Destian uttered a soft chuckle endorsing her views.
Lorcas however would not be daunted. He nodded sagely. "Everything depends upon the quality of one's conventions. Agreed! But we must examine this so-called quality for its usefulness. Overcomplicated, over strict conventions limit a person's life-options. They confine his mind and stunt his perceptions. Why, in the name of the Connatic's pet owl, should we even consider a limit to the possibilities of this, our one and single life?"
"You will confuse us all if you talk in ultimates and eschatologies," said Singhalissa with a cold smile. "They are not germane in any case. One may exemplify any point of view, no matter how absurd, by carefully citing an appropriate, or even an artificial, theory. The traveler and cosmopolitan whom you have chosen as your paladin above all else should realize the difference between abstractions and living human beings, between sociological concepts and durable communities. As I listen to you I hear only ingenuousness and didactic theory."
Lorcas compressed his lips. "Perhaps because you are hearing views which contradict your emotions. But I stray from the mark. The durable communities you mention are beside the point. Societies are amazingly tolerant of abuse, even those burdened with dozens of obsolete or unnatural or even baneful conventions."
Singhalissa allowed herself to show open amusement. "I suspect that you take an extreme position. Only children are intolerant of conventions. They are indispensable to an organized civilization, like discipline to an army, or foundations to a building, or landmarks to a traveler. Without conventions civilization is a handful of water. An army without discipline is a mob. A
building without foundations is rabble. A traveler without landmarks is lost."
Lorcas stated that he opposed not all convention, but only those which he found irksome and pointless.
Singhalissa refused to let him off so easily. "I suspect that you refer to the Rhunes, and here, as a stranger, you are particularly handicapped in your judgments. I find my way of life orderly and reasonable, which should certainly satisfy you. Unless, of course, you consider me undiscriminating and stupid?"
Lorcas saw that he had caught a Tartar. He shook his head. "By no means! Quite the contrary. Without hesitation I agree that, at the very least, your outlook upon life is different from mine."
Singhalissa had already lost interest in the conversation. She turned to Efraim.
"With your permission, Force, I take my leave."
"As you wish, Your Dignity."
Singhalissa stalked from the room in a flutter of gray gauze, followed by Destian, stiff and erect, and then, Sthelany. Behind marched Efraim and Matho Lorcas, somewhat subdued. They found themselves on the arcade which connected the third level of Arjer Skyrd to the high parlors of the North Tower, then gave upon the upper balcony of the herbarium.
Descending the North Tower staircase, they were arrested by a sudden clanging of gongs, followed by a wild braying of horns in an agitated fanfare.
Singhalissa glanced back over her shoulder; her thin cheeks were compressed into an unmistakable smile.
1. The word sherdas, an inexact translation. Those attending a sherdas are seated around a table. From properly disposed orifices a succession of aromatic odors and perfumes is released. To praise the fumes too highly, or to inhale too deeply is considered low behavior and leaves the guilty person open to suspicions of gourmandizing.
2. An act of molestation or violence - a mirk-deed, so to speak - committed during the daylight hours, a depravity unimaginable among persons of dignity.
Chapter 8
Efraim continued down the staircase to the frenzy of the fanfare produced by six men with convolved bronze sad-horns. Six horns, wondered Efraim? He himself, the returning Kaiark, had only been greeted with four! A slight which he had failed to notice.
The front portals had been flung ajar, and here stood Agnois, wearing a long white cloak crusted over with blue and silver embroidery and a complicated turban-like headdress: garments reserved for the most profoundly serious occasions. Efraim compressed his lips. What to do with the wretched Agnois, who had assisted him during the reception, but who had failed to warn him of whatever now was about to ensue?
The fanfare became a hysteria of yelling horns, to halt abruptly as a man, in splendid black garments, picked out with pink and silver stripes, strode through the portal. Behind him marched four eiodarks. All wore headgear of pink and black cloth, wound up on pronged fillets of silver.
Efraim halted a moment on the landing, then descended slowly. Agnois cried out:
"His Majestic Force, the Kaiark Rianlle of Eccord!"
Rianlle halted, scrutinizing Efraim with pale hazel eyes under dark golden eyebrows. He stood stiffly erect, aware of the splendid spectacle he made: a man in, the fullest vigor of his life, not yet middle-aged, square-faced, with curling dark golden hair; a man of pride and passion, perhaps lacking in humor, but certainly not a person to be taken lightly.
Efraim stood waiting until Rianlle advanced another two steps. Efraim said:
"Welcome to Benbuphar Strang. I am pleased, if surprised, to see you."
"Thank you." Rianlle turned abruptly away from Efraim and performed a formal bow. Down the stairs came Singhalissa, Destian, and Sthelany.
Efraim said: "You are of course well-acquainted with her Dignity the Wirwove, the Squire Destian, and the Lissolet Sthelany. This is the Noble Matho Lorcas, of Port Mar."
Rianlle acknowledged the introduction by no more than a cold glance. Matho Lorcas bowed courteously. "At your service, Force."
Efraim stepped aside and signaled to Agnois. "Conduct these noble gentlemen to appropriate chambers where they may refresh themselves, then come to the Grand Parlor."
Agnois presently appeared in the Grand Parlor. "Yes, Your Force?"
"Why did you not notify me that Rianlle was to arrive?"
Agnois spoke in an injured voice: "I did not know myself, until Her Dignity upon leaving the salon ordered me to prepare a reception. I barely had time to accomplish the task."
Efraim said, "I see. He wears his headgear in the castle; is this customary and polite?"
"It is formal usage, Force. The headdress signifies authority and autonomy. In a formal colloquy of equals both parties will dress similarly."
"Bring me suitable garments and headgear, if any are available."
Efraim dressed. "Conduct Rianlle here whenever he is so minded. If his retinue starts to come, explain that I prefer a private discussion with Rianlle."
"As you wish, Force." Agnois hesitated. "I might point out that Eccord is a powerful realm with victorious traditions. Rianlle is a vain man but not stupid.
He esteems himself and his prestige at an exalted level."
"Thank you, Agnois. Bring in Rianlle; I will deal with him as carefully as possible."
Half an hour later Agnois ushered Rianlle into the Parlor. Efraim rose to greet him. "Will you sit? Those chairs are quite comfortable."
"Thank you." Rianlle settled himself.
"Your visit is of course most welcome," said Efraim "You will forgive me if I seem disorganized; I have hardly had time to collect my wits."