Kings of the North - Elizabeth Moon [15]
She wondered what Paks would think. Paks, she suspected, would tell her to follow what Falk wanted, as any Knight of Falk should. Falk—when she tried to ask—said nothing. This was more Falk’s world than Gird’s, this magnificence and luxury, and Falk probably expected her to be comfortable with it. The next course was roast venison spiced in a way she’d never tasted. She finished the meal laughing at herself and her internal dialogues while Duke Marrakai talked horse breeding with Duke Mahieran.
“How did my horse carry you in the procession?” Marrakai asked her suddenly. “Did he give you any problems?
“None at all,” Dorrin said.
“Good. I’ve taken care that he’s ridden by others regularly, so he knows he’s to behave. But he will try things, even with me.”
“We had them all prancing and showing off,” Duke Mahieran said. “I’m not sure if m’lord Verrakai asked for everything he did or if it was his idea.”
“Both,” Dorrin said. “I thought it would keep him busy, and if he offered more, I made use of it.”
“What concerns me now,” Duke Marrakai said, “is the security of the royal stables and stud.”
Duke Mahieran nodded and turned to Dorrin. “Is it likely other grooms could have been taken over? Do you have any idea how long the transference has been going on?”
“A very long time, my lord,” Dorrin said. “I looked only at the current family book, for those I thought would be alive now. When I glanced back, the same symbol was used as far as I looked. The worst of it is that some have been transferred more than once.”
Duke Serrostin spoke up. “My lords, this is a matter of state; perhaps it should be deferred to Council.”
“It is urgent,” Mahieran said.
“Indeed. And this is a banquet hall with more ears than ours.” His gaze flicked briefly to the king’s table, where Prince Camwyn sat, cheeks flushed from unaccustomed wine. “Unless Duke Verrakai perceives another immediate threat, I suggest we confine our topics to those appropriate to a celebration.”
Mahieran raised his glass. “And I salute your wisdom, my lord.” He turned back to Dorrin. “At the Council meeting tomorrow, you’ll be asked what you know.”
“Council meeting?”
Marrakai leaned across the table toward them. “Of course—Verrakai’s seat has been vacant since your uncle’s treason, but as Duke, you’re entitled to a Council seat unless the king changes his mind. You will have to spend hours—I was going to claim a headache, but you and the Marshal-General made that impossible.”
Duke Serrostin, next to Marrakai, laughed. “You’re incorrigible, Selis. You could let Duke Verrakai decide for herself if Council meetings are boring. Besides, complaints or no, you always show up early and are the last to leave.”
“It’s my duty,” Marrakai said, hand over his heart. His eyes twinkled. Dorrin smiled a little uncertainly.
Serrostin smiled at her. “You’ll find, Duke Verrakai, that we three are sometimes considered difficult. Once there were eight dukes in Tsaia, but after the Girdish wars only five intact dukedoms remained. The new king—the one the Girdish allowed—chose to break up the others into counties or redistribute the land to those who were left. The Code of Gird recommends dissolution whenever there’s a break in inheritance—and for various crimes as well. Tsaian law doesn’t require it, but the Fellowship has pushed for fewer large estates. At any rate, the Escral title died out about a hundred years after the Girdish war—that was in the northwest, bordering Fintha. Dirga, perhaps a hundred years after that—they bordered Lyonya in the southeast, from the mountains north to your own domain.”
“What Counts Konhalt and Clannaeth hold now?”
“And others. There are some free towns. Brewersbridge is one, nominally in Clannaeth’s rule, but it has special status. Fiveway—well, actually that’s in Harbin’s, I think.