Treseen was sitting in the large wooden chair next to the cold hearth, as though he was seeking to bathe in its coolness, as he would on a cold night enjoy the heat.
He rose at her approach. His face was gritty and sweaty from the ride, and he held himself back as he bowed over her hand without her having to give even the tiniest of sniffs to put him on the defensive.
“Good afternoon, Lady,” he said. “Thank you for receiving me on such short notice — without any notice at all, in fact.” He smiled.
She returned the smile as she let her hand fall, and tried not to show her relief.
He was safe.
If Treseen had been coming to report that Kethol — that Forinel had been hurt, or worse, he wouldn’t have taken such a light tone. He would have painted a somber expression on his face, and not let her see that he was relieved to now have Miron to deal with, rather than Forinel.
“You’re always welcome here, Governor,” she said. “Once the governance of the barony is given to the baron, I hope you’ll know that you’ll always be welcome in our home in Dereneyl, as well.”
“Yes, yes.” He smiled noncommittally. “I would hope that’s always so.”
She quite deliberately furrowed her brow. “You seem uncomfortable — I hope you won’t embarrass me by telling me you’ve not been offered refreshment.” She was already reaching for the bell rope when a maid appeared bearing a large flagon of beer from the cellar.
“Thirien was kind enough to see that my needs were seen to.” Treseen guzzled it greedily, then wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “I thank you,” he said. “It’s a hot day for riding.”
“Which makes it all the kinder of you to come out and visit me today,” she said.
Where was Erenor? She could hardly hold off discussing serious matters forever.
Best to start with the obvious diversion. Besides, an empty headed little noble girl shouldn’t have been bright enough to work things out for herself. “Is there word of the baron? Has he been hurt?” She let the concern that she felt — the silly concern; surely, he was fine — show in her face and voice.
Treseen set down the beer and shook his head. “No, of course not,” he said.
She sighed in relief, and was only a little surprised to find that the relief was genuine.
“You worried me — your sudden appearance, Governor. It made me think that something might have happened to the baron.”
“Then I must apologize for that, as well,” Treseen said. “I’ve not received any word from him, other than a quick message from Baron Nerahan that came along with the Imperial post, complaining about him … borrowing a couple of Nerahan’s engineers.”
“‘Borrowing’?”
“Well,” Treseen said, smiling, “Baron Nerahan was a trifle more blunt about it — he’s gotten awfully testy since occupation was lifted there. I believe the precise phrase he used was ‘something just short of kidnapping,’ although I’m more inclined to attribute problems to that Pirojil, myself. I know that all is well with Baron Keranahan — or, at least, I can swear on my sword that all was well with him two days ago. Word of any problem before then would have reached us by now — and Tarnell, at least, would have sent immediate word. No, it’s not that.”
“Then you’ve come out on a hot day to show me the baronial account books?” She smiled. “How nice of you.”
Treseen’s lips made a thin line. “Lady, with respect, I haven’t, and I don’t think that I can or should. The baronial account books are Imperial property. It would be a close matter as to whether the baron himself has any right to see them at this point, and I’ve sent a message to the Imperial proctor asking for guidance on that.
“Beyond that, my former aide left the accounts in a dreadful state, and with Tarnell gone — and let me remind you he went at your and the baron’s insistence, and over my objections — I’m working night and day without any reliable help to try to bring them in order, so that I can at least send the Emperor an honest approximation as to what is owed, and to whom.”
Working night and day to try to hide various thefts and perhaps to replace some stolen money, more likely.
The trick was to keep the pressure on, to let Treseen think that he would have the time to restore what he had stolen, before either the Emperor demanded an accounting — which was always possible — or lifted the occupation, giving Forinel an indisputable right to the accounts.
He would either have to put the money back, or flee. Treseen was too fat, too old, and too used to a comfortable life to run, not if he didn’t have to. Let him squeeze the noble landholders’ estates for the extra, and they would welcome the return of baronial rule as much as they would the lifting of the occupation itself, and —
A breeze blew in from the open door, and swirled dust around the great hall so hard that she had to close her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, Erenor stood before her in his gray robes, his hood back, lying over his bony shoulders, his thin, gray hair tied behind him, withered hands clasped in front of him.
“You sent for me, Lady?” he asked.
Erenor could never resist a dramatic entrance, particularly when it suggested that he was more than he was. She knew — and she was sure that Treseen knew — enough about magic to know that changing oneself into a whirlwind was well beyond the scope of a wizard of Erenor’s abilities, and probably beyond the abilities of any wizard in the Eren regions. It was possible, of course, that he had conjured up a small, tame whirlwind, and let it carry him about, and that should have been possible for a wizard who called himself “the Great,” but that also seemed less than likely.
What he had probably done was as simple as generating a seeming of a small whirlwind, and then walking in through the door when their eyes were closed. The lack of grit on her face and clothing suggested that had, indeed, been the case.
“No,” she said. “I don’t recall sending for you.” It would be better if it seemed as though Erenor had barged in on the two of them.
“My mistake, and my apologies, as well.” He arched an eyebrow.
“Then I’ll beg your pardon, and take my leave,” he said, bowing.
