Title: Lonely at the Top Ch 7/?
Author: Kate,
Disclaimer: I do not own Kalasin, Lianne, Buri, Kaddar, Carthak, Tortall or any of the people/places named in this story. I am not making a profit and no infringement is intended.
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: It isn't a perfect chapter, by any means, but I couldn't hold it back any more. This was originally going to be a separate vignette, but I decided it fit in well enough to be a chapter. I got my idea for the characterization of Thom as absent-minded scholar from a thread at Sheroes central and one at the Dancing Dove (such cool people over there folks. If you haven't visited yet, go soon). Honestly, I didn't mean to bring in another OC. Don't hurt me. I created Aislinn from comments made at Sheroes about Thom having a girlfriend and bringing her home at Midwinter for Alanna to make skunk eyes at. I developed the ideas about bards from the title "Song of the Lioness" and comments that characters make about tall tales (ie singing songs about the mountains of bodies piled up by the Shang Dragon and "now I see you I remember you aren't 10 feet tall") Daine's perceptions of Alanna are formed by songs—very typical for an oral culture. I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Alan of Olau and Pirate's Swoop padded up the creaking wooden stairs of the boardinghouse/ inn that served as a home to a growing number of University students and mages in Corus, the capital of Tortall. Thom, Alan's brother happened to be among the residents of this particular house, which was in a less desirable neighborhood than the University-owned housing. The advantage to this inn was that good food was included in the price of room and board and no one asked too many questions if a young lady accompanied a resident home for an evening and did not leave until morning.
When Alan reached Thom's door, he knocked confidently. The squire wanted to surprise his scholarly sibling, but Alan knew better than to make a real fuss or disturbance in a building full of student mages, who were still working on a balance between power and control. Thom's door opened a crack, then was thrown inward when the occupant recognized his guest. Thom grabbed his brother in a fierce hug. "Alan! When did you get to Corus? How long are you staying? Come in, come in!" Thom pounded Alan's back enthusiastically.
Thom pulled Alan into the room, which was larger than Alan had expected, but cluttered. It was cramped with furniture and possessions, including a large unmade bed, a desk with lots of drawers and workspace, a wardrobe haphazardly closed, a scarred walnut vanity and a mirror on the wall above it. The silver mirror was highly polished. In Alan's estimation, it was probably the cleanest thing in the room. A kettle hung suspended in the room's small fireplace. The hearth was intended to keep the residents from freezing, but not much beyond.
The brothers were grinning identical grins, inherited from their father. "We just got in two hours ago and we're leaving tomorrow. My knight master only entered the city for orders and fresh horses. Since we're here, we get food and drink too. And since Sir Raoul and I will be traveling for another month, at least, he saw fit to give me leave to visit the city tonight." Alan made an elaborate Player's bow. "And so I am here to beg a drink for a parched throat." Alan's eyes darted around the desk, landing on the piles of parchment and books, powders and mug of drink. "You're working." He realized. "No mind, the weary traveler will—,"
"Cut it out." Thom smiled. "Of course I have a drink for my road weary brother." The bookworm looked around the room as though he were seeing it for the first time in weeks. "Gods, this place turned into a sty, didn't it? Well, I have money for a drink, anyway, and I know a charming place."
"Not so fast." The squire said. "Does anyone know about your friend? The red head gestured to the ribbons and face paint and jewelry that were scattered across the vanity, obviously left there by an occupant and not by a one-time visitor. Petticoats and shoes lay abandoned in a heap between the wardrobe and the bed.
Thom rumpled his own hair and allowed a dreamy expression to cross his face. "I took her to supper with Gramma, and arranged for Cythera and Gary to come to one of her performances and to meet her after. Her folks have been traveling Players for time out of mind. She stopped traveling with them a year ago, but she still sings to raise the fees for the school of bardic arts. She's actually doing a study of her own on the idea of history as represented by popular ballads. It's how we got to talking. She sang a Lioness ballad that Mother has always hated--,"
"Thom." Alan interrupted sharply, knowing that his brother could talk forever about research. "Who else knows about--," Alan thought. "What's her name?"
"Aislinn. Da saw her last time he passed through. I'm bringing her home to Pirate's Swoop at Midwinter."
