Rap’s next meeting with friend Kratharkran was going to be a painful experience.
Well, it was worth it if he could save Inos — and he felt tremendous satisfaction in pulling this off without the aid of any despicable sorcery at all!
The stairs were dark, the rooms gloomy, all the casements caked with snow.
Withdrawing Room … more stairs …
He still had his farsight. He could watch the pursuit. Oh, Gods! The new doors were flimsy, shoddy affairs compared to the old. And jotnar were not imps. Two enraged young giants had just shattered the first one with benches.
Dressing Room …
Another door collapsed into splinters without a struggle. They had thrown away the benches and taken to using feet and shoulders. Would even a stone wall stop a really mad jotunn? They were gaining on him!
The Royal Bedchamber …
He was at the limits of his strength. His head throbbed and dark patches swam before his eyes. He must rest or he would faint. With legs like strips of hot dough, he wobbled over to the bed and dumped Inos down on it.
He sprawled unexpectedly on top of her, his breath rasping like a saw.
There was an arm around his neck.
He raised his head and peered into the only truly green eyes in Krasnegar.
“You stink like a stable,” she said quietly.
Rap said, “Awrrk,” or thereabouts.
“I do think you might have washed or something first.”
“Inos! Oh, Inos!”
“Husband!” she murmured. Her eyes had closed again.
Rap made another incoherent noise. “You were awake?”
“I heard some of it,” she said sleepily. “That was a very romantic way to carry me to my bridal bed, but was it wise?”
He tried to get up, and the arm tightened like a saddle girth.
“Kiss me.”
“I smell like a horse.”
“Kiss like a horse, then. But kiss me.”
He kissed her — gently, tentatively, excitedly, joyfully, wildly, passionately … prolongedly.
Joy! Inos! Love!
“My!” she said at last. “I didn’t know you cared.” Then she opened her eyes in astonishment. “You’re weeping!”
“Of course I’m weeping, you crazy, idiotic, headstrong nincompoop!”
“Oh, you do care!” Sudden anxiety … “You don’t mind what I did?”
“No, no! It’s wonderful. I never wanted to be a sorcerer, darling!”
Relief! “Darling! To hear you say … What is that confounded racket?” Inos was no longer an adept, but the royal glamour was still there, and the green eyes flashed with regal annoyance.
“Foronod and the rest of your loyal subjects. They think you’re being raped. They’re just breaking into the Dressing Room.”
She smiled contentedly and closed her eyes again. “Then we just have time for another kiss before I send them all away and it happens.”
“You’re all right?”
“One more kiss should do it.”
“But —”
“I suppose we shall have to slip down to Kinvale in a day or two and make this wedding official,” she mused. “But that can be our little secret.”
A stableboy? A wagon driver? A horsethief?
A flat-nosed, ugly faun?
The royal glare was switched on again as she looked at him. “I distinctly remember ordering you to kiss me.”
“But —”
But she was queen. The glamour was still there.
He obeyed.
They would all obey, always. She was the queen.
Alteration find:
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
…
If this be error, and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
Shakespeare, Sonnet CXVI
EPILOGUE
Irksome words
“Charming!” Kadolan said. “No, you look much more than charming! Beautiful! Ravishing!”
“Gods, Aunt! Is that an appropriate expression for a bride on her wedding day?” Without turning, Inos grinned mischievously from the dressing-table mirror.
“You know what I mean! You look absolutely divine!”
Inos’s happy smile faltered slightly; she shivered. “Not that, either!” Then she laughed. “But I accept the compliment. In fact, I agree wholeheartedly. Considering the short notice, I think I’ve done not badly. Even Eigaze would approve. And it’s fortunate Tiffy isn’t here — he’d certainly find a well to jump into.”
“Tiffy’s married, dear. And expecting. Didn’t I tell you about Eigaze’s letter?”
“Mm? Perhaps you did. The marriage doesn’t surprise me, and I think I know what you mean otherwise.” Inos poked thoughtfully at the heap of pearls before her. “One string, do you think? Or two?”
