Stemis knew that Oran’s statements were born of logic, and said so, that they would not restrict their views of the situation to one side. They both knew that logic could not be the only considering factor. “That is why we must find out what is going on in Daes Shael.”
Oran finally nodded in agreement, then his face turned thoughtful. “There might be a way.” Stemis looked to his friend with hope. “Miko will not risk himself to help, but if it was to help one of us? He owes us enough for it.”
Stemis leaned back in the thick-backed chair. “I cannot go, and neither can you.” Oran started to protest but Stemis overrode him. “Shervah has not revoked the price on your head and there are enough people who still remember those notices with your likeness on them. You have not grown so old as to be unrecognizable.”
Oran threw up his hands. “Then I have no ideas. The east is completely sealed to us. The borders are patrolled and the ports are shut down. No Midian can pass and no Karandi can be trusted.”
“I am sure there are some Voltian merchants who still manage to trade with Daes Shael.”
Oran very nearly snorted. “Trusting them would be worse than sending someone alone.”
“What if it was someone Miko knew to be more important to us than ourselves?” Stemis put the thought out there as it came to him, knowing Oran would understand.
Oran stared at his dearest friend for a long time. His features grew sterner by the minute. “I hope you are not volunteering my son again. Will you tell him what you are sending him into this time? Or will you send him into the middle of Karand wearing full armor, maybe with a big banner waving and trumpets blaring to announce his presence!”
Stemis was surprised at the anger Oran displayed. It was something that he had not seen in years. He knew the source of that anger. He had finally told him everything about his plans for Coran in Westland. Oran was not pleased at all. Not so much about forcing a confrontation with Torvilin, Oran knew his son’s skill, but more for compelling his son into marriage without consulting him. Stemis could have argued that Coran did have a choice, but he knew better than that. He used Coran’s unfailing sense of duty against him. “I am sorry. I have told you that. This is far too important for us to balk at because we are worried. It is as important, if not more, than getting rid of Torvilin.”
“That is something else I have been meaning to ask you,” Oran said more evenly. “Why was it so important to deal with Torvilin? I spoke with Coran before he left and he asked me. I could not tell him because you will not confide in me.”
“I could not,” Stemis told him regretfully.
“And now? You know Coran had a suspicion as to why. He did not tell me what it was, but I can guess.” Stemis did not meet his eyes. “And I think I would be right.”
The High King leaned forward again. “Perhaps. Perhaps it is time I told you.”
Oran put his hands on the desk and leaned forward to listen.
The grand hall ended up being large enough for all the visiting Lords and Ladies. Everyone was in attendance, even some with arms in slings and one fellow confined to his chair with a splinted leg. Injuries were not going to keep them from a night of revelry. Musicians played from a corner near the open, main doors of the hall. A few tables holding food were set up along one side, and servants moved with practiced grace through the gathering. They carried trays in one hand that contained various food and drink. Wine flowed freely throughout the night.
Over the course of the evening Coran had been introduced to so many people that he knew he would never remember their names. He graciously accepted endless congratulations on his performance in the tournament. Many offered it for his betrothal as well, which Katelyn answered with no hint of how she really felt on the subject. She always replied quickly, before he had a chance to say anything. Maybe she was afraid of how he would answer. That was foolish, since he would never embarrass her, no matter how he felt about the situation. That was the problem, he was not sure how he felt about it. He also had no idea how she really felt about it either.
The other thing that had him feeling uneasy was that since the night before, Willa had been avoiding him. He spotted her standing next to her brother and decided to try again. As he came near, the Princess of Westland glanced from him to Katelyn before heading in the opposite direction.
Rob frowned at his sister’s departing back. “I do not know what has gotten into her.”
Katelyn watched the departing girl as well. “Let me talk to her.” She went off not waiting for any reply to her statement.
Rob watched her go. “You are a lucky man. If Margery had not already captured my heart I would be tempted.” He seemed to realize to whom he was speaking. “Of course I would never...”
Coran smiled. “I understand. I am not going to challenge you.” He meant it as a joke, but Rob looked relieved. “Rob, I consider us friends now.”
“I am sorry,” Rob said, sounding ashamed for his reaction. “I think of you the same.”
A few minutes later Katelyn returned with an embarrassed Willa.
“I hope you will forgive me,” the brown haired princess stated. “I have not been feeling myself today.”
“No need to forgive,” he assured her quickly. “You are feeling better now?”
“Somewhat, yes,” she answered with a glance to Katelyn.
“Good.”
It was some time later when he found himself and Katelyn approached by Lord Onatel, one of the competitors Coran had unhorsed during the tournament. The older man inclined his head and led them away from the nearest tangle of people. “I am leaving in the morning and wanted to offer my congratulations on your betrothal while I had the chance. You are a fortunate man Lord Coran.”
“I am indeed, Lord Onatel.” For once he got in his response first. Onatel’s statements had been true, but it was obvious the man had more to say.
