Thornlost (Book 3) (31 page)

“Greetings, all!” Mieka caroled, sweeping them all a bow. “Your Ladyship, you’re looking a right portrait, you are. Jed, unhand that girl—oh, wait, never mind, she’s your wife! Make yourself useful, Cayden, and climb up top with the driver—there’s not room enough for us all and your legs are too long. Unless you’d prefer to be stuffed into the boot?”

Cade approached in genuine awe. “What in the name of everything holy is that thing on your head?”

Mieka grinned. Tilted at a rakish angle was a cap rather like Derien’s in design, but on an ostentatious scale. Well, this was Mieka. The peak was at least a foot tall, the bill looked as if
half a dinner plate had been glued on, and the whole had been executed in cloth of gold, with a purple feather sweeping from one side to the other.

“I didn’t make it,” his wife called anxiously from inside the carriage. “I had nothing to do with it!”

“No one would ever think that you did,” Jed assured her. “You have taste. That thing—it’s—”

“Words fail you?” Cade squinted and held a hand up to shade his eyes. The thing really was blinding in the sunlight. “Me, too.”

“Envy,” Mieka said with airy unconcern. “Sheer envy.” He turned to Lady Jaspiela. “Don’t you think so, Your Ladyship?”

She considered. “I think,” she said at last, “that it will be much remarked upon.” And she was inside the carriage before Cade could decide whether or not she had just made a joke.

No. Impossible. His mother had no sense of humor.

Neither did most of the people attending the races that afternoon, not if their hats were anything to judge by. They all seemed sincerely pleased to be wearing gardens of flowers, orchards of fruit, feathers enough to stuff a thousand mattresses, jewels (both real and fake) accented by lace veils and silk ribbons and beads in all the colors of the rainbow. Several of these concoctions, on women and on men, sported what looked at first to be small animals clinging precariously to their skulls. Flattened circles of straw or silk seemed popular, though to Cade they all looked like decorated pancakes. From the brim of one gentleman’s yellow silk hat, strongly reminiscent of an overturned pisspot, dangled talons that might once have belonged to a very large hawk or a very small wyvern. And one lady had braided her pale brown hair into a nest that formed a cozy perch for two improbably colored birds, fully feathered.

Mieka, who had never been to the races before, pouted a bit when he saw how many people, male and female, had outdone
him. None of them, however, wore anything as glaringly bright as his golden cap.

“I made a perfectly fine hat for him,” his wife fretted to Cade after he’d paid their entry fees and they were strolling the lawn towards the stands. “He wouldn’t even consider wearing it.”

“That doesn’t surprise me at all. Please don’t worry about it,” he added as she looked so downcast that even he was moved. “We can pretend he’s a country cousin in the city for the first time, and more than a little touched in the head!” When he saw that this did nothing to lighten her mood—evidently she had little to no sense of humor, either—he went on, “And anyway, nobody, man or woman, will be looking at him once they see you.”

He’d meant it for a compliment—that the women would all be envious and the men would all be covetous. She truly was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. But she met his gaze with renewed anxiety in her iris-blue eyes.

“Is there something wrong with my gown? Or my hair? Is my hat not right?”

“No, no,” he soothed, “your gown is lovely, and your hair, and that red silk hat is perfection. There’s not a woman here who won’t be wishing she’d worn something else, and not a man who won’t be wishing he’d come here with you.”

“Do you really think so?” she whispered.

“Yes,” he said, quite honestly. Everyone would be talking about her—and it would be churlish of him to believe that this was her principal ambition. Still, this was precisely the place for the socially striving to see and be seen.