“Please, no,” she said. “As long as you’re here, please join us.”
“I would never reject a lady’s invitation,” he said. “I’ll be more than happy to.”
He pulled the bell rope once, then twice, then once again, in the signal for beer for one to be brought to the great hall — and she found herself more than vaguely annoyed that Erenor had already discovered such things — then seated himself next to Treseen and tucked the skirts of his robe around his knees.
“And what shall we talk about on such a lovely afternoon?” he asked.
“Governor Treseen rode out from Dereneyl to tell me that he’s denying me access to the baronial accounts.”
“It’s only for the time being,” Treseen said. “I’m sure I’ll get word from the capital, sooner than later. I’ve sent your … request to the attention of the Emperor himself, and I’ve no doubt that I’ll get a response. If he thinks it’s as important as I’ve told him that you seem to, it will be a fast response — perhaps even by telegraph to Nerahan, and rider from there.”
She doubted that. Why would Treseen make the request sound so urgent that they would use the telegraph? And, besides, doing that meant that the message would have to go through many hands, and it was unlikely that anybody in the capital would want the barony’s financial matters discussed in every town with a telegraph shack between Biemestren and Nerahan.
“No,” he said. “That’s not why I’ve come.” He reached into his tunic and produced a folded paper from his pocket. “I’ve received a request from the Dowager Empress, asking me to convey to you her best regards, and then to convey you to Biemestren, immediately — to attend her, she says, and discuss your wedding.”
Erenor raised an eyebrow. “Discuss? What is there to discuss?”
“She doesn’t say,” Treseen said, flatly. “But the wedding of a
baron isn’t an everyday occurrence — I’m sure she wants to be sure that the preparations are in accord with Lady Leria’s preferences, and such.”
Leria was sure that it was nothing of the sort. The most obvious explanation was that Beralyn was going to try to throw her and Thomen together, again. Not that she had anything against the Emperor. He was a good man, charming in his own way, and had a more than gentle way with both horses and people. Too gentle, perhaps, but that didn’t bother her.
Nor was it that she would necessarily prefer to be Baroness Keranahan, rather than Empress Furnael.
But abandoning Kethol and Keranahan? No. That would be disloyal, and Leria set a high stock on loyalty.
It wasn’t just that, and she couldn’t pretend to herself that her motivations were utterly noble. Kethol would never become terribly interested in the details of ruling a barony, and he would leave those to her. She would, in many ways, get to be the baron, something that the lack of a stick between her legs would otherwise have denied her.
But it wasn’t just loyalty, and it wasn’t just greed, either.
There was something about the way that he held her in the night that was more than simply endearing. It wasn’t the mad passion that she had had for the young Forinel, and even that passion had been mixed in her ever-practical mind with the fact that he would become the baron.
Until Elanee had driven him off.
Perhaps she had more in common with Pirojil and Kethol than she had thought. She hated the idea of losing.
So she would not lose, and she had long ago set her mind on marrying Forinel and becoming the baroness of Keranahan, and so she would.
The way that Kethol looked at her with adoring eyes, a look that had nothing to do with her station or her lands, had nothing at all to do with it.
It was important to be practical. And never mind that his arms held her, warm and safe, in the night. Such things shouldn’t be important.
“I hope you won’t mind my company on your journey,” Erenor said.
“I’m sure she won’t,” Treseen said. “Since she won’t have it.”
Erenor blinked. “I think I have to — the baron was quite clear —”
“Clear or not, the Empress has all the wizards she needs, and she has not sent for you. As to the Lady Leria’s safety, I’m sending a full company as her escort, led by my best captain, and they shall travel on interior roads via Barony Adahan. I wouldn’t, after all, want to have the lady have to witness the scene of my men cutting down any bandits that might wish to interfere with her.
“It’s all been arranged. Once they reach the Adahan border, they’ll be joined by another company of Baron Adahan’s troops. She’ll be quite safe, I assure you.” He turned to Leria. “Now, let me be very clear, Lady — you’re not some sort of prisoner; I’ll not drag you, kicking and screaming, into the coach that will be here at first light. If you choose to spurn the invitation of the Dowager Empress, just tell me now or tell my captain in the morning, and I’ll convey word of that to Biemestren, immediately, by telegraph from Nerahan.”
She really didn’t have a choice. If she refused — no matter how carefully she phrased it — Treseen would be sure that it would widely be bruited about that, as he had put it, she had “spurned the Dowager Empress’s invitation.”
“Of course,” she said, nodding. “I’ll be honored to attend the Empress.”
Treseen was a good enough politician that he kept his smile inside. He had bought himself more time, and gotten what he surely thought of as a nuisance of a girl out of his way, at least for the time being.
She understood why Treseen was happy.
What she didn’t understand was why Erenor was holding himself so still and tight that she was certain that he, too, was delighted. Was it really as simple as him not liking to travel, and enjoying the prospect of being left alone with his study and his spell books, food and drink available at the pull of a bell rope?
Possibly. Erenor didn’t have to have complicated motivations for everything.
She thought about asking him later, but decided against it. He’d just lie.
“In the morning, then,” Treseen said, rising.
“Yes.”
