Beneath the cloak, a fur-trimmed robe clothed a tall form still lean and agile, despite his fifty years. Up the curving marble stairway he went, along a corridor bright with gilt and crystal to his study, lined with books that he had actually read in the distant past. Taking his seat at the ornate but thoroughly functional desk that occupied the center of the room, he busied himself with the latest household accounts, and for a while the numbers held his attention. From time to time, however, his eyes strayed from the ledger to the tall clock standing in the corner.
The knock at the study door came well before the appointed hour. All to the good; he was eager for news.
“Come,” he said.
The door opened, and Aureste’s brows rose at the unexpected sight of his daughter, Jianna, and his youngest brother, Nalio, on the threshold. Jianna was flushed and scowling. Nalio’s meager figure was rigidly upright, his lips primly pursed. They had obviously been quarreling again.
“Yes?” Aureste suppressed a sigh.
They stepped into the room, and Nalio shut the door. Jianna commenced without preamble. “Father, tell him to stop trying to order me around!”
“I issued no orders,” Nalio returned. “I merely sought to instruct her.”
“I have tutors for that,” Jianna returned. “And yes, you did try to order me. What do you call it when you tell me where I can or cannot go? I’m an adult now and you haven’t the right.”
“As your elder and your kinsman, I have every right—indeed, every obligation—to offer advice when I see you in danger of compromising your reputation and even your safety.”
“What’s this?” demanded Aureste.
“Nothing worth listening to, Father,” Jianna assured him. “Just more of Uncle Nalio’s endless grumbling.”
“I will not tolerate such discourtesy, such—such—such impertinence.” Nalio’s narrow face colored.
“Then don’t provoke me.” Jianna tossed her head.
“I will be addressed with respect—”
“When you deserve it!” she concluded with an impudent smile.
“Brother!” Nalio appealed.
“Jianna,” Aureste reproved, suppressing a smile of his own. Perhaps she had overstepped her bounds, but it was hard to fault her contempt for Nalio’s petty priggery. Moreover he was proud of his daughter’s high spirits, which she had certainly never inherited from her limp dishrag of a mother. Her courage and strong will had come straight from him.
“Well, he acts as if he thinks he’s the magnifico, when he’s only—”
“Jianna,” Aureste repeated with a hint of sternness, and she subsided at once. Addressing his brother, he inquired, “What is your complaint?”
“It is more of a concern,” Nalio corrected precisely.
“Well?” Aureste allowed his impatience to show.
“Your daughter, eighteen years old and still unmarried, goes gadding about all over town, wherever she pleases, quite unattended.”
“That’s a lie. I took Reeni along,” Jianna contradicted.
“A lady’s maid, as young, heedless, and silly as her mistress. That is worse than nothing. Two foolish girls, without a thought for anything beyond sensation, venturing anywhere and everywhere, perhaps deep into the slums or the dockside taverns—”
“Jianna, where did you go? Speak plainly,” commanded Aureste.
“The zoo,” she said.
“The zoo? Why?”
“To look at the pink peacock. And the new rump-faced hi-biluk. They’re quite marvelous.” Turning to her uncle, she added kindly, “You really ought to go see for yourself. Perhaps it would cheer you up.”
He glared at her.
“Did you go anywhere else?” Aureste inquired.
“No, Father. Just the zoo.”
“Well.” Aureste shrugged. “That is innocent and harmless enough. Content, Nalio?”
Nalio appeared to debate inwardly before replying. “No, I am not content, indeed I am not. You spoil the girl. You allow her to run wild. It does not look at all well, and it will end badly. What would the Magnifico Tribari’s folk think if they knew? Perhaps the betrothal would be broken off. Think of the disgrace! She should be controlled, for her own sake as well as ours.”
“You make too much of a small matter, brother.”