The Palace in Gallantrybanks had been added to at various times through the centuries, mainly by kings who wished to impress the populace (and provide productive employment) or queens who had tired of their old apartments and wanted to start fresh and fashionable. Thus the building was really a series of buildings, some connecting and others not, with so many ginnels
and breezeways and staircases and tunnels that even the Royal cats and dogs were said to lose themselves in the maze. This was true only of the part that most people didn’t see, for King Cobin had begun, and his son King Meredan had finished, a frontage that actually made logical sense. Visitors entered through huge wrought-iron gates in the shape of dragon wings into a vast courtyard giving a view of the river. The new three-story frontage had been tacked on to the old confusion of stones and styles, presenting an orderly row of white columns holding up a roof of rich cinnamon-brown tiles. Every so often a broad grand staircase led up to doors and windows, all topped with pointed arches. Today these stairs formed the basis of the stands (with barricades behind to prevent people from wandering into the Palace itself, of course). And the cobbled courtyard, a good quarter of a mile long, had been fitted out with a fenced-in oval racecourse. A few inches of sawdust cushioning several more inches of packed dirt made up the track. In two days’ time, everything would be shoveled back into carts and taken back to the Palace gardens. Nobody envied the workers this toil, which had to be finished before the rains blew in or the whole courtyard would become a sea of mud.

Today the weather was very fine, with only a few unenthusiastic clouds drifting past: no threat to the track. Or to the hats. This was a real shame, Cade thought as he shepherded his mother and brother and friends through the crowd towards the stands. Most of these hats deserved nothing so much as a drenching that would obliterate all traces of their existence.

All at once his attention was caught by the ugliest headgear he’d yet seen this afternoon. Hugely brimmed, made of straw, it looked like roof thatching dotted with turquoise flowers. Turquoise ribbons looped in ever-lengthening tiers down the lady’s back, enough ribbons to wrap up the Palace like a Namingday present. Her white dress was no better, with flounces from knees to hem that made her seem even shorter than she
was; as she walked past, the ruffles puffed out with each step like the froth at the base of a waterfall. The thick hair done in a single plait over her shoulder very much wanted to be blond but couldn’t quite manage it. Suddenly he realized that he knew that braid, and the face beneath the hideous hat. Turquoise, he mused, definitely was not her color; hats of any kind were not her style. Green eyes flashed recognition for an instant before she looked right through him and continued on her way.

“Cade? Cayden!”

He remembered his manners and made his apologies to his mother. “I’m sorry—I thought I saw somebody I know. What were you saying?”

Not that he cared. He was too busy wondering what Megs was doing at the races. Granted, anyone with money to buy a ticket could get into the general stands, and a barmaid with fettling skills (who wanted to be a Steward!) had just as much right to enjoy the races as anybody else. But somehow this sort of gathering didn’t seem to be her style, either. Just exactly what her style might be, he had no idea, but what he’d seen thus far wasn’t particularly promising.

Jed spied a section of seats that might suit them. Cade was just about to agree when portions of the crowd shouted and surged towards the track as ten horses thundered past. Somebody bumped into him, which made him lose his balance, which sent him a stumbling step towards Mieka’s wife. She was so small and dainty that any attempt to brace himself on her shoulder would not only be terrible manners but likely send them both tumbling to the ground. He tried to get both feet under him and succeeded only in tangling his legs like a newborn colt. And here he’d thought adolescent awkwardness safely relegated to the past along with hangovers.

“Cayden!” She put a steadying hand on his chest—and her other hand, delicate and determined, closed around his crotch.

“Steady on, Quill,” Mieka said from behind him. As Cade flinched, he felt the Elf’s hands at his back to prop him up. “Frightful crush here, eh? Let’s find someplace where we won’t be trampled at every other step.”

Cade stood there, stunned silent but blessedly secure on his feet again, and watched the girl smile at Mieka. So lovely, so innocent, so adoring, so adorable. He felt like throwing up.

He had no time to indulge. A young man wearing the Princess’s blue-and-brown livery and forget-me-never badge shoved a path to Cade’s side and, just as a roar sounded the end of the race, tried to bellow something in Cade’s ear.

Cade thought it unseemly to shout. He waited for the noise to subside. “Could you repeat that?”

“Master Silversun?” When Cade nodded, the young man looked pleased with himself. “Thought I recognized you. Saw Touchstone at the wedding celebrations last spring. Brilliant show.” Then, remembering his errand, he said, “Her Royal Highness would like a word, if that’s agreeable.”

And thus Cayden and his entire party were escorted towards the Royal Ring, where it would soon be in his power to introduce his mother to Princess Miriuzca, future Queen of Albeyn.

