One Land, One Duke

by Emerson, Ru

  Lialla looked like she might already be asleep; she'd been nodding for most of the evening anyway, and now all he could see of her was a muddle of dark fabric tucked among a pile of light-colored cushions, one small hand that protruded from the Wielder Blacks to clutch at the fringed corner of one pillow.

  Aletto was sitting against the fountain wall, pillows behind him and Robyn's head on his shoulder. She looked comfortable, even happy. She sighed, and Aletto turned to look at her. “That inn was really nice; I could envy Caro what she's got there.” Aletto didn't say anything, but he moved, murmured something. Robyn pulled slightly away so she could look up at him and quietly demanded, “What?"

  "Nothing."

  She edged completely from under his arm and sat back on her heels, facing him. “Aletto, it's not nothing—what?” Silence. “Was it what I said?"

  "Is that what you want?"

  "I—what d'you mean, what I want?” Robyn ran a hand through her hair, dislodging pins and loosening the already unfastened braids. “Aletto—!"

  He was looking down at his hands, talking in such a low voice Chris couldn't make out what he was saying; Robyn leaned close enough to apparently catch some of it and when she sat back on her heels again she was gazing at him in round-eyed astonishment. “Aletto! You know I don't want a choice like that! You think I plan on just—just dumping you and going off that way? What's wrong with you?” Silence. Robyn went on after a moment in a much lower voice. “Damnit, Aletto! Just because I couldn't commit to you the last time we talked about all that doesn't mean I—oh, hell.” She turned away. Aletto reached for her shoulder; she tore it out of his grasp. “Did you listen to yourself? You just knew I didn't care, you just knew I never meant to stay with you—"

  "You never said,” Aletto began defensively.

  "Why did I need words?” Robyn demanded. She spun back around and came up onto one knee. “Look,” she added in a much softer voice. “Why are we fighting about this? There's enough bad karma all around us without that."

  "I don't want to fight,” Aletto said stubbornly. “I just—I want to know. I don't want to feel my stomach drop when you say things like that."

  "What, that I liked Caro Ellaway's inn? I did like it; I'd like a home like that, all spacious, view of the ocean, light and clean. That didn't mean I'm ready to go off on my own and get one, does it?” She held out a hand, laid it against his cheek; he wouldn't meet her eyes but his own hand came up to hold it where it was. “Aletto—all right, then. You want to hear it, want the words? I would like that kind of home; I'm willing to take whatever Duke's Fort turns out to be.” Silence. “You aren't going to believe me, though, are you? Not really?” She brought up her other hand to cup his face, leaned forward and kissed him, sat back again. “All right. Before we go any farther, before something else goes wrong.” She managed a shaky little laugh. “Before I open my big mouth again and leave you feeling even more rotten than you feel right now because Jen and Dahven got picked up and you couldn't stop it happening—"

  "I don't—"

  "Aletto, I know you better than that, don't even say it. Find Evany, get him to find us a priest or whatever it takes."

  "I—you don't have to—"

  "Don't you dare try and tell me I don't,” Robyn said. “It's called a life contract, isn't it? Unless you're having second thoughts, you get that little man to set it up. Because I'm not starting an heir for you without the contract.” They sat very still for what seemed forever; Aletto finally let his head fall back and he laughed delightedly before jumping to his feet.

  Robyn sat staring at the cushions where he'd been. She shook herself then, and sighed. “All right, kid,” she said. “You aren't invisible."

  Chris shifted; the edge of the fountain was hard and cold.

  "Wasn't trying to be,” he replied. “Just came over to see if I couldn't help cheer up your boyfriend—sorry, your fiancé."

  "Short engagement,” Robyn said, and a brittle laugh ended whatever else she was about to say. After a moment, she slewed around to look up at him. “You mind, kid?"

  "Not that it matters, greatly,” Chris said. “But no, I don't really. He's got a lot more class than some people. Names unnamed, of course. Provided we get out of Podhru in one piece, he even has a reasonable future."

  "Smart kid."

