Kings of the North - Elizabeth Moon [177]
The glamour pushed doubt at him, but he pushed back, refusing. Finally it withdrew, but only a short distance. He thought he sensed his grandmother nearby, wrapped in the elvenhome kingdom, invisible but present.
“Sir King—?”
Garris. He didn’t want to talk to Garris, or anyone, but Garris had to know something, to understand Arian’s disappearance.
“Sit down,” Kieri said, waving to the bench he sat on.
“What … happened?”
“The Lady did not approve. Arian left.”
Garris stared. “You sent her—”
“No, not me.” Kieri sighed. “I argued with my grandmother; the taig was upset. Arian left, she said for the good of the realm. It is not good for the realm, if I do not marry. And I will marry Arian, or no one.”
“Oh.” Garris locked his thumbs one way, then the other. “You’re sure—”
“I’m sure that Arian has gone. I’m sure I will marry no one else. I’m sure my grandmother thinks I will change my mind. And I’m sure it’s a complication none of us needed.” He hoped the Lady was listening, but his sense of her presence had faded.
“Maybe she’ll change her mind—”
“Who? Arian or my grandmother?”
“Either. Both. Maybe even you.”
Kieri looked at him until Garris looked down and away. “Garris, you’ve known me how long?”
“Long enough to know you don’t change your mind easily. All right. But—happy as I was to think of you and Arian—she’s not the only—”
“She is for me.”
“There are other half-elf Squires. And rangers.”
“They aren’t Arian.” Kieri sighed again. “Garris, I’m not a youth. I’ve loved before; I’ve been married before. I know my own mind and heart. This is not some hasty infatuation, as my grandmother thinks. Nor some plot of Arian’s. And I see no reason why I should not have the wife I want—the wife I already love. Her reasons—the Lady’s reasons, I mean—amount to blaming Arian for her father’s behavior. He sired her; he didn’t infect her with whatever the Lady thinks is wrong with him.”
“Um. People do inherit—”
“Garris, I don’t want to be angry with you.”
“And I don’t want you angry with me. But as a friend, and as your subject, and as captain of your Squires: consider carefully. Maybe Arian has the right of it. If the Lady does not change her mind, and if your quarrel with the Lady imperils the taig, can you in good conscience continue that quarrel for the sake of a woman you have not yet married? As the king, healing and preserving the taig’s health are your primary responsibilities.”
Kieri shook his head. “If it were only convenience, or calculation, or mere affection, Garris, I could leave it—with regret, but I could. This is not the same. I know it must be Arian because—besides my own feeling—the taig itself told me. I felt it.”
“You felt the taig more than the Lady did?”
“I don’t know what the Lady felt, but I felt the taig rejoicing when Arian and I knew—”
“You were—very emotional—”
“I could not mistake one for the other, Garris, any more than I could mistake redroots for clotted cream.”
“Well … what do you want me to do? Is there anything?”
“I would like to be alone for a while,” Kieri said. “I don’t—I can’t—meet the Council right now. I need time to calm myself down, and try to calm the taig, just that.”
“I will place Squires to guard your privacy, then,” Garris said.
Kieri listened to his footsteps on the garden paths, then the gentle thump of a door, and stared at the falling water. He tried techniques Orlith had taught him, slipping his mind into the water. Cold water, winter water, ice-edged wherever it slowed down; he shivered, thinking of Arian off somewhere in the winter woods, alone.
“She would be very angry if she knew I had done this,” a voice said. As beautiful as harp music, a gentle melancholy in it … Kieri looked aside and saw Arian’s father sitting on the next bench.
“What—how did you—?”
The elf made a gesture with his hands, and a pattern of light formed. “The Lady’s quarrel with me goes beyond my predilection for human women,” he said. “We elves have gifts in different measure, as do you humans, and