“I do not steal from Gods!”
“Quite! The silk seems unimportant. If the Gods did not want this chaplain woman to return to the Impire, They could have found a simpler way to produce the effect, I should think.” Sagorn turned his calculating eyes on Inos again. “So the message to you seems to be the important part. But Gods do not meddle in trivial matters . . . Are you in love at the moment, young lady?”
Inos felt herself turn very pink. “No! Of course not!”
“Hardly!” her father protested mildly.
Sagorn sent him an odd glance. “So she is going to fall in love? She will have a choice to make? Highness, has your father ever explained the importance of Krasnegar?”
Inos shook her head dumbly.
“Well, Krasnegar is very unusual. You have jotnar here and you have imps. There are very few places in all Pandemia where that combination exists in peace. Did you ever hear of the Mad Sorcerer? “
She shook her head, surprised at the sudden shift in subject.
“It’s a name that was given to Inisso. Does it not seem strange that a man of such vast power would choose to build his tower in a barren, isolated spot like Krasnegar? But he was not so crazy as he seemed, I think. This is a very strategic little town. It has the only good harbor in the north.”
Why was he telling her this? He seemed very solemn. Inos glanced at her father, and he frowned as if to tell her to listen carefully.
“Both Nordland and the Impire think they should own Krasnegar. Is that not so, Majesty?”
“It has always been so. “
“And it has always had a king, not a queen regnant!” Sagorn said triumphantly. “So you see, Highness, the thanes and the Impire will all take a great deal of interest in whomever you choose as husband. Yet they both need you.”
“Need me?” she asked. “Us?”
He nodded. “Need Krasnegar. There is much your father must teach you if you are to rule here after him. Salt, for instance. Even humble things like salt. The jotnar need salt to store their meat over the winter. Salt doesn’t sail well, so most of it comes overland from the south in the summer, to Krasnegar. Goblins and jotnar trade furs for it. The Impire wants furs. Things like that. The imperor would not like to see a jotunn king in Krasnegar. Nordland wouldn’t like you to marry an imp.”
“But they’ll both accept me as queen?” she protested, looking to her father. She had hardly ever thought about being queen. That would be after he died, and she was not going to think about that.
He nodded—a little doubtfully, she thought. “If you are old enough and strong enough, and if they approve of your choice of husband. Most husbands like to give the orders, you know.” She snorted, not caring that snorting was not regal. “Well, that doesn’t have to be for years yet, does it?” For just a moment . . . then he seemed to change his mind. “I certainly hope not. What I think my learned friend is saying, though, is that you may have to choose a husband quite soon—in a year or two, even. And your decision will be important to very many people. The God was telling you to remember love when you decide—a divine hint. Right, Sagorn?”
Inos spoke first, suddenly seized by a horrible doubt. “You’re not going to marry me off to some horrible old duke, are you, Father?”
Her father laughed. “Not unless you want me to. No, Nordland would not stand for it, anyway. That’s what I mean—your decision might start a war, Inos!”
She gasped at such a horrible idea, and swallowed the last of whatever it was in her glass. It made her cough. If enjoying this vile stuff was a requirement for adulthood, then she had farther to go than she had thought.
Her father rose. “I’ll send for some lunch, Sagorn, unless you’d prefer the hall?”
It was a hint of dismissal for Inos, and Inos had still not settled the terrible matter of the silk.
“No. A snack here would be fine,” the old man said, with a strange smile at her father. “As you know, Sire, I am not much of a party man. ”
“Tonight, perhaps, though? I understand that we have a very fine minstrel visiting us. Kade is organizing something.” Inos was being edged to the door. “Father? The silk?” He looked surprised, then laughed loudly again. “Three and a half imperials, you said?”
She nodded miserably, and he laid heavy hands on her shoulders. “Inos, darling, that much would buy Meo’s whole stock!”
“Meo?”
