Eltiron opened his mouth to protest, then stopped. Vandaris must have some reason for baiting Marreth so deliberately, and he doubted that an outburst from him would help any. At the edge of his vision, he saw Terrel moving toward the argument, and he shifted position slightly so he could watch Terrel without being too noticeable.
Marreth was still bellowing at Vandaris in a voice that shook the crystal goblets on the tables behind him. “. . . a traitor, and he’s been exiled, and that’s the end of it!”
“Not if you’re wrong, lard brain.”
Marreth stopped short and stared at Vandaris through narrowed eyes. “What do you mean?”
Eltiron saw a startled expression cross Terrel’s face, and then Vandaris said, “You really want to talk about it here?”
Marreth shook his head. “I’ll see you tomorrow. And you’d better be able to explain, or I’ll send you after Trevannon!”
“I can think of worse things that could happen. Getting fat and out of shape, for instance.”
“I’ve had enough of your insults! You’ve had your say; now leave.”
“Did I say anything about you? I didn’t think I had. Let’s see.” Vandaris looked Marreth over critically and shook her head. “Now that you mention it, you don’t look particularly well. You really ought to do something about yourself, Marreth, or you’ll collapse in the middle of a Council someday, the way old Carawn did. Darinhal is a better physician than the one Carawn had, but there are limits.”
“Out! Get out of this room at once!
Now!
”
“And miss dinner? Of course not!
I
don’t have to worry about eating too much.”
“Vandaris! . . .”
Vandaris smiled and sketched a bow. “Until tomorrow, then.” Without even glancing at Marreth’s outraged face, she turned and strolled toward the tables. Eltiron nearly followed her, but prudence kept him standing where he was. Following Vandaris would only irritate Marreth further, and besides, there would be little likelihood of talking to her privately until the dinner was over.
Eltiron’s reflections were interrupted by Marreth, demanding that the steward have dinner served at once. The castle servitors responded quickly, and soon the long tables were full of rich food and nervous courtiers. Marreth spent most of the meal glowering down the length of the table at his sister; he barely noticed the ornamental woman who had joined him at the head of the table. Terrel, for once, did not make Eltiron the object of his barbed comments. He, too, was watching Vandaris, with an odd, speculative look that Eltiron disliked intensely.
As a result of Terrel’s preoccupation, Eltiron had no need to make conversation during the meal. He was glad to be spared the effort; he was determined to talk to Vandaris privately, and he spent much of dinner planning the best way of doing so. When the meal was over, he watched carefully until he saw Vandaris leave, then quickly made his excuses to the bald nobleman he had been talking to and hurried after her.
He almost ran over her in the hall outside; she was walking more slowly than he’d expected. Eltiron stammered an apology, and Vandaris shook her head.
“If you make a habit of charging through the castle like a dragon in heat, I hope you’re good enough with a sword to win all the duels you’ll get into. It’s a good thing I’m tolerant, not to mention a relative. What’s away?”
“I want to talk to you,” Eltiron said as he fell into step beside her. “Where have you been?”
Vandaris grinned. “Planning for trouble. Which means I’ve been busy, and it will probably get worse. If you want to talk, you’d better do it now.”
“All right. Why didn’t you tell me you knew something more about Jermain?”
“Not here, crack skull! It’s too easy for conversations to be overheard in these halls. This way.”
Vandaris started down a side passage, and Eltiron followed. She proceeded to lead him, by a more circuitous route than he had ever imagined possible in Leshiva Castle, to her chambers. Tarilane was sitting at a table inside, frowning intently at a large, leather-bound book lying open in front of her. She looked up as they entered.
“Vandi! Did it—” She stopped abruptly as she saw Eltiron behind Vandaris.
“Did it work, you mean? Yes and no.” Vandaris dropped into a chair with a sigh, and motioned Eltiron to sit down.
Tarilane looked from Vandaris to Eltiron, closed the book, and stood up. “I suppose I should leave?”
“No, so you can stop getting ready to sulk and sit down. I want to know what luck you’ve been having, among other things, but we’ll get to that in a minute,” Vandaris said.
Tarilane nodded and sat down, her eyes shining with excitement and her back very straight. Vandaris turned to Eltiron. “Now, you wanted to ask me something?”
