"Baron Grenejon will escort you, Baroness Salinah," Jamas said, turning away from the redhead to bend a smile on Laurel and her sister. "As you no doubt appreciate, a cat is an individual."
Salinah gave a sniff as Grenejon escorted her away.
"Let me accompany you to your quarters, Egdril," Jamas said, neatly twining the arms of the two girls in his as he led the party. Egdril grinned at the maneuver and fell in step beside Laurel.
Jamas found himself of a height with his fellow ruler, though perhaps not as broad as the more mature man. They could certainly look each other straight in the eye, which subtly reassured the young prince.
It was fortunate that Frenery had thoughtfully provided six private chambers within the arching domed tent of the royal quarters. The king obviously approved as he set foot on the thick carpets that decorated the floor of the entry.
Casting a quick eye about the large interior chamber, Jamas saw that it was comfortable, not ostentatious, though fruits and other dainties had been placed on the tables by the piles of cushions which were traditionally used on such progresses. An appropriately regal wooden chair did stand to one side in case the king preferred it.
Now his retinue began to arrive, setting up the bits and pieces which a well-seasoned traveller like Egdril generally carried in his baggage train, including a much more regal chair. There was a whispered conference as Jamas' steward intercepted Egdril's and exchanged notes. Now men and women arrived with hot and cold finger foods as well as an assortment of beverages.
Egdril sank gracefully onto a pile of cushions, reaching languidly for a hot-house peach.
"Clever, these," he said, patting the cushions with his free hand before taking a bite of the peach. "Not that the ride was arduous but older bones do like a bit of comfort."
Jamas chuckled, denying "old bones" with a flick of his fingers. Willow and Laurel were accepting drinks from the trays and settling themselves quietly.
"Sorry to learn of old Mangan's demise," Egdril added. "Fine statesman. You were lucky to have him as your regent."
"Indeed. He is sorely missed by us all."
With a keen eye, Egdril lobbed the peach pit into a receptacle in the corner and licked his fingers.
"Shall we have good sport in the hunting tomorrow?" Egdril asked and went on before Jamas could assure him so. "The girls are well able to handle themselves on a hunt, even for barguas. I only brought wards who don't faint or act foolish. Salinah's the finest shot with the crossbow in Mauritia. Drives my quarrels right through the middle eye in the target butts."
Just then the two princes, Geroge and Mavron, arrived, accepting wine from the drinks offered as they joined their father and Jamas. Conversation quickly devolved into the hunting available in Mauritia, including the large piscine fighters which offered a struggle to the venturesome. Despite the river Thuler's access to the sea, Esphania was a landlocked principality, so Jamas graciously allowed himself to be regaled with descriptions of the denizens of the deeps and the battles that could be waged between the fisher and the fished.
Shortly thereafter Salinah returned from inspecting his dogpacks. She emphatically informed her uncle that they were fine animals and she looked forward to hunting with them.
"I should like a bath," she said to no one in particular, but Jamas waved toward the private quarters and she went off.
Then Jamas rose to retire and bade everyone a good night. When he entered his own tent, Grenejon was there, looking thoughtful.
"You're expected to choose one of them, you know," he said, pouring the hot spiced drink that Jamas preferred at this time of day. "At least he brought the prettiest of his wards. Seems there have been some most untoward accidents among his nobles, leaving many nubile young women to be suitably married off at Egdril's discretion."
"Not the redhead. I'll leave her for you," Jamas said, peering around the inner room. Then he realized what Grenejon had just said. "Untoward accidents?"
"Hmmm. Well, eight nobles-those who might protest certain measures King Egdril proposes-have unexpectedly passed to their rewards in very recent times. All, seemingly, since Queen Yasmin ascended to her present position. They all left considerable property to the crown. Some say Queen Yasmin disliked them, too. And she's much cleverer than Egdril."
"She did not accompany the king."
"For which we may thank the gods that guard us," Grenejon said fervently.
Jamas grinned. "Then we should be safe enough." He looked about him.
"Oh, Niffy's asleep on your bed," Grenejon said. "So, are you of a mind to enjoy the benefits of matrimony? Forming an alliance that way is much more dependable than any other sort of treaty."
"I know." Jamas made a face, for he hadn't even considered marriage this soon in his life.
"Salinah's too brash anyway, though I think she'll make the biggest play for you."
Jamas snorted. "She dislikes cats."
"You'll have to tell her that, my Prince, for she'd never believe she eliminated herself with the first words out of her lovely mouth. She thinks to win you over with her skills of riding and hunting."
"Did you know that she's able to sink her uncle's quarrels right through the target?"
"That doesn't surprise me at all," Grenejon said and, settling to a cushion, leaned back indolently. He had a smile on his face that Jamas had never seen before.
"Watch yourself. I'm the better prize, and she's the sort will tell you that herself. Besides, that uncle of hers would probably roll up your pretensions and lob them into the nearest bin as he does peach pits."
"If he doesn't, one of those sons of his would," Grenejon said, not the least bit disturbed.
"Gone on her, are you?" Jamas removed his jacket and sank into another pile of cushions.
"As near as makes no never mind."
"Is it safe?"
Grenejon shrugged. "Ah, my Prince, the chase is the thing. Her father was a mere baron, like my good self. And, with all the wards he has to marry off, Egdril might just accept my lands and fine castle. They do march with his border, if only for a few leagues."
"Dream away!"
A FINE MEAL was served in the open, with torches lighting the dining area, their scented smoke driving away the early midges. Spit-roasted meats and baked tubers and vegetables as well as early soft fruit cold soufflйs were consumed by sturdy appetites. Though wines were circulated by attentive servitors, the hunters restrained themselves with the view to having a clear head and a keen eye for the morrow's occupation.
The dinner conversation was merry, though Jamas found Salinah a shade too forward for his tastes. Her two cousins said very little, even when he tried to include them. They seemed content to let Salinah dominate. She was, Jamas could not deny, witty, clever, and well-spoken. She took the teasing of her male cousins in good part and gave as good as she received from her uncle, who seemed to encourage her. Jamas missed Niffy’s presence, for the cat generally insinuated herself under any table during dinner. But she was there in his tent when he turned in.
Just before dawn, Niffy awakened Jamas by purring so loudly in his ear he could not ignore her summons. He was up and dressed before a sleepy Grenejon and his valet scratched at the tent door to his quarters.
"Now, Niffy, this is not an occasion for you to ride in the saddlebags," Jamas said, picking her up and handing her firmly to his valet. "Don't let her out of your sight, Arfo, until we're well gone."
"I'll do my best, sire…" At which point Niffy squirmed violently, twisted out of his grasp, and sped across the carpet and out under the tent before anyone could recapture her.
"The most exasperating female I know," Jamas said with more concern than irritation.
"She'll be fine," Grenejon said, starting to shepherd his prince out of the tent, for they could all hear the bustle of men mounting eager horses and the yapping of excited dogs.