“I won’t drop this, you know,” the king said firmly, but his hands were unsteady as the midwife passed him the precious bundle. He was always astonished how incredibly tiny these fragile miracles were when they first appeared. Tucking the babe in the crook of his left elbow, he adjusted the edge of the blanket around its face and headed for the door.
Of course this was the middle of the night—when else did babies arrive? Lamplight reflected like a halo from the flood of rich gold hair on the pillow. Inos was paler than usual and her lower lip was swollen, but she was smiling proudly, as indeed she should.
Two of each, now.
Rap knelt by the bed, leaned very carefully over his new son, and kissed her. ”Clever girl,” he murmured.
“I had some very expert help.”
“It was a pleasure. Nice of you to put it that way, though.”
“I didn’t mean at the beginning. A frantic roughhouse, I expect. . .” She smiled knowingly. “I mean at the end.”
“We all do what we can,” he said softly.
“Thanks anyway, love.”
“Don’t mention it.” The midwife would gossip, of course. Nothing he could do to stop gossip. He chuckled and changed the subject. “This is the finest Winterfest present a man ever received.”
“Then don’t refer to it as `this’ . . . I mean, call it `him.’”
“ `Him’? That’s not much of a name! Let’s see. Can’t tell much from his coloring yet, but I think he’s going to be more imp than jotunn.”
“I thought that, too. But he’s got your nose, love.”
Rap peered crossly at the diminutive face, screwed up in a frown, but fast asleep. “They all have my nose at that age! Or perhaps he just squished it on the door frame.”
“Don’t be crude!” the queen said from her pillow. “What will you name your son, my lord?”
“You decide!”
There was a brief argument about precedence. “Holindam,” Rap said at last.
“Kadie and Eva are named after my family. It’s your family’s turn. Why not name him after your father? What was he called, anyway?”
“Grossnuk.”
Inos said, “Oh?” with little enthusiasm.
“I don’t remember him much.” The king poked the baby’s chin with a finger. “Hey, Grossy! We want you to grow up like your grandpapa the slaver! The drunken raider who fell off a dock in the dark. Big and mean and strong like the murdering, raping, wife—beating—”
“On the other hand,” the queen said thoughtfully, “if he is going to have impish looks, then perhaps an impish name would be more appropriate.”
“There you go, changing your mind again!” the king said. ”Women!” He gave her another kiss. “Hi there, Holi!” He kissed the baby, too. It scowled but did not wake. “Be half the man your namesake was and you’ll do fine.”
“Holi it is, then.” Inos yawned—a monstrous, unladylike, queen—size yawn.
“Get some sleep now, love,” Rap said, and stood up. “What time would you like the bell to start?”
Inos groaned. “Must we? I always associate it with funerals.”
“No. Think of celebrations and weddings and life!”
“I expect they’ll ring it whether we want them to or not,” she agreed sleepily. “Keep Holi a state secret till lunchtime if you can.”
“Tell him that!” the king said. He departed, taking their son and the lamp.
4
He left baby Prince Holindarn with the women and wandered off by himself, much too excited to sleep. There might still be life down the hill, in the taverns, but he had no desire to be mobbed by a bunch of drunks. Tomorrow, maybe. All his friends were long since abed. It would be unkind to waken them just to explain about this incredibly beautiful and intelligent new baby. He had the rest of the night to himself, and he was going to enjoy every minute of it.
The present king and queen had abandoned the ancient tradition whereby the reigning monarch slept at the top of the great tower. There were many more convenient rooms available and much warmer.
He opened a door and stepped silently within. A small lamp flickered high on a shelf, illuminating three beds and three young faces on three pillows.
Nearest the door was Eva, flaxen hair, ivory winter skin. The king adjusted her quilts.
Hello there, little one, he thought. You have a baby brother now. You won’t be able to pull all those tricks any more. Life is hell, Baby Eva! Now you’ve got to face it squarely, without being the family pet. Eight years old, supplanted and rejected already! How awful. How you will suffer! I’ll try to remember that, though, and I’m sure your mother will.
He crossed the room to the twins.
The dark-haired one . . . Princess, you have a baby brother. Someone else for you to organize, imp. Another thrall to serve your whims and dance to your tune. As he did not speak aloud, the child could not hear and yet she fretted briefly on the pillow.
Dreaming, Kadie? What on earth do you dream about? Your day is one long dream, so far as I can see. Your life is filled with Allena the Fair and the White Lady of Tower Perilous and the Wild Riders of the Sea Wind . . . Your life is one endless romance. You never have time just to be yourself, Kadie. Is that what you do in your dreams? Do you dream all hard and practical and plain, while the rest of us dream frills and fancy? He chuckled, still silent. Dream on then, little beauty. And if you can rid your life of realities by night and keep your days as one long dream always, then you will indeed be blessed of the Gods.
Gath, with shards of hair protruding everywhere like a golden porcupine . . . You have a brother now, my son. You are much older and will have to be an example for him. I’ll explain that tomorrow. On your birthday, we’re going to make some changes, lad. You and your sister will have your own rooms from then on, and this time there will be no argument. You’re a good team, I know. You do all the heavy digging and she does all the thinking. I don’t know how to stop that, Gath. It worries me a little. You never do anything on your own, not that I can see, and I can’t understand that, because I was on my own a lot at your age. Oh, I had friends, but by my thirteenth birthday I was a working man and had been for years. If you’re not following after Kadie, then you’re following me, or your mother. What goes on in that silent head of yours? What kind of a jotunn never loses his temper? You’re certainly not an imp, because you mind your own business. Are you perhaps a faun on the inside?
Rap knew very little about fauns. They were said to be stubborn, though, and Gath was never stubborn. Gath was the most obliging person in the world. It didn’t fit the patterns. And it didn’t seem healthy, somehow.
The king wandered aimlessly along dark corridors and eventually found himself in the great hall, trellised by moonlight, silent and haunted. Starting to feel chilled, he headed for the cavernous fireplaces at the kitchen end. Even if the last embers had burned away, there would be heat left in the stones. He found a deserted bench standing almost within the ashes, so some other night bird had been there before him. A few fragments of driftwood still glowed like the eyes of rodents. He sat down and absorbed the radiating warmth, sniffing the old familiar smells of peat and ash and ancient grease, listening to the casements rattle in the wind.
This was what he remembered best of his childhood. He could recall almost nothing of the earliest years, before his father died and his mother moved into the castle. At ten he’d started work in the stables, but in retrospect it seemed that much of his youth before that had been spent huddling close to these gigantic hearths.
Behind him, at the far end of the hall, was the dais. That was where he sat these days, beside the queen, playing at being king because it pleased her. He still did not feel like a king.
Of all the men and women who ruled in Pandemia, or who had ever ruled in Pandemia, he thought Inos came closest to ruling by the love of her subjects. Not a man or woman in the kingdom had a word to say against her. And, although she insisted that he was the king, he regarded himself as merely the first of her subjects.
None loved her more. After all, he was the one who was allowed to sleep with her. What had he ever done to deserve that? He would do anything for her.