Valdemar 06 - [Exile 02] - Exile’s Valor Read online

  Selenay sighed, feeling a wistful kinship to that handful of young women. She was in a very similar position, or at least, it seemed that way to her. She, and they, were prisoners to their duty and their responsibilities

  Except that they were self-imprisoned; she was bound by blood and rank as well as duty. Surely self-imposed bonds were less galling than ones imposed from the outside.

  She sighed again, more deeply, and rested her chin in her hand, and wondered what it would be like to be ordinary.

  :That rather depends on what it is that you mean by “ordinary,”: Caryo replied. :An ordinary Herald, for instance?:

  :I suppose,: she replied, unable to even think of what her life would be like without Caryo.

  :You’ve had some taste of it, when you accompanied Herald Mirilin down to the City Courts in Haven,: Caryo reminded her. :The real difference between you and the other Heralds is that you can never escape being Queen, and they can sometimes escape being Heralds for a candlemark or two.:

  :Exactly.: Selenay was relieved that Caryo hadn’t started in on a lecture about how she should be grateful, that there were hundreds of young women in her Kingdom who had gone to bed hungry and would wake up with no better prospect of breakfast than they’d had of supper. That there were young women who had done extremely unpleasant things in order to get a supper, or a bed, and would do the same tomorrow. She knew that; knew that very well, no matter how much Talamir and Alberich tried to shelter her from it. She also knew that there wasn’t anything much she could do about it with the limited resources at her behest. She knew that children went to bed hungry and cold, or even curled up in a doorway without a bed at all. She was doing what she could about that, with what she had—the mandatory schooling was a help, as were the “Queen’s Bread” meals she’d managed to get instituted, so that at least every child had one meal in a day that it could count on. . . .

  But never mind that now. She was just grateful that Caryo understood.

  :Of course I understand. The wild songbird that’s had its wings clipped and been clapped in a cage doesn’t feel much like trilling, no matter how comfortable the cage is, nor how good the food in its cup.:

  She felt her throat close a little, and blinked back the urge to cry—she was tired of weeping, tired of feeling sad and beaten and alone. That was a pretty accurate summing up. And no matter where she looked, it seemed that someone around her was trying to install yet another set of bars.

  She wanted some fun again. She wanted to be irresponsible for just a little while. She wanted to tell the Council, the courtiers, the petitioners, to just wait for a candlemark or two while she went skating and sledding.

  It felt almost as if she was being punished, and not only had she done nothing to deserve being punished, she’d done everything she was supposed to be doing!

  She didn’t remember her father being so hedged about—

  —wait a moment—

  She blinked, and ran through that thought again.

  I don’t remember Father being so hedged about that he couldn’t take a candlemark or two—

  But the Councilors would be furious. There were so many things they wanted her to attend to, it often seemed that they even begrudged her the time she took to eat and sleep.

  Just who is the Monarch here, anyway, me or them? Are people going to die because I take a little time to relax and have some fun?

  :Exactly so,: Caryo agreed calmly. :It would be one thing entirely if you neglected your duties to spend all of your time in pleasure and games. But since the moment the Crown was put on your head, the most you’ve stolen was a candlemark or two at bedtime to read.:

  :But how do I—: she began, then stopped, thinking back to her father. All right; Sendar’d had the authority to simply stop everything and say, “I’m going out for such-and-such.” She didn’t. So—

  :I’ll have to schedule it. Won’t I?:

  :Better still, decree it, in such a way that it becomes a duty—in their eyes—to take some pleasure.: And as she tried to work out how she could decree a few candlemarks off to go skating, Caryo added helpfully, :There is a cold spell—a very cold spell—on the way. It’s already frozen the verges of Evendim out to almost a furlong from the shore. It’ll freeze the Terilee solid, and it should last for a fortnight at the least.:

  She blinked. She could barely remember the last time the Terilee had frozen solid. And when it had—

  :I declare an Ice Festival?: she hazarded.

  :Announce there will be one if the Terilee freezes, and make the announcement public,: Caryo agreed. :Your Councilors will be so certain it won’t that they’ll just smile and ignore the decree. Then, when it does, it’ll be all over the city, and they won’t be able to cancel it.:

  :But—what does one do—:

  :Leave that to the merchants, for the most part,: Caryo said wisely. :Once you make the decree, they’ll do exactly what they do for a Midwinter Fair, except that they’ll prepare to set the booths and tents up on the ice. And you know, merchants being merchants, if you don’t decree a Festival, they’ll do this anyway. At least by making a royal occasion out of it, you can set a time limit on it. All you need to do is send someone to rummage through the attics for some prizes for skating contests and other competitions, and arrange for a Royal Pavilion out there with some provisions and cooks for the highborn. And talk to the Deans. Perhaps the young Bardic Trainees could perform gratis? Certainly there should be at least one day off from classes.:

  The more she thought about it, the more excited she became. :But what if the ice starts to break—:

  :Just find some people that know ice to be ice wardens; if it starts to break up, there’ll be plenty of warning.:

  Competitions. There ought to be skating races, of course, short and long. Perhaps something for trick skating? A prize for the best ballad on a winter theme. One for the best spiced cider and mulled wine?

