Lovers and Beloveds

by MeiLin Miranda

  "I'm sorry?"

  "It's just that it's been so long," he said, keeping pace as she strode through the halls. "You always used to take walks after breakfast, and sometimes you'd let me come with you. D'you still do that? Would it be all right if I walked with you? I've missed you," he said. "I feel as if we don't know one another any more, and I thought perhaps we could...catch up?"

  "I still know you," she said, stopping at the foot of the stairs. "You're trying to get out of something."

  "Only this rock pile. I'm going to be cooped up here the rest of the day, and it's a nice morning. Seddy," he wheedled, "let's go for a walk."

  "You don't need me to go walking, Temmy," she said, climbing the stairs.

  "No, but I want to walk with you."

  She looked down where he stood on the bottom step; he put on his best little brother smile. She softened. "All right," she said. "Meet me on the terrace in twenty minutes."

  Jenks insisted on yet another wardrobe change: "You can't go wandering around in the woods in your nice day suit!" The ensuing, futile argument and inexorable swap of the day suit for a tweed walking suit and sturdy boots meant it took the full twenty minutes for Temmin to run back downstairs. Sedra waited, dressed in a sensible blue walking dress cut short enough to show the tops of her black boots. On her head sat an equally sensible blue felt bonnet, lined in a flattering rose silk. Her only other concession to fashion was a voluminous fine wool Inchari shawl, beautiful but practical on a brisk spring morning.

  "How many sets of clothes does one go through in a day around here, Seddy?" said Temmin, offering his arm.

  "Let's see," she said as she took it. "Rising dress--I suppose for you that's riding clothes--then morning dress, then if you have visitors that day there's afternoon dress, and then dinner dress. More if one goes walking or riding during the day, or goes to a Temple or the Promenade, or out after dinner--theater, dancing, card parties. Or if you're Elly," she finished with a grin.

  "And how are you and Elly getting along these days?" he said, letting Sedra choose which path they took through the gardens.

  Sedra sighed. "I'm only a year and a half older, and I feel as if I'm her mother."

  "You have been, in a way. Mama's been at the Estate with me."

  "I suppose you're right. Elly is so unwise sometimes, and she won't listen to a thing I say! She flirts shamelessly with anyone she pleases, no matter his rank or position--I've even caught her flirting with girls. She's escaped harm so far, but I worry. The Beloved watches over Elly, but one of these days, Blessed Neya won't be watching." She kicked out her skirts as they stepped onto the wide green lawn, first-cut for the season the day before. In the distance, a reflecting pool lay before a little marble pavilion ringed with cedars, and Sedra led him toward it. "What worries me the most," she continued, "is that Elly is determined to make a love match."

  Temmin considered. "I can't say I blame her. I should very much like to love whoever I end up marrying, wouldn't you?"

  "Oh, to be sure," retorted Sedra. "It would be lovely."

  "Well, it would, wouldn't it?"

  "Temmy, whatever Ellika and I would like has absolutely no bearing on what will be. If I fall in love with a fine and respectable gentleman--let's say, the Earl of Random--but Papa wants me to marry the horrible old Duke of Accident for political reasons, off I go to become Duchess Accident no matter how much I hate Accident or love Random."

  "You've never loved anything random, Seddy, you're the most methodical person I know."

  "Stop it," she laughed. "You know exactly what I mean." Her smile faded, and her brow grew darker still. "It'll be the Grace of Amma if I'm paired with anyone I can stand, let alone love. I'm twenty-one, and it's already getting late. This time next year I'll very probably be the Duchess of Accident, or something like." Temmin squeezed her arm.

  They sat on the benches inside the ridiculous little folly; on its columns, walls and ceilings, a profusion of inlays and exotic carvings strove to imitate Inchari temples. It failed, utterly and charmingly. "You, on the other hand," she continued, "will very probably have some say in who you marry--at least a choice among several eligible Ladies Accident and Random. But then, you have the advantage over us in several ways."

  "I don't see how," said Temmin. "I don't get much more choice than you or Elly. I still have to study things I don't want to study, and do things I don't want to do--"

  "Tem, you'll be king some day," she cut in. "And when you're king, you can do what you want to do, and no one will ever tell you otherwise. Well...mostly," she amended.

