“Oh, Amberglas, do you have to run on like that right now?” Crystalorn said. “This is important!”
“Well, of course it is, or you wouldn’t have come to see me this way,” Amberglas said. “Now, sit down and tell me about it.”
Crystalorn looked at Jermain uncertainly, then turned back to Amberglas. “You’re sure it’s all right?”
“Why ever not?”
“All right, then.” Crystalorn flopped into the nearest chair. The squirrel chattered at her and went back to cracking nuts. Crystalorn ignored it. “Father wants me to marry the Prince of Sevairn,” she said.
Jermain caught his breath. Had Marreth gone mad? Relations between Sevairn and Barinash had been strained ever since Barinash’s brief, abortive attempt at invasion eight years before; most of the nobility still believed that Barinash was simply waiting for the right opportunity to try again. If Marreth wasn’t careful, the nobles would revolt, and—Jermain shut off the thought. He was no longer Marreth’s adviser; there was nothing he could do.
“How interesting,” Amberglas murmured. “Marriage is quite a good thing; at least, most people seem to think so. I really couldn’t say, since I’ve never been married myself, but a great many other people have done it quite successfully. Though of course, that doesn’t always follow.”
“But I don’t want to get married,” Crystalorn said, leaning forward. “And it isn’t even Father’s idea. Salentor talked him into it.”
“Dear me,” said Amberglas. “That seems a little strange. Are you quite certain?”
“Of course I am,” Crystalorn said impatiently. “I knew they were going to be talking about me, so I hid in the next room and listened. And now they’re taking me to Sevairn, and I’m to be married to this Eltiron person in less than a month, and they didn’t even ask me about it. I’m seventeen; Father should have at least asked me. So I ran away to see you.”
“I quite understand,” said Amberglas. “At least, I believe I do. It is very annoying to be made to do something one doesn’t at all wish to do. It’s rather like washing socks; most unpleasant.”
“It’s not at all like washing socks!” Crystalorn said. “And you aren’t really helping. What am I going to do?”
“I suppose you are quite sure you don’t wish to marry Prince Eltiron? He is rather well spoken of. By most people,” Amberglas said, gazing at the air about three feet to the left of Jermain’s head. “Though of course it would be exceedingly surprising if no one had anything bad to say about him. I believe I knew someone like that once. You wouldn’t have liked him at all; he was very dull.”
“I don’t even know Eltiron!” Crystalorn said.
“Then perhaps you should go to Sevairn and meet him before you make up your mind whether to marry him,” Amberglas said. “On the other hand, perhaps you would rather go to Gramwood and meet him; it’s fairly close, and it has quite a good princess to distract him if you should decide you don’t want to marry him after all. Of course, Prince Eltiron isn’t in Gramwood just at present, so it would take longer, but some people think good things are worth waiting for, so perhaps you wouldn’t mind.”
“If I wait until I get to Sevairn, I’ll never be able to get away from all the guards,” Crystalorn objected. “Castles are hard to sneak out of.”
“You didn’t seem to have any trouble in Mournwal,” said Amberglas. “Or was it Navren? No, Navren is the place with the extremely unpleasant king I haven’t been to. Or is it the place with the rain? Not that I mind rain—it’s quite useful—but too much of it can be very dreary, and it does seem to have a depressing effect on the people who live there all the time, which isn’t at all surprising, what with water dripping down the back of one’s neck every time one goes outside. But then, there are a great many places I haven’t been to, so I tend to mix them up occasionally.”
Crystalorn didn’t seem to be listening. “Maybe I should meet him first,” she said thoughtfully. “I wonder what Sevairn is like?”
Jermain fought down an impulse to answer. Crystalorn had not been addressing him, and he had no right to involve this lovely child in the intrigue that surrounded Marreth’s court. Still, the thought of having someone in Leshiya who believed him was extremely tempting—assuming that she would believe him. And the court might well be safer for her if she knew who was not to be trusted. Terrel Lassond, for example . . .