“None. You make them look dull and lusterless.”
“My!” Inos murmured, pleased. “That sounds like one of Andor’s lines. Just the tiara, then? After all, it was a present from Rap.” She chuckled softly. “The only present he’s given me since a nest of quail eggs he found on … no, that’s not true! He gave me my kingdom.”
Kadolan muttered agreement. Truth be told, she was seeing her gorgeous niece as a blur of emerald silk. It had been common knowledge for years around Kinvale that one infallible cure for drought was to invite Princess Kadolan to a wedding; she invariably wept enough at a wedding to irrigate every farm for leagues. Already she needed her handkerchief, and soon.
“It’s almost sunset,” she said hastily. “Why don’t I go and see if the other half of the ceremony has arrived?” She headed for the door.
Dabbing her eyes, she proceeded along the corridor. The groom and the best man were supposed to come at sunset, and she realized that she had completely forgotten to ask who was going to be best man. Probably some castle flunky she had never met. She sighed wistfully, thinking that the most appropriate choice would have been Captain Gathmor. Or Minstrel Jalon, maybe.
At least it would not be that terrible goblin!
Planning a wedding had always been one of her favorite occupations, and she felt cheated at having been allowed only three days to arrange this one. Yet that was not so surprising. Of all the young ladies she had introduced to matrimony in her years at Kinvale, none had proved so difficult to bring to the altar as her niece.
Because of Rap’s lie to Foronod, this must be a very intimate affair; a secret wedding, really. And that was a shame, too. Kadolan had many happy memories of Holindarn’s wedding, when all Krasnegar had rejoiced and partied for days. Still, it was fortunate that Marshal Ithy happened to be visiting Kinvale at the moment, returning from his inspection of the Pondague lines. He had happily agreed to give away the bride.
And Inos had decided to hold a full-scale coronation in the summer. She had never been formally crowned, and now Krasnegar had a king to crown also. Kadolan certainly intended to be present for that. She would sneak in through the magic portal, which still remained a close-guarded state secret, and pretend that she had come by ship. She reminded herself that Rap knew nothing of those plans yet, so she must be careful not to mention them this evening.
But a formal wedding would have been nice. The imperor would have sent a representative, and royal gifts. And what was the use of having so many relatives if you couldn’t summon them all to lavish affairs like weddings? Even Eigaze and Epoxague might have come to a Kinvale wedding, but they could hardly be invited to Krasnegar. Some distant relatives were just too distant!
She paused to catch her breath at her parlor door, then tapped discreetly and went in. Pink light shone through the lace curtains, candles had been lit already, but there was no one there.
Tutting quietly to herself, she went over to inspect the flowers. The roses were well past their bes
t now, but Kinvale’s chrysanthemums had a well-deserved fame in the district. Then a rush of smoke from the fireplace warned her, and she turned around as the magic portal swung open, admitting an icy blast from Krasnegar.
A short man stood framed in the entrance, his leathery, weatherbeaten face a mask of shock. Cutaway coat and tights, a rapier at his belt and a tricorn hat clutched nervously in front of him … for a moment Kadolan did not recognize him in such finery. Then her eyes misted again. Oh, well done, Master Rap! How very appropriate!
The best man spun around and attempted to return to Krasnegar. He was obviously blocked. “Good preserve me!” he shouted. “You told me there was to be no Evil-begotten sorcery!”
Rap laughed from the darkness beyond him. “I did warn you about this bit! No more, I promise! Go on with you! Oh, your Highness! You know Krasnegar’s Master of Horse, I’m sure?”
“Certainly I know Master Hononin!” Kadolan advanced with her hands out. “You are a sight for sore eyes, you old rascal!”
A sight for weepy, sentimental old eyes, too.
Hononin glanced around to make sure there was no one else present. “I’d never have agreed to this nonsense if I’d known I was going to be decked out like a one-man carnival!”