  "The one choice I don't have is whether to be king or not. I'm sure I don't know why any sensible person would want the job, though there are times I think you do. Which makes me wonder how sensible you really are."

  Sedra glanced at him from the depths of her bonnet, her deep brown eyes brimming with a passion that stoppered his mouth. "I was born to rule in every way but my sex. I know it, you know it, Papa knows it. But I'm not even allowed to study any more, apart from my own reading."

  Temmin faltered, then said, "You can study with me if you'd like. Papa doesn't have to know. I've always said you were smarter than Ellika and me put together. You even look the most like Papa," he said, trying to jolly her out of her anger. "I'm meeting with Papa and this Teacher person this afternoon--perhaps--"

  "I've been forbidden to learn from Teacher," she said, her voice turning flat.

  "But Papa doesn't have to know--"

  "He'll know."

  Temmin considered the set of her jaw. "So you've studied with Teacher? What's he like? He has to be as old as the Keep if he tutored Papa. Can he even stand up?"

  "I don't want to talk about it," said Sedra.

  "But I only--"

  "Please, Tem, I don't want to." She laid a firm hand on his arm. "Please?"

  "All right," he said. "Perhaps it's best anyway. If you were there, I'd have to work harder!"

  She turned on him. "If you're going to be king, Temmin, you have to start taking things more seriously! Will you ever stop being such a child?"

  "At least I was a child!" he said, dropping her arm. "You were born with your nose in a book! Do you ever have fun?"

  "The kind of fun I have, real entertainment that engages the mind, you wouldn't understand in the least!"

  "And another thing!" he said as she stood. "I am sick and tired of everyone telling me how stupid I am!"

  "Then stop being stupid!" she cried, face mottled and mouth contorted. He watched her stomp off, a skirt-blue and petticoat-white froth around her legs, and snorted in the clear, cedar-scented air. Why was she so upset? What had he said but the truth? More sincerely than ever, he wished they were all back at the Estate, where she had been more amiable, and he hadn't needed half so many clothes.

  When she walked out of sight, he drifted to the reflecting pool. He picked up a perfect rock, lying among the gravel, and drew his arm back to skip it. On an impulse, he looked down into the water; he saw his own bad-tempered face, superimposed over the cold, smooth face of another. "Who are you!" he shouted. "No--you're no one, you're something I've made up, just go away! I have enough to worry about without worrying about my sanity--!"

  A hand reached out of the pond, followed by an arm, a shoulder, and a head. "Do be quiet," said the head. The hand closed on Temmin's ankle, and yanked him into the pond.

  He closed his eyes and held his breath, struggling against the tenacious grip on his ankle in panic; he would drown. His stomach turned inside out.

  When it stopped, he opened his mouth and gulped in spite of himself. To his surprise, he took in air, not water; he patted himself in confused agitation and found his clothes were dry. Temmin opened his eyes and found himself in an unfamiliar room--round, as if in a tower. The face in the mirror stood before him; it belonged to a slight figure dressed in black robes over a severe black suit and Tremontine red cravat, sharp against the white of the shirt; a pair of gold pinch-nose glasses dangled from a matchi
ng red ribbon. If this were the Black Man, he was a more meticulous dresser than Temmin would have suspected.

  "The first time through can be difficult. Next time, do not hold your breath. Do you need to vomit?" said the stranger.

  "No," said Temmin, hands on knees. "Well, maybe...no, I'll be all right. Harla's Hill, what just happened?" He looked around. A large mirror hung on the curving wall, a long library table stooped under heaped-up books and scrolls, heaps that spilled onto the only stool in the room, and a lectern stood in one corner, holding an aged red leather-bound book.

  "You saw me," said the stranger. A restrained excitement threaded through the silvery voice. "You may deny you have seen my face in reflections today, but I know better. I thought it best to sort things out on our own, you and I."

  "Yes, well, you and I don't know each other," said Temmin, standing up to his full height--half a head taller than his captor, if he were held captive-- "Who are you, where am I, and how did I get here?"

