceless Kutheran carpets, five hundred years old, strewn on the stone floors. Gwydion's family were apparently not impoverished royalty, whatever else they might be...
They entered a huge stone-walled room, its hammerbeam ceiling gilded and painted, arrases covering the ashlar and a fire blazing in the head-high hearth on the far wall.
Arianeira gestured him to the place on her right at the long polished table in front of the fireplace, where gold dishes and goblets were laid out for two.
"Am I to be your only guest, Princess?"
"For dinner, aye," said Arianeira with a dazzling smile. "I wished, selfishly, perhaps, to keep the pleasure of your company to myself alone. But afterwards, we may be joined by one I think you will be interested to meet. We shall see." She nodded to an attendant to begin serving, and from a gallery high overhead came the music of a telyn, the little lap harp of the Gwynedd mountains.
Arianeira's purpose was to intrigue as well as to captivate, and soon she and Tindal were in animated conversation over the lavish meal.
"We have not visited Earth for a very long time, " she said in answer to one of his questions--a question Tindal had in fact asked numerous times before, all in vain. "Not since your years of the twentieth century, when your folk first developed instruments that could detect our presence and craft that could pursue us in air. Therefore we know almost nothing of your recent history... But even before that, it was dangerous to go back, and unpleasant; though we were by no means the only ones who did so."
"Why go back at all, then?" Tindal held out his goblet to be refilled.
Arianeira had dismissed the servitors and was pouring the wine herself.
"At first, only to make sure the way out was still there, for folk to find who could; and to take away with us those who made contact. After that, we returned at long intervals only for ideas--some were good ideas, others less good--and we took the good ones back with us, things like thoroughbred horses or the principles of symphonic music. We stole a great deal from you before our voyages ceased, I am sorry to say."
"That is all you thought worth the taking?" Tindal, by no means a planetary chauvinist, was nevertheless obscurely insulted on Earth's behalf: Surely there was much more worth stealing from Terra than horses and music. "Not electricity or atomic theory or medicine or philosophy?"
Before she replied, Arianeira rose from the table. "If you have no objections, Lieutenant, perhaps we might withdraw to my grianan? It is rather more comfortable than this great barn of a room."
As they walked down the corridors of the Llys, she returned to his unanswered question.
"Well, you forget, we share your own heritage of Greek and Roman classical thought, and we built our own philosophical edifices on the same foundation, even as did you. Why trouble, then, to take your later philosophies? Yours has grown with Terra as ours has grown with Keltia. As for medicine, most Kelts can heal themselves of minor things, small fevers and illnesses, and our trained healers can often cure by what you seem to consider magical means. Our science does not operate according to the laws of accepted electrical theory, as you, a scientist, have surely noticed; and atomic power is to us, as it is to most interstellar civilizations, an unnecessary and dangerous crudeness. For us, magic is the way."
"Magic," said Tindal gloomily, settling himself in a comfortable chair in Arianeira's grianan. "Yes, I was forgetting magic."
"In our midst, you would do well not to forget it. We have sorcerers among us of such might that if they wished it so, this planet could be blown to powder beneath our feet. The measure of their control is that the planet remains; those who wield that kind of power have also a system of checks and reins upon that powe
r you cannot begin to imagine."
"Those reins did not halt Aeron, one time I have heard tell of."
She looked up, half-frowning; his tone had been bland, but his eyes sparkled with malice.
"Aye so, though she paid dearly for her lapse--she is perhaps something soft-hearted for a High Queen."
"What about wars? I'm sure I give away no state secrets when I say that war seems to be a major preoccupation of quite a few people just about now."
"That does not surprise me," said Arianeira. "And yes, we have certainly had wars, civil wars as well as out-Wall conflicts. We are less remote than Earth from other civilizations, though still well off the main trade routes. But for the past fifteen hundred years we have had the protection of the Curtain Wall--though I, for one, have ever thought the Wall was more to keep us in than to keep you others out. Nay, we have had our full share of conflict, and doubtless we shall have other conflicts in time to come. Perhaps sooner than any of us think."