“Then Rap was right not to tell you!” She kissed his cheek.
He grunted. Then he chuckled softly. “How are you, Kade?”
“Wonderful! And you?”
“Not bad.”
“The years are kind to you, old man. Better than you deserve, I’m sure!”
“Well, now, that takes royal impudence! I’m three months younger than you are, as I recall.”
“I see you two know each other quite well!” Rap commented, coming in and closing the door.
“First boy who ever kissed me!” Kadolan said archly, just to see if she could still make Honi blush. She could.
“As I remember, it was you who kissed me! And if your mother hadn’t come looking for you, you’d have —”
“Well, it was a long time ago,” Kadolan said quickly. She dabbed her eyes again with her lace handkerchief and turned to inspect the bridegroom. “Your Maj — Oh, no!”
Rap bowed, managing his rapier quite skillfully. But then he kept his face down and fumbled with the hat he was holding.
“Let me see!” Kadolan said, in a voice much sharper than her normal tone for addressing kings.
He raised his head ashamedly. His lower lip was puffed and cut, and he had two very generous black eyes. He could not have looked worse had his goblin tattoos been restored.
For a moment no one said anything.
Then Hononin cackled. “Told you you’d be in trouble, King!”
“Don’t call me that!” Rap said angrily. “Sorry, your Highness,” he added humbly. “You think Inos will be upset?”
“Upset?” Oh, dear! Kadolan sighed. “Well, I suppose she will just have to be upset, won’t she?” Old fears stirred momentarily. This was what happened when royalty married beneath them … Then she chided herself for unseemly pride. The Gods had approved this match, and the boy had excellent qualities, as she well knew. Even if he was no longer a sorcerer, he was a good man.
He would just have to learn that a king should not go brawling.
He had done his best, she supposed, but there was lint on his collar, his cravat looked like a collapsed soufflé, and whatever he had used to plaster his hair had left it in plates and spikes. And Inos was looking so radiant!
Anxious not to show her disappointment, Kadolan turned to the sideboard where the best crystal waited. “Inos is almost ready,” she said bravely, “and the chaplain has arrived. Will you join me in a glass of wine, gentlemen?”
Without waiting for a reply, she unstoppered the decanter. A royal bridegroom with black eyes! “Do be seated. Wine, your Majesty?”
Rap winced. “Please, ma’am! I keep telling Inos — I really don’t want to be called that! She’s the queen. I’m just her husband.” He blushed scarlet, all around his bruises, and said quickly, “Am about to become her husband, that is. Everyone in Krasnegar remembers me as a stableboy. I feel such a fool when they bow and call me ‘king’ and ‘sire’! I’m sure they’re laughing at me. There must be some better title I could have.”
That was something else he would have to get used to, Kadolan decided. There was no other title, and Inos wouldn’t agree to it if there was.
Rap made another appeal for sympathy. “You know what she’s planning next? A coronation!” He shuddered. “But I’m not supposed to know, so please don’t mention I mentioned it.”
“I promise. I did know, and I’m looking forward to it!”
He sat down with a groan.
Winning a brief struggle with his sword, the hostler perched on the lip of a chair. He sipped the wine and raised his grizzled eyebrows approvingly. Kadolan settled on the pink brocade sofa opposite.
“I trust that no one will notice your absence this evening, Honi?”
“Of course not. Except the horses, and they don’t talk to no one but Rap.” He leered. “And no one will intrude on their Majesties, either! Not with that wolf on guard!”
Kadolan almost spilled her wine. “Wolf?”
“You remember Fleabag!” Rap said, beaming happily. “He introduced you to Darad, remember?”
“And to Sultan Azak!”
“Well, then! I thought I’d lost him in the forest, but he came trotting across the causeway this morning, wagging his tail.” Rap hesitated and added vaguely, “Lucky I happened to be down at the docks.”
