Cross Purposes (Chronicles of Ylandre, Book 5) (16 page)

“Or they may have adepts, but their talents might not include mind speech or translocation,” Yovan suggested. “Hence the need for the spies you caught to deliver their information by normal means. Jubal is no fool. He knows all the roads to and from Tenerith are being watched. If he could communicate with his agents here in ways other than the physical delivery of information or retrieve them in secret, he would do so.”

Rohyr pursed his lips and then dipped his chin in agreement. “Thank the saints for small mercies,” he acidly commented. He sighed and rose to his feet, signaling the end of the meeting. “I trust there will be more information the next time we meet. You may go.”

Keosqe sighed in relief. A brief meeting with Rohyr was rare these days. It was fortunate Rohyr did not call for them more than twice weekly as yet. But Keosqe did not doubt that as the situations both north and south escalated, they could all look forward to meeting more frequently with their royal cousin. And given the need to analyze reports, untangle conspiracies and debate strategy, late nights at the Citadel would also become the rule before too long.

* * * *

“Shouldn’t we invite him?”

“Why bother? He’ll just decline.”

“You don’t know that for certain, Mel.”

“Perhaps not, but he’s certainly turned us down often enough that it’s very likely he’ll do so again, don’t you think?”

“Well…”

From behind a thick pillar, Tristen eavesdropped on his friends in some irritation all the more because there was a lot of truth to their assumptions about his availability.

Today they were planning to watch a new musical in the Quarter followed by dinner at one of the taverns he used to frequent with them. Not only had they mostly assumed he would refuse, they’d kept him in the dark about their plans. Mayhap they were tired of being turned down, but Tristen still felt slighted that they disregarded him so completely.

He observed them as they discussed their schedules. They were seated on the wide steps leading up to the portico of the arts and sciences college main entrance. When they proceeded to decide on the time and place of meeting after classes, he realized they were really going to leave him out.

Grimacing, he stepped out from behind the pillar and said, “That sounds rather enjoyable. When were you going to tell me about it?”

The four students stiffened and then scrambled to their feet to face him, their expressions conveying varying degrees of embarrassment. But there was also some resentment. At what they construed as his intrusion on their discussion, Tristen realized with dismay. Had the distance between him and his friends really grown so great?

“We were planning to,” Argil said. “But as you obviously heard, Melande here doesn’t think you’d have the time.”

“That’s rather presumptuous of you,” Tristen mildly chided Melande.

“Nay, I just went by the pattern you set yourself, Tris,” Melande protested. “When’s the last time you came along? Six months ago?”

“Five,” Tristen said scowling. “Even so, I’d still appreciate being asked at least.”

“We’re sorry then,” one of the others put in. “However Mel is right. It’s rather tiresome looking everywhere for you when we know more likely than not, you’ll decline.”

“And even when you accept, Lord Keosqe’s displeasure is a sight to behold,” Melande added. “I’d rather not be the recipient of that glare of his again. It’s scary!”

Tristen frowned. “What in Aisen do you mean?”

“Don’t you remember how he looked when you told him you weren’t going home with him but would watch the mummers’ performance in the square with us? Right fearsome he was; as if he blamed us for your decision not to go home straightly. I’ve seen that expression on hunters going in for the kill and, believe you me, it’s most unnerving to put it mildly.”

Catching his breath, Tristen recalled the incident. Mummers from faraway Camara had arrived in the capital much to the delight of the Rikarans. The Camarans were renowned for their theatrical and musical skills. Many of the University students had been eager to watch them and Tristen and his friends had been no different. They’d manage to get out early the afternoon of the troupe’s last performance. Keosqe had seemed amenable when he passed by the University to fetch Tristen and learned of their plan.

He
had
seemed a little put out by the sudden change in schedule, Tristen recalled, though he had not stopped Tristen from going. He’d only chided him for taking him by surprise. In light of Melande’s statement, he now wondered whether Keosqe’s demeanor with his friends had been less than cordial after all.

Keosqe could appear downright forbidding with just a slight frown thanks to his cool good looks and intense stare. But Tristen was so used to his manner, he might have missed the telltale signs of the noble’s annoyance with the others.

