The Vildecaz Talents: The complete set of Vildecaz Stories including Nimuar's Loss, The Deceptive Oracle and Agnith's Promise (45 page)

“Is he paying court to Duzeon Ninianee?” Zhanf asked.

“He would like to be her official suitor, but she has consistently refused him,”

said Hoftstan. “She’s afraid he would use such an alliance as the excuse to annex Vildecaz to Otsinmohr, and bring it into the Porzalk Empire. He’s Riast’s cousin, and expanding the Empire would add to his consequence.”

“Do you think she would accept him if his motives were removed?” Zhanf looked worried as he put the question to Hoftstan.

“Zlatz, no,” said Hoftstan, making no apology for his language. “He is not to her liking at all. You’ve seen the man, haven’t you? Not a very prepossessing specimen. He is contemptuous of her skill in communicating with animals. What he wants is a secure dynasty with no trouble on the borders.” Hoftstan coughed diplomatically. “My second son?”

“That would be the one who has a talent for gambling? Rimdoch?”

“That would be he,” said Hoftstan. “He says that even the most hardened gamblers give poor odds on Maeshar’s chances with Ninianee. He’s not much-liked in Vildecaz. And Kazhtal, my oldest, has heard that Maeshar wouldn’t give up his two mistresses for one wife.”

“When did he hear that?”

Hoftstan swallowed hard, not liking to expose any of his family to possible repercussions from their acts. “He was down in Valdihovee, supervising the off-loading of supplies from the Drowned World, and he heard Maeshar’s men talking – they were there on a similar errand.”

“How long ago was that?” Zhanf gave his full attention to Hoftstan.

“Four, five days ago. He mentioned it to me four days ago.” Hoftstan sighed. “Not that I would support Ninianee accepting Maeshar for any reason as her Official Suitor, but I do worry for her. In this remote place she’s not likely to find any more worthy of her. She’ll be twenty-four soon – on the next First Day – old enough to know what will please her.”

Zhanf nodded. “And from what you tell me, Maeshar would not.”

“No. Most definitely not.” He made a gesture of helplessness. “But who else is there?”

“Doms Guyon,” said Zhanf, a bit speculatively.

“Doms Guyon?” Hoftstan repeated incredulously. “She has given him no encouragement – quite the opposite.”

“That is why he’s encouraged,” said Zhanf with a slight, knowing smile. “It’s why he followed her.”

Hoftstan shook his head. “I’ll take your word for it; you’re the magician. But I don’t see it myself.”

“He’s planning to protect her,” said Zhanf.

At this, Hoftstan laughed. “Oh, she’ll thank him for that,” he said with affectionate sarcasm.

“Actually, she may,” said Zhanf. He wagged an admonitory finger at Hoftstan. “You may not see it, but I don’t think she would resist him so adamantly if she weren’t attracted to him.”

Hoftstan kept his thoughts to himself, but he managed a nod of sorts. “I hope he knows what he’s getting into.”

“He thinks he does.” Zhanf folded his arms across his chest. “In the meantime what arrangements shall we make for the Frozen Moon Festival?”

“Ver Mindicaz and Dochanee Rocazin will know what to do,” said Hoftstan. “Duz Nimuar always left the realities up to them.” The Cook-Major and the Housekeeper-General could always be counted upon to manage the grand occasion with the apparent ease of long practice. “I will arrange for invitations to be carried in the next few days, if you believe we should continue the tradition.”

“Oh, by all means. If we fail to have the festival, the rumors about Nimuar will double or triple, and that will mean more problems for the Duzeons when they return, and possibly more pressure for Erianthee at Court.” He sighed. “You and Rocazin will know whom to invite. I won’t bother with the list of guests unless you think I should be aware of some of them.”

“I’ll talk to Housekeeper-General Rocazin later tonight. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has already prepared the list and set the scribes to writing them in formal hand.” Hoftstan chuckled in an effort to lighten the tone of their discussion.

“Will that include Zervethus Gaxamirin?” Zhanf inquired politely.

“I . . . I could see he is included,” said Hoftstan warily.

