Gildor and his friends filed back into the dining hall, subdued by Lord Kyndreth's enthusiastic reception of the demonstration. There were no more jeering asides, no more snickers. Kyrtian was under no illusions about this; he fully expected that the moment the younger Elvenlords passed the Portal, they would begin their scornful gossip again. But for now, it was obvious who the master was, and what the master approved—and all the young lords fell obediently into line.
Odd, Kyrtian thought, as Lord Kyndreth exchanged some polite compliments with Lady Lydiell and the last of the unwanted visitors passed through the doors of the lesser dining hall. I would have thought, given the way he likes to puff himself up and bluster, that Gildor would have sided with the Young Lords against his father. Lord Kyndreth isn't going to pass over power any time in the foreseeable future, and I would have thought that by now Gildor would be hungry for that power.
Perhaps, though, Gildor liked comfort better than power. Perhaps he already knew he didn't dare to challenge his father. Or, perhaps Gildor was less ambitious than Kyrtian would have been in his place. As it was, Gildor had prestige, status, and a carefree, pampered existence. If he sat where his father now he'd sway, he might actually have to work.
Kyndreth turned to Kyrtian, who collected his scattered thoughts. "I believe that I would like to retire to my quarters to prepare for dinner and think about all you have shown me," he said. "Unless you have something more planned to show me today?"
"Only one thing, and that is on the way," Kyrtian replied, with a slight smile. "Please, allow me to escort you. Perhaps some questions will occur to you that I can answer as we walk."
They both bowed to Lady Lydiell, who nodded gravely to both of them without speaking. Kyrtian waited while one of the servants held the door open for them; he also waited for the bodyguards to flank his guest before taking his own place beside Kyndreth. Other than that, he paid no attention to the bodyguards.
Kyndreth glanced sharply around as they passed along the hallways; for a moment, Kyrtian wondered what had caught his attention, then Kyndreth answered his question with a query of his own.
"You use no illusion here, do you?" Kyndreth asked, as if surprised.
"Very little, my lord," Kyrtian replied, and smiled slightly. "Perhaps we are somewhat conservative in nature, but we—my mother and I, that is—prefer the real to the illusory. Illusion is—" He groped for words.
"Cheap?" Kyndreth surprised him with the word he had been trying to avoid, and the ironic lifting of his eyebrow. "I tend to agree, actually. Any halfway competent mage can cloak rotting timber and moth-eaten tapestry in illusion. To maintain a gracious and attractive home without illusion requires dedication and effort. Illusion is, I believe, the lazy man's way."
"I agree, my lord. We here prefer substance to style, one might say." Again, he ventured a smile. "Our home may be old-fashioned in style, but that is the price of preferring substance."
By this time, they had reached the area of the old nursery— which was now the new harem—and Kyrtian paused. "I would like to offer you all the comforts of our house, my lord. If you would care to pass within?"
Lord Kyndreth could easily see the shimmer of power that cloaked the door, which meant his bodyguards would not be able to follow him inside. But there was also no doubt what Kyrtian's words had implied, and he was probably curious just what sort of harem the notoriously ascetic Kyrtian had. He signaled to his bodyguards to join the two guards at the door, and followed Kyrtian within.
The three young women were waiting for them, and rose instantly to their feet, pausing just long enough for Lord Kyndreth to get a good look at them before they sank to the ground in deep curtsies.
For the very first time, Kyrtian saw the Great Lord surprised. So surprised, in fact, that his jaw dropped, just a trifle. The he recovered his composure, and turned to Kyrtian with a sly grin.
"You young dog!" he exclaimed, and clapped Kyrtian on the shoulder. "No wonder nothing tempts you to mix with the other youngsters. They haven't anything to offer that could ever match these treasures!"
Kyrtian bowed his head slightly. "So I believe, my lord." He gestured, and the young women, flushing prettily, rose again. Lord Kyndreth surveyed them again, his eyes lingering on each in turn.
"I believe I shall take up your offer," he said with a chuckle. "But after dinner. There is, as the Ancestors said, a pleasure in anticipation that the wise man learns to cherish as much as the fulfillment of that anticipation."
"Very true, my lord," Kyrtian murmured deferentially. "Very true."
Lord Kyndreth was a surprisingly good dinner-guest. He ate and drank moderately, gave praise to the cook, and took care to involve Lady Lydiell in the conversation. Kyrtian gradually relaxed. The visit was going well; if it continued in this vein, the entire expenditure of time and energy would have been well repaid.
As the dessert course was brought in, Lord Kyndreth turned to Kyrtian, and for the first time there was a hint of hesitation in his expression. "Lord Kyrtian, there is something that I have been curious about for a very long time, but I hesitate to bring up a subject that would cause you or your Lady-Mother any discomfort."
"What subject would that be?" Kyrtian asked, cautiously.
"I am—and have been—very curious about your late father," came the surprising answer. "More to the point, I am curious as to his reasons for vanishing into the wilderness. I know some have made inappropriate observations about him, but I saw nothing in your father's demeanor before he vanished to make me believe that he had anything but very good reasons for his actions."
Kyrtian glanced at his mother, who nodded slightly. The unspoken message was clear: he could go ahead and reveal some of what he already knew.
Kyrtian cleared his throat. "There is a tradition—some might call it a legend—in our family that when the Elves first came across from Evelon, the machines and most of the books they had brought with them were too burdensome to carry. More pressing concerns had to be dealt with—in the hunt for a place to live and the means to do so, ancient knowledge was of no use in such a brand new world. So all these things were more of a handicap than an advantage, and they were cached shortly after the search for more hospitable territory began. For some reason, no one ever went back for them—perhaps only because the Elvenlords were too busy subduing the natives. Those caches of ancient knowledge were what my father was hunting when he vanished."
"Interesting." Lord Kyndreth pulled at his lower lip in thought. "Assuming that there is useful knowledge there that we have lost, which is quite possible, whoever found those cached materials could have a distinct advantage."
"Since I replicated my methods of combat-training by means of research into the old books we still have, I suspect there is a great deal of knowledge that has been lost or forgotten," Kyrt-ian replied, somberly. "Frankly, I have no idea what might lie out there, nor did my father. We simply haven't got enough information even to make a guess."
What he did not observe was that Lady Lydiell knew something more and had told Kyrtian her family traditions as well as his father's. And it was not particularly flattering to the Great Lords of this land.