Chapter Four.

It was a sunny morning for December, but there was still a chill in the air. Soon the snows would set in and truly block the roads. For now though, there was still nearly a week for nobles and gentry to gather at the palace if they so wished. However, many of the noble families that lived on the outskirts of the realm moved to their home manors in the autumn, to remain there until spring.

For Roald the weather made little direct difference to him at the moment. He stayed inside, where he worked with ink and parchment. He practiced for a measly few hours twice a week in the private Royal inside practice court, and had handed over the care of his fine horses to the ostlers.

It only affected the Crown Prince in the contents of the accounts that landed on his desk. Few and far between would be the reports on the farms and the state of the land over the winter. The only reports that could get through would be those closer to home: from Corus, from Port Caynn. Any others would have to be transferred through mages' speaking spells.

Roald looked up in surprise as the side door opened. It was early; the clerks were not around yet and Sir Gareth certainly wasn't present.

It was the pretty serving girl, carrying a fully-laden tray. She bobbed respectfully to his Highness, her eyes demurely cast to the ground, and shut the door with her foot.

'Oh, good morning,' said Roald. 'I'd forgotten I'd asked you to bring that up.' He smiled, grateful for her good memory and the good food. 'It's very early.'

She looked up, her features clearly panic-stricken. 'Is it too early, your Highness? I can bring it back later for you, my lord.'

'Oh no, no! Now is fine, thank you. Now is better.'

'Very well, your Highness.' She came forward once more and Roald shifted his paperwork so there was a clear spot on his desk. She off-loaded the food: a spread just as wealthy as the previous morning.

'Ah, you spoil me,' teased Roald, greedily taking in the porridge; the bread; the cheese; the fruit; and the thick, yellowy butter, the runny honey, and the bold jam all in their little terracotta pots. As soon as everything was laid out, Roald pulled the bowl of porridge towards him, pouring milk on top, and spooning on honey and sugar. He was feeling quite hungry this morning and was willing to pause in his work to eat a good breakfast.

'If that is all, m'lord?'

Roald looked up; he had momentarily forgotten the maid in his eagerness for hot porridge. 'Yes, that is everything, thank you.' She curtseyed and left the Prince to his lonely breakfast.

--

Roald's eyes left the document on the annual Southern Tortallan vineyard produce as his cousin sauntered into his office. It was later in the morning now; Gary and the clerks had been present for just over an hour and the Prince had already had his morning banter with his Uncle.

'I was told I could find you here,' Faleron drawled in a lazy way. 'What are you doing?'

Roald twiddled the quill between his thumb and finger and fixed Faleron with a look of strained patience. He returned his gaze to the wine report before replying, 'Work.'

Faleron rolled his eyes. 'What kind of work?'

'Whatever needs to be done. Authorising requests, reading reports, checking financial documents.'

'Well, I can see you're keeping very busy.

'May I join you? I could do with the company.' When Roald didn't reply, Faleron carefully moved the stack of books from the only spare chair and brought it to the side of the desk. Resting his chin in his palm, his elbow on the edge of the desk, he watched his cousin. Roald- to all appearances- ignored him.

The cousins were silent for some time, one lost in words and figures, the other floundering in memories. The noise from the clerks in the adjacent office drifted in through the open door.

'Do you miss her?' he asked suddenly, abruptly. Roald- surprised- glanced up, pondering who he meant.

'Kally?' Faleron nodded and Roald paused in his work, considering his answer carefully. 'Well… of course I miss her.'

Faleron snorted. 'She's got such an exuberant personality, you couldn't not miss her. But?'

Roald put his quill down, sitting back in his chair. 'But, well, she hasn't been around much recently anyway. It's not hugely different with her being in Carthak because she's been staying with you.' Faleron smiled ruefully and Roald turned back to his work.

'It's too quiet without her there.'

'I did wonder why you had suddenly returned to Court.' Roald tried to ignore the slight pink toning of his friend's cheeks and the way Faleron swallowed- once, twice. The Prince bent his head, deciding he didn't want to know.

'Well,' valiantly teased Faleron, 'I can't stay away forever, can I? Actually-' he sobered up- 'it's a little more complex than that.'

Roald frowned, suddenly realising that Faleron was in Corus. 'Why aren't you at the border?' he snapped.

Faleron raised his eyebrows again, his voice soft. 'I got sent home. I was one of the first set of knights to go up to the border and we've been given the Midwinter to recuperate away from the war.'

Roald frowned, turning away. Why hadn't he heard of this decision? Had Gareth carefully kept it from him, or was it news that wasn't being broadcast?

