The Charnel Prince - J. Gregory Keyes [120]
“Well, it must be a good family to have produced such a charming daughter,” he said, feeling suddenly bold.
She smiled at that. It felt good, dancing with her. His leg was still stiff, and occasionally moved awkwardly, so their bodies bumped. It had been a long time since he’d been this close to a woman, and he found himself enjoying it.
“What’s the court like?” she asked.
“Haven’t you been there?”
She stared at him and then giggled. “You think I’m nobility?”
Leoff blinked. “I suppose I did.”
“No, we’re just lowly landwaerds, my family—though my father is the Aethil of Wistbirm. Do you find me less charming now?”
“No less,” he replied, though now he realized that she had the accent he’d heard in the countryside—not as thick as Gilmer’s but still marked—and very different from the lilt of the court speech he’d come to know. “It’s not as if I have noble blood myself.”
“And yet there is such nobility in you.”
“Nonsense. I was terrified. I barely remember what happened, and it’s a miracle I wasn’t killed.”
“I think it was a miracle that brought you to us,” Areana said.
The song ended with a sort of bumping bang, and Areana stepped back from him.
“I shan’t hog you,” she said. “The other ladies will never forgive me.”
“Thank you very much for the dance,” he replied.
“Next time you will have to ask me,” she said. “A girl in my position can only be so bold.”
There was no shortage of bold girls, however, all of whom, as it turned out, were from the landwaerd families. After the fourth dance, he begged a break, and made toward where the servers were dispensing wine.
“Eh, cavaor,” a rough voice said. “How about a dance for me?”
Leoff spun on the voice, delighted. “Gilmer!” He shouted, and caught the little man up in a hug.
“Hey, now,” the man grumbled. “I was just joking. I’m not hopping about with you.”
“But where were you earlier, when Her Ladyship was giving the honors? This ball should be for you, not me.”
Gilmer laughed and clapped his shoulder, then whispered, “I snuck in with a crowd. But never fear—this party aens’t for neither of us.”
“What do you mean?”
“Weren’t you listening to the lady’s pretty speech? Haven’t you noticed the quality of the guests?”
“Well, they seem to be mostly landwaerden.”
“Auy. Oh, there’s nobility about—there’s Her Ladyship, of course, and the Greft of Nithergaerd over there in the blue, the Duke of Shale, Lord Fallow, Lord Fram Dagen, and their ladies, but most here are landwaerden or fraleten. Country- and townfolk.”
“It seems an odd sort of party for a lady of the court to throw,” Leoff admitted.
Gilmer reached for a passing tray and snagged them two cups of wine.
“Let’s walk a bit,” he said. “Have a look at your hammarharp.”
They moved toward the instrument, which was still across the room.
“These families here are the backbone of Newland,” Gilmer said. “They may not have noble blood, but they have money, and they have militias, and they have the loyalty of those who work the land. They haven’t been happy with the noble families for a generation, but things are worse now, especially since what happened at Broogh. There’s a deep canal between the royals and the people out here, and it’s getting deeper and wider every day.”
“But Duke Artwair—”
“He’s a different sort, and as the lady Gramme said, he’s been sent away, hasn’t he? And the emperor don’t turn his eye here. He don’t hear us or see us, and he don’t help us.”
“The emperor—,” Leoff began.
“I know about the emperor,” he said. “But his mother, the queen—where is she? We’ve heard nothing from her.”
“But she—” He stopped, unsure if he was allowed to mention his commission.
He sipped his wine. “What is this, then?” he asked. “Why am I here?”
“I don’t know,” Gilmer replied. “But it’s something dangerous. I only slipped in to warn you. I’ll be leaving as soon as I see my chance.”
“Wait. What do you mean, something dangerous?”
“When the nobles court the landwaerds like this, it’s not usually just to be friendly. Especially when no one seems to know who is really in control of this country. The