“I do not think so. The streets of Vitrisi are no safe place for an unescorted young woman, most particularly one bearing the name of Belandor. The outlaws of the resistance hate us, and they have been active of late. And the servants of House Corvestri are ruffians. They stripped one of our kitchen lads naked and threw him into a wallow just two days ago.”
“The squabbles of servants—” Jianna commenced.
“Only mirror the quarrels of their betters,” Nalio overrode her. “More than one of our House have been murdered by those Corvestri brigands and their vile bravos. You would do well to remember that, young lady. Also, there have been reports of crazed Sishmindris attacking pedestrians.”
“Crazed Sishmindris—bah, what nonsense!” she returned.
“And there are worse things yet,” Nalio continued. “They say that the plague has broken out in the city—the pestilence of legend, the—the—the walking death—that it is here among us. If this is true, Aureste, then your roving daughter may well carry the contagion home to Belandor House.”
“You’re afraid for yourself, Uncle.” Jianna’s lip curled.
“I am afraid for all of us. As you would be if you possessed a grain of good sense.”
“I just don’t seem to share your capacity for extreme … caution.”
“Aureste, are you going to let this—this—this mannerless hoyden speak to me that way?”
“Mind your tongue, Nalio. I will not allow you to insult my daughter.”
“I insult her? Did—did—did you hear what she said to me? Why must you always—”
“That will do,” Aureste decreed. “The conversation grows wearisome. Here is my decision. Jianna, you may venture abroad when you please, but you will inform me or the household steward of your plans. You will avoid the waterfront, the Spidery, and any area south of Ditch Street. You will avoid the known haunts of Corvestri retainers. Whatever your destination, you will not stir unaccompanied by an armed guard.”
“She should have at least three,” Nalio opined.
“That’s ridiculous!” Jianna exclaimed.
“You are an ignorant girl. Your elders know what’s best for you. You will not set foot from this house with less than three guards,” Nalio told her.
“I don’t need any, you poltroon!”
“Aureste, did—did—did you hear?” Nalio stammered. “Are you going to allow—”
“One armed guard,” the magnifico repeated. “That will conclude the discussion, I think. Nalio, you may leave me. Jianna, remain a moment.”
“Brother, I am unready to go. There is much more I wish to say to you.”
“Another time.” Aureste’s eyes did not flicker. After a moment, Nalio turned and left the room, the tight set of thin lips communicating indignation. The door banged shut, and the magnifico addressed his daughter. “He was right, you know. You were forward and unmannerly.”
“I’m sorry, Father.”
“Are you really?”
“Well—a little.”
“He’s your kinsman, and he means well. He’s also your elder, entitled to courtesy and at least the appearance of respect.”
“I know he is. I want to be courteous, I really do. I’m always courteous to Uncle Innesq.”
“It’s easy to be courteous to Innesq.”
“But Nalio annoys me, with all his fidgets and his rules of proper conduct. He’s like some prissy little white rat that’s somehow learned to walk upright.”
“That is not amusing.”
“Then what about, he’s like some two-legged fungus trying to simulate humanity, but not quite getting it right?”
“Even less amusing.”
“Then why are you
smiling?”
“I am not smiling.”
“You’re trying not to.”
“Contrary to your belief, this is a serious matter.”
“And now you’re very angry with me?” She assumed a mournful expression.
Aureste gazed across the desk into eyes all but identical to his own—large and intensely dark beneath strong black brows. Perhaps the brows were a flaw, too emphatic for harmony in a pure oval face otherwise given over to pale delicacy, but they lent her young features vivid individuality. Just now, the great dark eyes shone with a deviltry quite at odds with her apparent contrition. He could never resist that look, and she knew it.
“I should be.” He felt his lips twitch and tried to disguise the slip with a frown, but she caught it.
“Yes, you should, and I’m terribly sorry. I’ll try to do better.” Drawing herself up and pursing her lips, she transformed herself in an instant into a caricature of her uncle Nalio. “From—from—from now on, I promise to be quite—quite—quite perfect.”
