Shadow War - Deborah Chester [109]
He smiled without amusement. “It seems, Majesty, that we both have a strong degree of caution.”
“Meanwhile, Tirhin makes his mischief unchecked.”
“Oh, not exactly,” Lord Sien assured her. “The prince is learning the price of certain actions.”
She did not like the satisfied way in which he said that. She thought of the tremor in the prince’s hands, and felt more afraid. Tirhin had never struck her before as a man easily subdued. What had happened to him on the Forbidden Mountain? What had he done? What had he seen?
The priest selected a pear from a dish and began to cut it into small pieces, spearing each with the tip of his dagger, and eating them with relish.
“Might I ask your Majesty’s sources?” he asked between bites. “You are better informed than I expected.”
“My sources should remain unidentified at present,” she replied. “I will only say that my father taught me that information always plays a vital role in any situation.”
“Ah, Lord Albain.” Lord Sien turned his gaze down the long table, where her father sat shoved back from the table, picking his teeth and making jests with the man beside him. “A formidable warrior.”
“Yes.”
“And your mother. Majesty? What did she teach you?”
Elandra’s teeth gritted together. How smoothly and subtly he reminded her of her own illegitimacy. Temper enabled her to lift her eyes and meet his proudly. “My mother taught me how to survive, Lord Sien.”
Again he blinked, as though he had not expected that sort of answer from her. He considered her a long moment, then slowly nodded. “I see.”
She frowned, longing to terminate this conversation. But with him, she did not quite dare.
At the other end of the hall, the musicians were tuning up. There was to be dancing after the feast, but Elandra did not feel up to that. She sat there, willing this man to go away.
Instead, he cut up a second pear, his hands quick and deft with the knife. “You have had fair warning,” he said now. “Your own informants can supply the rest. Take heed of it, Majesty.”
“Yes.” She knew not what else to say.
“Your guardsmen are wearing their new colors tonight,” he went on. “I advise you to choose a protector as soon as possible. It is your right as sovereign.”
She nodded. “Yes, I have considered it.”
“And will you do more than consider it?”
“Tell me, Lord Sien. In the matter of a protector, must he be from my guard?”
Sien’s deep-set eyes quickened with interest. “No. While customary, it is not required.”
“Then I could choose a warrior from, say, Gialta.”
“You could, although it is inadvisable.”
“Why?”
“It points a direction.”
“I do not understand you.”
He laid down his knife. “It indicates a favoritism to your home province. The empire, Majesty, consists of many provinces all joined together under Kostimon’s banner. That union took a long time to form. It can be broken apart much more easily.”
Again, she had the feeling he was warning her, obliquely, and watching to see if she had the intelligence to understand. Her dislike of him grew.
Sien continued, “That is why the protector is generally chosen from among the guardsmen. Politically neutral.”
“But if I wanted to make my selection elsewhere, I could.”
Sien’s brows lifted. “Yes.”
“If, perhaps, I wanted to choose a Traulander, I could.”
Sudden comprehension leaped in his eyes. “That is unwise, Majesty.”
She had surprised him. She liked that. “Is it? Why?”
“Trau has its own brand of mysticism apart from the rest of the empire. The people are clannish. They seldom venture beyond their own borders. They abhor violence. Few, if any, of them are trained in the high weapons skills required for this position.”
“But if there should be an exception—”
“You mean the games champion, the one who belongs to his highness.”
There it was, out in the open, like a glove of challenge between them. Elandra did not truly intend to select another man’s slave for her protector. The idea was absurd, and would cause unnecessary trouble, yet she wanted to see how far she could push the matter.
“I have heard this man has incredible fighting skills.”
“Have you