I had hoped," he said, "that you would honor me with a few moments' further discourse."
"About what?" I demanded.
"I came here at your brother's invitation." He spoke in a conversational tone, as though I'd been pleasant and encouraging. "My reasons for accepting were partly because I wanted an interlude of relative tranquility, and partly for diplomatic reasons."
"Yes, Nimiar told me about your wanting to present a solid front with the infamous Astiars. I understand, and I said I'd go along."
"Please permit me to express my profound gratitude." He bowed gracefully.
I eyed him askance, looking for any hint of mockery. All I sensed was humor as he added, "I feel obliged to point out that…an obvious constraint…every time we are in one another's company will not go unnoticed."
"I promise you I've no intention of trying again for a crown."
"Thank you. What concerns me are the individuals who seem to wish to taste the ambrosia of power--"
"--without the bitter herb of responsibility. I read that one, too," I said, grinning despite myself.
He smiled faintly in response, and said, "These individuals might seek you out--"
My humor vanished. I realized then that he knew about the letter. He to. Coincidence his arrival might be, but this conversation on our last day in Tlanth was not. It could only mean that he'd had someone up in our mountains spying on me, for how else could he know?
My temper flared brightly, like a summer fire. "So you think I'm stupid enough to lend myself to the schemes of troublemakers just for the sake of making trouble, is that what you think?" I demanded.
"I don't believe you'd swallow their blandishments, but you'll still be approached if you seem even passively my enemy. There are those who will exert themselves to inspire you to a more active role."
I struggled to get control of my emotions. "I know," I said stiffly. "I don't want to be involved in any more wars. All I want is the good of Remalna. Bran and I promised Papa when he died. " I almost added, but I knew it wasn't true. In Bran's view, he had kept his promise. Galdran was gone, and Tlanth was enjoying peace and prosperity. Bran had never pretended he wanted to get involved in the affairs of kings beyond that. As if his thoughts had paralleled mine, Shevraeth said, "And do you agree that your brother--estimable as he is--would not have made a successful replacement for Galdran Merindar?"
The parallel was unsettling. I said with less concealed hostility, "What's your point?"
"No…point," he said, his tone making the word curiously ambiguous. "Only a question."
He paused, and I realized he was waiting for my answer to his. "Yes," I said. "Bran would make a terrible king. So what's your next question?"
"Can you tell me," he said slowly, "why you seem still to harbor your original resentment against me?"
Several images--spies, lying courtiers--flowed into my mind, to be instantly dismissed. I had no proof of any of it. So I looked out the window as I struggled for an answer. After the silence grew protracted, I glanced back to see if he was still there. He hadn't moved. His attitude was not impatient, and his gaze was on my hands, which were tightly laced in my lap. His expression was again reflective.
"I don't know," I said finally. "I don't know."
There was a pause, then he said, "I appreciate your honesty." He gave me a polite bow, a brief smile, and left.
"About what?" I demanded.
"I came here at your brother's invitation." He spoke in a conversational tone, as though I'd been pleasant and encouraging. "My reasons for accepting were partly because I wanted an interlude of relative tranquility, and partly for diplomatic reasons."
"Yes, Nimiar told me about your wanting to present a solid front with the infamous Astiars. I understand, and I said I'd go along."
"Please permit me to express my profound gratitude." He bowed gracefully.
I eyed him askance, looking for any hint of mockery. All I sensed was humor as he added, "I feel obliged to point out that…an obvious constraint…every time we are in one another's company will not go unnoticed."
"I promise you I've no intention of trying again for a crown."
"Thank you. What concerns me are the individuals who seem to wish to taste the ambrosia of power--"
"--without the bitter herb of responsibility. I read that one, too," I said, grinning despite myself.
He smiled faintly in response, and said, "These individuals might seek you out--"
My humor vanished. I realized then that he knew about the letter. He to. Coincidence his arrival might be, but this conversation on our last day in Tlanth was not. It could only mean that he'd had someone up in our mountains spying on me, for how else could he know?
My temper flared brightly, like a summer fire. "So you think I'm stupid enough to lend myself to the schemes of troublemakers just for the sake of making trouble, is that what you think?" I demanded.
"I don't believe you'd swallow their blandishments, but you'll still be approached if you seem even passively my enemy. There are those who will exert themselves to inspire you to a more active role."
I struggled to get control of my emotions. "I know," I said stiffly. "I don't want to be involved in any more wars. All I want is the good of Remalna. Bran and I promised Papa when he died. " I almost added, but I knew it wasn't true. In Bran's view, he had kept his promise. Galdran was gone, and Tlanth was enjoying peace and prosperity. Bran had never pretended he wanted to get involved in the affairs of kings beyond that. As if his thoughts had paralleled mine, Shevraeth said, "And do you agree that your brother--estimable as he is--would not have made a successful replacement for Galdran Merindar?"
The parallel was unsettling. I said with less concealed hostility, "What's your point?"
"No…point," he said, his tone making the word curiously ambiguous. "Only a question."
He paused, and I realized he was waiting for my answer to his. "Yes," I said. "Bran would make a terrible king. So what's your next question?"
"Can you tell me," he said slowly, "why you seem still to harbor your original resentment against me?"
Several images--spies, lying courtiers--flowed into my mind, to be instantly dismissed. I had no proof of any of it. So I looked out the window as I struggled for an answer. After the silence grew protracted, I glanced back to see if he was still there. He hadn't moved. His attitude was not impatient, and his gaze was on my hands, which were tightly laced in my lap. His expression was again reflective.
"I don't know," I said finally. "I don't know."
There was a pause, then he said, "I appreciate your honesty." He gave me a polite bow, a brief smile, and left.
( Sherwood Smith )
[ Court Duel ]
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