Valdemar 06 - [Exile 02] - Exile’s Valor (33 page)

The Bell had more than one public room; there was the main tavern area, and several supper rooms that were intended more for eating in than drinking. He entered the room where the young—and not so young—women were, as if looking about, possibly for a place to sit.

They were, so far as he could tell, not highborn. But they definitely were prosperous; their gowns were all new, of good quality, and they wore a moderate amount of silver jewelry. Middling well-off merchant or craft families, he guessed; the younger ones had probably persuaded their families to let them see the players, and the older ones had come along as chaperones, and they
all
had fallen under the spell of the handsome leading man. They were already planning their next outing to see him perform.

A Herald always got noticed, even in Haven, and when he entered the room, they all looked up and at him. He concentrated very hard on his words, and his accent. This was not the time to sound like a foreigner. If Norris went to the effort of trying to track back who betrayed him—Alberich just wanted to be “a Herald.” He gave a little bow, and said, “Your pardon, my ladies. I wouldn't want to interrupt your party—”

One of the older ones giggled; it was one of the young ones who called out, “Oh, that's quite all right, Herald, you weren't interrupting anything. We were just talking about the play we've been to.”

“The play be hanged!” said one of the tipsier ones. “It's that actor Norris' way of filling out tights that
we
were talking about!”

Some of them laughed hilariously, some with embarrassment, and Alberich smiled. “He's a fine actor, that one,” he said agreeably. “Very impressive indeed. I think all of us managed to get to one or more of his performances during the Ice Festival.” Then he added, as if the idea had suddenly struck him, “He wouldn't be waiting for any of you, would he?”

Oddly enough, it was one of the drunker ones who caught the implications of that last question, which slipped right by most of them. “What d'ye mean, waiting for one of us?” she asked, not quite slurring her words. “Y'mean, now? Right now?”

“Why, yes,” Alberich replied, feigning surprise. “I saw him just across the street, lingering in the doorway, as if he was waiting for someone to come out of the Bell—”

Well, that was
all
he needed to say, and the only thing he needed to
do
was to press himself against the wall to get out of the way of the avalanche of gowns heading for the door.

They piled past him and rushed for the front exit. A moment later, and there was something like a little chorus of squeals as they tumbled out into the street. “Is that—” “It is!” “It's him!”

:You wicked, wicked man!:
Myste chortled, as the sounds became a bit inarticulate and much louder.

There was a single, masculine voice, saying desperately over the torrent of giggles and little shrieks, “Ladies! Ladies!” and the owner was clearly getting nowhere.

Alberich strolled out to the door, and stood there with his face in shadow, leaning against the doorpost with his arms crossed, enjoying the havoc he had created. Norris was in the center of a tight knot of women, all of them breathlessly telling him of their admiration at the tops of their lungs, all of them trying to elbow each other aside to get closer to him. He looked like a very desperate man at the moment.

:Oh, this is choice,:
Myste said.
:I can't resist.:

From overhead and to the right came her familiar voice. “Will you please be
quiet?
” If Alberich hadn't known Myste so well, he would have been certain that she was angry, not trying with might and main to hold back gales of laughter. “People are trying to
sleep!
”

Her window slammed shut.

Then Myste's plaint was joined by several other, genuinely irritated voices, calling down to the gaggle of women surrounding to
shut up!
and
go away!
and
I'll get the constables on you, see if I don't!

And it wasn't long before a constable
did
appear, and suggest to Norris (as the apparent center of the disturbance), that “It would be very nice, sir, if you and your friends were somewhere else right now.”

And there was nothing else that Norris could do at that point, except to bow to the inevitable. He was going to be stuck with these women for the next candlemark at least. And the only way he was going to get rid of them was back at his own inn, where he knew the ground, and could slip away from them under the guise of attending to nature's call or something of the sort—or getting one of the cast to find one of his regular bawds to come down and drag him back to his room. The one thing that would embarrass them enough to go away even in their present state of intoxication
would
be the presence of a real whore.

But it would have to be done there, not here—

Somehow, perhaps by sheer force of personality, he got the group moving, and away they went, still surrounding him on all sides, chattering like a flock of noisy little birds, and he with the look of a man being nibbled to death by ducks.

When they were all out of both sight and hearing, he Mindcalled up to Myste.
:I think you can come out now.:

Now he wished he'd looked up when she leaned out of her window.

Then it struck him; there'd been a hint of—something—in her mind-voice. Was it what he thought it was? Should he? Did he dare?

:If you didn't read that as an invitation, you're denser than I thought,:
said Kantor.

He couldn't clear his throat in mind-voice, but he managed a combination of eagerness and diffidence.
:I don't suppose you would care for me to come up instead?:

He heard the purr in her mind-voice, and almost tangled his own feet together, trying to whip himself around and head for the stairs.
:Ah, yes. Indeed I would. Please, do.:

T
HE journey back up to the Palace was surreal. Dream-like, as the four of them made their way through peace-filled, cool air scented with honeysuckle. Alberich held onto the moment fiercely; no matter what had happened in the past, or what would happen in the future, he'd had this night, this time. His heart was, for the moment, at peace, and he could not have been more content with his lot. He hoped—he thought—Myste felt the same.

