While this went on, the Shah went to the rear of the room where only one bolted door broke the expanse of wall. He took a key from his pocket, unlocked a panel that allowed him to move the bolt, then pulled the door open to disclose another one with a round of thick glass set into it. The Shah peered in, his lips working as he craned, trying to see right and left and down through the small pane. At last he breathed deeply, closed the doors and locked them once more.
His minister approached, taking no notice of the Shah’s preoccupation. “Twelve jars of P’naki, Magnanimous One,” murmured the Ybon Saelan.
“Only twelve?”
“The usual amount, sire, within half a jar or so.”
“Was all gathered?”
“All we had candidates for.”
The Shah grimaced. “One is tempted to increase the raids.”
“Serving today at the expense of tomorrow, Great One. The P’naki will not be increased by using up our resources. How many jars for the aspirants?”
The Shah thought long. He had taken particular notice of this year’s aspirants for elevation. Too many of those in this morning’s muster had been elderly, subject to disease and frailty, and those who had selected proxies would have been there all day still bowed forward, silent, unmoving, waiting for the Shah to postpone or elevate them. As he must! He had postponed too many elevations recently. It would be a mistake to postpone more.
“Bring enough to protect all of them,” he said, gritting his teeth.
“Enough for all of them?” wondered the minister.
“All. There is no one among them who had not been there twice before and not one among them is without friends. They have earned their protection.”
The Shah mounted his horse and rode back to the palace, the minister running behind, carrying the small jar and panting a little.
So, let him pant. The crop was so limited and so much in demand. Haven wanted desperately to buy more of it. There should be some way to improve this system. Though perhaps one should merely accede to the will of the Divine Sun. Scarcity brought its own rewards.
He had these thoughts before, but nothing had changed. Too much depended upon it. It had brought him much and would bring him as much again. No. It would not change.
5: An Unexpected Invitation
“For the soiree, I think the mahogany satin,” said Gertrude, the Wardrobe Mistress. “You look marvelous in it.”
Genevieve demurred. “It’s what I wore last time. I really look like a Nose in it.”
“You know,” said Gertrude, head cocked to one side, “you’re growing into your nose. Last year, it seemed large, true, but this year, no. This year, it seems a proper part of your face. The art instructor, Master Vorbold, said you would be striking. He was positive it would happen, and I believe it has!”
The mirror agreed, but only if Genevieve stood tall, head carried imperially poised on her long neck, shoulders relaxed, face quiet. Then the face was fine, nose and all, just as it was in the family portraits. Her dark skin was unusual in Haven, but acceptable since it was inherited from Queen Stephanie.
“I’ll bet your father’s bringing the colonel back,” whispered Carlotta, as they were having their hair done. “I’ll bet the colonel has asked for your hand.”
“No,” said Genevieve, with a pang of regret. “Father wouldn’t consider the colonel for me.” Not in this play or any other.
“Why not?” demanded Barbara. “He’s young, he’s handsome, he looks healthy!”
Genevieve worked it out. “In the first place, he’s a commoner, which means he’s uncovenantal. And then, Father is looking for a son. He did not get one by birth, so he will try to get one by marriage. It is much more important that Father get on with the person than that I do, and the Colonel is not the kind of person Father would ever be comfortable with.” She said it calmly, but heard it with a pang. What she had said was absolutely true. Now why was that? Why wasn’t Father perfectly comfortable with his own equerry?
What was it about Aufors Leys that Father wasnot comfortable with? Not merely his being a commoner, for Father was quite comfortable with some commoners. It wasn’t his appearance, which was heavenly, or his manners, which were impeccable. It had to be something, but she couldn’t think what. Just something about him. His attitude perhaps. Yes. That was likely it, his attitude of beingreal. Aufors was morereal than Father was. This idea was difficult to think out, but once having thought it, Genevieve could not unthink it. Aufors Leys was real, but like her father, Genevieve was probably not.