“That was nigh a year ago,” he pointed out. “Don’t tell me that one time frightened you all off.”

“One time?” Argil scoffed. “Either you’re blind or in denial, but that wasn’t the only time or even the first time or last time.”

“He’s always displeased when you take off with us,” Melande agreed. “Your brother must have made him promise to keep you well-guarded.”

Tristen sighed in some exasperation. “He didn’t,” he muttered.

He did not know if the others heard but he doubted they would believe him anyway.

“Well, since you’re here, would you like to join us?” another student asked.

The obvious half-hearted invitation put off Tristen but he suppressed the impulse to snap back his answer and instead said as evenly as he could, “I’m not in the mood to stay out late. I have a full day at the infirmary tomorrow and unfortunately I drew first shift.”

He did his best to ignore the others’ disbelieving smirks and none too subtly exchanged glances of “I-told-you-so.” When they took their leave of him, he suspected his company would not be sought anytime soon. Not while he still abided under Keosqe’s roof.

Tristen sat down on the top step with a heavy sigh.

Keosqe did not overtly warn people away. To the majority of Tristen’s schoolmates even among the highborn, his mere presence was intimidating and for the rest sufficient reason to be prudent around Tristen.

All Keosqe had to do to deter flirtations with Tristen or keep friends and would-be friends from approaching him too frequently was to show up at the University either when he dropped Tristen off or fetched him. Even the mere sight of the Deilen carriage at one of the gates was enough to inspire caution as well as awe in not a few students and instructors. Such was the potency of the family crest on the carriage door that Keosqe did not have to be around in person to remind all and sundry that Tristen was under his protection and not to be trifled with.

If that were all Keosqe’s manner conveyed, Tristen would not have minded his overprotectiveness. After all, he did not suffer fools gladly and particularly predatory fools. But Keosqe often crossed over into over-possessiveness as well and that had already cost Tristen a number of friendships or preempted the beginnings of some. Now it seemed he was about to lose yet another set of friends. He could only hope it would be a temporary estrangement.

He knew Keosqe was marking his territory figuratively speaking to prevent another bout with heartbreak. It was ironic that so handsome and desirable a Deir lacked confidence in his ability to keep his lover invested in their relationship. Tristen laid the blame for that squarely at his oblivious brother’s doorstep. But knowledge of the reason behind the noble’s behavior could not completely eliminate Tristen’s frustration at being guarded like a fragile piece of jewelry. He sighed with irritation.

“They’re not being fair-weather friends. I trust you realize that.”

Tristen started and looked up into a pair of pale blue eyes in a heart-shaped face framed by wheaten hair neatly tied back into a loose plait. The stranger’s shorter tunic with its looser symmetrical sleeves also branded him as a Half Blood, albeit one of good stock and affluence judging from the fine quality of his attire.

“Of course I know that,” he replied, eyeing the Deir curiously.

He did not recall seeing him around before. But of course given the large population of the State University, it was possible to finish one’s schooling without ever coming across all the students in one’s own year level.

“It’s your guardian,” the Deir remarked. “They fear falling afoul of him. He’s quite the protective one, isn’t he?”

Tristen shook his head. “He isn’t my guardian.”

“He isn’t? I beg your pardon then. I assumed he was, judging from his demeanor.”

“Nay, everyone thinks he is until I tell them otherwise.” Tristen rose to his feet and found he was of a height with the other student. “And you are?”

“Mirdan Sivash, historical studies.”

“Tristen Marante, medicine.”

“Obviously.” Mirdan smiled and added, “I couldn’t help asking a bit about you after I saw Lord Keosqe drop you off one day.”

“You recognized him?”

“Not him, not at once. But the Deilen crest is well-known and that’s blazoned on his carriage. It’s common knowledge the Herun is seldom in town so it was easy to guess who it was that brought you here.”

Tristen stifled another sigh, this time of annoyance. Mirdan had confirmed all over again that his constant usage of the Deilen carriage was a factor in the distancing he’d experienced from his friends and other schoolmates.

“I have to go,” he muttered. “He’s fetching me today.”