They parted with a touch of lips and hands at the branching of paths, one leading up to the Heralds' Wing at the Palace, the other to the salle. He and Kantor moved off into the velvet night.

:I told you that you were worrying too much,:
Kantor said, when he and Alberich were finally settled back in their respective “beds,” in, and beside, the salle.

:Hmm. You were right.:
Still—no, there was no “still.” Kantor was right. The benefit of being Gifted; there was no question of how one's partner felt. There had been a little initial fumbling, but—

No “buts.”

He sighed, and started to settle into sleep—

Then something popped up into his mind and jolted him into wakefulness again.
:Now,
why
did she tell you “Thank you, you were right”—?:

:Ah. You weren't supposed to hear that.:
Kantor sighed.
:I gave her some advice, some time back. Through her Companion, of course, but she knew it was from me, because she asked me directly.:

:Yes?:
He decided that, no matter what it was, he wasn't going to be annoyed. After all, look what it had gotten him.

:I told her,
“He
won't make the first move; you'll have to. And don't be subtle. In this situation, he's trying so hard to be a gentleman that he won't notice if you're subtle.” But if you're wondering, I don't think this was planned, I think she just seized the opportunity when it was too good to be passed up. I know she's felt diffident about approaching you here, in your own place, and more than a bit shy about inviting you up to the Collegium where—:

:Where everyone would notice and gossip.:
Alberich finished for him, and mulled it all over. No, he definitely was not going to be annoyed.
:Thank you. You were right.:

Of course, now that the first move had been made in the game. . . .

He chuckled to himself in the darkness. The
next
time she showed up here, it wasn't all going to be business. Not that he was going to forget his duty, far from it.

Now he did let his doubly tired body relax. And his last thought was, perhaps not oddly,
Norris is a fool.

Selenay sat at her open window, and breathed in the honeysuckle-scented air dreamily. Karath—he had insisted almost immediately that she call him Karath—had been officially presented at Court two days ago. He had gone out of his way to be charming, and Selenay was by no means the only one to have been affected by that charm. But his attention had been directed, like a focused beam of light, on her.

This was not the first time that she had been the focus of someone's attention, but it
was
the first time the attention had been completely positive, and universally directed to the sole object of pleasing her. Heady stuff.

And it didn't hurt at all that Karath was so very good to look upon. . . .

No, not at all. But there was more, as impossible as it seemed. Karath understood her.

It was magical, how well he understood her. Already they had shared commiserations on how heavy the burden of duty was for a royal child, and how unfair it was that they had less freedom than the lowest of their subjects. How very unfair. . . .

And he had looked straight into her eyes and said, “It is a sad pity that you have no one to share your burden with.”

Oh, she had laughed at that, and demurred that she had an entire Council to help her, but his words had rung very true, and she wondered if there was something behind them. As if—could it be—

No, of course not. He's a Prince of Rethwellan. If he can charm me into giving Rethwellan advantages, he will. He may even be courting me with an eye to a marriage of state. Right now, though, he's simply being friendly; he's a Prince, and there can't be too many people that he can confide in. It isn't as if he has a Companion to talk to, or even someone like Lord Orthallen.
He was, she thought, a very proud young man. It would be hard for him to confide in anyone that he considered below him.
Yes, that is certainly it.
She rested her head against the window frame, feeling suddenly melancholy, for herself, for him.

No, there could be nothing more to it than that.
Besides, he can't possibly stay for very long. He'll have to return home soon.

The thought made her feel cheated, somehow, and even more melancholy.

But after a moment, she shook it off resolutely. The Seneschal had decided that having a Prince of the blood here was an occasion of great import, and had arranged that his days should be enlivened by all manner of amusements, and that it was Selenay's duty to take part in at least some of them. The Vernal Equinox was in a few days, and although it was the wrong season for hunting, it was the best season for other sorts of outdoor excursions. They were all going to watch a new version of the Hurlee game, played Companion-back by the oldest of the Trainees. Others had been trying to come up with warm-weather variations on Hurlee, but this was by far the most exciting and successful. And there were those who were trying to get horses to do what the Companions were doing, but it would probably take a couple of years to train horses to put up with balls rolling under their hooves and sticks whizzing about their ears. For now, at least, the only mounted version of the game would be played by Heralds or Trainees.

It made an excellent excuse to sit out on lawns, with hampers of refreshments, in the warm sunshine, rather than in the stuffy Audience Chamber, listening to even stuffier old men complain about each other.

There would be supper in a pavilion on the lawns after the game, and then, a concert of music under the stars in the gardens.
It will be the most fun I've had since the Ice Festival. Actually, it will be much more fun than the Ice Festival; I won't be on show to an entire city.

She smiled as she thought about it. To think that she would have most of a day devoted to something other than Kingdom business! But her Councilors all seemed very much in favor of the idea, even those who were reserved in their assessment of Karath.

Maybe he
will
stay longer. . . .

After all, Orthallen was convinced that he had come here with every intention of courting her. It was a time-honored means of cementing alliances, marriage. He
was
the younger Prince; he wouldn't be in line for the throne at this point, not even if his older brother died, because Faramentha already had a young son of his own. So—