She paused to catch her breath at her parlor door, then tapped discreetly and went in. Pink light shone through the lace curtains, candles had been lit already, but there was no one there.
Tutting quietly to herself, she went over to inspect the flowers. The roses were well past their best now, but Kinvale’s chrysanthemums had a well-deserved fame in the district. Then a rush of smoke from the fireplace warned her, and she turned around as the magic portal swung open, admitting an icy blast from Krasnegar.
A short man stood framed in the entrance, his leathery, weatherbeaten face a mask of shock. Cutaway coat and tights, a rapier at his belt and a tricorn hat clutched nervously in front of him . . . for a moment Kadolan did not recognize him in such finery. Then her eyes misted again. Oh, well done, Master Rap! How very appropriate!
The best man spun around and attempted to return to Krasnegar. He was obviously blocked. “Good preserve me!” he shouted. “You told me there was to be no Evil-begotten sorcery!”
Rap laughed from the darkness beyond him. “I did warn you about this bit! No more, I promise! Go on with you! Oh, your Highness! You know Krasnegar’s Master of Horse, I’m sure?”
“Certainly I know Master Hononin!” Kadolan advanced with her hands out. “You are a sight for sore eyes, you old rascal!”
A sight for weepy, sentimental old eyes, too. Hononin glanced around to make sure there was no one else present. “I’d never have agreed to this nonsense if I’d known I was going to be decked out like a one-man carnival!”
“Then Rap was right not to tell you!” She kissed his cheek.
He grunted. Then he chuckled softly. “How are you, Kade?”
“Wonderful! And you?”
“Not bad.”
“The years are kind to you, old man. Better than you deserve, I’m sure!”
“Well, now, that takes royal impudence! I’m three months younger than you are, as I recall.”
“I see you two know each other quite well!” Rap commented, coming in and closing the door.
“First boy who ever kissed me!” Kadolan said archly, just to see if she could still make Honi blush. She could.
“As I remember, it was you who kissed me! And if your mother hadn’t come looking for you, you’d have—”
“Well, it was a long time ago,” Kadolan said quickly. She dabbed her eyes again with her lace hankerchief and turned to inspect the bridegroom. ”Your Maj— Oh, no!”
Rap bowed, managing his rapier quite skillfully. But then he kept his face down and fumbled with the hat he was holding.
“Let me see!” Kadolan said, in a voice much sharper than her normal tone for addressing kings.
He raised his head ashamedly. His lower lip was puffed and cut, and he had two very generous black eyes. He could not have looked worse had his goblin tattoos been restored.
For a moment no one said anything.
Then Hononin cackled. “Told you you’d be in trouble, King!”
“Don’t call me that!” Rap said angrily. “Sorry, your Highness,” he added humbly. “You think Inos will be upset?”
“Upset?” Oh, dear! Kadolan sighed. “Well, I suppose she will just have to be upset, won’t she?” Old fears stirred momentarily. This was what happened when royalty married beneath them . . . Then she chided herself for unseemly pride. The Gods had approved this match, and the boy had excellent qualities, as she well knew. Even if he was no longer a sorcerer, he was a good man.
He would just have to learn that a king should not go brawling.
He had done his best, she supposed, but there was lint on his collar, his cravat looked like a collapsed souffle, and whatever he had used to plaster his hair had left it in plates and spikes. And Inos was looking so radiant!
Anxious not to show her disappointment, Kadolan turned to the sideboard where the best crystal waited. “Inos is almost ready,” she said bravely, ”and the chaplain has arrived. Will you join me in a glass of wine, gentlemen?”
Without waiting for a reply, she unstoppered the decanter. A royal bridegroom with black eyes! “Do be seated. Wine, your Majesty?”
Rap winced. “Please, ma’am! I keep telling Inos—I really don’t want to be called that! She’s the queen. I’m just her husband.” He blushed scarlet, all around his bruises, and said quickly, “Am about to become her husband, that is. Everyone in Krasnegar remembers me as a stableboy. I feel such a fool when they bow and call me `king’ and `sire’! I’m sure they’re laughing at me. There must be some better title I could have.”
