Duty (Book 2) (14 page)

“Thank you again for your forbearance,” Mirelle said, taking Gen’s arm. “Insufferable man. Thus you see how men who fear nothing behave. ”

“I’m sorry,” Gen said, “for drawing my blade again in your Court.”

“No apology needed. Torbrand is capricious and I don’t fault you for defending yourself from his feint. Are you ready for me to own you for the next couple of hours?”

“The Chalaine wished for me to find her after talking with Lord Khairn.”

“She can wait. Remember, address me as Mirelle and try to relax, except when they disagree with me, of course.”

For the balance of the morning Gen went with the First Mother from noble to aristocrat and watched as she “got her way” with every matter on her agenda. Her skill with persuasion and even coercion taught Gen to fear and respect Mirelle as a leader more than anything she had done hitherto. Her skill rendered his dark looks virtually unnecessary, and he used them only as accent to Mirelle’s masterful diplomacy. 

Mirelle doted on him the entire time, lavishing him with more feminine affection than he thought entirely necessary to accomplish her purposes, though he hardly felt like complaining. She always had at least one arm in his, pressing into him so closely he could smell her hair. Whenever she spoke to him, her blue eyes were alive with affection, and he called up his training to quash the feelings rising within him. She was just using him as a tool, after all.

“We are almost done, Gen,” she said, glancing about the room. “The midday meal approaches and I would like to be finished before then. Unfortunately, our toughest assignment remains.”

Gen knew she meant Torbrand. He had felt the Shadan’s eyes on him more than once as he and the First Mother worked the room. Torbrand stood completely relaxed against the wall next to the great doors of the Hall, watching everything unconcernedly. To Gen’s surprise, he actually executed a bow for the First Mother of Rhugoth.

“First Mother,” he said, coming upright. “You are certainly a pleasant view today and a good reminder of why we veil women in Aughmere. But I must say, the way you favor Gen here is certainly provoking a bit of conversation.”

“I thought I would be sharing my affection with my future son-in-law, but things haven’t turned out so well on that front, as you may have heard. So I have all this tender feeling saved up and have to expend it somewhere. It would be a shame to waste it.”

“Indeed. You be careful around this woman, Gen,” the Shadan said, face serious. “She’s a devious one.”

“Why, Lord Khairn, I’m harmless,” Mirelle countered innocently. “However, I must confess that I do not come to you for social reasons. We need to talk about leadership of the caravan to Elde Luri Mora. Knowing your character, I will be direct. I want Regent Ogbith in command when we march out of Rhugoth.”

“What say you, Gen,” Torbrand asked, “Regent Ogbith or me? Which should command the caravan?”

“As a matter of honor,” Gen answered, well aware of Khairn’s disdain for the concept, “it should fall to Regent Ogbith. You turned down command early in the planning by stating your intention of not going, and Regent Ogbith has done all the work of preparation. It would be an insult to him to remove him now and ungracious of you to commandeer the post after abdicating it.”

“Honor again. Oh, very well,” Torbrand said. “If Gen says it should be Ogbith, then Ogbith it shall be, though I shall want to be on the Leadership Council and attend any meetings from this time forward.”

Gen was shocked at his carefree relinquishing of command, and he worried that the wily Shadan was up to something. The First Mother quickly masked her surprise as well.

“Of course, Shadan. Your experience and knowledge will aid us greatly. We thank you for your understanding in the matter. I must beg leave of you now. There are several things I must look into for the Presentation of Gifts after midday meal. Gen, you are free to see to the Chalaine’s request, though I should like to dance with you again. Good day.”

Torbrand watched her go, face serious. After a few steps she turned back and threw Gen a smile before continuing on.

Torbrand shook his head. “I tell you again, boy. You watch yourself with that woman. She will use you until there is nothing left, and you will love every minute of it.”

“Do you insult her?”

