A/N: Big thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! As a reward, I'm posting this early. I hope you enjoy it.
Visit to Belisaere
"Are we there yet, Mamma?"
Malia resisted the urge to sigh, and forced a sunny smile onto her face. "Not yet, Cassiel," she said for what must have been the thousandth time.
The four-year-old boy bounced impatiently in his seat, before getting up to look over the edge of the boat. The King had graciously sent one of his many vessels to meet Abhorsen's family at Callibe, and the wonders of travel by sea had been sufficient distraction for Cassiel the first few days. But they would be reaching the palace soon, and Cassiel just couldn't sit still.
"Get away from the railing, Cassiel," Malia said absently, turning a page in her book. The boy pouted but obeyed, and set about playing with tiny wooden animals that the sailors had whittled for him.
"Will we see Lady Tirelle, Mamma?" he piped. The Clayr had become something of an aunt to Cassiel, and he adored her.
"Yes, we will," Malia answered. "And you will meet the King for the first time, and perhaps his children. They are much older than you, though."
A door banged open, and a frazzled-looking man wandered onto the deck, absent-mindedly adjusting his bandolier of bells. Malia hid a smile; her husband couldn't sleep well on boats. He had kept her up half the night with his moaning and complaining about the "stupid rocking" and the "annoying creaking" of the vessel, and it was only when Malia threatened to make him spend the night in the corridor that he finally shut up.
"Morning, Pappa!" Cassiel shouted, and Abhorsen winced, massaging his temples.
"Good morning, Cassiel," he answered weakly, squinting against the bright sun.
Malia closed her book. "Nice to see you up," she remarked cheerily. "How was your sleep, darling?"
Her husband shot her a sour look. "What sleep?" he grumbled, walking over to the silken canopy and sinking onto a divan. "Are we there yet?"
The woman gave him an affectionate smile. Like father, like son, or so the saying went. Her answer was cut off by a sailor's shout: "Entering Belis Mouth!" They moved to the railing, and Abhorsen swung Cassiel up onto his shoulders to get a clear view.
The bright city of Belisaere was before them. Malia had never seen anything so magnificent. Vast walls ringed the peninsula and mighty towers of white stone rose above them, bright pennants fluttering in the breeze. They sailed through the Sea of Saere, manoeuvring around the little fishing boats, the grand barges of the nobles, and the enormous trading vessels which carried precious cargoes of spices and other delicacies. Cassiel waved energetically at everybody they passed, and several people waved back.
They headed for a smaller harbour reserved for guests of the King, and as they disembarked from the vessel, a figure in white approached them. Malia recognized who it was at once. "Lady Clayr!" she cried, moving to embrace the woman.
The Seer smiled faintly. "I'm glad to see you, Malia," she said sincerely. She looked beautiful as ever, golden hair pinned up under the moonstone circlet that marked her office. "And Cassiel, too," the woman added, looking up at the boy on Abhorsen's shoulders.
"Hallo, Lady Tirelle," the boy called gleefully down from his perch.
The Clayr finally decided to acknowledge Gabriel. "Lord Abhorsen," she said neutrally. "It's been a long time."
"Four years, in fact," Malia's husband remarked cheerfully, reaching up to poke Cassiel in the ribs, "Ever since this rascal's baptism. The last I saw of you, you were hopping across those stepping-stones. You were quite spry for your age."
Malia shot her husband an admonishing look, and he had the good grace to shut his mouth. Tirelle, for her part, decided to act as if nothing had happened. She led the small family up a broad marble staircase, through a beautiful garden, and into the palace halls. Servants and red-plumed messengers moved aside and bowed as they passed. "What news with you?" Malia asked Tirelle as they walked through the bright, airy corridors.
The blond woman placed a hand on her belly and smiled secretly. "It is only in the early stages, but I expect another child in the spring."
"Another?"
Malia looked over her shoulder to glare at her husband, who was wearing an expression of utmost innocence. "How old are you again, Lady Tirelle?" Gabriel asked, his eyes sparkling mischievously. Malia loved her husband, but he could be a scoundrel sometimes.