  :And hot meat pie,: Caryo said, with a mental shudder. :There are so many wretched hot pies, any encouragement to make them better would be a boon to your people.:

  Ice fishing. There should be a prize for the biggest fish caught ice fishing.

  :One- and two-horse sledding races.:

  That was just about all she could fit in a single day, she thought with regret. And she wouldn’t dare to take more than one day off herself—

  :So have all of the elimination contests before the Royal day,: Caryo advised. :That way there will be some real anticipation building up, and you won’t have to taste more than five or six final entries in the food and drink contests.:

  Or listen to more than five or six ballads on the subject of winter. . . .

  :And end with a feast and entertainments by moonlight on the ice, with the feasting supplied by the Crown,: Caryo said. :Have a Royal Ball at the Pavilion to coincide with the common feast. It will be very romantic. Some of your young ladies have been trying to get their young men to come to the question since you were crowned, and if this doesn’t do it, nothing will.:

  She thought of those giggling girls out in the snow, and sighed wistfully. The last year of the Tedrel Wars had put paid to a great many romances, and placed obstacles in the paths of many more. Young men who had survived that last battle had sometimes not had the heart for much after what they had been through. She could certainly understand their frustration!

  Not that she had anyone she wished would come to the question with her. Far from it. No, she wished mostly that for once a “courtship” didn’t consist of her Council shoving names and portraits at her. It would be so nice to listen to poetry, even bad poetry, about the beauty of her eyes. It would be wonderful to listen to stammered, clumsy compliments in the moonlight, and to pull away from an attempted kiss at the last possible, and most coquettish, moment.

  Was it so wrong of her to hanker after romance, to long for a circle of adoring young men who didn’t adore the crown rather than the girl? Oh, she knew that most young women of her Court went off to arranged marria
ges rather than romantic ones, but still, they usually weren’t bartered off to the highest bidder like prize cattle. They usually had some choice in the matter.

  Well, she had one choice, she supposed. She could always say “no.” They could badger her and nag her, but they couldn’t force her to marry anyone.

  :Think about your festival,: Caryo advised. :You’ve taken all the steps you need to about the marriage plans. Think about something pleasant.:

  But would Talamir and Alberich approve? They were in charge of her safety, after all. . . .

  :Alberich has already supposed that you were going to do just this, and has been making his own plans,: Caryo said instantly. :Or so Kantor tells me.:

  What? Her head came up, like a hound suddenly sniffing something it did not expect on the breeze. But how—

  :Partly knowing you, partly knowing you need some pleasure in your life about now, but mostly, I suspect, that ForeSight of his giving him a nudge in the right direction. It doesn’t always have to be a disaster that he Foresees. And when it isn’t—he probably doesn’t realize that it’s ForeSight.:

  Well, that made perfect sense to her. And it was comforting, knowing that someone she trusted as much as she trusted Alberich thought this was a good idea.

  :Oh, yes. For the people as much as for you. There’s been too much sadness. When you mourn for too long, you start to forget how to feel joy.:

  She bent her head at those words, feeling sadness overcome her again for a moment, and felt Caryo sighing with her. That struck to the heart of the matter, and had been something she had not felt comfortable voicing aloud. It had felt somehow disloyal to her father’s memory to be weary of weeping for him. And yet, how many tears could she, should she shed?

  So Alberich, who had been as loyal to Sendar as anyone could have asked, felt she was ready, and Valdemar was ready, to let go and move on?

  Perhaps she didn’t need to feel guilty, then.

  But Talamir?

  :Rolan says that Talamir will have no problem with this.:

  Well, she wouldn’t expect Talamir to participate; it would be unkind. She wouldn’t really need the Queen’s Own for something like this, just some good bodyguards. Alas. She wished she could have done without those as well.

  But probably the monarchs of Valdemar hadn’t been able to do without bodyguards since—well, for as long as she could think. Certainly as long as there had been difficulties with Karse.

  So, there was one good thing; if she had to have bodyguards, they could at least be people she knew would be able to enjoy the Festival with her.

  :Heh,: Kantor said, just as Alberich was choosing a book to read by his fire before going to bed. :I doubt that you’re going to be surprised at this. Caryo has just told me that Selenay has decided to hold that Ice Festival.:

  He settled down in his favorite chair, and adjusted the lamp behind him so that the light fell properly on the page. His window had an interesting look to it, with the light falling on it rather than through it. Rather like colored stone set in a mosaic. No doubt the Glassmaster had considered this as well, when he’d chosen the glass and the colors.

  He hoped no one would ever take a shot at him from the other side of it. Getting those colors matched would be impossible. He’d probably have to have the whole thing made again.

  At least it would take less time to craft a new window than that blasted mirror.

  :Good,: he said firmly. :It will be good for her, and good for Haven. But we’ll need to slip it past the Councilors, so tell Caryo to suggest that Selenay wait until she’s holding public audience, then make a decree tomorrow that if the Terilee freezes solid, there will be the Festival.:

  :What difference will that make?: Kantor asked.