Sensing his cousin's mood change, Faleron stood, stretching. 'Well, I'm off. I've got an appointment with my horse to keep. Perhaps I'll catch you later, unless you want to come riding…?' He let the question hang in the air.

'Riding?' joined a new voice. Faleron jumped and pivoted to see Sir Gareth standing in the doorway. 'What a wonderful idea, Sir Faleron. Don't you agree Roald?'

Oh, so that was it. If Gary couldn't stop him from working altogether, he was going to make him take as many breaks as he could. He already encouraged Roald to visit Queen Thayet in the afternoons and now it would look incredibly rude for the Prince to refuse his cousin's invitation.

Sending a scowl at the grinning Sir Gareth, Roald grudgingly agreed.

'Great,' said Faleron. 'Well, I need to find my riding gloves but it shouldn't take me long.'

Remembering his cousin and his inability to locate his own personal belongings, Roald said, 'I'll just get something warm from my rooms and I'll meet you at yours.'

They parted and Roald took his time walking. He knew it would take Faleron longer than expected to find those all-important riding gloves of his.

--

Dressed in warm furs to keep the bitter winter weather from chilling his bones, Roald knocked on the door. He began to regret putting the heavy cloak on while he was still inside- he was boiling.

'Come in!' called Faleron, 'It's open.'

Roald opened the door and gasped. The room before him was a state. His cousin had strewn his belongings everywhere; the chests were open and empty, the drawers were upturned. Even the bed had been stripped. No wonder he could never find what he wanted.

Faleron looked a little sheepish. 'I can't find it.'

Roald tried not to roll his eyes. 'So you had to turn your room inside out? They're only gloves, it's not that important.' The Prince frowned- had that pile of clothes by the foot of the bed just moved?

'Well, it's not entirely my fault that the place is such a mess,' began Faleron. Roald watched the heap of shirts. Yes, it definitely wiggled across the floor. He began to feel a little nervous, and wished he had his sword with him. Did Faleron know he had some kind of monster in his room?

Roald's tired mind swam. What was it? Was it another baby griffin, like Kel had been burdened with? He stiffened, waiting. The shirts wiggled some more.

Then, all of a sudden, a small head popped out from a shirt-neck. Large eyes thickly rimmed with black stared at the Prince. It was a cat of some sort, although a stranger cat than any Roald had ever seen before. Its fur was sandy-tan, with strange black markings. He sported a large pink nose, and big, cupping ears that twitched back and forth.

Roald calmed. It was only a cat, although it did look more like something from the Menagerie. Keeping one eye on the creature, he returned to the conversation. 'If we're going for that ride, we'd better go, riding gloves or not, Faleron. I don't-'

The cat was wiggling itself free of the shirts and Roald realised it was a big cat. Those strange black markings continued down the length of its body, a sleek body the size of a medium dog. He swallowed. It definitely looked like something from the Royal Menagerie's exotic section.

Free of the shirt, the "cat" bounded across the room towards the Prince. Dashing in, Faleron swooped down and picked the creature up, holding it away from his body as paws swiped.

'Oh no you don't.'

Roald watched in wonder as the cat settled, expertly handled by the elder knight. Faleron tucked the creature into his chest and arms. It was as long as his torso. He grinned meekly at the prince.

'Faleron, I think you have some explaining to do.'

'I found her not far from home when I was returning from the border. She was wandering the forest, very thin and hungry. I took her back to King's Reach and got in contact with some people.

'Apparently she's an ocelot, whatever that is. Some kind of exotic cat, like the tigers, leopards and such in your Menagerie.' Faleron tickled behind the ocelot's ears. 'From what we can deduce, she's an escapee from some family nearby. Or maybe not nearby: she could have travelled for some time before I found her.'

Roald blinked. 'But it's illegal for people to keep pets such as this!'

Faleron shrugged. 'You think that'd stop them?' Bundling the ocelot up so he could look into her face, he smiled and kissed the cat's muzzle. 'She's my little gem, even if she is a bit rough around the edges.' She swiped at his face, her tail swishing. Dodging her paws, Faleron put her down on the floor. Immediately she twined around his feet, for all like a domestic cat. He patted her on the head and then quickly ushered Roald out, locking the door behind him.

'It's okay,' he said as he locked the door. 'She's nocturnal, she'll go to sleep now. She was only awake because I came in and added more mess to the chaos she'd already made. She thought it was great fun.'

They started towards the stables, Faleron continuing to explain as they went. 'She kicked up an awful mess at home, and you can imagine how pleased Mother was. That's part of why I came here: I knew it wouldn't matter how much of a state she made in my palace room.