"To meet Mother AND Aly and that mad creature she adopted?" Alan whistled. "Brave girl, though I give her low marks for common sense." Thom frowned, so Alan added, "She sounds like she'll fit in perfectly. Insanity runs in the family, as mother says. And she must have substance, if she survived Gramma and Aunt Cythera."
Thom grabbed a lightweight wool jacket from a peg. "Aly may not be there at Midwinter." He shrugged.
Alan sent his brother a quizzical look. "Where else would she be? Even Gramma and Grandfather are making the trip from Corus to the Swoop."
Thom shrugged, unwilling to pursue that line of talk. He ushered Alan out of the chaos of the room and led him through the house. "Be quiet now. Scrying final is tomorrow so most of the lads are probably practicing, and you don't want to distract them, I warrant."
Alan ghosted through the tenement, making almost no sound. On the street, he walked with less attention to silence and more to his surroundings. Thom strolled casually, the sights and faces familiar. When the boys were settled with full tankards of ale at the Laughing Lark (a popular inn where Aislinn was scheduled to perform that evening), Thom turned to his brother. "So, not that I'm not glad you did, but why did you look me up tonight? Usually when you're in town you don't bother with your boring brother." Thom ran a critical eye over Alan. The younger brother had grown. Alan had gained breadth in his shoulders in addition to the added height and weight. His mop of red hair was curlier and longer than Thom expected, and he was sporting a small gold ring in his left earlobe.
"What's this now? A lad can't look up his own brother without incurring suspicion?" Alan asked, feigning hurt and a common accent.
Thom snorted at Alan's pretended affront. "You're troubled by something, and unless my Aislinn is a virgin priestess, it's a woman on your mind."
Alan jumped a little and made a face. "Since Aly went away, you picked up her strange habit of ruffling feathers. And you do wrong your lady. I'm sure she's chaste and radiant as a crescent moon over the goddess's birch grove in the first snow of winter."
"Your company's been running with Neal again, hasn't it?" Thom tisked. "His florid poetry is rubbing off."
"I resent that. My metaphors are much better than Queenscove's." Alan said, referring to their mother's colorful former squire.
"You never answered my question." Thom prompted.
"There may be a girl." Alan frowned pensively. "That's part of the problem, actually. I don't really know if there's anything there to worry about."
"Who is she?" Thom asked. "A merchant's child? A Player? A farmer's daughter, a convent lady? A foul old man's fair young mistress?"
Alan sipped from his tankard. "Do I have your word that what I say to you is said only for you?"
"She's not a child, is she?"
Alan looked appalled. "Of course not."
"Then, yes." Thom said. "I'll keep your secret as long as you ask."
"She's fifteen, almost sixteen." Alan said. "And she's perfect. She's intelligent, but she's kind. She's beautiful, but not like Cythera where it hurts to look at the beauty too long. She has a sense of humor and a temper, and moods, but she's not the type to cut with words as easy as breathing."
Thom frowned. "Do I know her?" He prayed a quick prayer to the Goddess who ruled love and marriage that the answer was "no," because an uncomfortable suspicion was forming. Though Thom and Alan loved each other as brothers, Alan was actually closer to Prince Liam. The boys had been best friends since they survived the Immortals War together. There were few reasons that Thom could imagine for Alan bringing a love problem to his brother rather than his friend, and one of them was the identity of the lady in question.
"Perhaps." Alan shrugged elegantly, playing with his cup a little.
"It's Lianne." Thom realized aloud. "Little Lia of the pulled pigtails and glowing eyes who used to play with you and Liam."
"Don't say it too loud." Alan looked around nervously. "And only maybe. I know she's destined for Maren and that stupid prig of a prince, and I know she's only fifteen, but I believe that we are meant to spend our mortal lives together."
Thom's face was inscrutable. Inwardly, he was cursing every stupid balladeer who had ever sung about the thwarted love of the Lioness and King (ignoring for a moment that his Aislinn would be included in that curse). They had to be to blame for the Lioness's son fancying the king's daughter.
Unaware of Thom's displeasure, Alan forged ahead. "I have loved her since we were children together. I always knew that she was special, but now she has such poise and grace. Our time together in Maren only made me surer that we are two halves of a whole."
Thom unsealed his lips to ask a question. "What happened in Maren?"