  "I am your father's counselor. I go by the name of Teacher. You are in my library. And I pulled you through a reflection."

  Temmin found his voice and said, "You pulled me through a reflection. I have no idea what that means."

  "Shall I do it again?" said Teacher, plunging an arm up to the elbow into the mirror.

  "No, no!" said Temmin, holding up his hands. "Not again! Don't do it again! I don't know if this is real, but my stomach thinks it is!"

  "It is quite real. If there is a reflection near what or who I wish to see, I can go anywhere or see anything in the Kingdom unobserved."

  "I'm just going to pretend this makes sense, shall I?" said Temmin. "You've been popping up in reflections all day. If no one can see you, why can I see you?"

  "Apparently, you are 'no one,'" said Teacher in a paper-thin voice.

  Temmin wiped his face with his handkerchief. "Why now? Why did this start today? Did you just start watching me?"

  "You have come of age," said Teacher, "When the men in your family had this power themselves, it fully revealed itself at eighteen. But no Tremont has shown signs of it in more than three centuries."

  "Hang on, we could do this? You said your name is Teacher--you're my new tutor?"

  "Yes."

  "And you were my father's tutor." Temmin examined the smooth face for signs of advanced age. "You don't even look as old as my father. I mean, you're old, but not that old. How old are you--twenty-five? Thirty-five?"

  "Many times that," said Teacher.

  "Impossible."

  "So is traveling through reflections. I suggest you go eat your luncheon and ready yourself to meet with the King. He will explain my importance to the royal family, most likely in different terms than I would use."

  "Are you going to tell him I can see you?" said Temmin.

  "Do you want me to?" asked Teacher.

  "I'm not sure--no," said Temmin. "Don't. Everyone thinks I'm stupid as it is. Adding crazy doesn't help, and I'm sure in the end this will all turn out to be some sort of...something."

  "As you wish. Would you like me to take you to your rooms?" Teacher murmured at the mirror; it wavered, settling into a view of Temmin's study, where Jenks was setting the little table by the window for lunch.

  "No!" said Temmin. "No. I'll walk. Thank you."

  Teacher bowed, and showed Temmin the door. "Happy birthday, Your Highness."

  Temmin half-bowed in acknowledgement as the door closed. He looked around; he didn't know where he was. He thought of knocking on the door and asking, but the less he saw of Teacher, the better. He was inside a tower--an ancient one, judging by the stonework. He took to the stairs, a near-endless flight; when he made it to the bottom, he realized it had to be the Keep's central tower--part of the original fortress, built on the highest point of the rock overlooking the City. He found his way back to his rooms only after taking several wrong turns and amusing innumerable footmen as he asked for directions.

  "The Prince is here, Your Majesty," said Harsin's secretary with a bow.

  "Very good, Winmer, give us a moment and then show him in," said Harsin. "What have you observed of Temmin so far, Teacher?" he continued, turning toward the fireplace.

  Teacher considered. "'Callow' is not too strong a word, Your Majesty."

  "I agree. I admit to disappointment," said Harsin, shaking his head.

  "I should not be disappointed," said Teacher. "eighteen is still quite young. Remember yourself at that age--I caned you for fourteen days straight. I am surprised you can sit down to this day."

  "I was hoping he would be more prepared than this."

  Teacher leaned against the mantel. "You are still young yourself, Harsin. You have many years to prepare Temmin for ruling."

  "Even so," said the King, "more and more I feel raising him at Whithorse was a mistake."

  "His prophecy--"

  "I know what it says. We may have interpreted it wrong." Winmer ushered Temmin into the room. "Well, son!" said Harsin. "A glass of something, perhaps--Winmer--" Two glasses of pale red wine appeared, and Winmer disappeared through the door, his last bow more of a little bounce on his toes.

  "Thank you," said Temmin; a faint tremor shook his hand as he accepted the glass, and Harsin swallowed a lump of dismay. The boy had no spine, no spirit.

  "May I introduce Teacher, my own tutor and this family's counselor for many years," said Harsin. Teacher bowed.

  "And you are to be my tutor, now, sir," said Temmin.

  "Please do not call me 'sir,'" muttered Teacher.

