laughed outright—a little
harshly, I thought. “Also, Count Thornden is a great lumbering ox and cannot
run swiftly enough to catch me. None of King Thone’s hirelings are manly enough
to meet me with a sword. And as for the queen of Lodan”—he glanced in Damia’s
direction—”I have heard it said that Kodar the rebel has chosen her for his
especial attention. While he occupies her, I will be secure, I think.”
“And
for more subtle dangers,” I remarked, “such as poison or hired murder, you have
no fear. You are a wonderment to me, Wallin. Where does such a man come from?
And how does it chance that you are ‘merely a servant’? I would be pleased to
hear your life’s tale as we dance.”
For an
instant, he looked at me sharply, and his arm about my waist tightened. More
and more of the guests took sidelong notice of us as we followed the current of
the dance. But whatever he saw in my face reassured him; his expression became
at once playful and intent. “My lady, I am of common birth. Yet I have gleaned
some education.” His dancing showed that. “I am learned enough in the ways of
the world to know that men do not seek to woo women by telling them tales of
low parentage and menial labour. Romance requires of me a princely heritage in
a far-off land—a throne temporarily lost—a life of high adventure—”
“No,” I
said; and the snap in my voice made him stop. I was on the verge of avowing to
him that my Regal sires had all chosen their brides from the common people for
reasons of policy—and for the additional reason that it was the common people
whom the Regals loved, the common people who had suffered most from the
constant warring of the Three Kingdoms. But I halted those words in time.
Instead, I said, “If you truly wish to woo me”— if you are not toying with
me—oh, if you are not toying with me! —”then you will speak of such things
tomorrow, not tonight. Tonight I have no heart for them.”
At
once, he ceased dancing and gave me a formal bow. His face was closed; I could
not read it. “My lady,” he said quietly. “if you have any need that I may
serve, call for me and I will come.” Then he turned and left me, melting away
into the gay swirl as discreetly as any servant.
I
watched him go as if I were a mist-eyed maiden, but inwardly I hardened myself
to the promise that I would not call for him—not this night. I could not afford
to trust his inexplicable behaviour; and if I failed at my Ascension, he would
not deserve the consequences of aiding me.
Somehow,
I found my way from the flow of the dance toward the wide stair to the upper
levels. By the foot of the stair, a chair had been set for me on a low dais, so
that I might preside over the ball in some comfort. There I seated myself,
determined now to let any of the dancers who wished look at me and think what
they willed.
Perhaps
for those who had come to the ball simply because it was a ball, the time
passed swiftly. For me it dragged past like a fettered thing. The musicians
excelled themselves in variety and vivacity, the dancers glittered as if they
were the jewels of the realm, bright and rich and enviable. At intervals, Mage
Ryzel came to stand beside me; but we had little to say to each other. Diligently,
he continued to play his part, so that all the gathering would know he was not
at work elsewhere, labouring either to prevent my ruin or to preserve his own
regency. And my exposed position required meat all costs to maintain my facade
of surety. I could do nothing to satisfy my true need, which was to shore up my
courage for the coming crisis. Blandly, I smiled and nodded and replied when I
was addressed—all the while yearning for privacy and peace. I did not wish to
die; still less did I wish to fail.
It
happened, however, that when the evening was half gone Queen Damia grew weary
of the ball and again took command of the occasion. During a pause between
dances, she approached me, accompanied by Mage
harshly, I thought. “Also, Count Thornden is a great lumbering ox and cannot
run swiftly enough to catch me. None of King Thone’s hirelings are manly enough
to meet me with a sword. And as for the queen of Lodan”—he glanced in Damia’s
direction—”I have heard it said that Kodar the rebel has chosen her for his
especial attention. While he occupies her, I will be secure, I think.”
“And
for more subtle dangers,” I remarked, “such as poison or hired murder, you have
no fear. You are a wonderment to me, Wallin. Where does such a man come from?
And how does it chance that you are ‘merely a servant’? I would be pleased to
hear your life’s tale as we dance.”
For an
instant, he looked at me sharply, and his arm about my waist tightened. More
and more of the guests took sidelong notice of us as we followed the current of
the dance. But whatever he saw in my face reassured him; his expression became
at once playful and intent. “My lady, I am of common birth. Yet I have gleaned
some education.” His dancing showed that. “I am learned enough in the ways of
the world to know that men do not seek to woo women by telling them tales of
low parentage and menial labour. Romance requires of me a princely heritage in
a far-off land—a throne temporarily lost—a life of high adventure—”
“No,” I
said; and the snap in my voice made him stop. I was on the verge of avowing to
him that my Regal sires had all chosen their brides from the common people for
reasons of policy—and for the additional reason that it was the common people
whom the Regals loved, the common people who had suffered most from the
constant warring of the Three Kingdoms. But I halted those words in time.
Instead, I said, “If you truly wish to woo me”— if you are not toying with
me—oh, if you are not toying with me! —”then you will speak of such things
tomorrow, not tonight. Tonight I have no heart for them.”
At
once, he ceased dancing and gave me a formal bow. His face was closed; I could
not read it. “My lady,” he said quietly. “if you have any need that I may
serve, call for me and I will come.” Then he turned and left me, melting away
into the gay swirl as discreetly as any servant.
I
watched him go as if I were a mist-eyed maiden, but inwardly I hardened myself
to the promise that I would not call for him—not this night. I could not afford
to trust his inexplicable behaviour; and if I failed at my Ascension, he would
not deserve the consequences of aiding me.
Somehow,
I found my way from the flow of the dance toward the wide stair to the upper
levels. By the foot of the stair, a chair had been set for me on a low dais, so
that I might preside over the ball in some comfort. There I seated myself,
determined now to let any of the dancers who wished look at me and think what
they willed.
Perhaps
for those who had come to the ball simply because it was a ball, the time
passed swiftly. For me it dragged past like a fettered thing. The musicians
excelled themselves in variety and vivacity, the dancers glittered as if they
were the jewels of the realm, bright and rich and enviable. At intervals, Mage
Ryzel came to stand beside me; but we had little to say to each other. Diligently,
he continued to play his part, so that all the gathering would know he was not
at work elsewhere, labouring either to prevent my ruin or to preserve his own
regency. And my exposed position required meat all costs to maintain my facade
of surety. I could do nothing to satisfy my true need, which was to shore up my
courage for the coming crisis. Blandly, I smiled and nodded and replied when I
was addressed—all the while yearning for privacy and peace. I did not wish to
die; still less did I wish to fail.
It
happened, however, that when the evening was half gone Queen Damia grew weary
of the ball and again took command of the occasion. During a pause between
dances, she approached me, accompanied by Mage
Similar Books