"Liam went to visit her with his knight master, so I went with them, because it was summer and Aly was nowhere to be seen and I needed something useful to do and the war was at a standstill and I did miss Lia." Alan looked ashamed of himself for a moment. "Letters are so odd when you're trying to know how someone is, because they're so censored you have to read what isn't there as much as you read what they write."
Thom nodded understanding. "Da practically dissects Mother's letters whenever they come." He confirmed.
Alan sighed. "She didn't write just to me, of course. She can't."
Thom nodded, because he was well aware of the custom that forbade single noblewomen from writing to single men, unless their fathers had provided specific approval for courting. Exceptions were made for brothers and uncles and relations too close for marriage, but as a mere friend, Lia's messages to Alan had to pass through Liam. If she had truly wanted to write just to Alan, she could've sealed a letter to him inside a letter to a lady in waiting and asked the lady in waiting to deliver it secretly, but gossip that attractive spread like fire through the palace and city.
"We went to visit her and to get the lay of the land, so to speak. Liam has a sharp eye and a knack for reading volatile political situations. Didn't take his eye or Aly's brain to see that she was miserable, but doing her best to charm them." A flash of something—anger, desire, hope, maybe simple memory—flashed in Alan's eyes.
Thom downed half his drink, eyes not wavering from Alan's face. "I didn't know that there was such difficulty."
"Lia looked like skin was the only thing holding her bones together. She wasn't eating well and they were only letting her ride and draw once or twice a week. You know that she rides every day when she's home!" Alan shook his head as if to displace the emotion. "They were chipping at her soul, at the things she does that make her special." He continued his narration, "But when she saw us—me and Liam—her face lit up as though we'd given her the greatest gift of her life. She was laughing and crying and she held onto me so tightly, I couldn't breathe." Alan felt those desperate, joyful arms around his neck once more.
A serving maid passed the table and refilled Thom's tankard. "Linn said you was staying in to study tonight. Won't she be surprised?" The bar maid winked a welcome to Thom's handsome companion and was mildly offended when all she got for her flirtatious pains was a half-hearted nod.
Thom nodded. "She'll scold me, no doubt, then sing my favorite to me."
The girl smirked. "If she's too hard on you, come around to see me for some comfort."
Thom laughed. "Not I. There's none for me but my Linn."
The serving maid strolled away, an extra roll in her gait. Alan did not notice, and Thom ignored the customary attempt at flirtation.
Thom leaned forward. "She greeted you happily?" He prompted.
"Lord Martin told me later that if we had been in the tents of the Bazhir in the old days, and she were a veiled maiden and I a single man, we'd have been married or executed by nightfall."
Thom winced. "Who else saw?"
"That fat, stupid, goat-faced, self-satisfied, wretched prig they want her to marry didn't even notice."
"Gee Alan, what do you really think of her intended?" Thom asked.
"The pig yawned the whole way through Lord Martin's speech of greeting and Liam's thanks." Alan sighed. "The reprimand didn't even matter. In that second, I was gone."
Several candles were extinguished, and a large torch at the front of the room was lit. A beautiful woman gowned perfectly in a dazzling garment of reds and golds strummed a lyre. Conversation quieted a bit. A rapt expression came across Thom's face, so Alan turned to study the girl who seemed to be his older brother's companion.
The girl, Aislinn, had the dark looks of a gypsy Player. There were tales about men who went mad with lust at the sight of young Player girls, and evaluating this one, Alan could understand why. Her hair was black and curly and wild. A gold chain rested on the crown of her hair, coming back from a pearl on her forehead, in a style popularized by renewed relations with the Copper Isles. Aly had brought such jewels to her mother and grandmother after her year abroad.
Aislinn's eyes were enormous and limpid, though there was dreaminess in the depths. Her mouth was red and promised all sorts of delights, from songs to kisses. Dimples danced in her cheeks, suggesting flashes of humor. Alan could imagine what had attracted his brother to the vibrant girl, though he was less certain about what had bonded them together.
She began to sing a Tortallan standard, a song known to every child born in Jonathan's realm. Alan had believed he knew every intonation of the song, but as he listened, Aislinn brought new life to the classic about the little girl who grew up to be a fearsome Provost. Alan was amused at how many of the roguish folks were enjoying the tale of justice against thieves. Thom and Alan sat in silence, drinking occasionally during Aislinn's set.
