Seregil found himself revising his view of Elani. She’d been bored at Alaya’s salon until the talk had turned to hunting and bows, and had been cheerful and friendly at the lists. This island was clearly a special place for her, and she seemed much more her age as she held her youngest sister, Princess Leali, by the hand and led the party to gulls’ nests that covered the ground on the leeward side to see the fuzzy grey-and-white chicks, and on to a shadowed glade where
rare pink and white saphis flowers bloomed, the frilled, slipper-shaped blossoms swaying gently on their long stalks. There was a pond, as well, stocked with huge, precious gold-and-white-striped fish that rose greedily to eat the crumbs the girls scattered for them.
Duke Reltheus occupied a favored place at her side. He made her laugh, and she occasionally took his arm. Seregil and Alec, however, found themselves at the back of the pack among the lesser courtiers.
“Her Highness certainly seems fond of the duke,” Alec remarked to Earl Stenmir.
“She’s fonder of the father than the son, they say,” Tolin murmured, keeping his voice down. Then, without much warmth, “And you seem to have made quite an impression in a very short time, Lord Alec.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Oh, but you have. Wouldn’t you say so, Lord Seregil?” Stenmir insisted with a somewhat nasty grin.
“They’re both archers,” Seregil said with a shrug.
Neither answer seemed to satisfy the count. “Of course, you’re some relation to the princess, aren’t you, Lord Seregil? Odd that we haven’t seen more of you at court. Is it true that you’re in trade?”
“I amuse myself with a few investments now and then,” Seregil replied with an easy smile, not rising to the bait of what was clearly intended as an insult.
“And with Lord Alec,” a young countess said with a laugh.
“A lucky thing for our friend Reltheus,” Duke Solis, a friendlier sort, noted, nudging Alec good-naturedly with his elbow. “He wouldn’t welcome any competition for a certain person’s hand.” He shot a meaningful look in Reltheus’s direction that no one missed.
“Do you think his hopes are well founded?” asked Seregil.
“I hear the son has caught the queen’s eye in the field,” Earl Stenmir sniffed. “And the princess royal is said to have been taken with Danos during a hunt. The young man is pleasant enough, but the father is quite the social climber, don’t you think?”
“I am honored to call the duke my friend,” Seregil replied
stiffly, recognizing a gossip trap. “I will thank you to keep such insulting opinions to yourself, my lord.”
Stenmir was clearly taken aback, given Seregil’s lower social rank. “I was merely making an observation.” With that he walked quickly to the head of the line and struck up a conversation with a marquis. The others who’d been walking with them moved away, as well, and that was the end of conversation for a while.
“You drew a little blood there,” Alec whispered in Aurenfaie.
Seregil chuckled. “At least it drove them off,” he replied in the same. “Tiresome lot. But I think we’ve both made a name for ourselves among them.” He nodded at Tolin, now walking with Elani. Reltheus had fallen back and was laughing with a portly duke. “I expect a bit of bad-mouthing is going on-in the most veiled way, of course. ‘I had no idea Lord Seregil was in trade.’ ‘My, but that lover of his is veryyoung, don’t you think?’ ‘I’m surprised the queen hasn’t kept him at court. Isn’t that interesting?’ ”
Alec smothered a laugh. “You don’t think the princess is really interested in me, do you?”
“She’s a young girl, tali, surrounded by women and old men. I expect any handsome young fellow would at least catch her eye.” He slipped his arm through Alec’s and kissed him on the cheek for the benefit of those stealing glances back at them and added in Skalan, “Not that I’m in any way discounting your natural charms.”
The air in Dyer’s Street reeked of various pigments and their fixatives, mingled with the heavy odor of wet wool. Thero held up the hem of his blue robe as his horse splashed through a red puddle. The gutters here often overflowed, filling the street with swirling pools and rivulets of color-stained water and making islands of the cobblestones. A narrow boardwalk ran down each side of the street, for the benefit of those who had to pass through on foot.
Without an apprentice to send on errands, Thero did his own shopping. He happened to enjoy it, and welcomed the opportunity to get out of the Oreska House, something he
didn’t do often enough these days, as Seregil most annoyingly insisted on pointing out whenever he saw him. Alec wasn’t much better, always after him to come to the gambling houses with them, or the theater. These days the younger man was constantly talking about some actor he admired, the one Thero had missed meeting at his party. Thero had no interest in gambling, and little time for pointless pleasures.
Turning the corner, he left the puddles behind for the equally stained cobblestones of Painted Lane, the pigment dealers’ street. It was late morning and the street was crowded. There were dozens of shops here catering to artists, ink makers, mixers of cosmetics, and the occasional wizard. Thero needed a particular shade of purple ink for a spell and he knew just the shop to find the necessary dried thorn berries and another for the finest ink-making gums.
He was coming out of Master Syin’s shop with the berries when a strange, crawling sensation ran up his spine. It was familiar, though it took him a moment to place it; he’d felt a hint of it at Alec’s birthday party. He looked around, trying to decide where in the crowd it was coming from. A tall, red-haired man with several large parcels under his arms caught the wizard’s eye; Thero only had a glimpse of a long, stern face and broad shoulders as the man wended his way deeper into the passing crowd. Leaving his horse tethered by Syin’s shop, the wizard shouldered his way through the crowd, stepping on the occasional foot in his haste to catch up to the man, but to no avail. By the time the crowed spilled out into the Sea Market, the fellow was nowhere to be seen. Thero could have cast a wizard eye, but it was difficult to concentrate in the commotion of the marketplace and the strange feeling was gone, leaving no trace to follow. He walked awhile in the direction he thought the man might have gone, but found no sign of him. Giving up, he went back to his shopping and soon forgot about it.
There was an archery list just beyond the pavilion and Elani and Alec shot for a while with some of the young courtiers. The shatta Alec had given the princess hung from
her quiver, and similar ones from the quivers of some of the other archers, made of jewels and coins.
“You’ve started a fashion,” Seregil noted as Alec stood waiting his turn.
At midday everyone gathered in the pavilion for the luncheon picnic. There were cold aureoles and pheasant, bits of beef in a fiery red sauce, cardamom bread, strawberries and clotted cream, and plentiful wine and cider. Afterward the servants spread blankets on the ground and most of the courtiers sought out a shady spot for a nap through the hot part of the day. Seregil was about to do the same when Alaya came to him. “The princess has heard about your bakshi playing, Lord Seregil, and would like a game with you.”
“Of course,” Seregil said. “Are there stones? I didn’t bring mine.”
Stones were found and he joined the princess at one of several lichen-crusted marble tables under an ancient spreading oak.