To avoid annoyance, this will only be posted with this chapter:
Disclaimer: I do not own Valdemar, nor do I own any of the ideas contained
therein. The Companions and Heralds are the intellectual property of
Mercedes Lackey. This story, in future chapters will contain a
relationship between two women. If you don't like it, don't read it.
Aithre kept her eyes locked on the empty plate in front of her. She couldn't believe her father had drug out the beaten silver place settings for the benefit of this newest suitor. Perhaps it was because this newest suitor was a lordling that had a title, but held no land but that on which his great house in the city of Haven stood. The heavy ceramic that, on every other day, was good enough for one of the oldest families in Valdemar was not good enough for this merchant cum lord that sat upon the co- Consorts council. A very successful and extremely wealthy merchant, to be sure, but in Aithre's eyes, a bought title was not worth much. It was certainly not worth all the respect that her father seemed to be paying this man.
This latest was number thirteen in what promised to be a never ending succession of eligible men. Rich and poor, young and old, all wanted one thing; the hand of Lord Varis' only child; her hand. Aithre was grateful that her father's concern for her happiness and the fate and name of the family led him to weed out the weak minded and rotten. This Lord Podargos seemed to be in the latter category. His hard eyes had a possessive glint as he surveyed the Great Hall of Varis Keep from his place at the high table. Podargos was much too sure of himself, Aithre thought. Rather than meet his gaze, for she did not like what she saw in his eyes, Aithre kept her head bent.
In addition to her own uneasy feeling concerning the man, there had been rumors that he was unkind to those servants of the Varis household that had been serving him. Podargos's own servants and those members of his entourage that had accompanied him from the city were thin and nervous, and had a haunted look about their eyes that never seemed to dissipate.
Peering through the fall of auburn hair that shaded her eyes, Aithre could see her father's grim expression as Bergin, his trusted advisor and retainer, whispered something in his Lord's ear from his place at Varis's left. She knew Bergin had heard of Podargos rather reprehensible behavior, and judging by her father's frown, Bergin was informing him of just that. Varis was of the mind that one could judge the character of a man by how he treated those that were not of his station. Aithre tended to agree with him. Varis turned his gaze to the man at his right, his mouth a hard line, and his eyes cold. Podargos was oblivious to the fact that his status as potential suitor had been stripped from him before the meal had even begun.
The meal was an eternity of torment. Aithre, in her position at Podargos's right, had to endure the patronizing questions and sermons of their guest. She was lectured on domestic duty, the rule of the co-Consorts, Kris and Lyra, the economy and other things that she forgot in her boredom. Even after letting her diplomatic training take control, she fought a losing battle to keep a polite, interested expression on her face. She was lucky that Podargos interpreted her brief lapses into boredom as vapidity; this kept her from having to speak to him about any subject of weight.
Shortly after dessert had been cleared away, Lord Varis rose and bowed to the man at his right. "Lord Podargos, if you will excuse me, it is time that I retire. The minstrel will remain as long as you wish to remain in the hall. I wish you a pleasant evening." Ignacio Varis was a man of impeccable manners, and Aithre admired him for his ability to maintain a pleasant façade even when his hospitality had been taken advantage of. Podargos did not rise as Varis took his leave. He did not even bother to take his gaze from the minstrel, a pretty young lady that had recently finished her studies at Bardic Collegium.
Aithre's father looked her way, his expression inscrutable. "Aithre, if you will come with me." This drew Podargos's attention from the minstrel. In fact, he had the nerve to look vaguely put out.
Aithre rose and dropped a small curtsey in the direction of their guest. "Goodnight, my Lord," she said, trying to keep the relief from her voice. She fell into step with her father exiting the hall in the direction of his study. Behind them, Bergin and another of her father's advisors, Malte, excused themselves from the table. Aithre knew that her father would want to talk to her about Podargos, although she didn't know why he required the presence of Bergin and Malte. She gathered she would find out soon enough.
Aithre kept her eyes locked on the empty plate in front of her. She couldn't believe her father had drug out the beaten silver place settings for the benefit of this newest suitor. Perhaps it was because this newest suitor was a lordling that had a title, but held no land but that on which his great house in the city of Haven stood. The heavy ceramic that, on every other day, was good enough for one of the oldest families in Valdemar was not good enough for this merchant cum lord that sat upon the co- Consorts council. A very successful and extremely wealthy merchant, to be sure, but in Aithre's eyes, a bought title was not worth much. It was certainly not worth all the respect that her father seemed to be paying this man.
This latest was number thirteen in what promised to be a never ending succession of eligible men. Rich and poor, young and old, all wanted one thing; the hand of Lord Varis' only child; her hand. Aithre was grateful that her father's concern for her happiness and the fate and name of the family led him to weed out the weak minded and rotten. This Lord Podargos seemed to be in the latter category. His hard eyes had a possessive glint as he surveyed the Great Hall of Varis Keep from his place at the high table. Podargos was much too sure of himself, Aithre thought. Rather than meet his gaze, for she did not like what she saw in his eyes, Aithre kept her head bent.
In addition to her own uneasy feeling concerning the man, there had been rumors that he was unkind to those servants of the Varis household that had been serving him. Podargos's own servants and those members of his entourage that had accompanied him from the city were thin and nervous, and had a haunted look about their eyes that never seemed to dissipate.
Peering through the fall of auburn hair that shaded her eyes, Aithre could see her father's grim expression as Bergin, his trusted advisor and retainer, whispered something in his Lord's ear from his place at Varis's left. She knew Bergin had heard of Podargos rather reprehensible behavior, and judging by her father's frown, Bergin was informing him of just that. Varis was of the mind that one could judge the character of a man by how he treated those that were not of his station. Aithre tended to agree with him. Varis turned his gaze to the man at his right, his mouth a hard line, and his eyes cold. Podargos was oblivious to the fact that his status as potential suitor had been stripped from him before the meal had even begun.
The meal was an eternity of torment. Aithre, in her position at Podargos's right, had to endure the patronizing questions and sermons of their guest. She was lectured on domestic duty, the rule of the co-Consorts, Kris and Lyra, the economy and other things that she forgot in her boredom. Even after letting her diplomatic training take control, she fought a losing battle to keep a polite, interested expression on her face. She was lucky that Podargos interpreted her brief lapses into boredom as vapidity; this kept her from having to speak to him about any subject of weight.
Shortly after dessert had been cleared away, Lord Varis rose and bowed to the man at his right. "Lord Podargos, if you will excuse me, it is time that I retire. The minstrel will remain as long as you wish to remain in the hall. I wish you a pleasant evening." Ignacio Varis was a man of impeccable manners, and Aithre admired him for his ability to maintain a pleasant façade even when his hospitality had been taken advantage of. Podargos did not rise as Varis took his leave. He did not even bother to take his gaze from the minstrel, a pretty young lady that had recently finished her studies at Bardic Collegium.
Aithre's father looked her way, his expression inscrutable. "Aithre, if you will come with me." This drew Podargos's attention from the minstrel. In fact, he had the nerve to look vaguely put out.
Aithre rose and dropped a small curtsey in the direction of their guest. "Goodnight, my Lord," she said, trying to keep the relief from her voice. She fell into step with her father exiting the hall in the direction of his study. Behind them, Bergin and another of her father's advisors, Malte, excused themselves from the table. Aithre knew that her father would want to talk to her about Podargos, although she didn't know why he required the presence of Bergin and Malte. She gathered she would find out soon enough.
