Kings of the North - Elizabeth Moon [100]
Kieri took that for acquiescence. His interview with Ganlin’s guardians went even more smoothly. Her aunt and uncle were tired of her whims, they said. If she was not to marry Kieri, then something must be done with her; she had no future in Kostandan, where she was considered both difficult and a cripple.
By dawn, the two princesses were out of the house and on their way to Falk’s Hall, escorted by King’s Squires and the Knight-Commander himself.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” the Knight-Commander said before he left.
“I also, but I could not think of anything else,” Kieri said.
The next day, the princesses’ escorts started for their respective homes, apparently satisfied and bearing with them parting gifts and letters to the princesses’ parents explaining why Kieri had chosen Falk’s Hall.
“And that,” Kieri said to the Squires who met him in the salle for practice the following morning, “is that. We all hope. At least it’s quieter and not so crowded. We will all take the day off and have a picnic lunch in the Royal Ride—I’m sure you’ve had as much of princesses and the palace as anyone could stand.”
Watching them, listening to them, he thought again how companionable they were. They handled their horses, their weapons, the setting up of even such a brief camp as a picnic, with such easy competence. He tried to imagine Elis or Ganlin doing so well, and could not, at least not until they’d become knights. He felt at home with them, as he had not felt with any other women but soldiers before. But nearly all were too young for him, and one of the two old enough—or almost old enough—was sisli. The other had shown no more interest in him than he felt for her.
He sat quietly, watching and listening, and after a time Arian came over. “Sir King? Do I disturb you? I wanted to talk to you about Pargun.”
His pulse sped; he ignored it. “What is it?”
“You recall that before the princesses came, I had been up near the river, carrying messages to Talgan.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve been keeping up with the dispatches coming in—I know you have as well—and I’m concerned about those troops.”
“So am I,” Kieri said. “I may ask Aliam to send me another cohort.”
“I can’t understand why they’d send their princess to you and then prepare an attack.”
Kieri had not told any of the Squires about Elis being instructed to kill him. “They wanted me dead,” he said, and went on to tell Arian everything Elis had told him. He pitched his voice so all could hear if they wished. Arian’s face expressed the horror he had felt. Then it softened.
“A hard trial for such a young girl,” she said. “No wonder she was so difficult to understand.”
Now that the princesses were gone, the Siers in Chaya began making comments about marriage again. Was he looking? Could he use some advice? Kieri wondered when they thought he had time to look; every day had some crisis he must deal with, and that on top of his regular work. He understood their concern, but it had not even been a half-year yet.
“The thing is, my lord,” old Joriam said, soaping his king’s back, “you may be young, as half-elves go, and you may be strong as oak and lithe as willow, but if some rock drops on your head, you’re dead. Or a fever: even kings get fevers. It’s your duty, same as wearing a crown or visiting your father’s bones.”
“I know that,” Kieri said, feeling smothered by the constant attention to his single state.
“She doesn’t have to be royal, my lord. Or even noble. Just … you know …” He left it there, and poured the clean water over Kieri’s soapy body. “Fertile,” was what he meant.
Kieri tried looking at all the women around him with marriage in mind, but he hated thinking of them that way, as breeding animals. They were people, people he had come to know and care for. And they were, mostly, too old to have children or too young for a man his age. He wanted companionship; he wanted someone he could talk to.
That thought sent him to the ossuary, one hot afternoon. This time he lit no candle, just sat and listened