He smiled and, perhaps, blushed a little. “Meo and I are very old friends. You used to play with the servants’ children when you were little; so did I. I’ve known Meo all my life. I even thought I was in love with her once. Who went with you this morning?” he added, suddenly suspicious.
She confessed—no one.
He sighed and patted her shoulder. “This has to stop, Inos! You’re growing up. You’re not a child anymore. You can’t run around by yourself. Nor with stableboys and scullery maids clambering after bird’s eggs, digging clams . . . I’ve been neglecting you.” He chuckled. “Perhaps Meo thinks I have been neglecting her—I haven’t seen her in years. Or else she was sending me a message.”
“Message?”
He nodded. “A message that my beautiful daughter should not be wandering the town by herself. No, Meo doesn’t expect three and a half gold imperials! ”
That was better. Much better.
Her father chuckled. “I’m very tempted to send the guard down to arrest her for extortion and then sentence her to stay to dinner, but her neighbors would gossip. Did she have any other quality stuff?”
With sudden excitement, Inos remembered what the God had said. “Only one other silk, Father. It had flowering trees on it. Apples, she said. Do apples really grow from flowers? But she has a drooly turquoise satin and three soft linens and a roll of silver mohair—”
He laughed. “I was going to send you out with your aunt this afternoon, but perhaps I’ll come as well. If Doctor Sagorn will excuse me for a little while, I shall visit my old friend Meo. She’s a widow now. I expect she’s lonely. But you can have all of those, and more besides—all the fine dresses and gowns we can make or find for you. “
“Father! You mean it? But—but why?”
He smiled sadly. “I wasn’t going to tell you yet, but I suppose I must. Because you have to leave Krasnegar. “
6
I loved a maiden, Maiden oh…
I loved a maiden, Long ago…
I left my land, I left my kin,
I left my all, her heart to win.
Maiden, maiden, maiden oh…
Long ago…
Jalon’s voice floated through the great hall like flower petals. Inos felt shivery listening to it. She thought of the glory of the God she had seen that morning; she thought of moonlight on snow, of the string of pearls she was wearing, and of white gulls against blue sky. Great beauty always made her shivery and she had never known such singing. Any other minstrel she had ever heard was a honking goose compared to this Jalon. The hall was full of people, yet there was no sound except the tremulous throb of the harp and a gloriously clear tenor voice floating under the high rafters.
Flower petals!
Inos was sitting with her father and his guests at the high table, on the dais at one end of the great hall. More townsfolk and the senior castle staff flanked tables along both sides. At the far end the lesser folk sat on the floor in front of the big fireplaces. The stones above them were black with the grease and smoke of centuries, and the high rafters overhead were black, also. Many a winter’s day she had shivered at this table, staring wistfully along the length of the hall to the leaping flames hissing and spluttering as grease dripped into them from the creaking spits, a princess envying servants. But today the hearths were dark and bare and the hall was hot, not cold. The sun loved Krasnegar in summer and would not leave it. Men fell down from exhaustion before the sun did, and after an hour or so it came smiling back, ready for another endless day. So the sun was still shining in the windows, laying sparkling bridges of light across the room in the floating dust.
I gave her gold, and rubies, too,
I gave my all, her heart to woo.
Maiden, maiden, maiden oh…
Aunt Kade looked around at the guests. She’d had her hair blue-rinsed. Smiling at the thought of Kinvale? No! No! Think of that tomorrow. Mistress Meolome was there, beaming happily, perhaps musing on all the wonderful fabrics she had sold to the court that afternoon-and all of them for less than a single imperial, as the king had predicted. He and she had laughed together like old friends. Her father did look tired, almost as if he were sitting in shadow when everyone around him was in sunshine. There were merchants there, with their wives, and a few ship captains, and the bishop and the school teachers; old Kondoral, cupping his ear, tears running in his wrinkles; Chancellor Yaltauri; and Master Poraganu. There were few of the castle staff, for so many were away in the hills, and especially not many young folk, but she could see Lin, who had broken his arm cutting peat of all things—how could he have managed that?—and Kel and Ido and Fan . . .