“What have you found out about Jermain?”
“Nothing at all.”
Eltiron stared. “But you told Father—”
“I lied,” Vandaris said cheerfully.
“Why?”
“I want to know who has a guilty conscience. The easiest way for me to find out is to convince whoever it is that it’s a good idea to worry about me, which I have now done. I hope.”
“Do you really think someone will fall for that old trick?”
“Who cares if it’s an old trick, as long as it works? And even if it doesn’t, I managed to get through one of Marreth’s dinners without being bored, and that’s something.”
“What if someone sends an assassin after you, or a spell, or something?”
“I’ve taken care of assassins before, and I don’t expect anyone to use magic in Sevairn,” Vandaris said uncommunicatively.
“Someone already has,” Eltiron said, remembering the red thing they had found on the tower.
“Really?” Tarilane looked at Vandaris. “You didn’t tell me.”
“There are lots of things I don’t tell you, sponge brain. You’re too nosy, and you talk too much.”
“I do not!”
“You’re talking too much right now,” Vandaris said pointedly.
Tarilane subsided.
Eltiron looked at Vandaris. “Are you sure—”
“Would I be risking my neck if I weren’t? Quit worrying; it’s too late to do anything about it anyway, and I have quite a few tricks you don’t know about.”
Eltiron shook his head. “As long as you’re sure it’s all right. But if you don’t really know anything about Jermain, what are you going to tell Father tomorrow?”
“That Mournwal’s arming. That’ll make him forget about Jermain in a hurry, believe me.”
“But Father doesn’t believe the Hoven-Thalar are coming north; why would he believe Mournwal’s getting ready for them?”
“He doesn’t have to. As long as he thinks the King of Mournwal is planning to invade Sevairn, he’ll call up the army and start it moving south, and that’s all we really want him to do.”
“You’re going to tell him Mournwal is planning to invade Sevairn?”
“I won’t have to; he’ll jump on the idea himself as soon as I mention armies in Mournwal.” Vandaris grinned. “By the time the Hoven-Thalar get to the border, he’ll think he planned the whole thing right from the beginning. I can handle Marreth.”
“I hope so,” Eltiron said. “But he can be awfully irritable.”
“I’ll admit his mood’s gotten worse since I was here last. How long has he been like that?”
“Like what?”
“The way he was tonight, lead skull. He’s always had a lousy temper, but I didn’t expect him to explode before I even said anything. He acted worse than a dreamsmoke addict.”
“He’s not a dreamsmoker!” Eltiron said, shocked. “He can’t be! He isn’t—I mean, he doesn’t—I mean, he has too many . . .”
“Women? I know, and you’re right; he couldn’t keep any of them happy if he were a dreamsmoker.” Vandaris grinned maliciously. “Though I’d like to point out that I never said he was.”
Eltiron felt himself turning red, and said hastily, “Then what
did
you mean?”
“His temper, for one thing. And he’s lost what little sense he had, not to mention being even more suspicious than he used to be. Furthermore, when he’s in a rage he looks as if he were going to die of apoplexy any minute. How long has this been going on?”
“I don’t know.” Eltiron frowned. “I don’t think I could give you a date even if I tried; he’s just gotten more and more irritable.”
“Maybe his brain’s ossifying from age. Tari, has anyone else noticed anything unusual about Marreth or Lassond?”
Tarilane grinned, and gave a short and highly uncomplimentary account of Marreth’s doings that left Eltiron amazed by the number of things she appeared to have overheard. She had less information about Terrel, due mainly to the fact that he had brought his own manservant with him when he moved into the castle. “He doesn’t gossip, and as far as I could find out, no one goes inside Terrel’s rooms except him and Terrel, so nobody knows much,” Tarilane finished.
“Hmmmm. Wonder what Lassond’s hiding in there,” Vandaris said, leaning back in her chair with a thoughtful expression.
“I thought you’d want to know,” Tarilane said. “So I tried to sneak in while you were at dinner.”
“You did
what
?” Vandaris jerked upright and stared at Tarilane.
“I tried to sneak into Terrel’s rooms,” Tarilane repeated smugly. “I didn’t make it, though; he’s done something to the lock.”