'But she seems to have calmed down since we've been here. I'm hoping it's the presence of the wiser palace animals.'

Roald's eyes and voice were firm and cold. 'Faleron, you can't get too attached to it.'

'Her- I know that much.' He sighed. 'I know. It was a bit silly of me to take her in the first place, but I couldn't leave her to die now, could I?'

'She's a wild cat, Fal.'

'I know, I know.' He sighed again; this topic had obviously- unsurprisingly- been troubling him. They came out into the courtyards and began to make their way to the stables. 'I took her to the Menagerie Guardians as soon as I got here, but they won't have anything to do with her. They checked her over and she's in sound health and they've told me what to feed her and such, but they say she's too young and impetuous to just put in with their cats. They'd all fight and she'd probably end up getting killed. So, they won't do anything until Daine returns.'

'But she's at the border.' They came into the stables and Faleron quickly set to work on his Starling. Roald's horse was in the Royal stables.

'They- the Guardians- have sent a request for Daine to come down shortly. There are some other things they need her to check out too, apparently. But until the Wildmage returns I'm stuck with my little gem.' He grinned. 'Not that I mind.'

Roald shook his head. He thought of his Aunt, the Countess of King's Reach, dealing with a young ocelot wrecking her ancient home, and a slow, reluctant smile spread across his face. 'I can just imagine how pleased your mother was when you came home with that.'

Faleron's grin faded a little. 'If only Kally were still here… She'd love her, I'm sure. She'd play with her for hours and sit there and stroke her fur…' He sighed and buckled the last of Starling's saddle. 'Never mind, I'm sure she's got plenty of far more wonderful creatures she can watch in Carthak. Right, I'm done. Let's get your horse.'

They went on to the Royal stables and Faleron walked Starling around the courtyard while Roald saddled up. Done, they rode out to meet the others. It was a small group of young nobles that had been brave enough to face the cold weather. This was one of the last chances they'd have to go riding before the snows and the ice set in and made it too dangerous for their mounts.

To his surprise, as the party set off Roald saw Shinko at the front, wrapped up warm in thick furs, in deep conversation with a lady he did not recognise. He watched his wife for a moment, wondering if she knew he was there. If she did, she was purposely ignoring him.

He cast an eye for Faleron; the knight was talking to a cold-looking man, thin and weedy. Roald shook his head at his cousin's folly. He was already far too attached to that cat-thing. It was a wild animal, for Gods' sake, he couldn't keep it tame in his rooms for ever!

A chill that had nothing to do with the weather crept down his spine as he went back over their conversation in his mind.

"They- the Guardians- have sent a request for Daine to come down shortly. Until the Wildmage returns I'm stuck with my little gem."

Roald swallowed and looked to the horizon, grey and blank. The Guardians of the Menagerie had sent in a request a few days ago, asking for a short visit from the Wildmage, and it had come to him.

Roald had refused it.

They had put very few details in their request, so it had seemed unimportant. And Daine was extremely important- nay, necessary- to the war. She could get into places other spies couldn't, and with her animal friends she had ears everywhere. She was the most efficient scout and was able to relay messages quicker than a mounted courier, especially on the rough terrain of the border.

And it was a long way for her to come to Corus, even to fly in bird-shape, particularly for a few odd jobs. They could wait.

Now, Roald knew he had encumbered his friend with more problems. Faleron would have to look after this strange charge of his for longer, and, even more problematic, it was clear he was going to grow fonder of her every day.

Catching the Prince's eyes on him, Faleron excused himself from his conversation with the weedy man and returned to his cousin. 'Nice and fresh out here, isn't it?'

Roald couldn't return Faleron's grin.

'Oh, come on, man, cheer up a bit. At least they're not pummelling us into the ground.'

It took a moment for his words to register with Roald: the war. Faleron thought Roald was worrying about the war but in truth, for once, he wasn't. He had made a mistake in his decisions and he was struggling with the guilt of that. On top, he was pondering whether or not to tell Faleron what he had done.

'Who is that woman my wife is talking with?' he suddenly said, his eyes falling again on Shinko. She was still enraptured by that same young woman. Roald couldn't get a good impression of what she looked like; she was enshrouded in a thick cloak like everyone else.

'That's Lady Reana of Heathercove, up north. She's been at Heathercove for a while and brings tidings of Lady Yukimi to the Princess.'

