My bout with the Marquis was much like the others. Even more than usual I was hopelessly outclassed, but I stuck grimly to my place, refusing to back up, and took hit after hit, though my parrying was steadily improving. Of course I lost, but at least it wasn't so easy a loss as I'd had when I first began to attend practice--and he didn't insult me with obvious handicaps, such as never allowing his point to hit me.
Bran and Savona finished a moment later, and Bran was just suggesting we exchange partners when the bells for third-gold rang, causing a general outcry. Some would stay, but most, I realized, were retreating to their various domiciles to bathe and dress for open Court.
I turned away--and found Shevraeth beside me. "You've never sampled the delights of Petitioners' Court," he said.
I thought of the Throne Room again, this time with Galdran there on the goldenwood throne, and the long lines of witnesses. I repressed a shiver.
Some of my sudden tension must have exhibited itself in my countenance because he said, "It is no longer an opportunity for a single individual to practice summary justice such as you experienced on your single visit."
"I'm certain you don't just sit around happily and play cards," I muttered, looking down at the toes of my boots as we walked.
"Sometimes we do, when there are no petitioners. Or we listen to music. But when there is business, we listen to the petitioners, accept whatever they offer in the way of proof, and promise a decision at a later date. That's for the first two greens. The last is spent in discussing impressions of the evidence at hand; sometimes agreement is reached, and sometimes we decide that further investigation is required before a decision can be made."
This surprised me so much I looked up at him. There was no amusement, no mockery, no threat in the gray eyes. Just a slight question.
I said, "You listen to the opinions of whoever comes to Court?"
"Of course," he said. "It means they want to be a part of government, even if their part is to be merely ornamental."
I remembered that dinner when Nee first brought up Elenet's name, and how Shevraeth had lamented how most of those who wished to give him advice had the least amount worth hearing.
"Why should I be there?" I asked. "I remember what you said about worthless advisers."
"Do you think any opinion you would have to offer would be worthless?" he countered.
"It doesn't matter what think of my opinion," I retorted, and then caught myself. "I mean to say, it is not me making the decisions."
"So what you seem to be implying is that I think your opinion worthless."
"Well, don't you?"
He sighed. "When have I said so?"
"At the inn in Lumm, last year. And before that. About our letter to Galdran, and my opinion of courtiers."
"It wasn't your opinion I pointed up, it was your ignorance," he said. "You seem to have made truly admirable efforts to overcome that handicap. Why not share what you've learned?"
I shrugged, then said, "Why don't you have Elenet there?"--and hated myself for about as stupid a bit of pettiness as I'd ever uttered.
But he took the words at face value. "An excellent suggestion, and one I acted on immediately after she arrived at Athanarel. She's contributed some very fine insights. She's another, by the way, who took her own education in hand. Three years ago about all she knew was how to paint fans."
I had talked myself into a corner, I realized--all through my own efforts. So I said, "All right, then. I'll go get Mora to dig out that Court dress I ordered and be there to blister you all with my brilliance."
He bowed, lifted his gray-gloved hand in a casual salute, and walked off toward the Royal Wing.
I retreated in quick order to get ready for the ordeal ahead.
Bran and Savona finished a moment later, and Bran was just suggesting we exchange partners when the bells for third-gold rang, causing a general outcry. Some would stay, but most, I realized, were retreating to their various domiciles to bathe and dress for open Court.
I turned away--and found Shevraeth beside me. "You've never sampled the delights of Petitioners' Court," he said.
I thought of the Throne Room again, this time with Galdran there on the goldenwood throne, and the long lines of witnesses. I repressed a shiver.
Some of my sudden tension must have exhibited itself in my countenance because he said, "It is no longer an opportunity for a single individual to practice summary justice such as you experienced on your single visit."
"I'm certain you don't just sit around happily and play cards," I muttered, looking down at the toes of my boots as we walked.
"Sometimes we do, when there are no petitioners. Or we listen to music. But when there is business, we listen to the petitioners, accept whatever they offer in the way of proof, and promise a decision at a later date. That's for the first two greens. The last is spent in discussing impressions of the evidence at hand; sometimes agreement is reached, and sometimes we decide that further investigation is required before a decision can be made."
This surprised me so much I looked up at him. There was no amusement, no mockery, no threat in the gray eyes. Just a slight question.
I said, "You listen to the opinions of whoever comes to Court?"
"Of course," he said. "It means they want to be a part of government, even if their part is to be merely ornamental."
I remembered that dinner when Nee first brought up Elenet's name, and how Shevraeth had lamented how most of those who wished to give him advice had the least amount worth hearing.
"Why should I be there?" I asked. "I remember what you said about worthless advisers."
"Do you think any opinion you would have to offer would be worthless?" he countered.
"It doesn't matter what think of my opinion," I retorted, and then caught myself. "I mean to say, it is not me making the decisions."
"So what you seem to be implying is that I think your opinion worthless."
"Well, don't you?"
He sighed. "When have I said so?"
"At the inn in Lumm, last year. And before that. About our letter to Galdran, and my opinion of courtiers."
"It wasn't your opinion I pointed up, it was your ignorance," he said. "You seem to have made truly admirable efforts to overcome that handicap. Why not share what you've learned?"
I shrugged, then said, "Why don't you have Elenet there?"--and hated myself for about as stupid a bit of pettiness as I'd ever uttered.
But he took the words at face value. "An excellent suggestion, and one I acted on immediately after she arrived at Athanarel. She's contributed some very fine insights. She's another, by the way, who took her own education in hand. Three years ago about all she knew was how to paint fans."
I had talked myself into a corner, I realized--all through my own efforts. So I said, "All right, then. I'll go get Mora to dig out that Court dress I ordered and be there to blister you all with my brilliance."
He bowed, lifted his gray-gloved hand in a casual salute, and walked off toward the Royal Wing.
I retreated in quick order to get ready for the ordeal ahead.
( Sherwood Smith )
[ Court Duel ]
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