  "Odd having a stepdad only a few years older than me—what, eleven? But, hey, I'm easy.” He looked down at Robyn, who was eyeing him rather anxiously, and smiled. “Hey, Mom, don't sweat it, all right? I like the guy, you could do a lot worse—"

  "I have done a lot worse,” Robyn said somberly.

  "Old business. So long as no one expects me to play babysitter for these heirs."

  "I can't believe I told him that,” Robyn said in a very small voice.

  "I can't either; I never thought you cared about legit. Hey, before you say it, don't look at me that way, I don't care. Why should I? You never made a big deal out of it, none of my friends ever knew—so what?"

  "Hey, kid—"

  "Don't. Let it drop, okay? More old business."

  "Yeah—well.” Robyn let out a gusty sigh. “Yeah. In Aletto's case, though, it's the inheritance-thing."

  "You been reading some of my history books?"

  "No,” Robyn replied dryly. “I actually read my own, back when. Aletto—what's he doing over there by the door?"

  Chris turned and squinted. “Guess he ran into Evany."

  "Can't stand that little man,” Robyn said flatly, and her son laughed.

  "Yeah, reminds me of the line from the French Revolution: ‘A la lanterne!’ Somebody like that could make a real Bolshevik out of you, couldn't he?"

  "You're mixing your historical periods, kid."

  "I know it. Hey, though.” Chris tightened his shoe and balanced cross-legged on the edge of the pool. “Do I get to give away the bride?” Robyn laughed. “Maybe sing my own version of ‘Here Comes the Bride'?"

  "God. I'm afraid to ask what that would be."

  "Easy.” Chris considered this a moment, began to beat his hands against his thigh. “The lady with the long yellow hair is my mother/and if she wasn't, then I'd have another/her main squeeze is a guy named Aletto/who ought to be Duke but his uncle won't let go..."

  "Chris, that's awful!” Robyn was laughing helplessly, hardly able to get the words out.

  He lifted both hands and grinned cheerfully. “Hey, it scans, and I'm working on it, all right? This is off the cuff, I could do better if I had a couple hours. No, really, let me—” He picked up the beat again and went on. “But his uncle won't let go/of the Duchy Zelharri/but let's cut the chatter/and get on with the part that really matter./These two gonna marry, gonna make themselves an heir/So Aletto got a kid to/hand on the Duke's Chair...."

  "Stop,” Robyn groaned. “Pax, time out, enough."

  "Just trying to help. Beats the goopy ‘Here Comes the Bride’ thing they play at weddings, and you don't have an organ anyway, right?"

  "Rotten kid.” Robyn was still giggling; she waved a hand toward the darkened garden and a high wall, city lights visible beyond its top. “Main squeeze, my God. There has to be some traffic out there; why don't you go play?"

  "Past my curfew, ma. Here come your boy friend,” he added as he jumped to his feet. “I get the feeling I'm extraneous. All right if I go looking for trouble, then?"

  "Don't you dare. And keep those fingers off Evany's girl, I saw the way you were looking at her."

  "Yeah.” Chris sighed. “All the fun for you, none for me. Hey, guy,” he added as a rather abashedly happy Aletto came toward him, “just heard, congratulations, I can really recommend this lady."

  "Kid,” Robyn warned.

  "Yeah, ma, scramming now."

  * * * *

  Meriyas came out a short while later with a message for Aletto from her father. “He's sent word to the advocacy clerk he uses for contracts, the man will no doubt be here shortly.” She gave Chris a shy smile on her way back into the house.r />
  Robyn sat on the edge of the fountain, jaw sagging. “My God,” she breathed finally. “A lawyer who makes house calls? Late night house calls? Now I know we aren't anywhere in our own world."

  Chris laughed. “All it takes is money, right?"

  Evany came out with the clerk—a very thin young man with a prominent Adam's apple and what must be the local equivalent of a briefcase: a short tube with documents and pens rolled inside. The actual signing was brief and low-key: The Advocate explained the printed form and its contents, spoke to each of them, and then Aletto signed the bottom, Robyn signed, the advocate signed. Another paper—apparently a duplicate—was produced for signature. The Advocate waved the second to dry the new ink, rerolled both separately and handed one to Aletto. Aletto turned to smile at Robyn, gave her the roll of thick paper and turned back to talk to the advocate, who produced another document. The two men talked over this briefly, the Advocate crossed out something, added something; Aletto beckoned then, drawing Enardi forward.