Roald's eyebrows shot up. He had been wondering what had happened to peppery Yuki. She had travelled north with Buri Tourakom after his wedding celebrations had ended; he knew from Shinko that she had been desperate to see her betrothed, Neal. She had written to Shinko to say that she was staying at New Hope for a short time, as an assistant healer and to use her Gift to help with the crops and readying the land for the next year's batch. Roald had wondered if she was coming back for Midwinter; his wife missed her.

'Is she often at Court?' Roald asked. 'I don't recognise her much, although the name is familiar.'

'I think she's at Court most summers and spends the winters at home.'

Roald nodded, his interest in the young woman fading. His cousin, however, continued the rather one-sided conversation.

'Poor girl,' muttered Faleron under his breath, drawing his horse nearer. 'She's close with the Yamani ladies, I hear; apparently there's Yamani blood in her family from some generations back, although you'd never know it from looking at her. But she was completely enamoured with our Neal, you know. Poor thing was near heart-broken when he announced his betrothal to Lady Yukimi.

'It didn't help that her brother- in the Riders- was killed at the end of September.'

'I am sorry for their loss,' Roald murmured- almost automatically- his mind still partly preoccupied by Faleron's new pet. 'Does the family have any other sons in the war?'

'Oh, no- he wasn't killed in the war. He was in a Rider group attacked on routine bandit patrols. It seems the rest of the realm's vagabonds want to take advantage of our weak season too. But yes, they have another son- a mage. Older, I believe. There was no knight from the family this generation.'

'How do you know all this? I never realised you were such a gossiper.'

Faleron grimaced. 'A trait I inherited from my Mother and made a lot worse by your dear sister's influence on me.'

'Of course it's Kally's fault.' Faleron grinned and a lull settled in the conversation. Roald wrestled with himself. Finally- 'Faleron?'

'Hmm?'

'You know about- her?' Faleron's eyebrows rose and Roald nodded back towards the palace.

'Oh right, her. Yes?'

Roald nudged his horse closer to Faleron's, lowering his voice. 'You said you believed she was an escapee pet?'

Faleron nodded. 'That's right. Probably either some jumped-up out of the way noble, or a wealthy merchant trying to impress his neighbours or please his mistress or daughter. Why? I know it's illegal, you don't have to tell me that.'

Roald did know: Faleron had had the best mind for law when they were all pages and he doubted things had changed. The Prince bit his lip, hesitating again. He was afraid he knew the answer already. 'How do you find out for sure?'

The man shrugged. 'When Daine returns, I hope. Hopefully she'll be able to tell from the creature's thoughts where it's been, where it was held- and then we can make thorough investigations.'

Roald's stomach had dropped out. He had made the wrong decision and now he had prevented justice as well as burdening his cousin with a wild animal. He had inadvertently helped a criminal.

What would happen to the cat- ocelot- when its owner was found? What would happen when Faleron returned to the border?

Roald suddenly realised they were riding back into the palace. He had missed the entire ride, so caught up had he been in his own world. The whole morning's exercise had just created more problems for him instead of acting as relaxation.

'Good morning, Roald.'

He jumped and saw that his wife had rode up to his side while he was lost in his worry.

'Good morning, Shinko.'

'It is quite cold, is it not? I am still not accustomed to your winters, I don't think.'

Great. She was making small talk.

'I'm surprised to see you out with us, Roald. I thought you were too busy?'

Roald made a face. 'Uncle Gary unfortunately overheard Faleron's invitation and gave me no choice in the matter.' He dismounted and- leaving his reins in the hands of a young awe-struck boy- helped his wife dismount as custom demanded.

'Shall I expect to see you this afternoon?'

'No. I have spent too much time away from work with this.' He waved his hand to encompass the dismounting nobles and their horses.

'I shall tell your mother.'

Roald inclined his head in thanks, leading her into the palace. She rested her hand on top of his, trying to hold her skirts slightly free of the wet ground.

'I shall see you at supper,' he said once they were inside. He hesitated as he had been doing all morning and was about to kiss her cheek when he caught a streak of blue and white out of the corner of his eye: a palace maid. Panicked, he pulled away and left his wife with a curt nod.

That evening, Roald was late to dinner and stayed for only two courses. He was so tired by the time he got to bed that he slept in his loincloth and blue shirt, not bothering to change to his nightshirt. It was so late that it was almost pointless going to bed at all.

--

A/N: "Heathcove", Lady Reana's home, is supposedly one of the fiefs of Tortall, that (as far as I'm aware) hasn't been mentioned in any of the books so far.

For those of you confused by Faleron's mentions of Kalasin, read Lady Silvamord's "Empress Lessons" or "Blind" by me, part four of "Intoxications".