"She's incredible." Alan said, with genuine admiration.
"Yes." Thom agreed, but he was frowning a little bit. "I wonder where she got that pearl?" He murmured aloud.
Alan shrugged. Thom shook his head, dismissing the troublesome thought. "We'll meet her after. Right now she's drinking something and catching her breath and I'd just be a bother. Tell me more about your time in Maren."
"During the whole month we talked every chance we got. We walked through fields, we ate together, we just couldn't get our fill of hearing and seeing one another. Liam was along most times, but you know how it is with the three of us."
Thom did indeed know. Liam, Lianne, and Alan were a unit. They were capable of thinking, acting and even communicating with minimal conversation. Alianne was a part of Alan, and an extension of the group, but she had too much fun discomfiting the others with pithy observations to truly be included as the fourth of that triumvirate. If things had gone true to form, Liam had led the way while Lia and Alan dawdled and chatted, saying much with innocuous conversation. Thom breathed a sigh of relief that nothing too drastic had happened with chaperones present.
"How did you part?"
"At the end of the month, Liam, Lord Martin and I departed. She wept and tried to make it seem like she didn't. She held onto Liam so long he tried to ask if we could bring her home early. But she refused, insisted she would finish out her time."
"And since she returned?"
"Raoul couldn't be convinced that we had business where she was, and then she was gone for Carthak and hang it all if I know what she thinks of me." Alan threw back his drink.
"Where do you want this to go?" Thom asked, ever practical. "She is the daughter of the man the gods appointed to rule this country. You are the son of a jumped up thief and a woman who masqueraded as a man to win a shield."
Alan felt as though he had just tilted with Raoul and been popped out of his saddle like a cork from a champagne bottle. "But mother's the King's champion." He protested.
"Aye, and Da is well respected in his way too. But what I want you to see is that there's no fooling around with a king's daughter. People permitted a dalliance between the Prince and his squire thirty years ago, but they still can't accept a noble woman who loses her virginity before she marries. Is what you feel today going to last forever?"
Alan's mouth opened to answer.
Thom cut him off. "And do you want to be answering that before you win a shield and before she sees her sixteenth year?"
Alan settled back and moodily sipped his ale.
"Anything else you want to add?" Alan asked sourly.
"Yes." Thom said. "Though I doubt you want to hear it."
"I won't take it amiss." Alan promised.
"What about that other young lady of Conté who fancies you?"
"What are you talking about?" Confusion clouded Alan's gaze.
"Nora." Thom answered, as Aislinn reentered and resumed her position in the front of the room.
Alan stewed through protest after protest and memory after memory during Aislinn's second set. Though her performance was just as talented as before, the squire took no pleasure in the music. When the songstress blew kisses at the audience and promised a return in ten minutes, he finally replied. "Nora doesn't like me in that way. She likes infuriating Lia and Aly."
"Oh?" Thom asked skeptically.
"Aly formed a madcap idea about me and Lia years ago. Well, maybe not so mad. It irritated Nora supremely—you know how those two always were. And so Nora flirts with me just to annoy our sisters."
Thom raised and dropped a shoulder. "Maybe. Maybe not. But think about it."
"I will." Alan promised. "I'll have plenty of time to do it over the next month."
"If it helps, I think the Queen and Da are on your side. They know that the Maren is a fool, and Thayet vowed years ago not to send any of her children to a situation where there's no chance for happiness."
Alan nodded a little. "It's just that I know that when I see her in Carthak she won't be able to run to me and hold onto me for her life. Their rules are like the Bazhir's, and single women of good reputation don't touch men who aren't blood relatives." Thom nodded comprehension. "And heaven knows how I'll find time alone with her, to find out what she wants."
Thom laughed. "Don't look so miserable."
"Wouldn't you?" Alan asked. "At least you know where you stand with your lady."
"Yes and no." Thom tilted his head. "Part of the problem in any relationship is that you never know totally where your partner stands. Like that pearl that Linn's wearing. There's no way tips bought that, but no one gives a jewel that generous without expecting some kind of payment."
"She's not warming another man's bed." Alan assured his brother. "That's Gramma's pearl. Aly's Crow-man nicked it during her little holiday in the Copper Isles. So either Gramma gave it to you and you left it somewhere and Linn found it, or Gramma sent it to Linn in a sort of endorsement or Gramma gave it to Da to give to your girl and Linn hasn't found a way to tell you yet."