The Seer frowned, but answered the question. "I am forty-one." She turned back to Malia, who was thinking of having a private talk with her husband about proper manners. "I know I'm quite old to have a baby. My youngest is eight years old, and my eldest is over twenty! So I think I can definitely say that this one will be the last."
"Seven children," Malia said wonderingly.
"Seven daughters," remarked the Clayr. "I have Seen her. She will be the seventh child of a seventh child, and therefore powerful. There is good magic in that number." Malia had heard the folklore too, and had never really believed it. But if Tirelle said that something was so, then it was so.
They reached a set of double doors, and Abhorsen swung Cassiel down from his shoulders. Tirelle moved forward, and with a sweep of her arms she threw the doors wide open, announcing in a loud voice: "May I present Lord Abhorsen, his wife Lady Malia, and their son Master Cassiel."
Malia was surprised to see that the vast room held no less than four people, all of whom were now looking right at them. She gulped nervously, embarrassed by the attention. A man stepped forward to greet them, quite a nice-looking man really. There was more grey in his curly hair than brown, his face was lined with laughter, his eyes sparkled – and he wore a crown. The woman felt her stomach plummet to her feet when she realized that she was meeting the King!
Berillan took her hand and bowed in welcome. "I am most pleased to meet you at last," he said graciously, and Malia managed to nod. The King moved on the greet Abhorsen and Cassiel, and the woman decided that he seemed friendly enough. She might even be able to talk to him, if she plucked up the courage. King Berillan waved his hand. "May I introduce my son, Prince Dantalion" – a young man in a crimson tunic bowed low – "And my advisors, Countess Shera of Olmond, and the Honourable Sir Halban." An aged lady and a moustached man inclined their heads. "They will be joining us for dinner."
Malia felt her husband take her arm, and he smiled down at her encouragingly. She was suddenly very glad that Gabriel was here with her, and managed a smile of her own. The group headed through yet another set of double doors, into yet another room that was even larger and grander than the first. A long table stood beneath a magnificent crystal chandelier, and enormous windows looked out onto the Sea of Saere. Malia could see the brightly-coloured sails bobbing out on the turquoise water like toys.
They took their seats, and servants in red and gold livery brought in the first course. Cassiel could hardly contain his excitement, bouncing restlessly on the cushions that had been piled on his chair.
"Any new tales of fighting Free Magic creatures, Lord Abhorsen?" the Countess Shera asked with interest once they had been served.
Gabriel gave a charming smile. "Why, yes, now that you mention it. A moon ago, the good people of Roble's Town contacted me to–" Malia furtively poked him in the side, and he fell silent. She had noticed the expression on Tirelle's face – a strange mixture of annoyance, longing, and hurt. Why did Gabriel have to be so popular? "But perhaps we can save that for another time," Abhorsen finished.
Malia almost thought that King Berillan caught her eye and winked, but she couldn't be sure.
"So, Lady Tirelle," Abhorsen remarked brightly as the King poured the wine. "Who's the father of this one?"
That was hardly an appropriate question, and Malia could sense the tension between the two, but it was the King who answered. "Rumour in the court has it that it's me," Berillan remarked amusedly. "Although I assure you that's not the case."
"Rumour always has it that it's you," Countess Shera remarked dryly. "Half the court is convinced that the King has been sporting between the Clayr's sheets–"
"Lady Tirelle, what were you saying about the Charter Stones?" interrupted the Prince loudly. Malia turned to him, wondering if he had been upset by the Countess' comment, but the young man's eyes were twinkling.
The Clayr grinned in acknowledgement of the Prince's timely interruption, but answered the question. "So far they've been working out fine. I talked to Ghidreth, and she thinks that it's possible to make more Stones around the Kingdom, to be joined to these ones."
The Knight, Sir Halban, dropped his fork. "What?" he exclaimed, moustache ruffling. "Those Charter Stones claimed the lives of eighteen people! I told you all that it was a reckless idea."
Tirelle sighed, and shook her head. "Those lives were volunteered," she pointed out quietly. "I'm no expert, but the lesser Stones might not claim lives like the Great Stones did. And if we set them up all around the Kingdom, then we would be helping Charter Mages everywhere." Malia noticed that Sir Halban, like herself, was not a Charter Mage.