***
Erenor still was overly pleased with himself as they stood and watched Treseen ride away, but he was starting to let it show.
She tried to keep her voice low and level. “So — you’re happy that I’ve been sent for.”
“Well, no,” he said, smiling. “I’m not looking forward to that lost-little-child look that the baron will surely display upon his return, no. I’m hoping it’s just that, and not a full-scale tantrum. Do you think that smoke will actually pour out of his ears?” Erenor shook his head. “I’m not sure if I’d rather that he comes back here first, or finds out in Dereneyl — and it’s perhaps just as well that he’s not one for breaking furniture when he’s angry.”
“I’ll leave him a note,” she said.
“And I should get how many men to hold him down while I read it to him?” He waved that away. “Well, I’ll manage. But yes, I’ll admit that I do see some advantages in all this, although I’ll freely confess that I far prefer your conversation to that of the guards and the serving girls — except for the little upstairs maid, who is not altogether utterly unpleasant to either ear or eye … or the touch, for that matter. And I will admit without any necessity of having hot irons applied to my tender flesh that having to watch so carefully over you has prevented me from being able to freely go into Dereneyl, and seeing if some of the locals can easily be separated from a little coin, and I assure you I will be taking full advantage of that in your absence.
“But I think you’re missing the best part of it.”
“Oh?”
“A problem is best dealt with the center. Here, we’re at the edges. I’m not at all sure what Treseen and Miron have planned — if they have anything planned, as of yet; Forinel’s timely reappearance caught them rather off guard, didn’t it?
“Tyrnael — and Treseen, no doubt — intended to push Parliament into making Miron the baron, and we’ve no reason to think that they have any less desire for that now. More, if anything. Tyrnael wanted a Holtish baron who was under his influence, and Treseen wanted to keep his soft, no doubt very lucrative, job as the governor, for as long as possible. A bit of tension there, no?
“Still, the first desire hasn’t changed, and the second want is probably more urgent. For them. Particularly with Forinel, right this moment, showing all and sundry that he has quite a lot to offer — I think he’ll be at least partly successful with the bandit problem, and I think that will give him some very serious credibility with the local lords … although you can expect that Moarin will be more than a little resentful at having to shell out good silver.” He raised a finger. “But think on it: the center is Biemestren, and you have just been invited — no, better than invited: you’ve been commanded to the center, when up until now you had been dispatched to the fringe.
“I think that opens up a whole world of possibilities, don’t you? Treseen is anchored here, yes, but do you think that Miron will allow you to whisper into the Empress’s ear with nobody around to plead his own case? Don’t you think that Biemestren is going to draw Tyrnael, as well? Isn’t it at least possible that not only this matter, but others, can be resolved by one very smart young woman, who has the ear of not only the Empress but the Emperor, and is ready to say or do what needs to be said or done, at the right moment?”
He smiled again. “And, who knows? It’s not at all impossible that you might, at some point, find that you have some help in one or another matter, isn’t it?”
She was going to ask him what he meant — not that she thought that he’d say anything unless it suited his own purposes, though it was, at least, worth a try — but he muttered a few syllables, and the brightness of the afternoon rose up and blinded her painlessly.
And when the brightness was gone, so was Erenor.
***
“I understand that you’ll be leaving in the morning,” Miron said, as the serving girl laid another preposterously thin slice of roast lamb on his plate, then ladled a scant spoonful of the horseradish sauce on both the meat and the fried turnip cake. “Pity.”
She nodded, and forced herself to smile. There was no advantage to be gained in telling Miron just how much she hated him, and quite a disadvantage to be had in showing that sort of weakness, as she had in Governor Treseen’s office, but had not repeated since.
The problem was, probably, that she was too easy to manipulate for fear of being thought weak — after all, she could have eaten in her rooms, or forbidden Miron from joining her at table. But that would have made it seem like she was frightened of him, and she had decided against that.
Ella, the serving girl — she really should be better about remembering names, Leria decided — quickly eyed the level in the mottled-green wine bottle, then walked toward the archway into the main hall. She would be only a pull of the bell rope away, if that. More than likely, she was waiting just out of sight to be summoned, or to eavesdrop on their conversation, or probably both, come to think of it.
Or maybe, just possibly, Ella wanted to be close by in case Leria needed her, but that wasn’t something Leria could count on. It wasn’t that servants were incapable of loyalty — quite the contrary, in fact — but loyalty had to be earned, by treating them fairly if strictly over a period of time; it couldn’t be earned overnight, or purchased with a few coppers. Leria had quite deliberately not picked a permanent personal maid, yet, just for that reason — she insisted on competent service, but didn’t want to find herself stuck with somebody who couldn’t learn her needs, somebody she would have to live with for years and couldn’t dismiss without raising the suspicion among the staff that she was flighty.
She would see. She had told each of the serving girls that they were not to gossip at all about her habits, and had then quite deliberately given each of them different instructions as to minor details, and was watching carefully to see if, say, Ella miraculously discovered that she wanted her hairbrushes laid out in order of size, as she had told Starlen, or her next day’s underclothes daubed with a hint of attar of roses, as she had told Tinala.
Not Really the Prisoner of Zenda Page 19
