“Oh, definitely. Very . . . puissant.”
“Then he’ll no doubt find her charming, despite the nose.”
“She may have grown into it by now,” the Prince interrupted.
“Despite the nose,” repeated the Lord Paramount, an edge to his voice. This time Delganor did not interrupt him. “Then you can go down to her school or academy or whatever it is and invite her. If all goes well, we’ll have you wed shortly. Your third wife, won’t it be?”
“Fourth, Your Majesty.”
“Pity. I remember your first wife. Charming girl. Look at this boiler arrangement, Delganor. Now that’s innovative . . .”
The Prince did not reply. He merely bowed and departed, taking no notice of the Aresians who had measured his every movement and recorded his every word. The Prince was a source of much information to the intelligence people on Ares. They drew sustenance from every casual word uttered by the Prince. More than from the Lord Paramount, who spoke unequivocal nonsense most of the time.
After a time the lips of the guards curved in not-quite smiles at the slither of booklets spilling from the lap of the man on the throne, followed by a gentle but unmistakable snore.
“So, likely we’ll be getting a new woman to flit about here for a while,” said one, Ogberd by name, speaking barely above a whisper without moving his lips. “Destined for the Prince. Brother, it’s interesting that they never stay long, do they?”
His brother, Lokdren, assented with an almost invisible nod. “Lady Marissa was the last young one, and none since she married Lord Tranquish. Lately I’ve felt like an attendant at a home for the aged, and by the Great Sportsman, it’s a waste of time!”
“Shhh,” hissed the other, with a quick glance at the throne, where the Lord Paramount had stirred slightly. “Aged or not, we are sworn to him, and as the universe knows, we Aresians never waver from our oath of service.” His lips firmed as he said sententiously, “Faithful service is our pride. It says so in the Aresian security services prospectus.”
The other actually did smile at this, a quick twitch of the lips, his eyes roving the room as they always did, taking note of every gentle movement of curtain, every shift of light, every sound that might presage a visitor. He stiffened slightly at a sound in the hallway outside the door, then relaxed at the familiar tramping of feet. Behind the two, the doors slid soundlessly open to admit the change of guard who eased into the places Ogberd and Lokdren silently vacated.
Outside in the corridor, Lokdren removed his helmet, wiped his brow, and continued the interrupted conversation, though softly. “I’m less concerned with what’s in the prospectus than I am what’s in our orders. We may be fulfilling the prospectus, but we’re damned well not finding out what we came to find out!”
Ogberd’s lips twitched. “We’ve learned a lot about rug-weaving looms and chandeliers and wine-making equipment and miniature sheep, though, haven’t we?”
Lokdren shook his head. “More than I care to know, frankly. Time is running out. Father’s getting impatient. He sent another indignant message this morning. If we don’t come up with something soon, he’ll do something irrevocable.”
“Do you care?” Ogberd shrugged.
His brother nodded back. “Haven’s a nice enough little place. Some of the people are pleasant. I’d hate to see them in father’s hands, the mood he’s in, put it that way. He won’t stop at anything. I’m sure of it.”
“Nonsense. Father’s an honorable sportsman.”
“Is he now? Are any of us?Given the consequences if we don’t find out? “
“Given the consequences . . .” Ogberd sighed. “Damn. Well, I don’t know. Given the consequences … I suppose even Father . . . well, I suppose even he could … do the unthinkable.”
Lokdren thinned his lips and snarled. “Better start thinking about it, brother. Just so it won’t be unthinkable, when it happens.”
6: One’s Place in Havenor
Genevieve, as her father directed, was to take leave of her friends at school, return with her belongings to Langmarsh House, and there oversee the packing of such furnishings and garments as would be needed in Havenor. Meantime, the Marshal himself would go to Havenor and obtain lodgings, which might or might not be to either of their liking. Havenor was always crowded with members of the court and others who came to seek favors from the Lord Paramount, and there was often little to be had in the way of houses or apartments.