Whispered Magics (19 page)

“Wicked? No one could say it’s wicked.” The queen laughed
softly. “Perhaps the wish for adventure is, oh, a rash one, as adventure is
seldom comfortable for anyone undergoing it.”

Rhis smiled. She had embroidered the saying she thought so
wise, taken from one of her ballads:

Adventure is tragedy
triumphed.

“And romance, for those who wish it, is not unreasonable. It
can also lead to disaster, if one makes it an end in itself.”

Rhis held in a sigh. How many lectures had she endured from
the sharp-tongued Elda on the follies of young girls and love?

A hesitation, a quick glance, then her mother said, “This
invitation is a splendid opportunity. It will be a chance to practice courtly
behavior among others your age, and to hear the wisdom of your elders in
another kingdom. You could learn much.”

Rhis curtseyed. “Yes, Mama.” She peered out through the
misting rain toward the green mountain slopes. In the distance a waterfall
thundered. Now that she’d gotten over the surprise, this invitation was
beginning to sound more like a duty—and not very romantic at all. The
invitation sounded more like a summons.

“But . . . you wish that this unknown prince
had come courting you here, am I right?”

Rhis stared at her mother.

“You remind me very much of my sister, who was even more
romantic than you,” the queen said, still smiling. “At least you can be
practical when it is necessary. Consider this: if you were to marry Prince
Lios, you would be living in Vesarja. How else can you find out if you can
adapt to their ways?”

Rhis exclaimed, “Oh! I see. But why are they inviting me? No
one knows me—I’ve met no princes. In fact, I’ve hardly met any boys my age.”

Her mother made a quiet gesture of agreement. Nym’s rulers
did not keep court. They met frequently with the guild council, and Elda and
Gavan spent the summer and autumn months each year traveling about the country,
the better to truly see what the various provincial governors were doing. Last
year they had taken their daughter—as future queen, Elda explained, Shera ought
to get to know her important subjects—but Rhis had been deemed unnecessary.

The Queen said, “Your father knows Queen Briath, for they
are close to the same age. He thinks that she has invited every young lady she
deems eligible so she can look them over at once.”

Rhis turned to her mother in silent dismay. “So it
is
a summons!”

The Queen’s eyes crinkled—just like Sidal’s. “What that
really means is that there will be parties, picnics, ridings, dances, and all
manner of wonderful festivities planned for the young people. You can be sure
that if there are princesses and girls of suitable high rank invited, there
will also be boys who very much want to meet those princesses. Even if you and
Prince Lios do not take to one another, there will be many opportunities to
find another boy you might like better—and you’ll have the time to get to know
one another. And meanwhile, you will be an ambassador for our own kingdom. Good
relations with our neighbors is important.”

Rhis laughed. “Being an ambassador might not be romantic,
but the parties and dances sound like fun!”

Queen Hailen patted her cheek. “I think it will be. Flirt
all you like, but remember you cannot marry until you are at least twenty. That
might be a comfort.”

Comfort
, Rhis
thought indignantly.

Her mother went on with a smile, “At sixteen we often make
vows about the rest of our life, but the truth is, the rest of our life usually
looks very different at seventeen, and even more different by eighteen. Enough
talk! You have a long journey ahead, so you must prepare. And part of that
preparation is to listen to Elda. She knows a great deal about the etiquette of
court life. This is something I know nothing of, which is why she undertook to
teach you, and not I.”

Rhis bit her lip. She did not want to complain about Elda,
but she did not look forward to extra lessons.

Her mother took both her hands in her cool, strong fingers.
“Part of being a ruler is to recognize that everyone has something of value to
offer. What isn’t as valuable can be . . . overlooked.”

Overlooked. Did that mean that the queen knew as well as
Rhis did that Elda was a sour-pie?

The queen gently squeezed Rhis’s hands. “I see you
understand what I mean.”

It was all she said, but suddenly Rhis felt a lot more grown
up. “All right, Mama,” she promised. “I’ll learn as much as I can.”

Once the decision had been made that Rhis should go, Elda
took over the organization of her journey. With her customary brisk and
indefatigable energy, she not only insisted on doubling Rhis’s lessons in
proper royal etiquette, she also made certain that Rhis would travel with an
entourage fit for a princess of Nym, complete to a new wardrobe.