  "This is something you will know more about than I; I asked Lord Evany to have his man bring a standard contract of delegation, and this is what he's given me. I still intend to ask your assistance here, as I said I would, and it seemed an excellent opportunity to deal with the matter. Especially since I hope to be able to leave Podhru within a day or so, as soon as we can collect the rest of our party.” He held out the single sheet and Enardi took it. “Study it if you like while I finish my other business with the Advocate.” Enardi looked a little dazed, but he nodded and drew off to one side, Biyallan at his shoulder so she could read it also. Chris edged forward and wrapped an arm around his mother's shoulders, gave her a quick, hard squeeze. She leaned into him.

  "Beats a justice of the peace for speed,” he whispered.

  "Yeah. Lot less hassle. Aletto says he'll do the whole bit when he takes Duke's Fort back."

  "When. Hey, guy's starting to think the right way. Good idea, though, people like a good show, you know?"

  "I don't, if I have to be part of it,” Robyn said, and sighed. “I don't know why I did that—"

  "You got the guy's ego aligned right, and you like him, and he likes you. You need something else?"

  "Yeah,” Robyn said gloomily. “Reassurance I'm not gonna turn into the next Nancy Reagan."

  "You won't,” Chris said, “I'll kill you if you try. All right? Besides, not everyone married to a governor—that's really what this guy is, isn't it?—not all of those turn out to be icky little white-glove girls. Think of all the power you'll have to do some good for people."

  "Yeah, sure,” Robyn said, but he thought she brightened a little at the thought. She gave him a quick hug and went over to Aletto. Chris followed.

  "I haven't heard of any writs,” the Advocate was saying. “It doesn't mean much, though; I seldom deal with anything like that. But I can talk with men who do, to see if they know anything about the charges against either the woman Jenni—? Jen Cray, or the nera-Thukar. At least I will be able to tell you by midday whether such a writ was sent down by the Emperor, or by his brother. If Afronsan—well, it might be at least possible for a message to reach them if it is Afronsan who sent the guard. If the Emperor—I don't know what hope to hold out to you sir, because the Emperor has chosen to do nothing else until after his upcoming Festival; anyone charged under Shesseran's writ would be held until the Festival is over.” He spread his hands, turned them palm up. “Lord Evany will know your whereabouts, if I have a message for you?"

  "I—yes.” Aletto dug down in the little leather bag on his belt and brought out a silver ceri. “This is for you—no, I know Lord Evany pays you for services, but this is for your time in coming tonight, and for your efforts tomorrow. Enardi?” The boy was waiting just behind him; he set the form on the table, signed it rather self-consciously. Aletto glanced through it again, signed it himself, handed it to the Advocate so the man could make his changes on the duplicate and countersign. Aletto took the completed original, held out a hand to the Advocate and then to Enardi. “We can settle specific points later, perhaps in the morning.” He got up with only a whiteness to his knuckles to show that he was having any difficulty this particular night, and wrapped an arm around Robyn's shoulders. The Advocate quietly took his leave by inserting pens and documents in his carry-tube, sketching a bow in Aletto's direction and giving Evany one before the householder escorted him to the house door and turned him over to a servant.

  "This is a propitious moment, Honor,” he said on his return. “If you would like wine? Cakes? And the guests’ chamber is yours—"

  Chris could only see Aletto's back, and the tips of his ears, which were very red. Robyn laughed, the bubbly little giggle that meant she was embarrassed. “Um,” she managed finally. “That's really sweet of you."

  "But, please, it is no trouble at all,” Evany purred. “We will celebrate properly, if you permit, tomorrow. When the other Zelharri come."

  Aletto shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat; Chris saw his mother's foot come down over the nera-Duke's and the arm around his back clamped his arm. Whatever he might have said—and all Chris's sympathies were with a guy in Aletto's position at the moment—he swallowed that with an audible gulp, and merely said, “Thank you, sir.” Robyn glanced back over her new husband's shoulder, met her son's eyes and cast her own up helplessly as Evany bowed them toward the house. Chris managed somehow to keep his own face straight until they were gone, then dropped onto the pile of cushions where Aletto and Robyn had been sitting. Lialla came and sat next to him, and he suddenly realized he hadn't noticed her at all, the whole time.