Thom made a face. "Why wouldn't she tell me that my family likes her?"
"Do you spend a lot of time complaining how mad we all are? She might be concerned that you'll think they're mad for liking her."
Thom smiled a little. "And here I thought I was helping you tonight."
"Of course, she might have told you and you forgot." Ever practical Alan added.
"I think I'd remember something like that." Thom said sourly.
"Like you remember to fill your inkstand and empty your wastebasket?" Alan smirked.
Thom flicked something across the table at his brother, and the boys enjoyed a moment of friendly horseplay.
"I feel stupid for worrying about this, but how should I act when we see each other again? Me and Lia, that is."
"Let her guide you. It'll depend on how formal it is, who else is there, you know, all that."
Alan sighed glumly.
"Your other concern, of course, is how to tell Liam that you and his baby sister are changing the nature of the friendship that exists between all three of you."
Alan looked prepared to bash his own head against a wall. "I was hoping you wouldn't bring that up."
"It's kind of obvious he doesn't know already, and the longer you wait the worse it will be." Thom advised kindly.
"Well, I can always say I wasn't sure there was anything to tell, which is true enough, and that it wasn't news I wanted to put in a letter."
"But is that the truth?" Thom pressed. "Sort it out in your own mind."
"Well, how would you feel if Neal had come to you while he was still mother's squire and announced that he was interested in Aly?"
"It didn't happen." Thom said vigorously.
"But if it had?" Alan pressed.
"It didn't."
"Pretend it did. Call it a though experiment."
"I would have felt..." Thom searched for the word "betrayed, maybe. I took him to heart, almost like an extra brother, and such a relationship would have abused the trust I put in him."
"Even though you knew he was a good man."
"Even though." Thom agreed. "But it did not happen."
"And when Aly brought that bird-brained creature back home, how did you react?"
"It's different. She was vulnerable there, with none of us to defend her. Despite his eccentricities he came through for her. He didn't allow anyone to harm her, and he didn't force anything on her. And she loves him."
"You respected him as Aly's companion because that's how he was introduced to you. You don't like it when people break out of the little boxes you assign them to."
"Your logic is a bit flawed, though I catch your drift." Thom frowned. "A potential negative reaction to a hypothetical relationship between Neal and our sister has less to do with his position and more to do with his personality. I would've reacted badly to Neal and Aly because I know that he tended to fall violently in and out of love, while Aly preferred to just have fun. It would've been a disaster. He would have become obsessed with writing poetry to her quick wit and golden hair until she smashed his heart by getting bored...no, much better that they are just friends."
"Plus there's the idea that it might've worked and they would have wed. Can you imagine what monsters they'd breed?" Alan winced at the idea of a cross between his twin and Neal of Queenscove.
"The children would never survive to adulthood. They'd have their tongues cut out." Thom predicted.
"Or have their ears boxed to deafness by frustrated people who couldn't keep up."
The brothers shared a moment of companionship and laughter at the thought.
"But what do you think of Nawat as her life's partner?" Alan pressed.
Thom frowned, sighed. "We're not like Liam and Lia, or Roald and Kalasin." He said finally. "We love each other, but we're not involved in one another's lives in the same way."
"That's not an answer."
"I mean that I love her, but I'm not going to tell her how to live." Thom said finally.
Alan grimaced. "How are she and Mother getting on?" He asked.
Thom's eyes shadowed, and he did not answer.
"What?" Alan demanded. "You know something, and you don't want to tell me. What is it?"
Thom sighed. "She's your twin, the right to tell falls to her, not to me."
"But I won't see her for at least two months, and you're here now."
Thom swallowed a mouthful of ale. "Aly and Nawat have decided to return to the Copper Isles."
Alan let out a breath as though he'd been struck with a staff during a practice round. "When?" He gritted.
"They're leaving before Samhain." Thom said, with compassion.
"It's a mad time to begin a journey." Alan mumbled. "How long have you known?"
"During Da's last trip to the city she and Nawat came to see him and the king. A last report, of sorts. She doesn't think she should've left Mother guilt her into coming home."
"When was I to know? After the ship had sailed?" Alan demanded, stung at the loss of his twin.
