*disclaimer: Sherwood Smith is god. I am not. Simple as that.
Thank you, thank you, all reviewers who helped poor, little, technically- challenged me in learning how to upload chapters. Thank you one and all for your reviews; they motivate me, though they also scare me, because it means that I now have expectations to meet. Definition of a writer: poor, crazy little human being that has a fatal attraction to attention, money, and food; usually suffers from the delusion that others want to hear what she or he has to say.
I am so sorry about the delay! For the past five days, relatives from California have been visiting, and you all know how impossible it is to write when the house is overflowing with people. I'm afraid that I have, as a result of the delay, lost track of the story, but I will try to return to it.
Chapter Four: Derric
"What exactly is the significance of Liara Astiar?" I asked Mama the next morning. Stirring sugar into my teacup, I added, "The Duchess of Grumareth, among others, was very eager to recognize her last night, and then there was the compliment the Denlieff ambassador paid to her.. "
At her desk, where she was writing instructions to the steward back home, Mama set down her quill. She looked at me, eyebrow raised. "That is exactly why you cannot stay away from events open to the general Court. If you had attended the concert, you would know that Liara Astiar has come to court as a result of the death of the last Count of Tlanth. She is now heiress to the county, which rather-ah-ties her up in matters of the Crown. His Majesty paid a direct compliment to her; he invited her to sit by him, in the front row."
I blinked once, instead of allowing my eyes to widen, for Mama did not approve of allowing emotions to escape the Court Mask.
Mama nodded. Picking up her pen, she ran her fingers down the silky feather. "It seems," she said, staring out the window, "That Lady Liara is of greater political importance than any of us have realized. Before, she was the only daughter of a lady descended from the Astiar line through the third daughter of Count Braniaric. Now Liara's mother, Celinthia, is the only surviving member of the Astiar family."
She looked at me. "If the King does not marry, the Lady Liara Astiar will be third in line, after her mother and another cousin of the King."
"There is nothing in her manner to suggest it," I said. I shook my head. "She always seemed so unassuming. I mean, when I met her in the library she was even reluctant to reveal her full title. But of course she had to be someone of importance- why else would the Duchess pay so much attention to a newcomer?"
Mama smiled, lips curved ironically. "Now watch the games of political vying begin. People see that Liara Astiar is young, and therefore impressionable; they will do their best to ensure that they leave favorable impressions that will be remembered when she ascends the throne."
I frowned over my tea, thinking regretfully of the friendship which I might have had with Liara. It is difficult to establish a close confidence to one who is wooed so persistently by the entire Court. "Politics," I said with disgust. "I am certain that very few of those people will even value her friendship."
"Liara Astiar may or may not see the truth behind the flattery," Mama said. "That is up to her. But as third in line to the throne, she must be very careful."
"Of what? Her image? Or the friends she makes?"
"Both, I imagine."
"If she is third in line," I said, "then why not- why has she not been recognized more formally? With her connections, obviously, she ought to have been introduced at a ball given by his Majesty. And why has she not come sooner?"
Mama shrugged. "Difficult to say. That family-the Astiars-were never known for their love of Court, or of their willingness to acknowledge their connection to the Crown. The countess elect should have made her debut much earlier, but I believe she could not be convinced to come to Court. And lately there has been talk---"
But here she broke off, shaking her head slightly. Lifting one shoulder as she picked up her pen, she turned and bent over her letters.
"Talk of what?" I persisted, but she shook her head, still leaning over her letters.
"Enough, child. If you are so eager to learn gossip, you would do best to partake of it first hand-at Court."
I knew when to retreat, and I returned to my tea, cupping my hands around the cup, warming my fingers. A little pool of amber liquid had settled in the bottom of the cup; I swallowed, tasting the last bitter traces of orangeroot herb, before setting down the cup and departing for my own room. There, I selected a book from the shelf over my desk and settled down on the cushions before the window.
In the hall, the bells for third gold chimed. I had agreed to meet Liara in the library at second green; would she still be the same unassuming person that I had met in the library two nights ago? Of course, it was silly to think that she would so rapidly change, but how could I trust myself to act easily around the heir to the throne? A friendship with a Royal was precarious, and I had not yet even given Liara the chance to prove that she was not immune to the attentions of the Duchess and other ambitious courtiers. Why initiate a close friendship if she were likely to drop me like a dull book for more exciting, flattering, and wealthy friends?
It really didn't matter, I told myself, forcing my wandering thoughts to return to the book in my hands. I turned the page, skimming the introductory note: Explanations of a Peculiar Case: the Treaty that Twisted the Fate of an Empire. Peculiar, indeed. But things might yet work out; Liara might prove to be the sort who could live a double life, singing to the Court and talking sense to me, if only I could remain in the shadows behind the curtain.
