Kings of the North - Elizabeth Moon [48]
Though the evening began quietly enough eating supper with Garris, after supper he had to decide where the Kostandanyan princess and her retinue should be housed, and that meant conferences with half a dozen servitors. Twice the steward brought him demands from Countess Settik and once from the count, who wanted his horse moved to a different stall and all the Pargunese mounts fed only the oats carried on the Pargunese pack horses. Kieri called in the Master of Horse.
“We just put those oats in the bins—I can scoop out the top layer, but—”
“Put some oats in a separate barrel for the beasts and tell him those were his oats,” Kieri said. “Sprinkle a little salt on them, and the horses won’t know the difference. Neither will he.”
By then it was time to make his way upstairs and inspect the guest suite for the Kostandanyan princess—he’d decided to put her as far from the Pargunese as possible—and then he slipped out for a few minutes into the rose garden, now lushly perfumed with both the roses and night-blooming flowers. He sat on his favorite bench and breathed in the mingled scents, sweet and spicy, trying to regain the sense of peace and confidence his elven tutor insisted he needed to connect most powerfully with the taig.
In the near-dark, with the water gurgling and splashing as it ran through the garden, he relaxed slowly, touching first the garden’s taig and then that to which it was connected. Outside the palace enclosure, just across the way, the trees on the margin of the King’s Grove … and then, as his taig-sense expanded, the King’s Grove itself, every tree distinct in its identity, its history … He sank slowly into a trance, now more familiar than the first time it happened, touching and being touched by the trees and through them other trees and all that “tree” meant—past, present, future, from the root-clutched rock below to the creatures that lived on and or visited it. He roused only when the clamor of another arrival in the palace courtyard broke through the reverie.
He took a last stroll around the paths in the garden and went up to his own rooms, not risking confrontation with another group of angry foreigners. His Squires could tell him what the Kostandanyan girl was like.
Shortly, the steward came to tell him that the Kostandanyan princess, by name Ganlin, seemed to have been injured on the way—she limped at least—and might be too fatigued to attend a banquet the next night. Kieri considered the likelihood that Count and Countess Settik would be angered by delay—probably, but he was not inclined to coddle them—and reset the date.
On the night of the dinner, the two princesses and their guardians appeared at opposite ends of the passage and stopped, obviously startled to see one another. The princesses, Kieri noted, looked surprised but delighted; their guardians glared.
He made the welcome speech he’d planned and then led the way into the dining room. With most of the Council gone for the summer, Kieri had invited others to fill out the table, including off-duty King’s Squires. He hoped seeing the women Squires in formal garb would convince the princesses’ guardians that they were well-bred, proper ladies as well as Knights of Falk and King’s Squires.
Formal attire for women had never caught Kieri’s interest; he had seen a lot of it since being crowned, but knew he understood little of the covert messages sent by the length and cut of a sleeve, the width and draping of a skirt, the amount and placement of lace.
On his right hand, Elis of Pargun wore pale blue, and on his left hand, Ganlin of Kostandan wore pale green. They faced each other across the wide table; somewhat to Kieri’s surprise they were not eyeing each other with jealous speculation.
Countess Settik had already complained about the seating, insisting that Elis should sit beside Kieri at the head of the table, that no proper banquet could be given with one long table instead of a U-shaped arrangement, the head