This last item made all the tedious lessons, and lectures,
worthwhile for Rhis. For the first time, she realized what being rich
meant
.

Though no one would know it to look at them all in their
sturdy castle that had for several centuries held off ferocious winter winds,
and equally ferocious warriors, Nym’s royal family was wealthy. Queen Hailen
only had a single jeweled and embroidered velvet gown not because they couldn’t
afford any others, but because she only wore it once or twice a year, and
thought it impractical to order more. She was more proud of her mage’s robes
anyway. Those she’d earned, she’d told Rhis once.

Nym was small, mountainous, wealthy—and not the least romantic
any more.

Rhis could recite Nym’s history without much thinking about
it. Its gemstones were world famous, and its mines—most of them made by magic
centuries ago by the mysterious Snow Folk, whose descendants lived in the
fog-shrouded Summer Islands to the east—difficult for anyone but the people of
Nym to find and exploit. Many had been the attempts over the years to conquer
Nym, and failing that, to raid the caravans that left twice a year to sell
gems. For ages they had been protected by the tough mountain fighters who had
honed their abilities in Nym’s interminable clan feuds, but after the country
was united, the king had chosen to protect his interests through magic rather
than bloodshed.

Rhis had learned her history, but until now the only part of
it that had interested her were the old romances. Not that there were many, but
those few had been fairly spectacular—night-time raids, escapes, abductions
(planned by the princess in question herself, so it would go right)—and most of
them happy. She didn’t like the ones that had come out tragically.

Finally the last day arrived. Everything was packed, and
loaded, and guards picked, and all the servants that Elda thought appropriate
for a Princess of Nym were also ready. This included a lady’s maid, something
Rhis had never before had. Elda had declared that she would choose a proper
lady’s maid, but unexpectedly Queen Hailen had intervened, and saw to the
selection herself.

Rhis did not say anything, but she was secretly glad. Elda’s
own lady’s maid was a prim, sour-mouthed woman who spied on servants and
royalty alike, reporting wrong-doings—real or assumed—to Elda. Instead of
getting another such person (who would, no doubt, write awful reports back to
Elda on every mistake Rhis made) she was introduced by her mother to a quiet,
calm-faced woman named Keris, with a sweet voice and quiet ways.

And so, at last, night fell. A terrific storm battered the
castle. Rhis lay in her bed listening to the wind howl and rain and hail
clatter against the windows. The rain itself didn’t disturb her. Anyone who
grew up in Nym knew that mountain weather, though fierce, seldom lasted long.
But she was so excited she couldn’t sleep. Even if the night had been balmy and
silent, she suspected she’d still be lying awake.

Finally, when the distant bell rang the midnight pattern,
she gave up trying and clapped on her glowglobe. She could at least read for a
while, and daydream.

She was just reaching for a book when she heard a soft
tapping at her door.

She dashed across the cold stone floor. “Who’s there?”

The door opened, and to her surprise a tall silhouette in
pale blue emerged from the dark hallway and walked into the light room—her
sister Sidal.

“I came to wish you a safe and happy journey.” Sidal sat on
the bed beside Rhis.

As long as she could remember Sidal had been tall and
competent and a little remote, busy with her magic studies. At an early age she
had showed magical talent, and had trained hard in order to take Mama’s place
when it became necessary. Rhis had also shown magical talent, but she’d never
had her sister’s interest in the hard work of becoming a mage.

“Sidal,” Rhis asked doubtfully. “Do you think I’m silly to
wish for romance?”

The silvery light of the glowglobe glinted in her coronet of
soft brown hair. Sidal was not pretty. No one in the family was considered
pretty. They all had long faces and strongly marked bones, but right then,
while she was looking out at the rain-washed window, Rhis thought privately
that Sidal was beautiful. “I think,” the princess-mage said slowly, “that it
depends on what you mean by romance.”

“Oh, like the ballads. Overcoming great odds to find your
true love, or doing great deeds to save him. ‘Adventure is tragedy triumphed!’
Or he does great deeds to win you. Something dashing and heroic,” Rhis
explained. “For love.”