“With his secretary so much in evidence here, it would probably be wise,” said Zhanf. “Pareo will be here, and it would seem inappropriate if Gaxamirin were not included.”

“In his note to the Duzeons, said that he would arrive after the Reaper’s Moon, and that is upon us. Pareo must have informed him of what transpires here. He makes use of the spell-room with great regularity.” His disapproval was apparent.

“Then I suppose something should be arranged to accommodate him,” said Zhanf. “I would rather we didn’t have to deal with him just now, but – “

”But?” Hoftstan prompted. “You dislike this Imperial Scholar.”

“Nothing so strong or clearly defined,” Zhanf admitted, his expression becoming guarded. “But I am not sanguine about him, either. His motives, whatever they may be, trouble me.”

“Duz Nimuar speaks well of him,” said Hoftstan.

“After he was damaged by Yulko Bihn, he did. Before then he had many doubts about the man. He told me that he didn’t trust Gaxamirin’s ambitions, and I have not forgotten his observations.” He tapped the parchment rolled on the table in front of him. “I have been reading Duz Nimuar’s musings, in the hope I might find some hint as to where he has gone, and why.”

“And have you?”

“No. But I have seen several mentions of Gaxamirin, and not all of them to his credit. From what Duz Nimuar could recall, Gaxamirin had some connection to Yulko Bihn. It doesn’t seem that they were cordial, but it seems that they were not always in full accord. Did he ever speak to you of this?”

“No,” said Hoftstan with a shake of his head. “Not that I recall.”

“How do you mean?”

Hoftstan pressed his lips together. “There were times when Duz Nimuar was not easily comprehended. You know the affliction that took him after the battle with Yulko Bihn. If he told me about Gaxamirin during such an episode, I might not have comprehended what he said.” He cleared his throat. “I remember the Duz would occasionally mention the Imperial Scholar, but not in any way that suggested there were problems between them.”

“And you still expect him to arrive by mid-winter, do you?” Zhanf inquired without inflection.

“If he has decided not to come, there has been nothing said, or perhaps I should say, nothing reported to me. Pareo hasn’t mentioned his master’s plans, but . . . “

“I see,” said Zhanf. He contemplated the wall for a short while, then said, “Will you ask Yrich to come here to me when you go to speak to the Housekeeper-General. I have some messages to entrust to him.”

“Of course,” said Hoftstan, taking this as his signal to depart. He respected Zhanf and made for the door, glad to have some necessary work to do, for that kept him from the kind of fruitless brooding that had overcome him too often in the days since Duzeon Ninianee had left. He determined not to give way to such dejection and put his full attention on preparing for the festival. At least Vildecaz would seem to continue as if there were no hassles intruding on the people of the Duzky.

* * *

Erianthee stood on the wide balcony overlooking the animal park of Tiumboj Castle. She needed some time to herself, she decided, for since her arrival, she had been the object of more flattering attention than she had ever encountered, and it was beginning to wear on her. It was night, and the moon had risen, full and brilliant in the sky. As she had the month before, Erianthee was concerned for Ninianee, and felt she was failing her sister not to be at Vildecaz to guard her during her full-moon Change. It was useless to fret, but she couldn’t rid herself of agitation. Hearing one of the pack of drouches being its eerie wail, Erianthee took it as a chiding from the ferocious creature, and moved away from the wall.

“No, remain where you are,” said a voice from the shadows near the door, the simple request more of a plea.

Erianthee looked around, dismayed to realize she wasn’t alone. “Who is it?” she asked the darkness.

“Dozinen ae-Melukah. I thought you were aware of me, and were giving me the opportunity to approach you, I apologize if I misunderstood,” said the artist, stepping into the pool of light in the doorway and respecting her in the most formal manner. He was elegantly dressed, and his manner was so perfect that Erianthee could not help but be suspicious of him.

Returning his respect, she said, “I didn’t know you were there, Dozinen ae-Melukah.”