  "Teacher has his ways, Temmin. Pay attention, or it's the cane. Trust me on this. Now," Harsin said, shifting in his chair, "there is much to discuss. The matter at hand is your coming of age. It's time you heard your birth prophecy."

  "My what?" said Temmin.

  "At birth, every male child is taken to the Queen of the Travelers, who gives him his prophecy," said Teacher.

  "The Travelers? You took me to a bunch of vagabond thieves and actors, well-known frauds--for a prophecy," said Temmin. "I hope you didn't pay for it."

  That was more the spirit, thought Harsin. Aloud, he said, "A little more respect, please."

  "Think what you will of the Travelers, Your Highness," said Teacher, "but their Queen can see the future--reliably when it comes to the royal family. Hers is a true gift, not play-acting."

  "All right, then," said Temmin as he squared his shoulders. "Let's hear it."

  Teacher recited:

  Love to bear him, love to raise him, love to send him on his way

  Son in sorrow, son in joy, brings darkness or the brightest day

  Two the consorts, two the paths, two the deaths for him to rule

  One will be the trusting child and three will be the rivals cruel

  Thirst and hunger, sleep and death will come to strike a trusted one

  And stones will shatter, stones will stand when might reclaims the rising sun

  "That's conveniently cryptic!" said Temmin. "I have no idea what it means."

  Harsin took a long draught of his wine, and studied the glass in his hand. "We can make fair guesses about much of it. Some lines are quite clear. 'Two the consorts'--you'll marry twice. And one of the deaths for you to rule will, of course, be my own. Now, stop, Temmin. You wouldn't become king if I were still alive, would you? Regent, perhaps, should I be unable to rule, but not king. And it's likely you'll have one son, the 'trusting child.' We thought the first line meant you should be raised at Whithorse, with your mother." Harsin gave Teacher a hard look from the corner of his eye. "I would have preferred to send you to Parkdale, where I went to school, and I'm still not convinced we did the right thing. You will start your studies with Teacher on Ammaday, to account for the hangover I'm sure you'll set yourself up for tonight." He rose, and Temmin rose with him. "One last thing: I have asked the son of a very good friend to be your companion, to help you adjust to life here in the City."

  "I had a companion, at Whithorse," grumbled Temmin.

 
; "That groom? He wasn't a companion, he was a servant," said Harsin. "It's time you kept company with your own class. Percet Sandopint is the oldest son of my good friend, the Duke of Corland. He's styled Lord Fennows. He'll be at the ball tonight."

  "I know him, a little," said Temmin, failing to stifle a grimace. "He visited us one winter for a spoke." Almost seven weeks of incredible boredom, he added to himself.

  "Well, then. Go have your tea, son. I'm glad we had this chance to talk."

  Once Temmin left them, Harsin said, "More pluck than I'd feared. He's spent far too much time chumming around with commoners. I'm hoping Fennows will properly introduce him to City life--show him things about his place in the world he can't learn from you or me--things he should have learned by now."

  "Lord Fennows has an indifferent reputation."

  "But he's hardly a wild terror. Ansella sheltered Temmin far too much. Wouldn't surprise me if the boy were still a virgin. Ha! That's going a bit far, but he is still quite the wide-eyed child." He finished his glass and added, "I shall be very amused to see his face when we show him the magic."

  "Yes," said Teacher. "I am sure it will be quite comical."

  Jenks had gone through every combination of black and white clothing in the room, considered them, and discarded them, until he'd made the only possible conclusion and assembled it on the dressing stand. "It's a ball!" said Temmin. "One wears a black dress suit, a white shirt and stock, and a white waistcoat. All of the men will be dressed identically!"

  "You are so, so wrong, Your Highness," said the valet, surveying the tidily ransacked wardrobe. "There are subtleties to the male wardrobe only a connoisseur may perceive, and while you are not yet a connoisseur, you shall be when I'm through with you. In the meantime, you will look the part." Temmin rolled his eyes. "It's for the pride of Whithorse, sir, think of it that way."

  "Your pride'll be the death of me," grumbled Temmin.

  "My pride will be the making of you, sir, depend on it."