Kings of the North - Elizabeth Moon [47]
“I use one,” Kieri said.
She sniffed. “I don’t believe you. No king would.”
“I do not know what your baths are like,” Kieri said firmly, “but everyone here uses a tub. If you insist, you may inspect my bathing room—”
He had not believed she would be so rude, but she did insist, complaining all the way to and from it of other indignities: being lodged across the hall from the princess instead of in an adjoining room, having no separate kitchen where food could be prepared under her own eyes. Kieri declined to inflict her on his own cooks. Nor did she approve of the King’s Squires Kieri had assigned to the princess Elis—all, he insisted, honorable women.
“They wear trousers,” the woman said. “And they bow instead of curtsy. It is unnatural.”
“It is required, when they are on duty,” Kieri said. The last of his patience vanished. “You must excuse me; I have urgent business.” She glared but let him go. He wondered if her husband was as difficult and suspected he was. It would take a difficult man to survive her.
Two princesses would take up the time of at least four King’s Squires each, day and night: two-thirds of the women on the list of Squires. He’d have to pull some in from other tasks—riding courier, for instance. He went into Garris’s office and found him scowling at the chart he’d made of King’s Squires and their assignments.
“It’s going to take eight King’s Squires, minimum, to keep a guard on both princesses.”
“I know,” Kieri said. “Plus mine—you’re sure you can’t cut that back?”
“You may be one of the two best blades in the kingdom, Kieri, but I’m not risking your life. Not until you’re married and your heir is shoulder-high.”
Kieri shook his head but didn’t argue. “So we’re tying up half the King’s Squires on palace duty … well, maybe the princesses won’t stay long once they figure out I’m not going to marry them. Her. Either one.”
“You might,” Garris said. “If you did, it might seal a peace with whichever—”
“And make an enemy of the other. No. Anyway, they’re just girls. Who’s where?”
“Of the women? Aulin’s been on duty with the Pargunese—her name is Elis—today. She says the girl’s very tense and frightened of something, so she asked to stay on tonight. She’ll need help tomorrow. Arian’s somewhere between Riverwash and here; she left three days ago with a message to the river guard. Binir should be on the way back from Prealíth. Lieth’s here, of course, and I can substitute men for the women in your rotation if that’s acceptable.”
“Certainly,” Kieri said. “At least for a while.” Once more he thought how comfortable he found the women Squires, with their easy competence. A pity they were all so young; he put that out of his mind, watching as Garris wrote out a new chart. “Do you need a clerk assistant, Garris?”
“No—not yet. When you get up to fifty Squires, then I will.”
“If more princesses show up at one time, it may come to that. When you’ve finished, come have supper with me—somewhere far away from the Pargunese girl’s dragon guardian. That woman is nothing like Hanlin at the coronation and much more like what I thought of as Pargunese.”
“Thank you,” Garris said. “A turn of the glass, maybe one and a half. How did the hunt go?”
“Very well. Ample game for a banquet tomorrow, and at least some of the hounds and people were mingling.”
“You can’t hurry things here, Kieri,” Garris said. Then, with a sly wink, “Except perhaps your finding a wife and getting an heir.”
Kieri rolled his eyes and made his way back to his bathing room. There, relaxing in his steaming tub of herb-scented water, he wondered about the Pargunese baths. How did they have hot pools in winter? Did they have hot springs near the palace? But hot springs usually stank—surely they didn’t bathe in water that smelled like rotten eggs. Though that might explain their sour attitude.
He heaved himself up and submitted to Joriam’s pitcher of rinse water, then dried himself with towels warmed by the fire. His bath was fine enough—more