I was still brooding over this question when I heard a polite tap outside the tapestry, and a moment later, there was the equally quiet impact of a boot heel on the new tile floor, then another.
A weird feeling prickled down my spine, and I twisted around to face the Marquis of Shevraeth, who stood just inside the room. He raised his hands and said, "I am unarmed."
I realized I was glaring. "I hate people creeping up behind me," I muttered.
He glanced at the twenty paces or so of floor between us, then up at the shelves, the map, the new books. Was he comparing this library with the famed Athanarel one--or the equally {no doubt!} impressive one at his home in Renselaeus? I folded my arms and waited for either satire or condescension.
When he spoke, the subject took me by surprise. "You said once that your father burned the Astiar library. Did you ever find out why?"
"It was the night we found out that my mother had been killed," I said reluctantly. The old grief oppressed me, and I fought to keep my thoughts clear. "By the order of Galdran Merindar."
"Do you know why he ordered her murder?" he asked over his shoulder, as he went on perusing the books.
I shook my head. "No. There's no way to find out that I can think of. Even if we discovered those who carried out the deed, they might not know the real reasons." I added sourly, "Well do I remember how Galdran issued lies to cover his misdeeds: Last year, when he commenced the attack against us, he dared to say that it was who were breaking the Covenant!" I couldn't help adding somewhat accusingly, "Did you believe that? Not later, but when the war first started."
"No." I couldn't see his face. Only his back, and the long pale hair, and his lightly clasped hands were in view as he surveyed my shelves.
This was the first time the two of us had conversed alone, for I had been careful to avoid such meetings during his visit. Not wanting to prolong it, I still felt compelled to amplify.
I said, "My mother was the last of the royal Calahanras family. Galdran must have thought her a threat, even though she retired from Court life when she adopted into the Astiar family."
Shevraeth was walking along the shelves now, his hands still behind his back. "Yet Galdran had taken no action against your mother previously."
"No. But she'd never left Tlanth before, not since her marriage. She was on her way to Remalna-city. We only know that it was his own household guards, disguised as brigands, that did the job, because they didn't quite kill the stablegirl who was riding on the luggage coach and she recognized the horses as Merindar horses." I tightened my grip on my elbows. "You don't believe it?"
Again he glanced back at me. "Do you know your mother's errand in the capital?" His voice was calm, quiet, always with that faint drawl as if he chose his words with care.
Suddenly my voice sounded too loud, and much too combative, to my ears. Of course that made my face go crimson with heat. "Visiting."
This effectively ended the subject, and I waited for him to leave.
He turned around then, studying me reflectively. The length of the room still lay between us. "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.
A weird feeling prickled down my spine, and I twisted around to face the Marquis of Shevraeth, who stood just inside the room. He raised his hands and said, "I am unarmed."
I realized I was glaring. "I hate people creeping up behind me," I muttered.
He glanced at the twenty paces or so of floor between us, then up at the shelves, the map, the new books. Was he comparing this library with the famed Athanarel one--or the equally {no doubt!} impressive one at his home in Renselaeus? I folded my arms and waited for either satire or condescension.
When he spoke, the subject took me by surprise. "You said once that your father burned the Astiar library. Did you ever find out why?"
"It was the night we found out that my mother had been killed," I said reluctantly. The old grief oppressed me, and I fought to keep my thoughts clear. "By the order of Galdran Merindar."
"Do you know why he ordered her murder?" he asked over his shoulder, as he went on perusing the books.
I shook my head. "No. There's no way to find out that I can think of. Even if we discovered those who carried out the deed, they might not know the real reasons." I added sourly, "Well do I remember how Galdran issued lies to cover his misdeeds: Last year, when he commenced the attack against us, he dared to say that it was who were breaking the Covenant!" I couldn't help adding somewhat accusingly, "Did you believe that? Not later, but when the war first started."
"No." I couldn't see his face. Only his back, and the long pale hair, and his lightly clasped hands were in view as he surveyed my shelves.
This was the first time the two of us had conversed alone, for I had been careful to avoid such meetings during his visit. Not wanting to prolong it, I still felt compelled to amplify.
I said, "My mother was the last of the royal Calahanras family. Galdran must have thought her a threat, even though she retired from Court life when she adopted into the Astiar family."
Shevraeth was walking along the shelves now, his hands still behind his back. "Yet Galdran had taken no action against your mother previously."
"No. But she'd never left Tlanth before, not since her marriage. She was on her way to Remalna-city. We only know that it was his own household guards, disguised as brigands, that did the job, because they didn't quite kill the stablegirl who was riding on the luggage coach and she recognized the horses as Merindar horses." I tightened my grip on my elbows. "You don't believe it?"
Again he glanced back at me. "Do you know your mother's errand in the capital?" His voice was calm, quiet, always with that faint drawl as if he chose his words with care.
Suddenly my voice sounded too loud, and much too combative, to my ears. Of course that made my face go crimson with heat. "Visiting."
This effectively ended the subject, and I waited for him to leave.
He turned around then, studying me reflectively. The length of the room still lay between us. "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.
( Sherwood Smith )
[ Court Duel ]
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