“Not great deeds.” Sidal gave a tiny shake of her head. “Too
many great deeds translate out to be great pain for those who lost.”

“Except it’s always villains who lose,” Rhis said quickly.
“They deserve to lose. When the heroes lose, then it’s a tragedy, and I
hate
tragedies.”

“The villains would think their losses tragedy,” Sidal said
with a rueful smile. “Of course there are truly evil people in the world. The
emperor of Sveran Djur is reputed to be one, and I believe it, for he has done
terrible things with his magic. But there are so many others who set out with
the best intentions, or what they believe to be the best intentions, and find
themselves on the opposing side of others who also have the best intentions. The
people on each side, in their own ballads, appear as heroes, and the other side
as villains.”

“I know. And Elda’s told me many times how rulers agree that
no one can rule a kingdom and be a mage. That Mama had to sign a certain type
of treaty, and cannot rule after Papa dies. All just because of that emperor.”
Rhis sighed. “That doesn’t sound romantic. It sounds nasty.”

“Wars and fighting and using magic for coercion are always
nasty.”

“Well, I don’t want that. Since I have to marry anyway, I
just want, oh, to fall in love, or have a wonderful prince fall in love with
me. And no
terrible
fighting,” she
added hastily. “Just something exciting! Like in a ballad. Maybe a duel or two,
or some chases, but nobody gets hurt.”

Sidal laughed, a soft and sympathetic sound. “Sounds like
you want a stage play sort of life! And there’s nothing wrong with that, as
long as you remember what I’m sure Mama told you as many times as she told me
when I first went away to magic school—”

“I know.” Rhis recited:

“Fall in love
with heart, not head,
to trouble you’re led.
Fall in love
with heart and mind,
then true love you’ll find.”

She couldn’t help but feel a little impatient, for she’d
already endured last-lectures from Elda all during supper, and even afterward.

Sidal got to her feet. “Then I’m sure you’ll have a
wonderful time, and that’s what I want most for you. But . . .”
She twisted a fine opal ring off her finger, and slid it onto one of Rhis’s.
“Just in case. No one need ever know. If you do find yourself in trouble, and
need me, then touch this stone and say my name three times.”

Rhis glanced down at the ring, and closed her other hand
over it. “Thank you, Sidal,” she said. “Do you foresee trouble?”

The tall princess-mage bent down and kissed Rhis on the
forehead. “No one ever foresees trouble, unless she is looking for it,” she
said. “So if you don’t use the ring-magic, I will know that you are having a
wonderful visit and that you don’t need it. It would be terrible if trouble
found you, and you had no one to help you. Never mind. Just wear it and think
of me when you are dancing.” She caressed Rhis’s cheek, then left.

Rhis clapped off her glowglobe and snuggled under her
quilts, thinking about the ring, and about Sidal. Did her serious sister have a
romantic side after all?

Feeling very confused, Rhis let her thoughts drift into her
own dreams, and then into sleep.

She woke up to streaming sunshine and a promising new day.
Remembering her trip, she raced out of bed and into her dressing room where
Keris, the new maid, had her new traveling gown all laid out and ready for her.
The rest of the room looked empty, with all her trunks packed and gone
downstairs to the stable.

After a hasty breakfast, she danced into the audience room
to kiss her father good-bye, for he was already at work. The rest of the family
accompanied her to the courtyard to see her off. She embraced them all, winning
a smile from her mother when she gave Elda a spontaneous hug. “Thank you for
bearing with me, Elda,” she said happily. “I’ll do my best to make you proud.”

Elda’s cheeks flushed red, but she smiled a little.
“Dignity, Rhis. Remember, a
worthy
prince looks for dignity and dedication to duty above all in his future queen.”

That sounds just like
my boring brother
, Rhis thought, but all she said was, “I’ll remember!”

Then Rhis climbed into the coach, waved from the window, and
they were off.

Rhis watched her home until the road down the mountain took
them around a great slope and the mighty stone castle slid from sight. It was
not a handsome castle, Rhis thought, watching the last tower disappear from
view. In fact, most would probably consider it gloomy, for it had been built to
withstand weather and marauders. Elda, who had grown up in the more peaceable
Gensam, had once said, “A palace is quite different, child. Built not just for
beauty but for comfort.”