“Are you leaving by the west gate?” Mirdan asked. “I’m going that way too.”

Tristen regarded him with some surprise. “You want to walk with me?”

Mirdan looked at him with equal surprise. “Why not? You’re not afflicted with some contagious disease, are you?”

“Of course not, but…” Tristen grinned. “Come along then.”

As they made their way down the long drive to the gate, they chatted amiably. Tristen was pleased to find his companion possessed of wit and a sense of humor. And it appeared they had a fair number of interests in common despite their differing courses. Mirdan enjoyed the same kind of literature and music Tristen did and though he was a
sedyr
, he carried himself with that subtle sense of entitlement the majority of True Bloods possessed. It was a surprising trait considering most Half Bloods deferred to their
enyran
counterparts. With the absence of that social barrier, Tristen was at once comfortable in his company.

By the time they reached the gate, he’d made up his mind that Mirdan Sivash would be a good friend to have. That is, if he was not cowed when he came face to face with Keosqe.

To his relief, Mirdan remained quite calm and collected when the moment arrived though his eyes lit with appreciation when they fell on Keosqe. That was not surprising given the noble’s attractiveness.

As he stepped out of the carriage, Keosqe’s gaze immediately alighted on Tristen’s companion. A slight creasing of his forehead told Tristen he was both curious and disapproving. When Tristen introduced Mirdan, he smiled but the smile did not reach his eyes.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he politely said.

“Nay, the pleasure is mine,
Dyhar
,” Mirdan replied. “Not to mention the honor of being presented to so distinguished a Deir.”

He smiled widely at Keosqe, eyes dancing with seeming amusement. Tristen stared at him in mingled wonder and worry. Few were the Deira who could behave with such ease upon introduction to his lover. While Tristen admired Mirdan for being able to hold his own, he also hoped Keosqe would not take offense at Mirdan’s manner with him. The noble was no elitist snob with an inflated opinion of his superiority, but neither did he allow impropriety toward himself from folk he did not yet know very well or trust.

Fortunately, Keosqe did not display overt displeasure at being addressed quite familiarly by a virtual stranger. Rather his disapproval showed in his stiffly correct reply to Mirdan’s light blandishment. Whereupon he turned to Tristen and tonelessly said, “Shall we go?”

Unwilling to tempt fate and misfortune in one afternoon, Tristen hastily agreed. He did however take the time to bid Mirdan goodbye and accept the latter’s invitation to dine together at midday two days hence. But as soon as he got into the carriage and sat opposite Keosqe, he wondered if he’d been wise to show the noble his enthusiasm for Mirdan’s company.

Keosqe did not speak for a long while which caused Tristen to fidget and steal a number of anxious peeks at him. More often than not, they embarked on conversation or arguments as the case may be almost as soon as they were seated, so attuned were they to each other’s moods. But today, Keosqe seemed aloof. Guarded.

Just as Tristen thought they would travel in silence all the way home, Keosqe suddenly asked, “A new acquaintance?”

Tristen started and then nodded. “I met him just before you arrived.”

“Where is he from?”

“Edessa.”

“I see.” There was a slight pause. “He’s the first Half Blood to approach you thusly.”

“So he is.” Tristen regarded Keosqe a little critically. “Do you object? I didn’t think you prejudiced about such things.”

“I’m not,” Keosqe replied. “Else I would never have accepted Lassen as Ardis.”

“Not to mention you stand as godparent to my half-
sedyr
nephew,” Tristen could not stop himself from saying. He immediately regretted it when a twinge of sadness showed on Keosqe’s face. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for,” he softly said.

Keosqe sighed. “I shouldn’t have commented on his caste at all. Such things give false impressions.”

“To strangers, but I know you well.” Tristen hesitated and then gamely added, “Too well in fact.”

His effort banished Keosqe’s pensive expression much to his relief. A smirk replaced the downward curve of the noble’s lips and a raffish gleam lit his violet eyes. Tristen looked skyward. Now this was very familiar territory.

After another brief silence, Keosqe asked, “What is he taking?”

“Historical studies. He hopes to be a teacher.”

“In Edessa?”