Yes, I am exploiting, distorting, mutilating, and altering the characters and settings of Tamora Pierce. Get over it.

Match Making II

"What I don't understand," Lady Sandrilene fa Toren said exasperatedly, for what felt like the thousandth time, "is why I have to be there if all he's going to do is read in the Temple library." The "he" she referred to was her distant cousin Eigir, who was visiting from Namorn. Sandry had been roped into escorting the young man around the city. Although only a few years younger than he, and a fellow mage, she had decided after three days of his company that they two had nothing in common. Actually, she had barely spoken to him at all. Eigir's grasp of Common was very poor, but he flatly refused to speak in his native Namornese, claiming that he wanted to practice the language used in the countries around the Pebbled Sea.

"And even when I try to initiate some sort of conversation," she continued, "he manages to turn it back to his research." Back to Theoretical Magic. It was a subject that Sandry found mildly interesting, but not when it was being explained in great depth by someone who could barely articulate his ideas in the language he was speaking. She had lost all comprehension and interest in the possibilities for magic that was impossible in the first place very quickly.

"I do not think that you are aware, how petulant your diatribe sounds, Sandrilene," Duke Vedris commented. He had listened patiently to his great-niece's explanation, but he, with his typically stringent expectations, was in no mood to let her have her way in avoiding responsibility. "You whine like a child whose mother refuses to buy it a toy it desires."

Sandry bit back the refutation that rose in her mouth. Getting her Uncle angry would not be the way to get free of Eigir.

"I told you before you began your plea that I would not entertain the subject of Count Eigir any further," the duke continued. "I have not changed my mind."

"But Uncle!" Sandry exclaimed. "He doesn't talk to me. I don't talk to him. He just reads in the library. Why do I have to be there?"

"You have a responsibility to the count as his hostess. Do not try to shirk it," Vedris answered sternly.

"I didn't invite him!"

"Sandrilene!"

Sandry blushed. Her comment had been a little outrageous. "But I didn't," she muttered, although she knew she sounded exactly as her great-uncle accused.

It was at that moment that Count Eigir himself walked hesitantly in. "You call about me, Your Grace, my lady?" He asked, bowing politely to the duke and to Sandry.

"Sandrilene and I were simply discussing your visit, my lord," the duke replied, recovering quickly from the surprise, "we are very glad to have you as our guest." Sandry raised her eyebrows. Luckily for her, Eigir was looking away.

"I am also glad of visiting Your Grace," the younger man returned, bobbing his head for emphasis. As he exchanged a few more pleasantries with his host, Sandry studied her cousin. He wasn't bad looking, unless you considered being tall, skinny, and so awkward that you gave the impression you were going to trip over you own limbs at any moment off-putting. Most of that, however, was probably due to his age; Eigir was only a few years older than was. He wore thick spectacles, which he was nervously polishing on the hem of his tunic as he asked the duke for permission to conduct a small experiment on the Citadel grounds.

"It will have no damage," he explained earnestly. "Very little experiment." As the count tried to explain exactly what it was his experiment would do, Sandry noticed the first signs of impatience spread across her uncle's face. Ha! She thought to herself. Maybe now he would see how impossible Eigir was. Maybe he'd even explode with frustration and order him out. But no, the duke simply nodded.

"It is well," he said, in a tone slightly louder than his usual, "I will not hinder your explorations."

Eigir stopped suddenly in the midst of an incoherent explanation. "With me your permission, Your Grace?" He asked.

"Have you set the proper wards?"

"I have."

"Then," said the duke, "Permission granted." Eigir bowed deeply and scuttled out.

"See!" Sandry said when she judged her cousin was sufficiently out of earshot. "See what I have to put up with!"

"I see that the count is a polite and responsible young man," the duke corrected, "which is more than I may say of you, Sandrilene."

"But didn't you hear him?" She asked. "Didn't you hear him go on and on and on in his broken Common about his stupid experiment? He never shuts up about it. Never!" There was a very long silence that grew more uncomfortable as it was prolonged.

