Aris nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. I’m glad you came to see me, and if the others think it’s because you’re a vain young boy trying to shine by reflection, perhaps they won’t pay too much attention to you.”
“What?”
“Aris, listen. I know you’ve wits enough in that head.” With that he stood still again, eyes gleaming. Paks went on. “Yes, indeed. As someone told me recently, Marrakaien are all one brew, and that a heady one. I’ll tell you what, young Marrakai—you keep your wits about you and you’ll have something to hold up your head about—and I’ll see that it’s known.”
“Can I do something for you? Really? What can I do?”
“I want to know the extent of the division in the Council—who opposes your father on what issues, and why, if you know.”
“Oh. Right now?”
“If you have anything to tell. But come into the next room; you can take a look at my mail, and have something to drink.”
Once seated at the table, Aris recovered his usual ebullience, and told Paks what he knew of Council business with expressions that had Lieth on the edge of laughter. Paks did not correct him, for she wanted his first impressions, scurrilous though they were.
“Part of it’s the Red Duke,” he said, coming to what interested Paks without any prompting at all. “They call him the fox, and I can see why. Oh—that’s right—you know him. Well, then, you know what I mean. My father says it’s not slyness, just intelligence, but some of the others don’t trust him at all. They say he got too rich too fast. No one could be so lucky as that. Someone had to be helping him, and of course they think it’s Simyits or something. Even worse.” He took a swallow of ale from the mug Paks had poured him, and went on. “But Lord Verrakai, the Duke’s brother, he told his page that he had proof of Duke Phelan’s wrong. Someone who had been with him in Aarenis, and seen it.”
Paks managed not to move, merely raising an eyebrow. Aris scurried on through his tale.
“A veteran of his, who left because she didn’t want to stay with such a man, or he mistreated her, or something. And she’s supposed to prove you aren’t really a paladin, too.”
“That may prove difficult,” murmured Paks.
“Well, of course. You are one.” Aris snorted. “I haven’t seen her, but Dorthan—that’s the page—swears he has. Big and black, he says, and shoulders like an ox. But then Dorthan’s so skinny he thinks I have big shoulders.”
Paks could not think of anyone matching that description. “Do you have a name for this witness?” she asked.
“No. He didn’t know that. Why? Would you know her by name?”
“I might, if she fought in the Company the same years I did. Go on.”
But that was all Aris knew of the mysterious witness. He told a long involved story going the rounds of the squires concerning a second son of Clannaeth’s younger brother, and Konhalt’s heir, and a girl of the Destvaorn household, which supposedly explained why Konhalt was supporting Marrakai’s position on the size of the Royal Guard, but Paks found she couldn’t follow either the positions or the reasons. She was about to send him away when another knock on the outer door drew Lieth. Aris looked scared.
“If that’s Juris, do you have to tell him I’m here?”
“Would he be angry?”
“That I came? Yes. When I told him today that I knew you, he said to let you alone.”
And then Lieth announced the Kirgan Marrakai. Paks got up and jerked her thumb at Aris. “Come on, Aris, and see what the protection of paladins is worth.”
In the other room, the Kirgan looked both embarrassed and annoyed.
“My pardon, lady, for disturbing you, but I feared my brother might—aha!” as he caught sight of Aris behind Paks.
“Kirgan Marrakai, your brother has given me information I greatly needed, and being unacquainted with the household, I knew not anyone else to ask.”
“You asked him here?” The Kirgan’s eyebrows lowered.
Paks smiled. “Not precisely, no. But I may say I valued his loyalty in Fin Panir, as I do here. I should not have kept him so long, perhaps, without asking leave of Lord Kostvan—”
“I had leave for the afternoon,” Aris piped up. Paks and the Kirgan both stared him down. She looked back at the Kirgan and smiled again.
“And now that he has quite finished,” said Paks, emphasizing the words, “I hope you have a few minutes to give me.”
“I?” The Kirgan was clearly astonished.
“You. There are things the pages and junior squires know, and other things which heirs to titles know. Would you?” She waved a hand to the other door, and the Kirgan came forward, throwing a last glare at Aris as he hurried out the door.
“Did you really need him,” said the Kirgan, “or were you in league with the scamp?” Despite the words, Paks could feel a warmth in his voice.
“A paladin in league with a scamp?” She spoke lightly. “No, he was a pestiferous little mischief in Fin Panir, and no doubt still is—but he was always loyal and honest, even in his worst moments. I asked, Kirgan, for gossip—because I needed to know it—and he told me what he knew, which I needed to know, and could not ask.”
“And from me?”
Paks looked searchingly at him. Earlier in the day, he had seemed to have the same arrogant enamel as some of the boys at Fin Panir, but perhaps he had the same warm heart as Aris. “I will ask a few questions,” she said then. “Please remember that I am not of this court, and speak only of what I have heard—not in condemnation or even suspicion. Is your father loyal to the crown? Are you?”
His lips thinned. “I should have expected this—you came from the east, didn’t you? Through Verrakai lands. My father’s inmost heart is his own, Lady, but to my knowledge he is and has always been loyal to the crown. As for me, I love the prince as a brother. Indeed—but I cannot speak of that. I will serve him, Lady, as his loyal servant, when I become Duke.”
“Very well. Then another question. Would you know who the witness against Duke Phelan is, that Aris spoke of?”
“No—not by name. I’ve heard there is one, that’s all. A veteran, which surprised us all; his veterans all love him.”
“So I would have thought,” said Paks. “Then a final question. What do you think of Phelan?”
“I?” He smiled. “I’ve always liked him. My father does; he says Phelan has more breeding than any noble in the land, say what they will of him. He has always been courteous to me. You were in his Company; you know more.”
“I know what I think,” said Paks. “But I needed to know what you thought—what others think. When I came in this afternoon, it seemed almost that he was on trial. While I am on quest, I may not delay—but you can understand that after what he’s done for me—”
“You would defend him? Good—I mean, it’s none of my business, but I can hardly bear it when Verrakai gets started. Gird’s blood! I was about to boil over when father sent me out on an errand.”
“Tell your father to take care, Kirgan,” said Paks seriously. “I will not always be in a position to help the Duke; he will need all his friends before long.”
“I will, Lady,” said the Kirgan steadily. “May I go?”
“Yes—you may say I have saved your little brother a scolding.”
“More than a scolding, if I get my hands on that scamp,” said the Kirgan, laughing. “You don’t know what he did to my sister’s room.”
“Nor want to know,” said Paks, waving him off. “That’s between you—but remember, Kirgan,” she said as he opened the door. She saw two servants not a spear-length away down the passage. “If young Aris wants to visit me, I have granted him leave. He was my friend in Fin Panir, and I don’t forget my friends, even the young ones. He must have his lord’s leave—but not yours.” The Kirgan’s face, as he bowed, was remote, as if he’d been scolded, but his eyes danced. Paks shut the door behind him, convinced that the Marrakaien were all a heady brew indeed.