Tindal leaned back in his chair, suddenly sure. "We seem to understand each other very well, Princess. May I speak freely?"
"Of course. Was that not why I asked you to come, and why you chose to accept? We are much alike, Tindal. I perceived that the first night, at the ceili; why else do you think I have stayed all these weeks at Caerdroia?" She filled a silver quaich with usqueba and passed it to him. "You were, even then, looking to find a way to make Keltia do something for your personal benefit, not so?"
He smiled, a little twistedly. "You are indeed perceptive as well as lovely. Was I just being incredibly obvious, or are you simply an uncommonly good telepath?"
"Obvious only to one whose thoughts tended in the same direction--but I have proved before now that I can conceal my thoughts even from Aeron and my own brother, and they are two uncommon telepaths indeed... You have naught to fear, and much to gain, if you throw in with me."
"How may this be?"
She took a deep breath. Now they had come to it. "I have your word of secrecy? I could, of course, use my art to compel you to silence, but I think you might prefer to arrange your own censorship."
"Quite. Well, you have my word, then."
Arianeira smiled, as much with relief as with excitement. "Kynon, you may enter now."
The hangings were pushed aside, and a man came in. In his hand he carried a telyn, and he rippled a little chord on it as he bowed first to Arianeira, then to Tindal.
"Lady, lord, your servant." He dropped into a chair without waiting for the Princess's permission, and grinned knowingly at Tindal. "I have heard much of you, Terran."
"Then you have the advantage of me, sir," said Tindal coolly, and Arianeira laughed.
"Peace here! You are two who must be friends if our plan is to work to all our good... Lieutenant, I present to you Kynon ap Accolon, of Ruabon on my home planet of Gwynedd. He can tell you best of the plan that we have made."
Kynon, leaning forward, took the silver quaich from Tindal, and, holding it between his hands, all trace of levity gone now, trained his dark glance on the Terran and began to talk.
*
"But how can you be so sure of Jaun Akhera?" asked Tindal. They had been discussing Kynon's plan for two hours now, and this was the point to which they kept returning. "Or is there actually honor among thieves? Or among traitors and would-be regicides, as the case may be."
Arianeira flushed angrily. "Call me what names you please, Terran, but my bargains are not lightly broken, and no more are the Prince of Alphor's. Here, they will not be broken at all. There will be no betrayal here."
"Only Aeron's." Tindal drummed his fingers on the side of the empty quaich. "I am in it," he said with sudden decision.
Beneath the fillet's sapphires, Arianeira's eyes blazed with equal blue brilliance.
"You will? Oh, Tindal, you will not rue the bargain, and we need you sorely."
Tindal looked once into those eyes and could not look away again. From a very great distance he heard Kynon's voice, slow with amused scorn.
"The Princess means, Lieutenant, that your help will make things a great deal simpler for us. As science officer, you have access to your ship's combanks and computers and power sources. If you assist us, we can use that equipment to transmit to Jaun Akhera."
"You've transmitted to him before," said Tindal, his eyes still on Arianeira. "Aren't your own facilities better and more extensive than the ship's?"
"They are good enough, for illicit equipment, and I have transmitted to him more than once. But always through a relay ship hookup: inefficient, and very dangerous, but the best I could manage. Now we need to contact Jaun Akhera one more time only: to fix the time and place of the invasion. You can imagine we wish to take no chances with that message... It will be harder to intercept, and impossible to trace, if you send it for us, by way of the Sword. You can do this?" Kynon shot the question at him, and Tindal blinked.
"Yes--yes, of course, nothing easier, really."
"And you will do this?" murmured Arianeira, in a voice like slow honey. Her eyes seemed to Tindal to be growing larger, silver-blue mountain pools where the ice had frozen clear as crystal, the moving water plain beneath the surface. Tindal was falling into those pools, numbed by the cold and frozen by her beauty...