"She sent you letters, but I guess they've been chasing you and Lord Raoul across the North." Thom said. "I am sorry you had to find out from me."
Aislinn reemerged, but this time bells were attached at every gather along the skirt, up to a clever belt. Tiny finger cymbals graced her hands. Aislinn used her entire body as an instrument, creating beauty for the eyes with her dance and for the ears with the bells and her voice. Alan saw how captivated his brother was by the dark beauty. The younger brother felt a moment's sympathy for the girl. Midwinter with the Coopers...what had this girl done to deserve such a fate?
"This is why you think Linn can come home at Midwinter. Mother by herself can be handled, but in conjunction with Aly..." Alan tried not to think about bringing home a girl to the volatile combination of his mother and sister.
"Putting the two of them under the same roof is like putting a spark and blazebalm on opposite sides of a room." Thom said frankly. "You hope like hell that one doesn't set off the other, but you always know that the very real possibility is there."
The song she sang was about a girl, longing for her beloved, who left home to become a warrior. Though the text of the song was about longing, Alan thought it really spoke about the loss of childhood. This soldier had seen the kraken, and there was no going back. Alan had heard many versions of the song. Some ended with the warrior's death and the girl's heartbreak, others with his return to his village to find the girl dead at the hands of the army he had fought. Still other versions ended with the soldier returning home to find the girl an unwilling bride to an older man, with a child that probably belonged to the soldier. And one version ended with the death of the soldier's wife, after their wedding.
Aislinn sang a version in which the girl died at the hands of the army, but their child, born after the father went to war, lived to welcome his Da home. She sang it with incurable melancholy that left tears in the eyes of patrons who had been drinking heavily.
Then, she switched tempos to a merry drinking song. As if on cue, serving maids appeared at every table with full pitchers. The Laughing Lark became a noisy hive of confusion as patrons, drunk and on their way, lifted and emptied tankards along with the rhythm and sang along with the lively lilting voice of the Player. Despite his disturbed state of mind, Alan joined the enthusiastic applause at the end of the song. Aislinn laughed, clearly enjoying the attention. "Now lads, is that any way to treat a lass who's thirsty?" She teased. "Who'll buy us a drink, then?"
"If you'll leave that bookish boy, I'll buy ye more than a drink!" A man Alan recognized as a follower of the Rogue offered enthusiastically.
"None of that now." Aislinn put her hands on her hips and her laughter pealed like a flirtatious song. "My bookish boy is here tonight, and he won't like that sort of talk."
Thom made a signal and the maid who had failed to flirt with Alan earlier that night brought Aislinn a cup of tea. The singer drained it, blew a kiss in Thom's direction and said, "In thanks for the drink, I'd like to sing his favorite song."
Alan looked curiously at Thom. "Does this happen often?" He whispered.
Aislinn cleared her throat and warbled out notes, effortlessly as the lark that gave the bar its name. Alan startled to realize that she was singing "Rosie at the river," a silly little ditty about a girl in the first blush of love examining her reflection in a rushing river. But the song did not end where Alan was accustomed to hearing it end. It continued with the girl fearing that her life was rushing away as fast as the river water, and that her looks would desert her, as would her beloved. The melody changing from childish and joyful to piercing and panicky, as the singer used ragged breaths to reveal the emotion of the speaker.
Just when Alan thought the song was over, Thom shocked him by standing and joining Aislinn in the middle of the floor. He sang the last verse to her, an assurance that his love would not fade if her looks did, but would instead continue to flow, as the river never stopped. Alan felt his jaw drop. He had never imagined that Thom could sing, and here he sounded as good as any Player or traveling minstrel. Alan led the applause for the couple, which they accepted graciously, as their due. It was clear that performances of this nature were familiar to the Lark's regulars.
Aislinn sang an encore alone, a rollicking tune about a pretty girl on market day that allowed the audience to participate by banging mugs cheerfully along with the chorus. At the end of the performance, Thom took Aislinn's hand and led her through the bustling room to the table where Alan was sitting. The squire rose as they approached. "Alan, I want you to meet the most talented bard in the Eastern Lands, Aislinn Goldtone. Linn, this is my younger brother, Alan."
The Player made a polite little curtsy. Alan bowed, then took her hand and brushed the back with his lips. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He said.