“You must forgive me,” he said, although it was clear he was unconvinced. “I saw you leave the Banquet Hall and I decided to follow you, so we might have some private conversation. I supposed that was your wish, as well.” He smiled at her, with an expression of such intense purpose that Erianthee was made more uneasy than before.

“What is it you wish to say to me?” She could feel her hands tighten, so she thrust them into the elaborate pleats of her serinel so he couldn’t see how on edge she was.

“Only that I would very much like to paint your portrait while you are here at Court. Your loveliness is most captivating. I have been observing you for many days and I am continually struck by your beauty and grace. No one at Court can equal your comeliness. You would do me much honor to permit me to capture it in pigment.” His blue eyes brightened more at this request.

“You are kind to make such a request,” Erianthee responded as if by rote.

“If this will assure your willingness, I will be kinder still.” He reached out to take her hand.

Without appearing to refuse the advance, she moved back toward the balustrade, doing her best to convince him the howling of the drouches delighted her. “Isn’t it splendid? There is no song like it.”

“If it were just their songs, they would be admirable beasts,” said ae-Melukah, “but they are dangerous and cruel, for all their music.”

“That they are,” Erianthee agreed, thinking that the same might be said of Dozinen ae-Melukah, if her worst fears were true; she managed to conceal her misgivings as she move a step or two away from him. She had seen men obsessed with women before, and was vigilant to avoid such involvements.

“Still, it is wise to study them, and to see which spells lessen their fierceness.” He moved closer to her once more, and again reached for her hand. This time he secured it. “I have longed to paint you since our first meeting, so long ago. This renewal of our acquaintance has only served to spur my intentions.”

“I am truly touched by your . . . “ She couldn’t find a suitable word.

“You will find I am a dedicated painter, Duzeon, one who is always searching for perfection, and not hesitant to reveal it where I find it.”

“Then I must disappoint you,” she said, wishing she could break away from their conversation without offending him.

“Impossible.” He moved so the light-spill from the door fell fully on her. “You are the brightest star in the evening sky. You are the rarest bloom in the garden. You are the most tender fruit.”

“This is too much,” said Erianthee,

“It can’t be too much. You exceed all words to praise you,” ae-Melukah rhapsodized.

“Please. Please, ae-Melukah, stop. You are beyond the bounds of what is courteous.”

“But I am ensnared by you,” he persisted. “You must know what you’ve done to me.”

“No. You’re not bound through any snare of my making. My talents don’t tend that way.” She slipped her hand out of his and succeeded in putting an arms-length between them. “This isn’t suitable for either of us. If you continue to overwhelm me with fulsome phrases, then I will not be able to sit for a portrait. It would offend Riast and his Court to do so.” She lowered her head. “I don’t mean to disparage your sentiments, but surely you can see why I can’t permit you to attach yourself to me in this way. I am the Emperor’s guest, and I can’t indulge myself while I accept his hospitality.”

“He has what he wants of you,” said ae-Melukah sullenly. “You provide him your Shadowshows, which is more than any magician at Court can do, and for that he should be fully grateful to you for all you have done. If he begrudges you a moment of pleasure, then he isn’t worthy to have you here at all. If you possessed no pulchritude but only your talent, he would still want you to perform for him. He hasn’t eyes to see that you outshine your Spirits of the Outer Air.”

Erianthee shook her head. “You are his guest as well.”

“And I am not a servile one,” he said. “Oh, Erianthee, if only I could tell you how you have occupied my heart, and how I am wholly yours. I wish you would believe me.”

Erianthee regarded him frankly. “I believe you do mean it, and will mean it, until you have painted me in a way that fulfills you. It is the image you adore, and that image is what you seek. Once you have it, everything will change. Then you will no longer be devoted to me, but to the next subject who claims your eye as I have.”

“You’re being cruel,” he protested.

“No, ae-Melukah, I am trying to be reasonable,” she said, and suddenly had to banish the presence of Kloveon of Fauthsku from her thoughts. She felt her face redden. “You have great talent, and the talent rules you. I fully understand that, for mine is much the same for me. You give me a great compliment when you ask to paint me, because of the power of your talent. But I have no illusions about the durability of your interest.”