It would be an acute pleasure to include Derien, Blye, Jed, and Mieka and his wife, mainly because their inclusion would cause Lady Jaspiela acute mortification. Of course, she was thrilled to her gloved fingertips by the invitation, but too haughty to show emotion except for a slight flush on her cheeks. As they were walking, she began to speak in a low and rapid voice for Cade’s hearing alone.

“Is it finally obvious to you that you could have a position in her household at the flick of a finger? With your father attending on the Prince and you placed with the Princess, our family would stand to influence the entire Court—especially once they inherit.”

Mieka, on her other side, listened with his sensitive Elfen
ears and made rude faces at Cade behind her back.

“I don’t know why you don’t take advantage of the favor she’s showing you. It would be the easiest thing in the world—”

“And what would you have me do for her, Mother?” Cade asked sweetly. “For I can tell you with absolute certainty that she doesn’t require anyone to do for her what your husband does for the Prince.”

Her color deepened a trifle. Mieka grinned from ear to pointed ear.

A little while later they were being admitted through a short white wooden gate and climbing a dozen or so steps. On the way up, they passed a gentleman on the way down, who arched his eyebrows at them.

“Amazin’,” he drawled from beneath a towering hat that closely resembled a thick orange spike flattened on top by a clumsily wielded hammer. “The sort they allow into the Royal Ring these days!”

Mieka’s wife whimpered softly with nerves. That, at least, was honest, Cade noted as he glanced at her for the first time since she’d groped him. She was ice-white and saucer-eyed, and clinging to Mieka’s arm with both tremulous hands. Even the bronze-gold curls beneath her red silk hat were quivering. Cade took a quick look over his shoulder at Blye and Jed. She was in a state of shock and trying not to show it; he was trying to be not quite so tall. Derien alone was undaunted, and Cade spared a moment of admiration for the serene self-confidence of the very young.

The Royal Ring was a large platform constructed in a half circle out from a floor-to-ceiling window of the Palace, right on the finish line. That little white gate and the awning above it set it apart. Princess Miriuzca, visibly pregnant, was seated in one of a pair of almost-throne chairs, dressed in white with a wide-brimmed blue hat trailing sea green silk veils. The empty chair was of course for her husband.

The Princess smiled as Cade and his little group approached, and held out a welcoming hand. He took her fingertips and bent over her wrist, as a cultured gentleman ought. He performed introductions, starting with his mother. Then Derien, whose bow was a great deal more accomplished than it used to be before the King’s College had got hold of him.

Amused, Cayden let his sense of humor a little off its lead. “And now that you’ve met the Silversuns, it’s time for all the Windthistles. This one”—he pointed at Mieka, who doffed his preposterous cap —“is my glisker, as you may remember. That one is Master Jedris Windthistle, who is in business with his twin brother, who’s just as tall and redheaded. In fact, all the Windthistles are twins but for the newest one, and
this
charming lady is the Windthistle who is her mother.”

The girl sank into a flawless curtsy, blushing as the Princess smiled and said, “All best wishes, Mistress. I’m sure your little girl is a joy to your heart.” Looking up at Cade, she asked, “How many Windthistle twins are there?”

“Four sets. Alarming, isn’t it, to think there’s a second one of him?” He grinned at Mieka. “But the Lord and Lady were good to us all, and his twin is a sister named Jinsie, and much the nicer of the set.”

“Better-looking, too,” Derien piped up.

Cade concluded, “And
this
Windthistle is Jedris’s wife, my old friend Blye, whose work Your Highness saw last summer.”

After a momentary puzzlement, she laughed in delight. “The glasscrafter? Oh, but I have been hearing of you from
my
old friend, Lady Eastkeeping! Are you not usually wearing trousers?”

Lady Jaspiela went from mortified to horrified.

Most unexpectedly, Mieka’s wife saved the situation with, “And very lucky that she does, Your Royal Highness. Why, it would be as if my husband tried to do
his
work on the stage in a corset and silk gown!”

“With lace to his fingertips!” Miriuzca giggled. Then, her mouth tucked into a sly little smile, she said, “But of course, we only speculate. We ladies have never seen players on a stage.”

Mieka’s wife looked torn between terror of her own boldness in addressing Royalty uninvited, uncertainty about whether or not she was supposed to laugh, and an agony of bliss that a Princess had called her a
lady
.