"It would certainly make my work easier," Abhorsen remarked through a mouthful of food. Malia frowned. Oh yes, he was certainly going to get a talk on manners tonight.
The King turned to Cassiel, who was looking rather cowed by all of the grown-up talk. "What do you think, Master Cassiel?" Berillan asked the boy seriously. "Should we make your father's work easier?"
Cassiel nodded his dark head vehemently. "Pappa's hardly ever home. He always says he's got to go put down those stupid Dead." Tirelle laughed, and Malia hid her smile in her napkin, trying to look cross. "I'm going to help him," the boy claimed proudly. "He's teaching me about his work. He took me into Death twice already."
"Really?" Tirelle remarked, raising an eyebrow. "My second daughter Penemue is coming here soon. She will train with me to be the next Clayr, just like you're training with your father. And how do you like going into Death, Cassiel?"
The boy shrugged, popping a plum into his mouth. "It's cold," he said simply. Juice dribbled down his chin.
"Cassiel," Malia sighed, reaching over to wipe his face with a napkin, "Please be more careful when you eat."
"I made a sending at the House to give Cassiel his baths," Abhorsen remarked, "But the thing's gone rebel and wants to wash everyone. It won't listen to orders, either. I think somehow I overdid the spell."
"Probably because you carry the Second Charter," Tirelle remarked, somewhat bitterly.
Sensing danger, Countess Shera spoke up. "The things we do for our children," she tittered, smoothing everything over.
King Berillan gave a chuckle of fond remembrance. "You should have seen Dantalion when he was younger."
The Prince rolled his eyes. "Father, please."
"How many children do you have, sir?" Cassiel asked the King, having finally escaped from Malia's scrubbing.
"I had five," Berillan answered. "Now I have two."
"What happened to them?" the young boy piped.
"They died."
"How?"
"Cassiel!" Malia scolded quietly, but the King shook his head.
"It's all right," he assured her. He looked at the young boy, who held his gaze solemnly. "My first daughter was younger than you when she fell into the reservoir below the palace. My second daughter tried to ride a wild horse, and broke her neck. And my eldest son was killed by a necromancer far from here." He glanced at the Prince, who was staring at his plate. "Princess Merabel is staying with her uncle and cousins in Ancelstierre, but Dantalion is the eldest child I have left." The King grinned suddenly, "So he'd better hurry up, get married, and produce some heirs!"
The young man groaned, and made a face. Malia noted that this seemed to be a point of contention between the two of them. "I would thank you, father, if you stopped encouraging your friends to bring their eligible daughters to dine with us," Prince Dantalion said wryly. "It's not very subtle."
"I wouldn't need to invite them if you were more sociable," the King replied amicably. "Crown Prince Dantalion, an honourable warrior and brilliant military mind – but never caught dead alone in a room with a girl." Laughter rippled around the table, and even the Prince had to smile.
Sir Halban spoke up abruptly. "Twenty-four is old for a bachelor, my lord, especially if he's the Crown Prince." His voice was sharp with disapproval.
"Yes, thank you, Sir Halban," the Prince said angrily. "I have heard your opinions before."
There was an awkward silence. Cassiel, of course, didn't notice it, and took the opportunity to make himself heard. "I - don't - like - girls," he declared, so adamantly that everyone burst into laughter again.
The Prince raised his glass of wine. "I'll drink to that," the young man said ironically, and ducked a ferocious glare sent his way by Tirelle.
"They can be trying sometimes," the King admitted, grey eyes twinkling. "But we do love them anyway."
Malia felt her husband's hand meet hers under the table, and she held it tightly. "How's my little turtledove?" he whispered.
The woman smiled. "I'm just fine, sweetie." She leaned in to kiss him, and not even Cassiel's disgusted squeals of protest could ruin the moment.
A/N: Ah, young love… You see that Abhorsen is back to his sickening little nicknames. At least he didn't call her "Muffincake". shudders And now that they have a kid, it'll be difficult for them to go all mushy on us. Tirelle should be pleased. Reviews, of course, are welcome.