Kings of the North - Elizabeth Moon [136]
“I know. Come when you can. The elves will help; it will not be as long as you think. I must get back—we’ll leave in the morning, unless you need us.”
“Do you never get tired?” Aliam asked.
“What did you tell me when I was a boy?” Kieri said. “Tired is a feeling, but duty is a fact, wasn’t that it?”
“I knew from the moment I saw you, you would be nothing but trouble,” Aliam said, rolling his eyes.
When Kieri reached Chaya again, more leaves had fallen and frosts had nipped the last roses in his mother’s garden. The comfort of the palace had never seemed more welcoming: hot bath, soft carpets under his bare feet, soft clean clothes to put on. He came down to find a mug of sib steaming on his desk and Garris waiting for him with reports—and questions.
“It was a daskdraudigs,” Kieri said. “And Aliam’s fine now. The elves are there. I’ll tell you the rest later—what about Andressat?”
“He rested two days, but would not stay longer. I couldn’t tell if he was angry with you for leaving, or simply impatient to get on his way home. I sent him off with six Squires as escort. He won’t have reached Verrakai’s estate yet.”
“The Pargunese?”
“They’re definitely doing something, but we don’t know what. You have letters from Arcolin. Apparently they were held up somewhere.”
“I’ll read them later,” Kieri said. He took a swallow of sib. “Aliam’s agreed to take command of our defenses, when they’ve rebuilt the house.”
“Rebuilt—”
“I said it was a daskdraudigs. The house is mostly gone, the barns entirely.”
“Holy Falk and Gird!”
“Yes. It was quite dramatic. Anyway, if the Pargunese are up to something, we’ll have an experienced commander. With luck, they won’t do anything until he gets here.”
“With luck, they won’t do anything at all,” Garris said. “I should warn you, the Siers are trickling back in for full Council meetings, and they’re all ready to remind you that you promised to marry.”
“Will they never let up?”
“Not until you do. You know that. Is it because of Tammarion? Remembering her?”
“No,” Kieri said. “I haven’t found the right woman.”
His Siers, the next morning, were as insistent as Garris had warned. He had run off without warning, into danger. The daskdraudigs could have killed him, and they needed an heir if they were to lose a king to rashness.
Verrakai House, Tsaia
On her return from the Autumn Court, Dorrin planned to tell Selfer at once that Arcolin wanted that cohort to return to the Company. Instead, she found that the Count of Andressat had arrived the day before, accompanied by two King’s Squires.
“He’s not best pleased you weren’t here,” her steward murmured. “He’s come from Lyonya, where he went to see the king, and he feels the king brushed him off, sent him here to get rid of him.”
Andressat, touchy and proud—Dorrin was sure Kieri hadn’t been disrespectful, but she could not imagine why he would have sent Andressat here. Not only had Andressat considered himself Kieri’s superior in birth, he’d had a particular dislike of female soldiers, including Dorrin. Kieri must have had some good reason … but what? Dorrin braced herself for a difficult evening, when she’d hoped for a relaxing one, and asked where he was.
“He has the suite at the back of the house, my lord. I thought it best—”
“Excellent,” Dorrin said. “I’ll go at once. Send a servant to say I’m coming, and ask Cook to send up sib and cakes.”
“My lord Count,” Dorrin said, as she entered. “You are welcome here; my apologies for being from home and unable to greet you myself. My king bade me stay a few days after Autumn Court.” Andressat had been reading, she saw; a litter of scrolls lay on the table.
“My lady—lord—Duke,” Andressat said. “I—I took no offense; I have no right—”
He seemed older, much older, than he had when last she saw him, and it had been only those few years.
“I am but now arrived,” Dorrin said, “and I have called for refreshment before changing for dinner.” A timely knock came on the door; a kitchen maid