The Gold Falcon - Katharine Kerr [121]
“Of course.” Dalla sat down opposite him. “It’s a sad enough errand.”
“Yes, it is. You might have to convince young Ridvar about the dweomer. The cursed Roundears never want to believe in it.”
“What?” Dar said. “It was dweomer that saved Cengarn in the Horsekin War. Everyone knows that story.”
“They may know about it,” Dallandra said, “but they don’t want to know, and so they work at forgetting it.”
“I don’t understand why—”
“She’s right.” Cal interrupted the prince. “They don’t want to hear about it, the Roundear lords. You want to know why? Because they take themselves and their petty little feuds so seriously, that’s why. They think every wretched thing they do is of the greatest importance to the kingdom and the gods, and they like it that way. Tell them how big the world really is, all those other creatures and other planes and all of it, and they’re forced to see how small and crude and miserable they are. Their king’s the worst of the lot. Remember that if you ever meet him.”
Meranaldar gasped and rose to a kneel, glancing back and forth between prince and banadar as if he expected a fight to break out. Calonderiel got to his feet and turned his attention to the scribe.
“Oh, stop snorting and rolling your eyes, you damp-arse bastard!” Cal said. “You’re a bad influence, I swear it, always mincing around and bowing and swelling Dar’s head for him with your ‘my prince this’ and ‘my prince that.’ ”
“Oh, indeed?” Meranaldar rose to face him. “Well, there happen to be proper ways of doing things, not that you would know. The ancient ways of royalty are still valid.”
“Oh, by the silver shit of the Star Gods! Ancient ways, my arse! Look at us, a pack of shepherds and horse wranglers!”
“And likely to remain so with churls and bumpkins like you in command.”
Calonderiel took a step forward. Meranaldar took one backward.
“You know something?” Cal said. “If you don’t hold your tongue, I’m going to beat some sense into you.”
Meranaldar turned pale and sat back down. Dallandra thought of intervening, but there was justice in what Calonderiel was saying. Besides, she had to admit that Cal when angry displayed a pure kind of energy, a strong but fine-drawn maleness that she liked watching. The royal object of Cal’s diatribe was watching the banadar with eyes that showed not the slightest emotion. Cal turned his head and stared right at the prince. For a moment the stalemate held; then Dar suddenly laughed.
“You’re right,” Dar said. “Not about beating my scribe, I mean, but about the rest of it. All of the rest of it—the things you said aloud, and the meaning just under your words.”
“Good,” Cal said. “I’m glad to hear it.” He paused for effect, then bowed with an over-graceful sweep of his hand. “My prince.”
Everyone burst out laughing, except Meranaldar, who did manage to force out a watery smile. He was close to tears, Dallandra suspected, and later, when they had a chance at a private word, Meranaldar admitted as much.
“I’m honestly afraid,” the scribe said, “that one of these days the banadar is going to turn on me and slit my throat before anyone can stop him. If anyone even wants to stop him, that is.”
“Oh, come now!” Dalla said. “He’s not going to do that, and trust me, if he should lose his mind and try, a great many people will make sure he doesn’t hurt you.”
“That makes me feel a bit better.” Meranaldar pulled an ink-stained rag from the waistband of his leggings and wiped cold sweat from his face. “I suppose. He must hate me.”
“He doesn’t hate you. He hates what you represent, the old ways, and the return of the refugees who believe in those ways. The Westlands are changing—we have to change if we’re going to survive—and Cal loves the way things have been.”
Meranaldar considered this for a long moment, then nodded his agreement. “Yes, I can see that,” he said. “There are those back in the Southern Isles who hate the way things are changing, too. The high council used to rule a tidy little world where everyone knew their place and kept to it. Now anyone who can get passage on a ship can find themselves