“I believe Jermain could answer that question,” Amberglas said calmly. “Of course, he isn’t likely to tell you anything at all unless you ask him, which is quite proper but rather inconvenient, because you wouldn’t know what to ask unless he told you he knew, which of course he won’t. So I am, instead.”
Crystalorn turned toward Jermain, a questioning look on her face. “You know about Sevairn?”
“I was born there, Your Highness,” Jermain said carefully, “and I lived in Leshiya until . . . recently.”
“That’s wonderful!” Crystalorn said enthusiastically. “If you’ve lived there, you ought to know something about the court. What’s Prince Eltiron like?”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I ought to discuss Prince Eltiron with you, Your Highness,” Jermain said after a moment. “I have personal reasons to dislike him, and anything I could tell you would be biased.”
“Oh, I see,” Crystalorn said. Curiosity struggled with courtesy in her face; courtesy won by a hair, and she went on, “Then can you tell me about the rest of the court?”
“I can if you wish it, Your Highness,” Jermain said.
“Please.”
Jermain nodded and began describing the members of Marreth’s court. He started with Terrel, and was working his way down when he was interrupted by a knock at the tower door.
Crystalorn’s head turned. “What’s that?”
“I believe someone is at the door,” Amberglas said, rising. “That’s what knocking usually means, particularly knocking on a door, though not always. Unless of course you mean to ask who’s outside, in which case you really ought to learn to say what you mean. Or mean what you say, which isn’t at all the same, but frequently has the same effect.”
Amberglas reached the door as she finished speaking and opened it. A man in the full dress uniform of a Barinash captain stood on the doorstep; behind him, Jermain could see several mounted guardsmen. “Such a lot of visitors today,” Amberglas murmured. “Do come in.”
CHAPTER 3
Eltiron stared morosely out the narrow window of his chambers. In the two hours since his father had told him of his proposed marriage, he had made and discarded one plan after another for escaping his predicament. He had considered killing Terrel Lassond in a duel; unfortunately, Terrel was unquestionably a better swordsman than Eltiron. Besides, killing Terrel, though it would certainly be satisfying, would do nothing to stop the wedding.
He had also considered, briefly, killing himself instead of Terrel, which would certainly stop the wedding but which had no other advantages as far as Eltiron could see. Killing the Princess would also stop the wedding, but Eltiron couldn’t bring himself to seriously consider it.
Running away might help, but Eltiron had nowhere to go and no way of earning a living, even if he could escape the inevitable search. He might insult his prospective bride so badly that she would refuse to have him, but since the marriage was a political one her father would probably force the girl to marry him anyway, and Eltiron had no desire to have a wife who hated him. Eltiron had even considered marrying someone else secretly, then announcing the fact at the last minute, but he could think of no one he wanted to marry, and it would be foolish to exchange one unknown and unwanted girl for another.
A knock at the door interrupted Eltiron’s thoughts. He turned and started across the room, then hesitated. He did not really wish to see anyone; perhaps if he did not respond, whoever it was would go away. The knocking came again, and with a sigh Eltiron moved forward.
He had taken two steps toward the door when a voice on the other side said clearly, �
�You call that knocking? Out of the way, feather fingers, and let me do it.” An instant later the door shook under a series of blows that sounded as if someone were hitting the wood with a very large hammer. “Eltiron! Open it up before I knock it down!”
Eltiron unfroze abruptly and sprang forward. “Vandi!” he shouted as he flung the door open. “If I’d known it was you, I wouldn’t have taken so long.”
The woman in the hallway turned a pair of penetrating gray eyes on him for a moment, then snorted. She threw back one side of her cloak and began ostentatiously dusting splinters off the pommel of her sword. “Fine welcome for a traveler. I could have ruined the whole hilt on this while you dawdled.”
“If it comes to that, you did ruin my door,” Eltiron said. “It wasn’t meant for pounding swords on.”