Onatel gestured around them. “In years past, the celebrating was always more reserved. From high to low, everyone can feel that something is coming. Dark times most say, and with dark times come change. It has happened before and I believe it is happening again.” A servant bearing a tray of filled wine glasses approached and Onatel waved the man away. He looked at Coran closely. “I know your father. He is a great man. There was always something special about him, and you are much like him. More so, I dare say.” He stopped, contemplating if he should continue. They waited patiently. “These are dangerous times as I said. Some people will start to look only to themselves in the days to come. Some will be looking to others to lead them in a time of need. I wanted you to know that if things change as much as I fear, then I will be one of the latter. If you ever have need of a favor, or a strong sword, send word. I will come.” He started to turn and stopped. “I would say that you are as fortunate as he is, Your Highness.” He left them standing together, trying to comprehend the one sided conversation they had just heard.
Katelyn looked around, then leaned closer. “I think there are some things that we need to discuss in private.” He nodded and let himself be led out a side door of the hall.
They reached the wing that contained the rooms of the royal family and her room as well, being the honored guest that she was. She opened a dark framed glass door and stepped out onto a small balcony. There were no adjoining doors and the walls of the building were smooth. There was nowhere for anyone to hide. The place was definitely safe.
The moon was out and the thin clouds that passed in front of it cast everything in a ghostly glow. The garden below was mostly dark. Only the outside pathways were lined with torches.
“What do you want to discuss first?” he asked her.
“Onatel. Surely he was not insinuating any disloyalty to Robert. What do you think he meant?”
“He is worried. About what I do not know.” He tried to concentrate but it was difficult. The way the light shown across her pale features was distracting. He shook his head slightly to clear it. That was the last thing he should be thinking
about. “What happened the last time there was a Great War?”
“A Great War?” she said surprised. “I know that Mon Vusaar was destroyed. I know that in the war before that the southern empire was crushed.”
“Think about it. ‘These times bring change’ Onatel said. It must be the trouble in the East. He believes another war is coming. He fears that the Alliance of Summerhall will fall if that happens.”
“My father is worried about something. Maybe that is it.” She sounded doubtful.
“My father said that Gelarus was worried about something too.” That was what made him make the mental leap from trouble to the possibility of serious trouble, like a war.
“They must know something we do not.” She sounded less doubtful. “Onatel is reputed to be well educated and have a fondness for rare books. I think we should take his words seriously. What I do not understand is why he would say them to you?”
“A good question. I wish I knew.” Then he remembered the dream that might not have been a dream. He remembered the power he had wielded and wondered if it would be better not to know.
They were silent for a time. After a few ‘whys’ there was no point in discussing something that could not be answered. At least not today. He decided to break the silence.
“Was Willa upset with me for some reason?” he asked, hoping it was a safe enough topic.
Katelyn hesitated before answering. “In a way, but there is something I need to say first.” He waited. “My father cannot hold you to it. I will not hold you to it. It was a forced betrothal and he has no right to do this to you.”
“He will hold me to it, you know that. Your father did not go to all the trouble of setting this up to let me get out of it. Either one of us.”
“I suppose you are right,” she said, and turned her head to look out over the railing. She was silent so long he wondered if he had said something wrong.
“I am sure we will think of something,” he put out tentatively, but she didn’t respond. “Katelyn? Are you all right?”
“I am fine,” she told him, spinning back towards him. “You make it sound as if marrying me is a terrible thing.”
“Of course not,” he said quickly. That was certainly not what he meant.
“Then you do not find it unappealing?” As she asked, one of her eyebrows rose questioningly.
“No.”
He could tell she was pleased by his answer. “Then you might say that you find the prospect appealing?”
It was his turn to remain silent. She was trying to get him to say something, but he couldn’t tell if she was teasing him or being serious. The truth was that he had been avoiding thinking about it, because he had no idea what he wanted. He knew that he cared for her a great deal, that was something he could not deny. Seeing her here in the moonlight he was prepared to admit that his feelings might go beyond that, but was it love that he felt?
As his eyes became locked with hers, the question she had asked him was forgotten. Once again he was caught in her gaze, only this time he could not look away. He felt like he was under some spell, unable to break the contact, unable to think of anything else. He found himself with his hands on her arms, and hers on his, without remembering his moving closer. His heart beat faster as he lowered his head towards hers, intent on her lips. She leaned forward to meet his.
“Oh,” said a startled voice. Coran straightened quickly and took a step back from his princess. “Sorry,” Alys told them. He could tell it was more for Katelyn than him.
“What is it?” Katelyn asked her pointedly. By the look on her face Alys had better have a good reason for interrupting her.
“The King wishes to make a toast. He requests the presence of the tournament champion and the Lady of Spring. I told him I would find you.”
Some of the irritation went out of Katelyn’s expression. “Very well,” she huffed. “I suppose we should go back if the King wants us.”
Coran followed the two young ladies back into the hall. As they entered, Katelyn went off with Alys. Devon saw Coran and came over to stand beside him. As usual, Devon had a drink in hand. Two actually, since he held one of the finely crafted mugs out to Coran.