  Alberich sipped his hot wine. :First, the decree will be in public, which will make it more difficult for the Councilors to object. Secondly, they’ll applaud this in public as being a grand gesture, and think in private that it’s about as likely as pigs flying. Then, since the decree will have been posted all over the city, when the river does freeze solid, it will be too late for them to do anything about forbidding any such festivities.:

  He was rather pleased with this. He wanted Selenay to have a victory without having to fight for it. The more of those she got, the more her Councilors would become accustomed to the idea that she was the Queen and was a ruler. Sooner or later, she was either going to have to rule in truth, or become the mouthpiece for her Council, a figurehead, but not a leader.

  The sad part was, he could see even the Heralds who were on her Council gently maneuvering her into that role, all the while telling themselves that it was for her own good, that she was still too young to take the burden of the Crown, that they would just guide her. . . .

  It was always easier to hold power than to give it up. That was how the Son of the Sun and his strongest Priests had come to rule Karse. And look where that had gotten them.

  Kantor seemed to be following his thoughts. :Good idea. I’ll tell Caryo.: And after a moment, :Who do you want for Selenay’s bodyguards? I doubt she’ll be able to take more than a day away from her duties, but she’ll need guards when she does.:

  Bodyguards . . . someone out there was trying to cause trouble over Selenay’s rule, and even if he was doing it as a distraction, it was still possible that his words would find fertile ground in some poisoned mind and bear unexpected fruit. Maybe she wasn’t in quite as much danger as she had been during the Tedrel Wars—

  But maybe she was. He was in charge of her safety. He could not take the chance. So . . . that meant very good bodyguards, all over again.

  Good question, who he should assign; assuming that the Collegia would be taking a full set of holidays, the various teachers and their assistants wouldn’t be needed up here, but the Royal Guard would, in its full strength, both at the Palace and at the Festival. They would be busy keeping watch over all the highborn; he needed someone watching over Selenay and only Selenay. :Might as well make it Keren and Ylsa for the daylight hours.: He gave some more thought to what this Festival should involve, for lowborn and high as well. :I suppose she’ll have a feast and entertainment for the highborn in a pavilion on the ice the same evening that she attends the games? Or should I say, there will be two feasts, one for the common folk, and one for the Court? And I mean all of the highborn, as many as can come at short notice in winter? It would be good for building loyalty.:

  Kantor was taken by surprise by that question. :I don’t think she’d even considered a Court Feast for the entire roster of the highborn throughout the Kingdom, but it’s a good idea. A very good idea. I’ll pass it on.:

  Alberich felt a certain amusement that he, born poorest of the poor, and bastard to boot, should be the one to be making suggestions about what the great and grand would find appropriate. Still. He’d been raised on tales of it, after all. Virtually every child had. And he’d been watching this Court for years now. :A grand feast for the Court will help lighten things considerably. Midwinter was shadowed; the first one without Sendar, and Selenay still in mourning. I don’t think anyone had the heart for it. But this won’t have any memories, any connotations. It’s the sort of thing that ought to make the Councilors happy with the whole idea, since they’ll be able to haul in all their so-called eligible candidates for her hand and hope that one of them charms her.:

  He added that last, with just a touch of sourness. Sourness, because, truth to tell, it annoyed him to see these supposedly sensible men trying to force the poor young woman into a destiny of their choosing. And because they were wasting so much time and effort on the project, time and effort that could be going to some task more useful. If they would put half the concentration they put into working together that they put into finding a mate for the Queen, three quarters of the current difficulties besetting the Kingdom would vanish overnight.

  And for just a little while, it was a relief to think about something other than plots and intrigues. He had never been very comfortable i
n dealing with plots and intrigues, except for his singular talent of being quiet and unreadable. He was better at it now, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it.

  Well, except for the occasions when he had an excuse to let off some of his tension by breaking a few heads. Hmm. This Festival just might give him a chance at that form of relief—

  He quickly sealed that thought away from Kantor.

  :She can be impartially charming right back to any would be suitor without giving any of them hope,: Kantor agreed. :I wish that more of them were worth being charming to.:

  :So do I.: The fact that so many potential mates had been systematically disqualified by Selenay in public meant that anyone who was dredged up and hauled in for the Ice Festival was bound to be marginal at best. Unsuitable in the extreme, unless some distant cousin out of the back of beyond happened to get dragged out of his manor, Chosen on the spot, and proved to be the man of Selenay’s dreams. If she even had any dreams on the subject. It was hard for Alberich to tell. Selenay’s mind was often opaque to him; he didn’t have a great deal of experience with young women. Come to that, he didn’t have a great deal of experience with women in general.

  :And whatever suitors are hauled in will probably be stone-deaf and ninety at worst,: Kantor sighed. :Poor Selenay! It will be a shabby lot of dancing partners she’ll be getting.:

  Another aspect that hadn’t occurred to him. With things so subdued at Midwinter, she hadn’t seemed to want any dancing. The Selenay he remembered had loved dancing. Well, maybe he could do something about that.

  :I think at an occasion like an Ice Festival, she ought to dance every other dance with a Herald, don’t you?:

  he asked Kantor. :In fact, isn’t there some sort of mandate about that, somewhere? So that no highborn can claim two dances with her in an evening?: