Inos raised herself on one elbow to study him better. “If you wanted a harem girl, you should have brought a harem girl! I happen to have a brain, and now you have roused my curiosity.”
He rolled his head again and flickered one of his rare smiles. “I haven’t beaten that out of you yet, have I? All right, my queen, just remember that none of the others know. Except Zana, of course. As far as my brother and the rabble are concerned at the moment, we are spying, and I brought you along to divert suspicion. You understand?”
The smile had gone, and the red eyes were menacing. “Of course,” she said. He had been gelded, and no shame could ever be worse for him. His court might have guessed, but the matter would never be discussed.
Azak nodded and sighed. “I must find a sorcerer, and no sorcerer except a warden ever dares reveal his existence. So I must seek out one of the Four, a warlock. The witch of the north is not . . . No, a warlock.”
Why not Bright Water? Probably he could not bear the thought of begging for help from a woman. It would not help that the woman in question was supposedly three hundred years old.
“Then who?” Inos asked. “Not Olybino, obviously.” East was the occult backer of the imperor’s legions.
“Nor Lith’rian, obviously.”
“Why not Lith’ . . . Oh, you mean because he sent Rap?” Despite the heat, she shivered then at Azak’s glare.
“Exactly. That leaves Zinixo—obviously. He is only a youngster, they say. He should be sympathetic.” Poor Azak! There were no words to say. She wished she could grip one of those big hands and squeeze it. She lay back to avoid his gaze and considered. How maddening not to know more about these mysterious wardens!
“And isn’t he supposed to be Olybino’s enemy?”
“So the gossip says. When the legions make war, historically the other wardens tend to oppose East. East supports the army, and the imperor does, also, of course. That’s two out of the five, so the other three are inclined to balk. It isn’t much to go on, but it is all we have.”
Inos wiped her streaming brow and adjusted the sticky sheet. They would all be cooked before they ever reached land again, and that would solve all their problems.
“Azak,” she said cautiously, “why are you so reluctant to make a formal appeal to the Four? It would give you some sort of legal status on the journey—the Impire ought to grant you safe passage.”
“No! With war coming, I dare not risk falling into East’s clutches. And what sort of argument do I have now, with Rasha dead? She can’t meddle in politics now.” His voice had gone very harsh and forbidding. She persisted, gently. “A monarch needs heirs—”
“No!”
Pride? An appeal to the Four would be a much more public affair than a private audience with one of them. She let the silence hold for a moment, then said, “How about me? I have been abducted from my kingdom by sorcery. I still have cause to appeal. And you escort me . . .”
He swung himself up, dropping his long legs to the floor, and humped over in a crouch as he reached for his clothes. He was inflamed with sudden anger. ”I said ‘No!’”
She turned her face away, guessing the rest.
The Krasnegar matter was supposedly all settled now, or so they had been told. Azak would not risk unsettling it again. Finding a ruler for Arakkaran was easy—much too easy—whereas she might yet seem like a uniquely acceptable answer for Krasnegar.
If the Four did give Inos back her kingdom, then they would expect her to rule it. Once Azak had promised to go and live there at her side. Obviously that promise was no longer relevant.
There would be no appeal to the Four if he could help it.
2
A year ago he’d been content to be Thorie. Now he wanted to be called by his full name, Emthoro, and Shandie didn’t like that, because it had been Dad’s name. So they settled on Thorog, which was the name of the hero of a book Cousin-Thorog had been reading until Aunt Orosea had found it and taken it away. The Book-Thorog was always visiting ladies’ chambers, and Cousin-Thorog told Shandie about some of the things he had done to, for, and with the ladies and—even more unlikely—some of the things the ladies had done to him.
It all sounded rather sick-making and boring, but Shandie didn’t say so. He knew what grown-ups did on a bed, and most of it seemed to be just the same thing every night, and pretty stupid. None of the things Book-Thorog had done.
Cousin-Thorog was thirteen, and hence thought he knew a great deal more than Shandie did. He probably didn’t know quite as much as he was hinting, though, because Shandie was sure no girl in the Impire would ever want to kiss anyone with that many pimples or such funny-shaped eyes, even if Thorog was tall, like his father, the Duke of Leesoft. And Shandie, while he had yet to understand the merits of kissing and that sort of stuff, had seen a lot of that sort of stuff going on sometimes when he was supposed to be asleep.
Rather to his astonishment, Shandie had discovered himself alone with his cousin—no grown-ups around at all! He tried to remember the last time this had happened. He had wondered, with a shiver of panic, if he even knew how to speak to anyone not—grownup anymore, but apparently Thorog hadn’t noticed anything wrong with his talk. Of course, Thorog was doing most of the talking.
They were in Thorog’s room, and Thorog was just finishing dressing himself. He didn’t have a valet of his own yet . . . Shandie did! The wedding called for formal dress, of course, but not court formal, so that was all right. Formal was only a hundred years out of date, instead of thousands. No togas.
Thorog wanted to get back to Leesoft quickly, although he had just arrived in Hub. This was hunting season, he said.
“You’ll stay for my birthday, day after tomorrow?” Shandie said hopefully.
“No. I mean, I’m here to represent the family at the wedding today. Dad said I can come home anytime I like as soon as it’s over, and I don’t want to miss his big stag hunt.”
“It’s raining!” Shandie glanced at the streaming panes and thought wistfully of going on a stag hunt, or even being able to sit on a horse again. As long as he behaved himself at the wedding, he thought he would get a birthday party, though. Ythbane and Moms ought to be in a good mood, after all. He wondered if he’d know any of the boys who’d be invited.
“Won’t be raining at home! Rains more in Hub than at Leesoft.”
“How d’you know?”
“Dad says so.”
Shandie retreated from that battle and tried again. “What else d’you hunt?” he asked wistfully. And after the list ran out; “You ride every day?”
Thorog was taken by surprise, busily hauling on a stocking. His legs were much longer than Shandie’s, but not much thicker, and Shandie was rather ashamed of his arrow-thin calves. But at least Thorog wasn’t getting dressed up in a toga. Even to look at a toga made Shandie shake now.
“Don’t you?” Thorog demanded.
The thought of sitting a horse was very unpleasant so soon after yesterday’s formal court function. “I never . . . almost never ride.”
“Why not?” Thorog looked thoroughly disbelieving. “You’re not scared of horses, are you?”
“Course not!”
The nasty glint did not leave Thorog’s eye. “Sure?”
“Sure!”
“Then why not?”
Shandie shrugged. “Just don’t have time. Too many f-f-f-formal functions.” He plunged ahead loudly. “Now that Grandfather’s birthday’s finally over, there won’t be so many f-formal things I have to go to.”
“What do you do at them?” Thorog demanded, standing up and squeezing his feet into his silverbuckled shoes without unbuckling them.
“Just stand beside the throne.” And I always fidget, no matter how much I try not to. But this wedding isn’t that sort of function, so I won’t get beaten. I hope.
“Shandie,” Thorog whispered with a quick glance around the obviously empty room, “does Grandfather ever say anything now?”
Shandie shook his head. “Not in weeks, Why?”
“Mum asked me to ask you. Don’t tell.”
“Course not.” Shandie shook his head again. “When are they going to proclaim a regency?”
“About a month, I think. They want to get the wedding over first. Why are we whispering? The whole court knows all this.”
Thorog said, “Oh!” and looked disappointed. Suddenly there was a gap in the conversation. Now might be a good time to try to get an answer to a question that was really bothering Shandie. He had been dying to find someone he could ask. His books were vague on the matter, and Court Teacher was evasive. He took a deep breath and decided to risk it. “Thorog . . . what d’you know about puberty?”