“Not at all,” Torbrand said. “I admire her more than you know. I would never take her for a wife, though; she would slit my throat in the dark. Speaking of wives. . .” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sealed letter, handing it to Gen. “Give this to Gerand Kildan for me. It concerns Mena. Now if you will excuse me, I need to harass my son with a few questions he probably cannot answer, which will then force me to get the information elsewhere. Then I’ll probably leave. Rhugothian parties are a bore. No fighting at all.”

Gen stared at the letter addressed to his friend for a moment before stuffing it into his own pocket. He had completely forgotten about Torbrand’s promise to Mena that he would give her to Gerand in marriage upon winning the war. He didn’t look forward to giving the letter to Gerand and wondered how he would react. By law, he could not refuse the offer, but Gen was certain the brooding young man would take the news ill.

Mind unsettled, Gen went in search of the Chalaine, finding her dancing a popular group dance, the
Autumn Fall
,
with Dason. He waited for the dance to end, but her pleasure at talking with her former Protector was plain, and Gen decided to let her enjoy him while she could.

Now that his business with the First Mother was concluded, the day was shaping up to be long and tedious, and he again wished Fenna were around. Everyone appeared content to talk about him rather than to him, so he wandered about studying the tapestries until servants brought in several long tables and laid mounds of food upon them. Aristocrats, Dukes, and Warlords retreated to the dais to be served while lesser nobles sat at tables, taking places upon the balconies and the floor.

Ignoring protocol, Gen went to the table and took a plate and filled it for himself, the servants smiling at him—in the kitchen he was beloved. Gen took his plate upstairs to the balcony, placing it on the wide balustrade and watching the children play in the castle yard. He chuckled to himself, noting that despite the dense grass on the field, the children had somehow located mud, and more than one pair of nice pants was decorated with smeared hand prints.

Gerand and Volney striding onto the field caught Gen’s attention, especially the large sack Gerand carried over his shoulder. As Gerand dropped the sack on the ground, Volney looked up and Gen waved to catch his eye.

“Gen!” Volney yelled. “Are you on duty?”

“No! What are you doing?”

“White Sticks!” Volney answered dumping the contents of his bag on the ground.

“I’m coming down!”

Gen gobbled down the rest of his food in a rather indecorous fashion. To avoid a scene, he went through the kitchens and out into the yard to his smiling friends. He’d had scant occasion to talk with either during the winter, though he had delivered the news of Tolnor’s fall to Gerand. He had taken it well, glad that the fighting had ended.

“Before I forget, Gerand, I have a letter from Shadan Khairn for you.”

Gerand’s expression turned dark, and Volney sidled in next to Gerand as Gen surrendered the letter. Gerand turned his back to a disappointed Volney, breaking the seal and reading. When he finished his arms slumped to his sides. After a moment he folded it with trembling hands and stuffed it into his coat. When he turned, his face was pale, eyes burning with a controlled rage.

“Well, what did it say?” Volney asked tentatively.

“I am married.”

“What! To whom?” Volney’s exclaimed.

“One of Torbrand’s daughters, Mena. This letter is basically a ‘deed’ transferring her possession to me and naming her my ‘first’ wife.” Abruptly, Gerand turned his face upward and yelled to the sky. “I hate that man. I hate Aughmere. And I will hate this woman!” He closed his eyes and lowered his head, voice barely audible. “My family is already whispered about due to Dason’s dismissal from the Protectorship. Now this! It is intolerable! How am I to live saddled to a stupid slave girl for the rest of my life? I will be a shamed laughingstock!”

“She is not stupid, Gerand,” Gen informed him gently. “She is an intelligent, beautiful woman, Torbrand’s favorite.”

“You know her?” Volney exclaimed. Gen briefly summarized his visit to the Ellenais shard and his interactions with Mena. His information didn’t ameliorate Gerand’s indisposition.

“Is she to come to you?” Volney asked his angry friend.

“No,” he answered evenly. “She awaits my orders. She can rot in Aughmere. Let’s play.”