This time he could not contain his laughter. When he could speak again, he observed, “I ought to lock you up, you little goblin.”
“Goblin? I don’t know if I can live up to that description, but I’ll try.”
“No doubt. I pity the luckless lout who marries you. Poor young Tribari! I wonder if you’ll be able to get around him as easily as you get around your helpless old father.”
“Oh, I do hope so.”
“I suspect the wretch hasn’t a chance.”
“We’ll find out when I finally meet him. What if I hate him?”
“You won’t hate him. I inspected a dozen suitors and chose the best. Your future husband possesses rank, ancient lineage, fortune, intelligence, nobility of character, and yes, a fine appearance. I believe you’ll be pleased.”
“The question wouldn’t arise if only you’d chosen someone here in Vitrisi. I’d have met him by now, and I’d know. I wish you’d done exactly that. I don’t want to live in Orezzia, anyway. I’d rather stay here.”
“We have already discussed that. The matter is settled.”
“But it’s not too late to reconsider. I could take a local husband and live right here in Vitrisi. You and I could still see each other every day.”
“Once you’re happily married—and better yet, a mother—you’ll find that your feelings change. You’ll no longer be so interested in spending time with your father. You’ll simply be too busy with more important things.”
“That will never happen.” Jianna shook her head so vehemently that her long, glossy hair—of the darkest brown, verging on black—whipped to and fro. “Nothing and nobody will ever be more important.”
“You’ll discover otherwise. It is only nature.” Aureste’s air of certainty disguised a rush of pleasure at her words. “As for your move to Orezzia, much as it grieves me to see you go, I’m certain it’s for the best. We of House Belandor are resented here in Vitrisi. Your uncle Nalio’s concerns are not unfounded. We’ve enemies.”
“That business with House Corvestri goes back generations. Who cares about it now? It’s less a quarrel than a tradition.”
“Don’t deceive yourself. In any case, Corvestri Mansion is hardly the sole source of enmity.”
“Well, so many people are jealous of you. They were stupid and lost their money in the wars, and now they think that all Faerlonnish ought to be poor and bitter, as if it were some mark of virtue. You were wise, and managed well for our House, and those less intelligent can’t forgive you for it.”
“That is human frailty, I fear.” Aureste studied his daughter. Her confident, open expression reassured him that she still believed this version of history. Perhaps his luck would hold and she would continue to believe it, at least throughout his lifetime; maybe even beyond. Aloud he continued, “I am resolved to guard you against the malice of the ignorant and the envious. You’ll be safest and happiest living outside Vitrisi. And”—he held up one hand to forestall her eager rejoinder—“Orezzia is not so far distant that we cannot arrange for frequent visits.”
“It won’t be the same. It won’t be as good.”
“Don’t be so quick to judge. Wait and see.”
“But I’ll miss you so much. And it’s so unnecessary to exile me from home. How should a Belandor fear for her safety in Vitrisi? This is our place, and always has been. It isn’t too late, I’m sure, to open negotiations with one of the good local families. House Challosa, for example. Their oldest son Errsi carried off the trophy at the Prinsanna Run, and I think he may like me.”
“What is this?” Aureste eyed his daughter sharply. “What have you to do with the Challosa heir? Has he approached you?”
“No, of course not. I’ve never spoken to him. It’s only that he’s looked at me and smiled. He has a very nice smile, with really smashing teeth—”
“Always a paramount concern.”
“And he’ll always live in Vitrisi. So why don’t you just bounce a messenger over to Errsi’s father the magnificiari?”
Who would instantly order any Belandor emissary beaten and flung out into the street. No need to apprise Jianna of this disagreeable reality, however; she was better off without it. Aloud, Aureste merely remarked, “It is not so simple as that. The Magnificiari Challosa and I are not on cordial terms.”