“How else was I going to get your attention?” the woman demanded. She stopped brushing at the sword hilt and ran her fingers through her graying blonde hair. “If you think I have nothing to do but—Here! What do you think you’re doing?” The last sentence was addressed to the slightly flustered guard who was edging between her and Eltiron.
“My, um, lady, you’re wearing a sword,” the guard said.
“No, I’m holding it. What does that have to do with you?”
“I’m afraid you can’t carry a sword in the presence of the Prince,” the guard said apologetically.
The woman made an elaborate show of returning the sword to its sheath. “All right, I’m not carrying it. Now, get out of the way.”
“I’m afraid that isn’t quite enough, my, ah, lady,” the guard said, even more apologetically than before. “You’ll have to give it to me.”
“You want it, come take it, squirrel brain.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Eltiron said to the guard. “Vandaris is my father’s sister; do you think she’s going to murder me?”
“No, Your Highness,” the guard said, not moving, “but I have orders.”
“Oh, go lose yourself,” Vandaris said in disgust.
“Orders are orders.”
“Look, mush mind, just go back to your post, and if anyone asks, tell ’em the orders were changed.”
“Who’s going to change them?” the guard demanded.
“I am,” Vandaris said cheerfully. “And before you tell me I can’t, you’d better think a little about whom you’re talking to. Blood and fire, but it’s a poor state of affairs when two members of the royal family have to persuade some guard that it’s all right for them to talk to each other.” She pushed the dumbfounded guard aside and strode through the doorway.
With a small sigh of relief, Eltiron closed the door on the guard’s belated protests and turned. Vandaris was standing in the center of the room, watching him. Eltiron cleared his throat. “It’s good to see you again.”
“No need to sound so apologetic,” Vandaris said. “What’s it been, three years? No, more like five; you weren’t here last time I was in Sevairn.” She eyed him critically. “You’ve gotten taller. And I thought you’d finished growing when you were fifteen!”
“Not quite,” Eltiron said with a grin. “See what you miss when you’re gone so long?”
Vandaris shook her head. “You’ve grown up better-looking than I expected, too, and you seem to have some sense. More than Marreth, I think, unless he’s changed a lot since the last time I was here.”
“He hasn’t,” Eltiron said gloomily. He had briefly forgotten his uncomfortable situation, but mention of his father brought it back with a rush. Vandaris gave him a sharp look.
“I thought you looked a bit off temper,” she said. She glanced around the room again, then walked unerringly to the most comfortable chair in it. She dropped her cloak carelessly across it, seated herself, and leaned back, stretching her long legs out in front of her. “Want to tell me, or would you rather talk about something else?”
Eltiron hesitated, then started talking. He told Vandaris everything that had happened at the non-Council meeting, ending with “And even if I could back out now, it would probably cause a war.”
“That,” said Vandaris, “is Marreth’s problem. There’s no reason why you should get married just to keep him out of trouble. What gave Marreth this idiotic idea in the first place?”
“I think Terrel did. He can talk Father into anything, and it would be like him.”
“Who’s Terrel?”
Eltiron stared. “Don’t you know?”
“Look, fur brain, if I knew, would I ask?”
“You might,” Eltiron said with a brief grin. “I was just surprised. Whenever you come home, I forget you’ve ever been away. Terrel Lassond has only been Father’s Chief Adviser for the last six months, but it seems as if he’s been around a lot longer.”
“Chief Adviser? What happened to Trevannon?”
Eltiron winced. “Six months ago he was convicted of treason and exiled. It doesn’t make any sense, but Father won’t listen to anything I say; I can’t even mention Jermain’s name without getting into trouble.”
“Really.” Vandaris looked thoughtful. “I think I’m going to be very glad I came to see you before I went to Marreth. If I’m going to get into trouble, I like to see it coming. What else has changed since I was here last?”
“Lord Danivor was killed in a duel about a year ago,” Eltiron said, trying to remember who had been at court three years before. “Lady Rivalna was caught with a Navren stable boy last summer; the boy was hanged for a spy and she was exiled. Her husband went with her. Parrane and Iverly got into debt; they’re still around somewhere, but they don’t have much influence anymore. And you already know about Jermain.”
Vandaris looked startled. “So many!” Her eyes narrowed. “And all of them people with strong opinions. I don’t like this at all; it’s worse than the Guild of Mages.”
“What’s wrong with the Guild?”
“They’ve been losing members by the score for the past five years or so. Not that it matters in Sevairn. Is Anareme still in charge of the army?”
“So far,” Eltiron said. “Terrel’s been trying to get Father to replace her, but it hasn’t worked yet.”
“I’m going to have to meet Terrel,” Vandaris said thoughtfully. “What’s his family again?”
“Lassond.”
“Lassond, Lassond, Terrel Lassond,” Vandaris said. Suddenly she looked up. “Not that gorgeous blond idiot from Miranet City? The one all the unattached women were after?”
Eltiron nodded glumly. “The women are still draped all over him, but I wouldn’t call him an idiot,” he said.
“No? Well, he may have changed.” Vandaris stared off into space for a few minutes, then grinned. “This visit may be a lot more fun than I’d thought.”
“How long will you be here?” Eltiron asked.
“I hadn’t planned on long, but I may change my mind,” Vandaris said. “Don’t look so gloomy; I’ll stay through your wedding, at least. That is, if you have one. We’ll have to see about that.”
Eltiron smiled in some relief. He was more at home with his aunt than with anyone else at court, and he had not realized how much he had needed someone to talk to since Jermain’s exile. “Will you go to the King now? You really ought to; he’s sure to be angry if he finds out you came here first.”
“Marreth will be angry as soon as he finds out I’m back, for all the good it does him. I have other things to attend to first. Are my rooms still empty, or has Marreth moved them?”
“They’re empty; he couldn’t convince Orvel Seravis that they were needed for anything else. Every time he tried to put someone in them, Orvel found somewhere much better, and finally he gave up.”
Vandaris grinned. “Rooms in an inconvenient corner and a castle steward who likes me. Handy combination, that; I’ll have to remember it for the future. Remind me to thank Orvel.”
“If you aren’t going to see Father, what are you going to do?” Eltiron said. He felt a little uneasy; if Marreth discovered his sister’s breach of
custom and courtesy, he would not hesitate to blame Eltiron, however little Eltiron could have done to prevent it.
“I’m going to get my sword squire and my goods and move into my rooms before Marreth has a chance to think of some reason why I can’t,” Vandaris said. “Not that he could stop me, but it’ll be easier on everyone if he doesn’t have a chance to try. I’ll see him when I’m finished.”
“Your sword squire? Father won’t like that at all.”
Vandaris grinned again. “She’s only fourteen; it would take the worst gossip in Sevairn to make anything of it.”
Eltiron felt his face grow hot. He had indeed assumed Vandaris’s squire to be a man, and somewhat older than fourteen, someone whose duties could be supposed to include more than cleaning swords and grooming horses. Knowing that his aunt had guessed his thoughts didn’t help his state of mind; what would she think of him now? “I’m sorry,” he said wretchedly. “I didn’t mean . . .”
“What’s the matter with you?” Vandaris said, frowning. “Every other time you open your mouth, you’re apologizing for something. Morada’s smile, man, it’s not that important!”
“I’m sorry, I—” Eltiron stopped short in midsentence and grinned reluctantly. “I see what you mean.”
Vandaris looked at him sharply, but let the subject drop. “Come down with me and meet my sword squire,” she suggested, rising. “I left her taking care of the horses, but I ought to get her installed in the castle before Marreth has a chance to object.”
Eltiron nodded. Vandaris picked up her cloak, and the two left the room, heading for the stables.
The sword squire was sitting cross-legged outside one of the stalls at the far end of the stable when Vandaris and Eltiron entered. She was a tiny, brown-haired girl who looked closer to twelve than fourteen, and she was industriously polishing the brass rivets on a worn leather bridle. She looked up as they drew near, and she brightened.
The Seven Towers Page 3