As it turned out, I did not meet Liara that day; shortly after third gold, as I was considering talking a walk, Lina handed me a short note, written on a crisp sheet. In her urgent, looped scrawl, Liara presented her apologies, but said that she regretted not being able to meet me in the library on account of a severe cold. Would I mind if she postponed our meeting to some day? I sat down and quickly wrote a reply, assuring her that I did not mind at all, though I felt a sense of foreboding and not a little disappointed. Was she snubbing me already? Nevertheless, I wrote, Sending many wishes for your better health. Yours sincerely, Claudi Aris.
I handed the note to Lina, then put on my cloak and gloves. A walk seemed even more inviting now, a chance to stretch my legs and gather information.
Very few people were out, though the air seemed to have warmed, and the sun was a weak, watery glare in the sky. Halfway down the avenue leading to the Residencies, I met Kiera walking up from the gardens with another acquaintance, Lady Maryle, a pleasant, dark-haired girl whose subdued appearance gave no indication of her lively spirit. Kiera invited me to join them in walking up and down the street before the Family Houses. The paths there had been swept already, she explained, though her eyes were narrowed with suppressed merriment, for she and I both knew that Geral of Khialem would likely be returning from the Gymnasium, where many of the lords and ladies gathered as an alternative to the outdoor exercises of racing and boating during the winter months.
We made our way up towards the Residencies, talking of music and the concert the preceding night, passing between the long rows of argan trees, whose bark was now a mottled, somber gray. A small stretch of woodland hid the tall, impressive mansions from view. The Family Houses were built around the perimeter of Athanarel palace, a tiny city within the city of Remalna. The two finest were at opposite ends, the one belonging to the almost forgotten Merindar family, and the other to the Chamadis family, my mother's cousins.
Kiera linked arms with Meryl and me, and we began strolling up the path towards Merindar house, very slowly. She looked at me with eyes dancing with amusement, but somehow she managed to speak sedately. The conversation turned to the manderalists at the Denlieff embassy. Lady Meryl spoke enthusiastically of the performance, praising the players' finger technique, to which praise Kiera and I could only assent, as neither of us could boast of a great proficiency in music.
"Their articulation of phrasing was so precise," Lady Meryl said. "Did you see how they plucked the strings and shaped the phrases with their wrists?" Her own hands danced in the air.
Shivering, I pulled my cloak tighter around my shoulders. "I did notice, especially in the last piece. The smaller woman kept snapping her wrist at the end of the phrases."
"Exactly so!" She turned to me, eyes glowing. "She used that motion to create the bright staccato sounds that you heard. That particular piece is from the last era, when it was popular to imitate sounds of nature. I am sure that you observed the ripple-like sounds imitating water, and the quick trills that imitated the song of birds."
"How interesting," murmured Kiera. At the same time, her hand squeezed my arm, nudging me forward imperceptibly.
Looking up, I saw Geral walking down the path, accompanied by a group of friends, all dressed in the gray tunics and leather vests of practice cloths. Several of them wore long, thin foils at their sides. There was a long barrage of compliments, pleasant greetings before it was decided that the gentlemen would accompany us back to the Residence. Geral immediately joined Kiera, offering her his arm, while Meryl took the arms of Lord Kirk and Lord Liam.
I moved to join the others, but suddenly I sensed someone stepping close to me, and I looked up, and there was Derric, standing a little before me. He had been standing behind the other three before, and I suppose that in all the bowing and curtseying I had missed him.
"Good day, Mistress Aris." He bowed. I curtseyed, suddenly in danger of tripping over my feet.
"Good day, indeed, Lord Derric," I said, and because I would otherwise stare at the ground, I forced myself to look directly at his face. He was very tall, at least a head taller than me, and his shoulders were broad. His features were strong, his eyes brown.
Aware that the others were already well ahead of us, we began walking. He did not take my arm.
We walked a few paces before he said awkwardly, "Somehow, Fate or invitation cards or crowded rooms have lately deprived me of the pleasure of seeing you."
"Oh," I said. "I would wonder that crowded rooms provide such an insurmountable obstacle." I was angry, and a bit mortified, that he had made no effort to talk to me all season, and only now seemed to feel the need to patronize me when there was no other company.
He did not have a reply to such a startling outburst, only looked grave and clasped his hands behind his back.
"Tell me," I said, "How is your mother?"
"She is very well."
"And your younger brothers?"
"They are very well also, except for young Hyken." He smiled at me. "He is at present studying history, and finds it agonizingly dull."