Gen swallowed hard, feeling for Gerand but unable to think of anything to say to comfort him.

“Can you stay long?” Volney asked. “Even with you, we’re still short a player.”

“I can stay,” Gen answered, removing his coat and draping it over a tree limb. “The nobles will present their gifts, and that will take until dinner, at least.”

“Don’t you have a gift for the Chalaine that you have to present?” Volney asked, face concerned. “It would be a dishonor if a newly appointed noble such as yourself did not give something after being invited.”

“I will,” Gen replied, “but I’ll do it personally. I won’t have the income from my land for some time, and I am not about to give my poor gift in the midst of such treasure. You would understand if you saw the riches delivered to the castle yesterday.”

“What is your present?” Volney inquired, face curious.

“I’ll keep that to myself,” Gen returned.

“Oh, yes,” Volney stammered. “My apologies. Look, it’s Kimdan.”

Kimdan jogged forward, a smug smile on his face.

“I was about to take lunch in the commons,” he said as he approached. “I couldn’t help but notice you were a player short. I certainly hope, Gen, that your sword training with Khairn did not include White Sticks as well?”

“No.”

“Have you heard from Fenna?” Kimdan asked offhandedly as he shed his coat. “I wrote her just after she left and received a return letter today.”

Gen felt a stab of guilt. He hadn’t written at all. She was only to be gone a month, and Khairn’s letter had pushed almost all other thoughts out of his mind.

“What does she say?” Gen asked, ignoring his question.

“That she is doing well and anticipating the journey to Elde Luri Mora with excitement. I, of course, begged her not to go, for her safety. I am sure you did the same. So, how shall we team up?”

Gen teamed with Gerand and Kimdan with Volney, creating an instant rivalry between Tolnor and Rhugoth. Even before they started, Gen noticed a gathering of nobles along the Great Hall’s balcony, and after the first two matches, money was changing hands.

Gen had never played such an exhilarating, frenetic game. Playing against small town boys paled to playing with intelligent nobles trained to the peak of their physical prowess. His opponents threw bones with alarming accuracy. Gerand played like a man possessed, using the game to vent his frustrations. Kimdan noticed his anger, but Gen counseled him against inquiring about it.

Gen took a few bruises. Kimdan, as always, taunted them nearly constantly, but Gen didn’t care. For the first time since coming to Rhugoth, he felt carefree and relaxed, laughing at success and failure. Before long, off-duty castle guards and even members of the Dark Guard itself joined in the fun. Gen even played a round with Kimdan on his team. This continued even as night came on, the spotty lantern light adding an element of fun and danger to their game.

It was with great reluctance that Gen pulled himself away from the game at the approach of the sixth watch. Puffy dark clouds blowing in from the south hinted at a night rain to come, and he regretted that he would be trapped indoors. A walk in the rain appealed to him for some reason, and he thought Samian might be to blame. Gen had no time to eat anything despite the hunger the activity put into him, but the mindless fun proved far more valuable than food.

“Let me know if Fenna writes you anything!” Kimdan goaded as Gen retrieved his coat, waving in reply. He went to clean up in his quarters before finding Jaron and relieving him. As he entered the Great Hall he stopped in amazement. On each side of the dais lay a great pile of riches of all varieties—jewels, fragrant woods, tapestries, gold, and silver. Two marble statues, one of the Chalaine and one of the Ha’Ulrich, stood over the Chalaine’s treasures, heroic and of austere design. The artist tactfully eliminated the girth from Chertanne’s likeness. Servants started carting off the statues as Gen approached.

The Chalaine still sat at the table on the dais, and Gen took Jaron’s place behind her, noting that she wore an exquisite diamond necklace. At once, he felt the inadequacy of his gift and reconsidered giving it; he needed to find something better or risk offending the Chalaine. He wondered what Chertanne, who sat beside her, had offered as a gift. To Gen’s chagrin, the Ha’Ulrich turned to him and spoke, voice loud.