“What about the guards?” Eltiron said, fascinated.
“Oh,
them.
They were no problem. I dressed up like an ash girl and got a bucket from one of the spare rooms. They didn’t notice me at all.”
“Tarilane.” Vandaris’s voice was almost expressionless.
Tarilane’s head turned, and her face took on a stubborn expression. “Yes?”
“I told you to mix with the servants and tell me what you could overhear about Marreth and Lassond. I did
not
tell you to try to play Hanstall the Spy all over the castle, or to sneak past the guards and break into Lassond’s room.”
Tarilane raised her chin. “I thought you’d want me to.”
“Oh?”
After a moment, Tarilane’s eyes dropped. “No.”
“I thought you were intelligent enough not to pull tricks like this. Were you looking for a quick tour of Marreth’s dungeons, or were you just homesick?”
“You wouldn’t really send me back, would you? Please don’t, Vandi! I won’t do it again, I promise.”
Vandaris sighed. “I brought you along because I thought you needed some exposure to Leshiya’s court life, and you certainly won’t get it if I send you back to Tindalen. Just don’t try anything like that again.”
Tarilane nodded, somewhat subdued. Vandaris looked at her for a moment, then turned to Eltiron. “I think we have a few other things to worry about at the moment. Arranging our match tomorrow, for one.”
“You’re really going to do it? I thought you were just saying that to confuse Terrel.”
“No, I meant it. Where do you usually practice?”
“The south ring.”
“We’ll use the north ring, then. It’ll take Lassond longer to find us if he gets nosy, and you’ll work harder if the ground is a little unfamiliar.”
“If you’re going to fight with swords, can I watch?” Tarilane asked eagerly.
Vandaris laughed. “You’ll watch, all right, and bring the practice swords down, and made sure the ring is smooth before we start, and clean up when we’re done. What else do I have a sword squire for?”
“Oh.” Tarilane’s expression changed from anticipation to distaste.
Vandaris laughed again. “Cheer up, slow bones; if you do a good job, I might let you take a turn in the ring.”
Tarilane’s face lit up. “I’ll do everything perfectly!” she promised.
“Are you sure it would be wise to let her fight?” Eltiron asked Vandaris. “It’s bound to make people talk.”
“I’ve been causing gossip for more years than you remember, pigeon wit. Tari’s my sword squire, and I’ll see her trained properly no matter how much talk there is about it.”
Eltiron nodded. He spent a few more minutes with Vandaris and her sword squire, then returned to his own chambers. He sat staring out the window for some time, thinking about the events of the evening. He did not come to any startling conclusions, and eventually he went to bed. Just as he was falling asleep, he remembered that he had not told Vandaris about Terrel’s odd behavior at dinner, and he resolved to mention it to her in the morning.
The following day, he did not see his aunt until the beginning of their match. He spent the early part of the morning listening to the castle steward explain the room arrangements for the guests, then went to the first fitting of the clothes he had been measured for the previous day. He was extremely glad when Tarilane tapped at the door and announced to the startled tailor, “I’m here to conduct Prince Eltiron to his appointment with Her Royal Highness the Lady Vandaris.”
“That was exactly the right thing to say,” Eltiron told Tarilane as they headed toward the practice rings. “Ayrl likes formality.”
“I know,” the sword squire said, grinning. “Vandi told me. Hurry up; she’s down there already, and she gets grouchy when she has to wait for people.”
When they arrived at the practice ring, Vandaris was making passes in the air with one of the wooden practice swords. “Tari, are these the best you could find?” she demanded as they came up.
“The armorer said they were the ones Prince Eltiron and his teacher usually use,” Tarilane said defensively.
“What’s wrong with them?” Eltiron asked.
“They’re too light; no wonder you’ve been having trouble learning swordcraft! We’ll have to use real ones. Don’t worry,” she said as she saw the look on his face. “I won’t touch you, and if you manage to slice me, it’ll be no more than I deserve. Let’s get started.”
“Uh, Vandi?” Tarilane said nervously.
“What is it?”
“I met Lady Anareme on my way to get him”—she jerked her head at Eltiron—“and she sent a message.”
“You going to tell me what it was, or just stand there?”