His progress was watched with amused interest by Kumul and Ager.
“Our young popinjay has discovered something about himself,” Ager said.
“That he can preen with the best of them,” Kumul noted sourly. “I hope he wears out of it. I am more fond of the old Lynan.”
“The old Lynan may not have gone, Kumul, and the new confidence cannot hurt him.”
“Unless someone tries to push him off his stool. Everyone’s very sweet to him now, especially in the presence of Berayma, but they will find a way to harm and hinder him if they can.”
Ager found it difficult to share the constable’s pessimism. He had been truly sorry at the death of Usharna, but he could not help feel that with Lynan’s new position, not to mention his own, things could only get better. For the first time in his life Lynan had a family, and for the first time in nearly twenty years Ager felt he had a home and companions with whom he could share it.
“Who’s that he’s with now?” Kumul asked.
Ager peered with his single eye at the woman Lynan was talking to and shrugged. “I do not recognize her. But I think she wears the tunic of one of the theurgia.”
“There is a star on her shoulder, with a circle around it. She is a student.”
“Probably here just for the wake. I can split them up if you like.”
Kumul shook his head. “We cannot keep an eye on him all our lives, and I certainly don’t intend to interfere with his love life.”
“Oh, is that it?” Ager asked, more interested. “Is she pretty? I can’t tell from here.”
“Compared to what? You? Hell, my arse is pretty compared to your face.”
“Well, compared to your arse, then.”
“She is considerably prettier than my arse. In fact, she’s pretty indeed.”
“Good luck to him, then.”
“Aye, although she seems ill pleased to be with him.” Kumul looked around the courtyard and great hall, his expression bored. “I’d better start my rounds. You coming, or are you too busy squinting at the student magicker?”
“Oh, I’ve finished my squinting, Constable. Give me your orders.”
Jenrosa Alucar had not intended to come to the queen’s wake, but she had been bullied by her friends who were all excited by the prospect of seeing something of the royal home. In theory, all citizens were allowed to enter the palace’s many public spaces, but in practice only those with business or who were associated in some way with the court ever saw within the palace walls. Even the Church of the Righteous God, although they were based in the palace’s west wing, held their celebrations in special churches and chapels located in the city itself.
In the end, it was her own curiosity that made her come—not about the palace, but about the royal family. She had never actually seen any of them except Usharna herself in a special celebration held years ago for the delivery of the fishing fleet after a severe storm. She had a vague idea of what Berayma looked like because his face had appeared on a special coin issue, and everyone thought they knew what Areava looked like because she was supposed to be a younger version of her mother, but no one she knew personally had ever seen Olio or the youngest one, Lynan. During the funeral procession she had seen glimpses of them all between crowds of official and soldiers, but always from behind.
When they reached the wake, Jenrosa and her friends played guessing games, placing wagers with each other about which two of the hundreds of well-dressed young men in the palace were Olio and Lynan. After losing half her weekly stipend, Jenrosa decided to drop out of the competition and instead found a drink and started wandering around the grounds marveling at the palace and all its decorations. She was admiring a particularly large tapestry hanging from the great hall’s north wall when a voice behind her said: “The Hunt for Erati, by the Weavers Guild in Chandra. A special tribute to King Berayma in.”
Jenrosa looked over her shoulder and saw a short youth with a round, pleasant face and thin brown hair that stuck up at odd angles. He was dressed in fine clothes and wore a sword that seemed strangely plain and dull in comparison. He smiled at her. The flask he held in one hand and the slight slackness of his jaw and glaze in his eyes told her he was someone to be avoided.
“It’s quite spectacular, isn’t it?” the youth continued. “It’s one of the largest tapestries in the palace, and easily the most colorful. Do you like the way the line of the hunting pack follows through to the forest trail and finally to its prey? The eye just glides along.”
“How do you know all this?”
“A man called Harnan told me.”
“A friend of yours?”
The youth thought about the question. “I’m not sure how to describe him. Professional acquaintance, probably.” He seemed pleased with himself.
“Well, thank you for the lecture notes.” Jenrosa moved. “I am going to join my friends now.”
“I could tell you about the other tapestries, if you like.”
She shook her head, tried to smile kindly. “Thank you, no. My friends are waiting for me?”
“Banisters? Statues? Paintings?”
Jenrosa stopped and turned to face him. She decided to be stern and frowned at him. “What?”
Her frown did not work. He came up to her, still smiling far too easily for her liking.
“I can tell you all about this whole place. I could give you a tour.” He was having trouble focusing on her.
“What makes you think I want a tour of this place?”
“Well, it’s the palace, isn’t it? Everyone wants to see inside the palace.” He burped in her face. The smell of his breath almost made her faint.
“You know what I would like to see?”
The youth shook his head. “No. Tell me, please!”
“I would like to see you walk away from me and take your idiot grin with you.”
Her words had the opposite effect than intended. He smiled even more widely. “Delightful!” he cried out loud enough to draw looks from those nearby.
“Why are you so happy?‘
“Because today things are turning out so much better than expected.” He winked at her. “I’ve met you, for example.”
Jenrosa shuddered. “Look, find a midden and bury your head in it.”
Now the youth actually laughed. “You speak like Kumul,” he said.
“And who is Kumul when he’s not telling you where to go?” she asked, getting angry now.
The youth looked around, then pointed at a huge man about fifty paces away dressed in the livery of the Royal Guards. “That’s Kumul.”
Jenrosa checked herself. “He’s a soldier,” she said slowly.
“He’s a constable!” the youth declared.
“But you’re not a soldier, right?” She was playing it carefully now. She did not want to discover she had been insulting one of the more influential court members; inevitably, word would get back to her maleficum if she had.
He shook his head. “Oh, no. I’m too short to be a Royal Guard.” He sighed deeply. “Alas.”
“But you’re a member of the court.”
He had to think about that one. “Not really.”
Jenrosa breathed a sigh of relief. “I really have to go now. My friends are waiting for me.” She walked away. The youth kept up with her.
“Do you mind if I come?” There was a glint in his eyes Jenrosa did not like.
“You’re too young,” she said shortly.
“I can’t be any younger than you.”
“I’m eighteen.”
“Well, a year younger.”