Kadolan wondered why anyone would be down at the docks in Krasnegar now that they were all snowed in. Still, Master Rap was the king now, so she wouldn’t ask. Obviously Hononin was wondering the same thing, for he was scowling. As a boy, Honi had been fearfully shy, but he’d concluded that people didn’t notice that if he scowled. He’d been scowling ever since.
There was an awkward pause.
“Talking of Master Darad,” she said brightly, “I must remember to show you the letter I received last week from Doctor Sagorn and his friends.”
“Yes?” Rap said politely, sipping wine. “I didn’t know Darad could write.”
“I’m sure he can’t. Doctor Sagorn passed on his regards, and he made his mark. Doctor Sagorn’s own part was rather dry, I admit, but Sir Andor added some very witty comments, and Jalon sent a beautiful sonnet.”
“And Thinal?”
“He made his mark, also. He is thinking of going into business, apparently. He feels he is getting too old for climbing walls, the doctor says.” For a moment Kadolan reflected on all the curious friends she had made on her adventures — Sultan Azak, Mage Elkarath, little Prince Shandie, the lionslayers and their wives, and the wardens, although of course they were never friends …
“What sort of business?” Rap asked.
“Jewelry, of course.”
He chuckled. “Of course. May the Gods defend his customers!”
Again an awkward pause … Rap caught Kadolan studying his face, and he colored again.
“It was Krath, you see,” he muttered.
“Krath?”
“Inos did mention him, I think … When she was telling you how I, er … rescued her? I struck a jotunn. I know that’s a stupid thing to do, but I didn’t have any choice.”
“Oh! Of course! She did tell me.” Kadolan felt a little better — not a vulgar brawl, but a royal rescue. “No ordinary jotunn, either. A blacksmith! Yes, that was very brave of you.”
“It was very dumb of me! Of course he’s been hunting me ever since. And yesterday he brought some friends to help, and then I couldn’t avoid him, even with farsight.”
Kadolan sighed and finished her wine. “Well, I see that under the circumstances you had no choice. And I thank the Gods that you’re well enough to come to the wedding at all.”
Rap stiffened, and Hononin uttered one of his raucous chuckles.
“You don’t know the half of it!” he said. “It was
a fabulous match! If Krath had laid a fist on him, he’d have been a human pancake, but Rap used some sorcery or other —”
“That was not sorcery!” Rap said crossly. “Little Chicken taught me some throws.” He pouted lopsidedly around his swollen lip. “I was doing all right, too, but then —”
“You were wrecking the castle!” Hononin said. “Slam a jotunn into a stone wall often enough and the wall must break eventually. Krath wasn’t ever going to give up! But then the queen arrived.” He chortled. “With the guard! Furious! Royal tantrum! She ordered Sergeant Oopari to arrest the smith for treason!”
“It took all six of them to do it,” Rap said, with obvious satisfaction.
“Well, he’d lost his temper by then,” Hononin observed solemnly.
“You see, ma’am …” Rap hesitated, and then drained his glass. “As soon as she left this afternoon, to come here, I went down to the cells and issued a royal pardon. Ma’am, I had to! I mean, I can’t hide behind Inos’s skirts all the time! Not if she really wants me to be …” he scowled, and said, “king!” as if it were an obscenity.
“So where did your, er, injuries come from?”
Rap shrugged. “Krath and I went off to the Beached Whale to celebrate, of course.”
Hononin cackled. “They’re renaming it the Sunken Whale. Some sailor made a joke about fauns, so Krath put his head through a plank table. His shipmates didn’t approve, but Krath’s three uncles were there. Soon everyone joined in, and things began to get violent … Haven’t seen such a free-for-all in years!” Surreptitiously he winked at Kadolan.
For a moment she was startled, then she understood and carefully suppressed a smile. This was Krasnegar they were discussing, not Hub. If Master Rap was ever to be more than the queen’s husband, he would have to establish his credentials, and the hostler was implying that he had made a good start.
“Then I am sure that Inos will understand,” she said. “But don’t expect instant forgiveness! Perhaps we should go now …”
A Man of His Word Page 163