"Well, there I can offer no sincere sympathies," I said, smiling. "To me, a person who does not find history wildly entertaining is as incomprehensible as snow in summer. When I had a tutor, poor Azkor could never direct my mind back from history to mathematics or rhetoric. My mind was always wandering in the siege at Port Akeri, or the adventures of General Haffnor."
"You studied the Pirate Wars extensively, then?"
"Oh, no." I shook my head. "I just spoke any name in my mind. I just happened to come across a record of the Pirate Wars recently, that's all."
He only nodded. The conversation seemed to be lapsing, so I said, "Have you read it?"
"I beg your pardon, but read what?"
"The record in the Athaneral library. It was written fifty years ago, almost a century after the wars, by a scribe from Rensaleus."
He frowned. "No, I have not. But I have read the account by the Fellowship of the Tower. I'm surprised that you did not find it in the Athaneral library."
"As am I. I should very much like to read it," I said eagerly. "I had no idea that-"
"I have it."
"Oh." I paused, looked down quickly, adjusting my gloves. Did he think that I wanted to borrow it? I hated him to think that I-I wasn't quite sure what I did not want him to think. I looked up again, but he was occupied in his own thoughts now, withdrawn behind a polite, distant mask. We had caught up to the others by now, and were approaching the entrance through the formal gardens to the Residence. Eager to retreat to my rooms, I quickened my pace, soon joining Kiera and Lady Meryl, with Derric walking slowly behind me.
The long barrage of mutual compliments began again, and then Kiera and Meryl and I curtseyed and began walking up the stairs. I heard my name called, and after urging the others to go on without me, I turned back around the corner.
Derric was standing outside, in the entrance to the gardens. "We shall see you the next fortnight?" he said.
What? My mind raced, skimming over teas, parties, and dinners until I remembered the Kheridris dance. The invitation to which I had not yet replied. Was he hinting at my rudeness?
"Yes!" I replied abruptly. Then, blushing, added, "Thank you. Forgive me. Blame my lack of persistency."
Shocked at my own words, I made an involuntary motion with my hand and looked away, at the others. Apology was impossible, so I only bent my head and fanned myself meekly.
Derric mumbled a polite reply, as distant and unperturbed as ever. I felt my temper rising; goodness, did nothing disturb him? Then he was gone, leaving me feeling very confused indeed.
Thank you, thank you, all reviewers who helped poor, little, technically- challenged me in learning how to upload chapters. Thank you one and all for your reviews; they motivate me, though they also scare me, because it means that I now have expectations to meet. Definition of a writer: poor, crazy little human being that has a fatal attraction to attention, money, and food; usually suffers from the delusion that others want to hear what she or he has to say.
I am so sorry about the delay! For the past five days, relatives from California have been visiting, and you all know how impossible it is to write when the house is overflowing with people. I'm afraid that I have, as a result of the delay, lost track of the story, but I will try to return to it.
Chapter Four: Derric
"What exactly is the significance of Liara Astiar?" I asked Mama the next morning. Stirring sugar into my teacup, I added, "The Duchess of Grumareth, among others, was very eager to recognize her last night, and then there was the compliment the Denlieff ambassador paid to her.. "
At her desk, where she was writing instructions to the steward back home, Mama set down her quill. She looked at me, eyebrow raised. "That is exactly why you cannot stay away from events open to the general Court. If you had attended the concert, you would know that Liara Astiar has come to court as a result of the death of the last Count of Tlanth. She is now heiress to the county, which rather-ah-ties her up in matters of the Crown. His Majesty paid a direct compliment to her; he invited her to sit by him, in the front row."
I blinked once, instead of allowing my eyes to widen, for Mama did not approve of allowing emotions to escape the Court Mask.
Mama nodded. Picking up her pen, she ran her fingers down the silky feather. "It seems," she said, staring out the window, "That Lady Liara is of greater political importance than any of us have realized. Before, she was the only daughter of a lady descended from the Astiar line through the third daughter of Count Braniaric. Now Liara's mother, Celinthia, is the only surviving member of the Astiar family."
She looked at me. "If the King does not marry, the Lady Liara Astiar will be third in line, after her mother and another cousin of the King."
"There is nothing in her manner to suggest it," I said. I shook my head. "She always seemed so unassuming. I mean, when I met her in the library she was even reluctant to reveal her full title. But of course she had to be someone of importance- why else would the Duchess pay so much attention to a newcomer?"
Mama smiled, lips curved ironically. "Now watch the games of political vying begin. People see that Liara Astiar is young, and therefore impressionable; they will do their best to ensure that they leave favorable impressions that will be remembered when she ascends the throne."