“You look like you could use this.”
“Why do you say that?” Coran asked as he took the mug, then tilted the container to check the contents. Ale.
“With your face flushed like that, you look like you just ran a mile.”
Coran downed the bitter brew in two swallows. “It was nothing,” he said, feeling a little calmer, putting the mug down among some trays of food on a nearby table.
“Then we won’t talk about it.” Devon let him be. He waved to a server carrying a pitcher who hurried over, careful not to bump any of the guests. Devon held out his mug to be refilled and pointed to Coran’s to be filled as well, then handed it back to his friend. “We will get drunk instead.”
Coran took the mug and stared at the dark liquid. It had been a long time since he had gotten good and drunk. Devon was there that time too as he remembered it. “Why not?”
Katelyn spotted a wine filled glass on a table next to an attendant, whose job it was to keep the glasses full, and picked one of them up. She took a large swallow, then lowered the glass from her mouth.
“I am sorry,” Alys told her, looking upset.
It took a moment for Katelyn to realize that her friend was afraid she might be angry with her. “It is not your fault. Really.”
“Good,” Alys said, relieved. “So, how did it go. The part before I got there.”
“Nothing interesting happened,” she replied trying to hide her disappointment.
They stopped talking as Robert called for silence in a commanding voice.
Chapter 11
Under the Trees
Big, puffy, white clouds lazily sailed across a background of deep, blue sky. It was a perfect color of blue for a perfectly warm, spring day. Their escort, under the command of Loras, was already mounted and waiting in perfectly ordered columns of two. The white coach bearing the sun of Summerhall had its door open and an attendant standing by to assist any would be occupants to enter.
Another group of horsemen stood assembled in another area in front of the palace. Lord Onatel was mounted on a big gray. His own escort surrounded the Lord and the smaller carriage that bore his wife. Before they passed through the palace gates Onatel stopped briefly before Coran and bowed from the saddle more deeply than he had before. The Lord’s brown eyes met his and he knew it was not an idol gesture. Coran was left to wonder at the deference shown towards him. Was Onatel becoming a bit unhinged from his thoughts of the future, or was he wiser than anyone knew? Coran prayed it was the former. If it was the latter then that meant war was near, and the world would only suffer for it.
Coran wore his traditional black. The black overshirt worn over his armor bore the silver hawk of Tyelin. He took the reins of his black horse, a gift that was the result of some negotiations between Katelyn and King Robert, and swung himself up, and into the saddle. He was pleased with the new horse. It was an exceptional animal, one of the very best of the stock from Leanesse. Katelyn’s own gain from the mysterious exchange was tied to the back of the coach. Her mount was also black and at least as good as his own.
He waited while his newly betrothed said her good-byes to her hosts. Coran already said his before coming outside. Robert and his wife had been kind towards him, Rob, friendly and open, offering his hopes that they would meet again soon. Willa had been a bit distant and he was reminded to ask Katelyn about that. Last night he had gotten distracted from his question regarding her. He nearly blushed at the thought of what had distracted him.
Everyone was finally ready to go and they set off for home. Coran rode directly behind the coach along with Devon. Katelyn could be heard giving her opinion of riding in a coach when there was a more than decent horse available, as they passed through the streets. There were not many people about. Most had been up late in celebration. The few he
did see were somber as they returned to their normal daily activities after a day or two of merriment. He was forced to agree with Onatel on the emotional condition of the people.
Once again he tried to ascertain what the older Lord had meant. Part of it he understood. Some people would look to themselves first and try to protect their families and personal interests out of fear. Others would look for leadership wherever they could find it out of the same fear. What would make one react differently than the other? It was impossible to know for a certainty. Would those who were trained to fight look for a military leader who would give them a chance at victory? For most. perhaps, but not all. There were some he had known that he would not trust to do the right thing even if it was in their own best interests. He also knew that there were people with no training who would fight until their last breath. The blacksmith at Tyelin came to mind as did many others among the mountain folk. He had to shake his head at the futility of trying to understand human nature.
“Problem?” Devon asked from the saddle of his light gray horse. Devon wore the same rumpled brown shirt and pants he had arrived in.
“No.” As soon as he said it he knew it was untrue. It was a problem. “Not really. I was just thinking on the differences in people. Why some react differently than others.”
“That is a little deep for me. Especially this early in the day.” Devon grabbed a canteen from behind his saddle and drank deeply.
“Thirsty?”
“Not really. Want some?” The blonde man held it out to his friend.
“Is that wine?”
“Yes. It helps with headaches.”
“And will just give you some more,” Coran pointed out.
Devon shrugged. “I will worry about later, later. Right now I have a headache.” He held out the container. “Want some?”
Coran was not exactly at his best. He didn’t have as much to drink as his blond friend, but he was definitely feeling a little sluggish, and the sun was a bit brighter than he remembered. He reached out and took the canteen from Devon’s hand.
Fire And Ice (Book 1) Page 15
