He nodded. “That I can do, and will, right gladly. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I will summon the High Marshal on this matter we spoke of.”
Paks rose quickly and bowed. “Is there aught I can do, your highness, to help with this?”
“I think not. You will confirm your request, of course, to any lord who asks you—but I think they will not ask.” He nodded, and Paks withdrew, to find a page ready to escort her back to the rooms she’d been assigned.
Once there, she found Lieth in attendance; her things had been unpacked, and a hot bath was ready for her.
“I thought—” Paks began, but Lieth smiled and put a finger to her lips.
“With Garris to look, and Suriya to keep notes, they didn’t need me. Here, Lady, let me take that mail.” Lieth set it aside, and helped Paks strip off the last of her clothes and climb into the tub. “And I thought,” she said very softly, “that you would want no one else near the sword. I chased two chambermaids out of here when I came.”
“Thank you, Lieth,” said Paks. The hot scented water was delightful; she felt she could acquire a taste for bathing this way. When she was done, Lieth handed her a robe of heavy rose-colored wool that had been warming by the fire. Paks put it on, wrinkling her nose at the silver clasps. “A rich house, the Mahierian,” she commented.
“Yes,” said Lieth shortly. She went to the door of the next room, and gestured. Two maids came through. “They’ve set a meal out in there,” said Lieth. “Will you come?” She had already gathered the armor; Paks took the sword, and followed Lieth, leaving the maids to clear away the bath things.
The meal of sliced breads, cold meats, and fruit was spread on a round table beneath a narrow window. In this room as well a fire crackled on a clean stone hearth. Yet another room opened from it, this with a narrow canopied bed. Paks sat down with an appetite.
“Come eat, Lieth, unless you’ve had something in the meantime,” she said.
“Thank you.” Lieth sat across from Paks. For awhile they ate silently, each thinking her own thoughts. When Paks finished, and sat back, she found Lieth watching her.
“What’s wrong, Lieth?” Paks hoped Lieth had not taken a dislike to the Duke. Her first words fed that fear.
“I came to serve the king,” she began slowly. “I knew nothing of him, but that you knew who he was.”
“Yes?” prompted Paks, when she said nothing more for a moment.
“I am glad to have seen him. I don’t know what I was expecting, but not that—and it’s better than I expected.” She stopped again; this time Paks merely looked her question. Lieth shook her head, answering something Paks did not ask—perhaps a question in her own mind. “I am a King’s Squire,” she said finally. “A Lyonyan. A Knight of Falk. Here, in Tsaia, among Girdsmen, with my king unknown and disregarded, I am out of place. Lady, if I heard in Lyonya what I have heard this day, I would know how to answer—” Her hand had crept to her sword. “But I am a stranger. I have no rights at this court.”
“Lieth, what is it? What are you angry about?”
“Paks, do you know how many enemies the ki—the Duke has?”
Paks frowned. “No. Some, but not so many, I’d thought.”
“Then they must all be here. Verrakai—I had words with one of his squires, and a servant or so—”
“Words?” Paks was startled. Lieth had seemed the most placid of the King’s Squires.
“Just words—so far. They had plenty to say about the Duke, and all of it bad. That your coming here today was his doing, to avoid swearing an oath of loyalty to the prince. That you were no true paladin—and that I argued, telling them I’d seen you fight myself—but they would not believe. They think their lord has a witness who will make it obvious that you and the Duke are both liars and traitors.”
Paks felt a chill down her spine. “I wonder how, since we’re not. Did Garris and Suriya hear any of this?”
“I don’t think so. They’re with him; I was looking for your rooms.”
“Anything from the the royal servants?”
“No, not really. Some think the Duke’s wild and uncanny, but none seem to harbor any malice. But the Verrakai weren’t all. I ran into the whole group together: Konhalt, Clannaeth, a Sorrestin page, and the Verrakai. They were eager to tell me the worst they knew of the Duke—and of you.”
“That could be bad indeed,” said Paks placidly. She did not fear Lieth’s opinion.
“It was bad to hear,” said Lieth grimly. “Girdsmen. I’d have thought even Girdsmen would have more respect for a paladin.”
“Even Girdsmen?”
Lieth flushed. “Lady, your pardon. It was unseemly.”
Paks shook her head. “Lieth, these may not have been Girdsmen. While you are here, try not to remember all you were told of Girdsmen by the Falkians, eh? I’m a Girdsman.”
“Yes—I know. I’m sorry, truly.” She looked suddenly worried. “Is he?”
“The Duke? No. But his wife was.”
“And she is dead. He must marry again. Will he, do you think?”
Paks thought a moment. “Lieth, if he has given his word, he will do more; he is that kind of man. He has said he will take the kingdom; I daresay he knows what that means, and will do more than his duty. But I am not one to speak of kings’ weddings.”
“You spoke to the crown prince?”
“Yes.”
“And what is he like, may I ask? Will he be an ally of Lyonya?”
“He seemed nice enough.” Paks did not know how to explain that she could sense only strong evil and good—not the average mixture most men carried. As well, she had no experience of princes. If he had been a recruit or a squire, she would have been well-pleased with him, but as a prince she had to hope the same qualities would serve.
They were interrupted by a polite knock on the outer door. Lieth rose at once to answer it; Paks waited at the table. Lieth came back with a curious expression on her face.
“It’s a boy—he wants to see you. He says he knows you.”
“Knows me?” Paks looked down at herself quickly; she couldn’t receive anyone in a bathrobe, even with silver clasps. But Lieth was already handing her a clean undershirt.
“Here—says he’s a young Marrakai. Aris Marrakai—did you ever meet such a one?”
Paks remembered the boy she’d met her first night in Fin Panir—and often thereafter. “Aris—yes. Fourth son, I think. Thanks.” She looked at the mail and decided against it, pulling on her swordbelt over her clothes instead. Then she went through to the front room.
Aris had grown even taller, and looked much older in his squire’s livery, the dark green and blue of Kostvan House, piped in the red and green of his father’s colors. His black hair was longer, cropped just below his ears, but he had no facial hair. He stood stiffly by the door until Paks was halfway across the room, then grinned as widely as ever.
“Paks! I mean, Lady Paksenarrion—I’m sorry. But they said—and I kept telling them you would come back. You look—” He paused, examining her with his head cocked. “Fine,” he finished. “But don’t you have mail? Silver mail?”
Paks found herself laughing; even Lieth was smiling. “I have mail, Aris, but even paladins take it off now and then.”
“Oh.” He looked crestfallen. “I was hoping—when Juris, that’s my brother who’s Kirgan, said he’d seen you today, I wanted to come—and then I could say I saw it, you see?”
“I see. You wanted to make an impression on the other squires, eh?”
Aris blushed as red as the clothes he had worn that first night. “Well, Paks—Lady Paksenarrion—it’s like this—”
“You’re the youngest squire,” said Paks inexorably, “and they tease you, and when you told them about your three estates someone pounded you, didn’t they?”
“Yes, but—”
“And you think this will get you out of some scrape?”
“You didn’t used to be like this,” said Aris.
“No, and you used to be a little boy. Now you’re a young man, not my pet brother. You are the fourth son of a powerful Duke, and you should have better things to think about than impressing other squires by claiming acquaintance with a paladin.”