She smiled, allowed Thom to pull out her chair, and swept her skirts around her in a fan so graceful that Queen Thayet herself might have envied the gesture. "And you. Your brother has told me so much about you." Her voice was soft, like whispering silk. It was so different from her performing voice that Alan was startled. It was difficult to believe that a throat that made such a soft sound could also produce a sound loud enough to fill a room.
The brothers sat, Thom to her right, Alan to her left. "Lies, all, I assure you." Alan grinned at his brother. "And I must say, what my brother did say about you did not do you justice. Your performance was nothing short of remarkable."
Thom handed Aislinn a mug that seemed to have materialized in his hand. She sipped at the liquid gratefully. "Thank you." Alan wasn't sure if she liked his compliment or the drink Thom had procured for her. "I would've sung a Lioness ballad if I had known you'd be here." She almost scolded.
"He didn't know I'd be here." Alan defended his brother.
"He's been on the road for days and he's a long journey still to go. I know you wouldn't want me to send away a traveler with a parched throat." Thom touched his lover's arm.
"I just don't want your brother to carry the tale that the three vices of the city have seduced you from your studies." Her dark eyes and her dimples danced.
"You say that like it's a bad thing." Alan teased. "Far from it. I laud your success. The combination of wine, women and song seems to be essential—I always just tried wine to corrupt him."
Thom rolled his eyes. "I am still present. You should wait to discuss my flaws till I'm absent."
"So what brings you to Corus?" Aislinn asked briskly.
"My knight master and I needed fresh horses to continue our journey South." Alan said. "I thought I should look up my brother, see if I could get him into any trouble while I was around."
"He means he wanted to see if I could get him out of trouble." Thom mock whispered.
"So did you send a note?"
"No, I literally showed up on his doorstep, I'm afraid."
"Oh gods, I knew I should've picked up the room instead of studying for that exam on variations of the tale of Old King Jasson and the Black City." Linn made a face that Alan liked. "I hope you don't think we live like that normally."
"The thought never crossed my mind." Alan lied. He knew very well that Thom preferred a cluttered jumble of papers, scrolls, arcane artifacts and oddities to any form of organization. Alan could tell already that Aislinn lived life in a state of perpetual chaos, which was naturally reflected in her living habits.
Aislinn sipped her tea gratefully. "What time is your exam tomorrow?" She quizzed Thom.
"Ten." Thom said. "Scrying tools. Crystals vs. still water vs. mirrors vs. fire. The same debate that has raged since mages found out that there was more than one way to see the world."
"Which do you prefer?" Un-gifted Alan asked.
"Mirrors." Thom said, immediately. "Fire is more powerful, but less reliable. Crystals are more for communication than scrying. And still water is more trouble than it's worth."
Aislinn giggled. "Everyone think that the polished pretty mirror in our room is my vanity for paints and such. It's not, it's for his magic."
Feeling very much an outsider in his brother's life, Alan nodded. "I'll be departing at sunrise, so I should leave. I'm hoping to drop in on another friend this evening."
Thom rose and clapped his brother in a fierce hug. "Think about what I said." He ordered. "But don't waste time."
Alan departed. He wandered through the Lower City to the Temple District. He ambled up to the Palace and found his way to Liam's quarters in the hall reserved for the royal family. The prince's room was painfully tidy and obviously empty. Alan swallowed disappointment. Liam was a knight now; he must be on the way to Galla to meet their princess. And he would have no way of knowing that Alan was traveling South. Communication would have to wait till Alan returned from Carthak.
He was about to retrace his steps to Raoul's rooms, when the door to the suite that belonged to Roald and his wife opened. The crown-prince stepped into the hall. "Alan." The reserved man offered the squire a smile. "I was hoping to see you."
"Your Highness." Alan made a quick bow.
Roald waved at him. "That's not necessary." He assured his old friend.
Alan stood for a moment, awkwardly wondering why the prince had stopped him. Their families were friends, but Alan and Roald had never been particularly close.
"Liam left for Galla." Roald began.
"I assumed. Liam never leaves things that clean."
"Yes." Roald agreed. "That's true."
Alan waited again.
"I was wondering if you would bring something to my sister for me? Without looking at it or telling the entire Court?"
"Of course." Alan said, thinking that soon he would be recruiting Copper Isles ambassadors to give little packets to Aly and her children. "If it's not too big."
