(©Tamora Pierce)
"The slave, a member of the
country's peace,
Enjoys it; but in gross brain
little wots
What watch the king keeps to
maintain the peace,
Whose hours the peasant best
advantages."
-Henry
V; IV.i
The only thing Lady Yukimi of Queenscove really wanted to do was to sleep, and maybe cry a little to herself once alone in the privacy of her own room. However, she was not one to shirk her duties. It would be shameful to go comfortably to bed while her husband (and he had worked at least as hard as she) was still serving his king. Neither was her own service done. It had been a long day of attending Princess Shinkokami as the king met with his great lords, but the princess had especial need of her companion tonight. If it was a terrible and frightening thing to live through the murder of a great and noble king, it was made a thousand times worse when that king was one's revered father-in-law as well.
And if it was one's own father! Poor Prince Roald. King Roald, as she ought to say it. He was another who would not sleep tonight. This afternoon, Numair Salmalín had revealed that he did not think there was any precedent for separating the souls of the two traitors. He himself did not know any way of doing it. And this after as much as allowing Thom of Pirates' Swoop to raise ghosts! She was sure that he was sorry he had done so, but his contrition was a bit late, however strong its sincerity. She vaguely knew that Master Salmalín was a Tyran who had trained in Carthak. That made her a little more secure. She had accustomed herself to Tortallan ways such that they were no longer so strange - she could even be comfortable in a western-style gown now - but everyone knew that the Tyrans were little better than pirates and that the Carthakis were utterly decadent and barbaric. That explained Master Salmalín's recklessness, and she could rest assured that such foolishness was not the norm in her adopted country. Too, most of the Tortallan mages she knew were very sensible. Her own husband and his father, for example. They were perfectly ethical, upstanding, and loyal. Lady Alanna as well. How unfortunate for her! But that, Yukimi could not help but think, was what came of marrying a common thief. True the baron had always seemed to be a good man, but he had evidently been deficient in his son's moral education. At least Squire Alan appeared to have his mother's good qualities.
In the next room, King Roald was even now wrestling to master the Dominion Jewel on the advice of Master Numair. "It is yours, Sire, and must not be neglected, even if it were not the only thing I know that may work in this case," the mage had said. And so Roald struggled, alone, though several other mages, her own husband among them, stayed by to assist him as they might. Yukimi was a mage of no mean power herself; she would have liked to be with the king as well, observing the jewel's rare magic. Her duty, however, was here.
There was an uneasy and tense silence in the room. Queen Thayet sat in a chair by the fire; her younger daughter, the Princess Lianne, knelt beside her, her head cradled in her mother's lap. She no longer cried, but her cheeks were shiny and her mother's dress was marked with wet patches. The Dowager queen stared into the tapestry on the far wall, absently stroking her daughter's hair. Princess Shinkokami knelt on her mother-in-law's other side, too polite to intrude on their grief. There was nothing to say: the first shock of the tragedy had not even begun to pass away. There were no condolences that could be made, but to speak of anything else would have been callous, even disrespectful to King Jonathan, this soon after his death. Tonight, his warriors kept vigil over their king; the women of his family would not intrude there. So here they all kept vigil for Roald.
It was dim - no one had called a servant to light the evening candles, and the fire was gradually dying. Darkness was said not to be good so near a death, particularly not near the death of an important man. Spirits, many of them malevolent, clustered around such an event, preying on sorrow and darkness, and bringing more misfortune upon the house. The Princess's young children, now asleep in the nursery, would be particularly susceptible. Silently, Yukimi rose. She had to stand on her toes and reach above her head to cup her hands around the wick of the first taper on the heavy candelabrum. She blew gently up to it, summoning at the same time a spark. When she had lit each of the candles, she crossed to the other candelabra, until all three bore bouquets of dancing flames. Then she quietly returned to her place at her mistress's side.
"Thank you for giving us light, Yuki," Princess Shinkokami whispered.
Yukimi bowed. "I am honored if my small service has pleased Your Highness."
And then silence resumed its reign.
There was a cautious knock on the door, which subsequently opened. Sir Nealan of Queenscove slipped in and bowed. Princess Lianne sat up, and the Queen Dowager raised her head.
"Do you bring us news, Sir Nealan? Has Roald succeeded?"
"Ah, no, Your Majesty; the king is still working at it. It is a slow, but he is making progress. This is what he sent me to tell you."
"Then my lord is well?" Asked Shinkokami. "And he is able to speak with you while he is mastering this thing?"
Yukimi's husband was somewhat taken aback. "Why, yes, certainly, Your Highness. He is not in a trance, and it is not dangerous - only long and wearying."
"Ah. I see." Yukimi could tell that her mistress would have liked to go to her husband, if only to sit by him. A Tortallan, however, used to more blatant emotional displays, could never tell this, and the princess would not dream of implying that she had tired of attending Queen Thayet.
"He is as powerful as King Jonathan; -" Nealan glanced quickly at the queen as if in apology - "but we - that is, Master Salmalín and my father - think that the Dominion Jewel meant to recognize him only when he was crowned. His right is still there, however, and he can establish - he is establishing - his power over it."
"And do you return to Roald, now?" Queen Thayet asked.
"If it is not Your Majesty's will that I remain." Her husband was ever the gallant!
"No, no. My son has more need of you than do I. Two of my daughters are with me, and your own Lady Yukimi as well. But not my other sons," she said suddenly. "Liam is in the North, riding patrols with his knight-master," she mused. "I wonder if he even knows what has happened. And Jasson-" Queen Thayet smiled slightly and shakily - "he stays in the pages' wing. He wishes to be treated like all the other boys who mourn their king together. He says - Oh, it sounds maudlin, I know, but spare a widow and a mother her small comforts. - He says … that … it is what his … his father would have wanted." The queen's voice, which had been breaking throughout her recital, squeaked out, and she covered her face with one hand, keening. Shinkokami took the other hand and bowed her head over in silent sympathy. "Tell that to Roald," Thayet said when she had recovered - it will give him strength to know how strong his brother is in his duty, I think."
"Of course, Majesty," Nealan replied softly. He swallowed hard. Yukimi wished she could comfort her husband; he looked to be drowning in all the grief that surrounded him. He bowed "By Your Majesty's leave? And Your Highnesses'?" At the nodded assents of the queen and Princess Shinkokami, he left. The door barely made a sound as he closed it.
And the night wore on.
