The Curse of Chalion - Lois McMaster Bujold [190]
In the afternoon, they dropped down from some wooded slopes onto a wider road, and Palli rode alongside him. Palli eyed him curiously, a little sideways.
“I hear you do miracles with mules.”
“Not me. The goddess.” Cazaril’s smile twisted. “She has a way with mules, it seems.”
“I’m also told you’re strangely hard on brigands.”
“We were a strong company, well armed. If the brigands hadn’t been set onto us by dy Joal, they would never have attempted us.”
“Dy Joal was one of dy Jironal’s best swords. Foix says you took him down in seconds.”
“That was a mistake. Besides, his foot slipped.”
Palli’s lips twitched. “You don’t have to go around telling people that, you know.” He stared ahead between his horse’s bobbing ears for a time. “So, the boy you defended on the Roknari galley was Bergon himself.”
“Yes. Kidnapped by his brother’s bravos, it turned out. Now I know why the Ibran fleet rowed so hard after us.”
“Did you never guess who he really was? Then or later?”
“No. He had…he had a deal more self-control than even I realized at the time. That one will make a roya worth following, when he comes into his own.”
Palli glanced ahead to where Bergon rode with dy Sould, and signed himself in wonder. “The gods are on our side, right enough. Can we fail?”
Cazaril snorted bitterly. “Yes.” He thought of Ista, Umegat, the tongueless groom. Of the deathly straits he was in. “And when we fail, the gods do, too.” He didn’t think he’d ever quite realized that before, not in those terms.
At least Iselle was safe for now behind the shield of her uncle; as Heiress, she would attract other ambitious men to her side. She would have many, not least Bergon himself, to protect her from her enemies, although advisors wise enough to also protect her from her friends might be harder for her to come by…. But what provision against the looming hazards could he effect for Betriz?
“Did you get the chance to know Lady Betriz better while you escorted the cortege to Valenda, and after?” he asked Palli.
“Oh, aye.”
“Beautiful girl, don’t you think? Did you get much conversation with her father, Ser dy Ferrej?”
“Yes. A most honorable man.”
“So I thought, too.”
“She’s very worried for him right now,” Palli added.
“I can imagine. And him for her, both now and later. If…if all goes well, she will be a favorite of the future royina. That kind of political influence could be worth far more to a shrewd man than a mere material dowry. If the man had the wit to see it.”
“No question of it.”
“She’s intelligent, energetic…”
“Rides well, too.” Palli’s tone was oddly dry.
Cazaril swallowed, and with an effort at a casual tone got out, “Couldn’t you just see her as the future Marchess dy Palliar?”
Palli’s mouth turned up on one side. “I fear my suit would be hopeless. I believe she has another man in her eye. Judging from all the questions she’s asked me about him, anyway.”
“Oh? Who?” He tried, briefly and without success, to convince himself Betriz dreamed of, say, dy Rinal, or one of the other courtiers of Cardegoss…eh. Lightweights, the lot of them. Few of the younger men had the wealth or influence, and none the wit, to make her a good match. In fact, now Cazaril came to consider the matter, none of them was good enough for her.
“It was in confidence. But I definitely think you should ask her all about it, when we get to Taryoon.” Palli smiled, and urged his horse forward.
Cazaril considered the implications of Palli’s smile, and of the white fur hat still tucked into his saddlebags. The woman you love, loves you? Had he any real doubt of it? There was, alas, more than enough impediment to twist this joyous suspicion