"It's just a letter and a small painting." Roald slipped it out of a pocket. "I have a matching version of the painting. To help us remember good times." He said.
Alan nodded. "Do you miss Kalasin?" He asked, keenly aware that he probably wouldn't see his own sister again for many years, unless Liam married a Copper Islander queen.
"Yes." Roald said simply. "She was home, the keeper of half my memories, as I am for her." He smiled, almost as though reading Alan's thoughts. "But I'm grateful that she married a good man, who loves her and takes care of her."
"I'll make sure she gets the painting." Alan said, though it seemed so inadequate.
"I heard that Aly's leaving. I'm sorry."
"I am too." Alan said. "But truth to tell, I'm not surprised."
"The place changed her, didn't it?" Roald asked.
"Yes. She didn't even think she would fit here anymore, but she came back to try because Mother asked."
"How's your mother reacting?"
"I don't know." Alan said. "But if you hear about a great number of bandits who are terrified into surrendering themselves to King's justice, don't ask too many questions."
Roald nodded.
"How's Shinko?" Alan asked. "Lia and Kalasin will want to know."
"Very well. She refuses to leave the baby for more than an hour at a time, though." The Prince said. His wife had delivered a daughter since Buri and Lianne departed for Carthak. It was something of a disappointment that Tortallan succession was not yet assured, but her parents could find no fault with that angelic baby.
Alan grinned. "Congratulations." He murmured.
"Thank you." Roald said graciously. "One other thing."
"Yes?" Alan wondered what on earth they could still have to discuss.
"Take good care of my sisters." Roald instructed the squire. "I entrust their safety to you for the duration of your time with them."
The squire startled a little. "Why me?"
"You know what it is to have a sister far away. And you already watch after Lia. This just gives you an extra reason. Don't forget to deliver the package." Roald reminded Alan of the wrapped box he still held.
"Say hello to your wife for me." Alan requested. "And kiss the baby. And warn her that little boys are big trouble, especially Rikash Salmalin."
"I will." Roald took Alan's hand and shook it firmly.
The squire found his way back to Raoul's rooms, shaking his head over the strange conversations. The big knight was sitting at the desk with columns of figures, double-checking requisitions for the King's Own. Alan pulled up a chair and began to help without being asked.
"How was your visit with Thom?" Raoul asked, after he finished a particularly large column.
Alan shrugged. "He's living with a girl in the lower city. He's surviving on magic and books. He seems to think that if he ignores reality long enough, it will go away."
"If only." Raoul yawned.
"Reality is remarkably persistent; he won't be able to ignore it forever." Alan said pensively.
"What reality do you mean?" Raoul asked.
"It's too late to philosophize." Alan complained.
Raoul smiled. "Fetch some juice, squire, and we'll have a chat."
Alan did so. "You're not surprised that he's living with someone."
"Yes, and no. It was only a matter of time before he realized that pretty young women think a rich young mage an attractive catch."
"I think he's in love with this one, not just having fun." Alan reflected.
"And her?" Raoul asked.
"Thinking about the next song, or dress, or jewel, or exam. Not a care for the future. She's having fun with him. Don't know if it's love for her."
Raoul nodded. "You're worried about Thom."
"He introduced her to Gramma and Cythera and Gary and Da. He's bringing her home at Midwinter. I think he's considering marrying her."
"But your mother hasn't heard that she exists yet?" Raoul asked.
"I haven't heard the scream or felt the earthquake, so I'm guessing no."
"She didn't react so badly to Aly and that Nawat fellow, did she?"
"It's all relative really. But Aly isn't the oldest and Aly didn't shack up with Nawat in a boarding house."
"You don't approve?" The big knight asked mildly.
"I don't know. I would, if I thought Thom wasn't blind to the fact that Aislinn doesn't look at him and see forever."
"He said something else that upset you." Raoul observed.
Alan jumped. "I swear, Aly taught you and Thom that trick before she left."
"No, I picked it up on my own." Raoul said. "It's a useful habit for a commander, you must admit."
Alan propped his chin on his fist. "You forgot to carry a two here." He critiqued a column of figures.
"Fine, let it wait." Raoul shrugged. "We've a month of traveling together, you'll tell me your troubles, never fear."