At last the duke spoke. His was voice was quiet and disappointed. "I am shocked at your behavior," he said simply. "I would never have thought that any child of mine could display such rude and self-seeking sentiments."

"I'm not your child," Sandry mumbled, then wished she could take it back.

"That sort of flippant remark is exactly what I am referring to," he noted somewhat more sharply. "You have no respect for anyone or anything. Like a tree that grows crooked for lack of good soil, your soul is twisted because you have no ethical base from which to live.

"I confess myself to be at a loss," the duke continued. "I have tried, in the years you have lived in my household, to, by instruction and example, instill in you a proper moral code. Have I failed?" He held his niece's gaze until she looked away. "Have I failed?" He repeated.

"That-that's not true!" Sandry spluttered. "It's not! It's not. I'm not like that." Her voice got weaker as she repeated herself. As usual, her uncle had made her feel small and guilty inside.

"You do not care for the feelings of anyone but yourself, Sandrilene." The duke's voice went on inexorably, as if she had not spoken. "You refuse kindness to the count and are sullen in his presence. For what? Even should you find him distasteful to you, you ought to treat him with courtesy. You disdain his understanding of our language, but have you made a single effort to help him improve that understanding? I do not think that you have. You have demonstrated yourself today to be a base and selfish girl." The duke paused to look at her again. "Have you an answer for me, Sandrilene?"

"An answer to what?" Sandry asked. "To your accusations? No. I have no answer." She rose to leave.

"Do not go," was the command, administered in that quiet, velvety voice. "We have not finished our discussion, my dear."

Sandry rolled her eyes, but she did turn around to face her uncle again. "Maybe I have been unkind to Eigir, Uncle," she admitted. "I will try to be nicer to him. I certainly can't expect you to relieve me of his company now, at any rate, so I don't see what there's left to discuss," she finished coldly.

"On the contrary, my dear, we have a great deal left to discuss," Duke Vedris corrected. "Did you listen to a single word of what I have just told you?"

"I tried not to," Sandry said honestly.

"You tried not to." The duke repeated. "Ye Gods!" he appealed to the heavens. "What is to be done with this child?"

The child' raised her eyebrows sarcastically. "Honestly, Uncle," she muttered.

Once again, Vedris ignored her. "Verily she is a hardened criminal!" He exclaimed, still mostly to himself, "that she defies all efforts to correct her character!"

"Umm, Uncle?" Sandry asked, interrupting his soliloquy.

"If you need time to think of the proper words in which to frame your thoughts, Sandrilene," the duke said sharply to her, "delay your speech, but do not prolong such pointless and vulgar sounds."

"If all you're going to do is criticize the way I talk," she complained, "there really isn't any point in me staying."

"I mention these things in passing in the vain hope that my repetition of them will cause you to change your bad habits," he retorted.

Sandry wanted to scream in frustration. "Criticize criticize criticize," she yelled. "That's all you do! You never even ask me if I have an opinion, or if I have feelings about something, or if I'm upset! You never have anything nice to say! I'm sick and tired of it!" She screamed at the duke, just as he yelled

"I will not tolerate such disrespect, Sandrilene!" and as Eigir poked his head around the door again.

"Ah, Your Grace?" He asked timidly. "My experiment...it went" he paused, searching for the word. "Up," he said after a moment. "It went up." With his hands he demonstrated something exploding. Sandry noticed that his eyebrows were now singed. "But the wards stand," the count hastened to reassure them. "There is only burned place so big." He gestured to include the entire study.

"Indeed," said Duke Vedris, still somewhat frosty. Sandry was glad to see his displeasure turned on someone else for a change, even if that someone seemed as oblivious as her cousin did. "I presume, my lord, that you will be able to repair this burned place'?" That set Eigir off on another broken explanation. As he got more excited, Sandry noticed that he used less and less common, actually making him more intelligible. Seeing her uncle thus occupied, she made a quick escape

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