That was something else he would have to get used to, Kadolan decided. There was no other title, and Inos wouldn’t agree to it if there was.
Rap made another appeal for sympathy. “You know what she’s planning next? A coronation!” He shuddered. “But I’m not supposed to know, so please don’t mention I mentioned it.”
“I promise. I did know, and I’m looking forward to it!”
He sat down with a groan.
Winning a brief struggle with his sword, the hostler perched on the lip of a chair. He sipped the wine and raised his grizzled eyebrows approvingly. Kadolan settled on the pink brocade sofa opposite.
“I trust that no one will notice your absence this evening, Honi?”
“Of course not. Except the horses, and they don’t talk to no one but Rap.” He leered. “And no one will intrude on their Majesties, either! Not with that wolf on guard!”
Kadolan almost spilled her wine. “Wolf?”
“You remember Fleabag!” Rap said, beaming happily. “He introduced you to Darad, remember?”
“And to Sultan Azak!”
“Well, then! I thought I’d lost him in the forest, but he came trotting across the causeway this morning, wagging his tail.” Rap hesitated and added vaguely, “Lucky I happened to be down at the docks.”
Kadolan wondered why anyone would be down at the docks in Krasnegar now that they were all snowed in. Still, Master Rap was the king now, so she wouldn’t ask. Obviously Hononin was wondering the same thing, for he was scowling. As a boy, Honi had been fearfully shy, but he’d concluded that people didn’t notice that if he scowled. He’d been scowling ever since.
There was an awkward pause.
“Talking of Master Darad,” she said brightly, “I must remember to show you the letter I received last week from Doctor Sagorn and his friends.”
“Yes?” Rap said politely, sipping wine. “I didn’t know Darad could write.”
“I’m sure he can’t. Doctor Sagorn passed on his regards, and he made his mark. Doctor Sagorn’s own part was rather dry, I admit, but Sir Andor added some very witty comments, and Jalon sent a beautiful sonnet.”
“And Thinal?”
“He made his mark, also. He is thinking of going into business, apparently. He feels he is getting too old for climbing walls, the doctor says.” For a moment Kadolan reflected on all the curious friends she had made on her adventures—Sultan Azak, Mage Elkarath, little Prince Shandie, the lionslayers and their wives, and the wardens, although of course they were never friends . . .
“What sort of business?” Rap asked.
“Jewelry, of course.”
He chuckled. “Of course. May the Gods defend his customers!”
Again an awkward pause. Rap caught Kadolan studying his face, and he colored again.
“It was Krath, you see,” he muttered.
“Krath?”
“Inos did mention him, I think . . . When. she was telling you how I, er . . . rescued her? I struck a jotunn. I know that’s a stupid thing to do, but I didn’t have any choice.”
“Oh! Of course! She did tell me.” Kadolan felt a little better—not a vulgar brawl, but a royal rescue. “No ordinary jotunn, either. A blacksmith! Yes, that was very brave of you.”
“It was very dumb of me! Of course he’s been hunting me ever since. And yesterday he brought some friends to help, and then I couldn’t avoid him, even with farsight.”
Kadolan sighed and finished her wine. “Well, I see that under the circumstances you had no choice. And I thank the Gods that you’re well enough to come to the wedding at all.”
Rap stiffened, and Hononin uttered one of his raucous chuckles.
“You don’t know the half of it!” he said. “It was a fabulous match! If Krath had laid a fist on him, he’d have been a human pancake, but Rap used some sorcery or other—”
“That was not sorcery!” Rap said crossly. “Little Chicken taught me some throws.” He pouted lopsidedly around his swollen lip. ”I was doing all right, too, but then—”
“You were wrecking the castle!” Hononin said. “Slam a jotunn into a stone wall often enough and the wall must break eventually. Krath wasn’t ever going to give up! But then the queen arrived.” He chortled. “With the guard! Furious! Royal tantrum! She ordered Sergeant Oopari to arrest the smith for treason!”