He did not notice that Kynon had left them, only that Arianeira had twined her arms around his neck, was leading him to a curtained recess, warm and firelit and richly hung with silken curtains over a wide soft bed.
In the morning she was gone, the silkwool sheets cold with her absence, the fur coverlets rumpled as she had left them. Servitors with carefully expressionless faces came to help him bathe and dress, then served him breakfast and conveyed him back to Turusachan in the same chariot in which he had ridden the night before. It was all so remote and weird now, a dream of too much usqueba compounded with his own fantasies.
That afternoon, a royal page with Aeron's badge sewn to his tunic breast knocked on Tindal's door.
"From the Princess Arianeira, lord."
After the page had gone, Tindal opened the blue leather box with the Gwynedd arms stamped in gold on the lid. It had been no dream, then...
Pinned to the box's white velvet lining was a silver cloak brooch, shaped like a sword.
Chapter Twelve
The King of Fomor and his only legitimate son had fought all the way from Alphor back to their homeworld. Starship crewmen from commanders to cadets had kept well clear of the cabin on the bridge deck where their royal family was engaged in such wrathful disputation, and now that the ship's shuttle had landed, that contention was being carried undiminished into the palace itself.
Guards flattened themselves against the walls as Bres stormed into the family quarters with Elathan only a few steps behind him. The King's face was all lowering brow and blazing eye, his heir's scarcely less full of furious passion.
"Enough!" roared Bres. "My heir you may be--though at this moment, by all the gods, I'd alter that if I could--but you are not yet master here! I have heard your arguments, and I find them unacceptable and insupportable. Were you twenty times my son, I would yet think this sudden desire for peace with Keltia the thought of a coward, and a treasonous coward at that!"
Elathan's own anger blazed higher still. "Lord and Father--"
"Leave us! No, I shall leave--I have matters of state to discuss, and I would do so with those who are still loyal to their King and servant to his wishes!"
With a straight-armed shove he flung the doors wide, nearly knocking over the lady who stood on the other side of them, and without another word passed from the room.
Basilea the Queen recovered her balance and stared fearfully after her husband, then cast a reproachful mute look at her son and hurried out into the corridor, leaving Elathan balked and furious.
In the Queen's train, a sweet-faced lady, very dark of hair and very fair of skin, had curtsied with the others as Bres strode past. She remained dipped until Elathan, turning and seeing the bowed head, raised her and dre
w apart with her.
Wide blue flower-petal eyes, dark now with alarm and loving concern, sought his face.
"What is Keltia to your father, my lord, that it should sow such anger between you?" Camissa of Broighter, for all her long experience at Court, was shaken enough to forget royal protocol, addressing her betrothed before he addressed her.
Elathan, who cared little enough for protocol and still less for its practice in private, sighed wearily and put his arm around the delicate shoulders.
"You may well ask, beloved."
Mindful of the glances--most approving, some envious--cast their way by the Queen's ladies, Camissa led him out onto the wide terrace that overlooked the city of Tory a thousand feet below.
"Do you wish to speak of it?" she murmured, leaning her head against his shoulder.
As ever when he was with her, Elathan felt his tensions lessening, the adrenalin murderousness he had felt against his own father ebbing away to be replaced by something like tired peace. He buried his face in the masses of flower-scented hair, his dark blond head the more golden by contrast to its shadows.
"I have no wish to speak of it," he said. "But it is a thing you must hear, and I had rather you heard it from me than some other." Briefly he recounted the events on Alphor, and the history of the Fomor-Keltia feud, and Camissa listened with growing horror.
"And such," he concluded bitterly, "is the family grudge into which you shall be marrying, and why my father now allies with Strephon, a man he hates, against the Kelts, whom he hates still more."
"But that is a terrible thing! I remember Bellator, of course," she said, her voice faltering a little. "Who among our people does not... but I had not known the rest of it--your father's long quarrel with Queen Aeron's father. Surely equal wrong has been done on both sides--cannot she and my lord Bres let it rest there?"
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