I frowned over my tea, thinking regretfully of the friendship which I might have had with Liara. It is difficult to establish a close confidence to one who is wooed so persistently by the entire Court. "Politics," I said with disgust. "I am certain that very few of those people will even value her friendship."
"Liara Astiar may or may not see the truth behind the flattery," Mama said. "That is up to her. But as third in line to the throne, she must be very careful."
"Of what? Her image? Or the friends she makes?"
"Both, I imagine."
"If she is third in line," I said, "then why not- why has she not been recognized more formally? With her connections, obviously, she ought to have been introduced at a ball given by his Majesty. And why has she not come sooner?"
Mama shrugged. "Difficult to say. That family-the Astiars-were never known for their love of Court, or of their willingness to acknowledge their connection to the Crown. The countess elect should have made her debut much earlier, but I believe she could not be convinced to come to Court. And lately there has been talk---"
But here she broke off, shaking her head slightly. Lifting one shoulder as she picked up her pen, she turned and bent over her letters.
"Talk of what?" I persisted, but she shook her head, still leaning over her letters.
"Enough, child. If you are so eager to learn gossip, you would do best to partake of it first hand-at Court."
I knew when to retreat, and I returned to my tea, cupping my hands around the cup, warming my fingers. A little pool of amber liquid had settled in the bottom of the cup; I swallowed, tasting the last bitter traces of orangeroot herb, before setting down the cup and departing for my own room. There, I selected a book from the shelf over my desk and settled down on the cushions before the window.
In the hall, the bells for third gold chimed. I had agreed to meet Liara in the library at second green; would she still be the same unassuming person that I had met in the library two nights ago? Of course, it was silly to think that she would so rapidly change, but how could I trust myself to act easily around the heir to the throne? A friendship with a Royal was precarious, and I had not yet even given Liara the chance to prove that she was not immune to the attentions of the Duchess and other ambitious courtiers. Why initiate a close friendship if she were likely to drop me like a dull book for more exciting, flattering, and wealthy friends?
It really didn't matter, I told myself, forcing my wandering thoughts to return to the book in my hands. I turned the page, skimming the introductory note: Explanations of a Peculiar Case: the Treaty that Twisted the Fate of an Empire. Peculiar, indeed. But things might yet work out; Liara might prove to be the sort who could live a double life, singing to the Court and talking sense to me, if only I could remain in the shadows behind the curtain.
As it turned out, I did not meet Liara that day; shortly after third gold, as I was considering talking a walk, Lina handed me a short note, written on a crisp sheet. In her urgent, looped scrawl, Liara presented her apologies, but said that she regretted not being able to meet me in the library on account of a severe cold. Would I mind if she postponed our meeting to some day? I sat down and quickly wrote a reply, assuring her that I did not mind at all, though I felt a sense of foreboding and not a little disappointed. Was she snubbing me already? Nevertheless, I wrote, Sending many wishes for your better health. Yours sincerely, Claudi Aris.
I handed the note to Lina, then put on my cloak and gloves. A walk seemed even more inviting now, a chance to stretch my legs and gather information.
Very few people were out, though the air seemed to have warmed, and the sun was a weak, watery glare in the sky. Halfway down the avenue leading to the Residencies, I met Kiera walking up from the gardens with another acquaintance, Lady Maryle, a pleasant, dark-haired girl whose subdued appearance gave no indication of her lively spirit. Kiera invited me to join them in walking up and down the street before the Family Houses. The paths there had been swept already, she explained, though her eyes were narrowed with suppressed merriment, for she and I both knew that Geral of Khialem would likely be returning from the Gymnasium, where many of the lords and ladies gathered as an alternative to the outdoor exercises of racing and boating during the winter months.
We made our way up towards the Residencies, talking of music and the concert the preceding night, passing between the long rows of argan trees, whose bark was now a mottled, somber gray. A small stretch of woodland hid the tall, impressive mansions from view. The Family Houses were built around the perimeter of Athanarel palace, a tiny city within the city of Remalna. The two finest were at opposite ends, the one belonging to the almost forgotten Merindar family, and the other to the Chamadis family, my mother's cousins.
Kiera linked arms with Meryl and me, and we began strolling up the path towards Merindar house, very slowly. She looked at me with eyes dancing with amusement, but somehow she managed to speak sedately. The conversation turned to the manderalists at the Denlieff embassy. Lady Meryl spoke enthusiastically of the performance, praising the players' finger technique, to which praise Kiera and I could only assent, as neither of us could boast of a great proficiency in music.