  "Hey,” he said. “You get lost?"

  "Oh, I was about,” Lialla replied.

  "Yeah, Invisible Lady, that's you. I'm trying to figure, does this make us cousins, or what? I mean, besides friends?"

  Lialla smiled at him. “You're a nice person, in case I hadn't said so, Chris. Let's see, my brother, your mother, so he's your stepfather—” Her smile slipped briefly. “So I'm a stepsister?"

  "I think that tracks. Neat, you know? Mom never landed me with a sister before. Awfully fast, too."

  Lialla pulled back to look at him. “You can't say you haven't expected it, can you?"

  He rubbed a rather scratchy chin, finally shook his head. “No, not really. You?"

  "Aletto's been very taken with her for—almost since the beginning."

  "I know, she said as much. I figure if mom would coo over a goofy old duck like Fedthyr for Aletto, it must be love. I didn't figure tonight, but I guess once she opened her mouth and then he opened his it was either that or a complete split.” He sighed. “No, I wasn't surprised. Wish Jen'd been here, though; she never has seen mom get married, you know?"

  "I just wish they were all three here,” Lialla said somberly. “It's awful, not knowing what's happening, where they are.” She stifled a yawn with the back of her hand. “You know, I was half-asleep before that whole stupid fight over Caro's inn, I think I'll see if I can't get back to sleep."

  "Yeah, me too,” Chris said. “If you're asleep you can't worry."

  "Yes,” Lialla said dryly. “Well.” She yawned again, rolled onto hands and knees and crawled back into the nest of cushions and lightweight sleeping cloths she'd made for herself earlier. “Good night."

  "G'night,” Chris said absently. He sat for a while, staring at the pool, watching as a very light breeze rippled the surface and broke up moonlight, finally shook himself and went looking for a spare corner where he could stretch out. Yeah, he thought as he resolutely closed his eyes and settled the soft, cool fabric around his shoulders, g'night, Jen. Eddie. Dahven. It seemed forever before he slept, and the birds had him restlessly awake at first light.

  * * * *

  Across the city, in the fourth-story rooms, Jennifer carefully untangled herself from Dahven's arms and slid from the bed. The room was cool, but not unbearable; she washed down quickly with the previous night's water, dried off even more quickly and fought
damp legs into her jeans. She carried the large black bag into the other room, turned up the lantern and began unloading the things she needed: hair brush and pick; the deodorant stick, makeup. In the bottom of the makeup bag, her silver hoop earrings. Toothpaste and brush, hand cream.

  It was difficult, working with the makeup; it almost felt as though it was a stranger's bag, unfamiliar contents, even though she'd used it in Bez just before Fedthyr's sprawl of a party. The face that looked out at her from the round metal mirror was too pale, which made her look anxious. At least makeup could help with that. Blush, liner, mascara—as she applied it, it began to feel right again. She ran the lipstick liner pencil deftly around her lips, filled the outline, gazed at the result and shook her head at the way her hair still looked. The hair spray she'd given Chris might have come in handy just now. She worked the brush through it, went into the back room for water to scrunch through it in hopes of bringing back the curl, set the pick and mirror aside and put everything else back in the bag, slid into the chambray shirt—thanks to Caro Ellaway only slightly rumpled and still clean—tucked the shirttails in and fastened the cuff buttons.

  Dahven was still asleep. She glanced down at him, smiled, went back into the main room making fists of hair, and drew up the chair where she'd sat the night before. A last opportunity to go through her case and get it in order, in case she was given the chance to speak for him.

  Not a good way to think, Cray, she told herself and tugged at the fistful of hair she'd taken up over her left temple. He's not a street beggar or a—some other commoner no one here might care about. They have to at least give the appearance of listening to his side of things, don't they? She tugged at hair once more, released it and took up another handful in a tight fist. Of course they did.