“Oh, I know that. Errsi’s father is one of the poor-but-proud crowd of stiff-necks. But that’s just it, you see. They haven’t much money, and you’re offering such a very generous dowry. Once the Magnificiari Challosa hears about that dowry, he’ll set his grudge aside in a flash.”
She hadn’t any real conception of the depth and strength of Faerlonnish hostility. Sheltered all her life and correspondingly naïve, she perceived only jealous stiff-necks who bore grudges that could be set aside in a flash. She did not understand that the Belandor name was now despised in Vitrisi and beyond, thanks to the Magnifico Aureste. She remained unaware that the doors of the great old city Houses were closed to the daughter of Aureste Belandor. Despite all advantages of wealth and beauty, her only hope of a brilliant marriage lay well outside Vitrisi. She never dreamed that her father had once feared the necessity of marital alliance with a Taerleezi House. She did not know these things because he had carefully cultivated her ignorance, and once safely wed, she need never know.
“The arrangements with House Tribari are complete,” he told her. “The terms and conditions have been agreed upon, and there is no possibility of alteration.”
“But why not, Father?” Jianna was unaccustomed to flat refusal. Frowning, she folded her arms. “I don’t see why not. There’s been no marriage contract, no ceremony, nothing irrevocable. If you choose to make me happy, you can still—”
“Jianna. That will do. The subject is closed.” Aureste spoke with unwonted coldness.
Her eyes widened in genuine astonishment at his tone, then filled with tears. “I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice. “I didn’t mean to make you angry.”
“I’m not angry.” He melted at once. “Listen, my dear, and try to believe that I’m doing what’s best for you. Do you trust your father?” He waited for her to nod before continuing, “You’ll have a happy, safe, comfortable life. No calumny or accusation will touch you. You’ll be cherished, and honored; you’ll have everything in the world that you want. You will see me often as long as I live, and when I am gone you’ll inherit considerable wealth. I’ve done much to preserve that wealth through the wars, and it has all been for you. Now, don’t you think you can manage to reconcile yourself to such a fate?”
“Well, when you put it that way.” Her smile crept back. Her tears were gone in an instant, as if they had never been. She was still like a child in that way. “I’ll be good, then. You’ve always known what’s best for me. No more arguments.”
“There’s my butterfly. Now don’t you have a dress fitting or some such feminine mystery to engage your attention?”
“Is that your tactful paternal wa
y of telling me to go away?”
“In a word, yes. I’m expecting a visitor shortly.”
“Who?”
“No one you’d know.”
“Sounds mysterious.”
“Someone to present a full account of the latest meeting of the City Council. There is a reordering of the committees in progress.”
“Oh, a boring mystery.”
“I fear that you would find it so. Flutter off, then. Go enjoy yourself.”
“I will. Only first—” Rounding the desk, she bent her slim form to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “Love you, Father.”
He responded in kind, then watched as she exited the study, struck as always by the easy active grace of her movements. Which would shortly vanish from his house and his sight, along with her voice, her laughter, and her impossibly trusting eyes. Her absence would leave an unimaginable void. Life without her would be—
Grey. Old.
He pushed such thoughts from him, for melancholia of temperament did not number among his failings. Jianna’s departure was all for the best; she would be far safer outside of Vitrisi. Moreover, there were certain compensations to be found, for his daughter’s removal eliminated one of the few major constraints upon his scope of action, and the pleasures of renewed liberty were already beginning to manifest themselves. One of the greatest was imminent.
There came another knock at the study door, and this time the expected visitor appeared; a woman neither old nor young, tall nor short, pretty nor ugly. Her hands were tolerably well tended, but not fine. A long cloak of grey-brown frieze disguised her figure. The hood, pulled well forward, concealed her hair and shadowed her face. The woman hesitated on the threshold in the manner of a servant or petitioner.
“Come in. You are my guest.” Aureste produced the encouraging smile reserved for those he did not wish to intimidate immediately.
The Traitor's Daughter Page 3