"Their articulation of phrasing was so precise," Lady Meryl said. "Did you see how they plucked the strings and shaped the phrases with their wrists?" Her own hands danced in the air.
Shivering, I pulled my cloak tighter around my shoulders. "I did notice, especially in the last piece. The smaller woman kept snapping her wrist at the end of the phrases."
"Exactly so!" She turned to me, eyes glowing. "She used that motion to create the bright staccato sounds that you heard. That particular piece is from the last era, when it was popular to imitate sounds of nature. I am sure that you observed the ripple-like sounds imitating water, and the quick trills that imitated the song of birds."
"How interesting," murmured Kiera. At the same time, her hand squeezed my arm, nudging me forward imperceptibly.
Looking up, I saw Geral walking down the path, accompanied by a group of friends, all dressed in the gray tunics and leather vests of practice cloths. Several of them wore long, thin foils at their sides. There was a long barrage of compliments, pleasant greetings before it was decided that the gentlemen would accompany us back to the Residence. Geral immediately joined Kiera, offering her his arm, while Meryl took the arms of Lord Kirk and Lord Liam.
I moved to join the others, but suddenly I sensed someone stepping close to me, and I looked up, and there was Derric, standing a little before me. He had been standing behind the other three before, and I suppose that in all the bowing and curtseying I had missed him.
"Good day, Mistress Aris." He bowed. I curtseyed, suddenly in danger of tripping over my feet.
"Good day, indeed, Lord Derric," I said, and because I would otherwise stare at the ground, I forced myself to look directly at his face. He was very tall, at least a head taller than me, and his shoulders were broad. His features were strong, his eyes brown.
Aware that the others were already well ahead of us, we began walking. He did not take my arm.
We walked a few paces before he said awkwardly, "Somehow, Fate or invitation cards or crowded rooms have lately deprived me of the pleasure of seeing you."
"Oh," I said. "I would wonder that crowded rooms provide such an insurmountable obstacle." I was angry, and a bit mortified, that he had made no effort to talk to me all season, and only now seemed to feel the need to patronize me when there was no other company.
He did not have a reply to such a startling outburst, only looked grave and clasped his hands behind his back.
"Tell me," I said, "How is your mother?"
"She is very well."
"And your younger brothers?"
"They are very well also, except for young Hyken." He smiled at me. "He is at present studying history, and finds it agonizingly dull."
"Well, there I can offer no sincere sympathies," I said, smiling. "To me, a person who does not find history wildly entertaining is as incomprehensible as snow in summer. When I had a tutor, poor Azkor could never direct my mind back from history to mathematics or rhetoric. My mind was always wandering in the siege at Port Akeri, or the adventures of General Haffnor."
"You studied the Pirate Wars extensively, then?"
"Oh, no." I shook my head. "I just spoke any name in my mind. I just happened to come across a record of the Pirate Wars recently, that's all."
He only nodded. The conversation seemed to be lapsing, so I said, "Have you read it?"
"I beg your pardon, but read what?"
"The record in the Athaneral library. It was written fifty years ago, almost a century after the wars, by a scribe from Rensaleus."
He frowned. "No, I have not. But I have read the account by the Fellowship of the Tower. I'm surprised that you did not find it in the Athaneral library."
"As am I. I should very much like to read it," I said eagerly. "I had no idea that-"
"I have it."
"Oh." I paused, looked down quickly, adjusting my gloves. Did he think that I wanted to borrow it? I hated him to think that I-I wasn't quite sure what I did not want him to think. I looked up again, but he was occupied in his own thoughts now, withdrawn behind a polite, distant mask. We had caught up to the others by now, and were approaching the entrance through the formal gardens to the Residence. Eager to retreat to my rooms, I quickened my pace, soon joining Kiera and Lady Meryl, with Derric walking slowly behind me.
The long barrage of mutual compliments began again, and then Kiera and Meryl and I curtseyed and began walking up the stairs. I heard my name called, and after urging the others to go on without me, I turned back around the corner.
Derric was standing outside, in the entrance to the gardens. "We shall see you the next fortnight?" he said.
What? My mind raced, skimming over teas, parties, and dinners until I remembered the Kheridris dance. The invitation to which I had not yet replied. Was he hinting at my rudeness?
"Yes!" I replied abruptly. Then, blushing, added, "Thank you. Forgive me. Blame my lack of persistency."
Shocked at my own words, I made an involuntary motion with my hand and looked away, at the others. Apology was impossible, so I only bent my head and fanned myself meekly.
Derric mumbled a polite reply, as distant and unperturbed as ever. I felt my temper rising; goodness, did nothing disturb him? Then he was gone, leaving me feeling very confused indeed.