Moth and Spark by Anne Leonard Page B

courtyard. The light was shockingly bright by comparison to the lantern. It was a glowlamp, and the curtains must be drawn aside. She counted windows and decided it was Alina’s room. A few seconds later Alina herself came to the window, a robe wrapped around her. She opened the window casement.
    The men walked around the courtyard until they were under her window. The taller man stepped out into the open where Alina could see him. She leaned out. If either spoke, Tam could not hear.
    Alina looked around, then, apparently satisfied, dropped something. The man caught it deftly. He inspected it, then went back to the walkway and handed it to the other man. Alina’s light went out, followed by the lantern.
    Tam waited for a while, then got slowly up. Her body was stiff, she must have sat longer than she thought. The assignation had all the hallmarks of a romantic tryst between secret lovers, yet Tam thought that unlikely. For one thing, there had been two men, and for another Alina had no reasons for secrecy. She was too interested in getting married to waste her time on someone ineligible. Infatuation made for odd behavior, though. And love and marriage did not often coincide where wealth and power were.
    She sighed. Something about a secret romance made even those who did not want one feel left out. Well, she would be sensible again come daylight.

    Daylight came, but not sun. The clouds were thick and low and dark, making the day grey and dreary. Tam breakfasted with Cina in the Sun Room, most inappositely named on such a morning. There were small tables set far enough apart for privacy, large leafy plants in huge pots, and tall windows open to the east. A door led out to a neat grassy square with a tall hedge of brightly flowering bushes on the opposite side. It was favored by the courtiers as a pleasant middle ground between eating alone in one’s rooms or dining in the noise and hubbub of the hall, but they were early enough that it was mostly empty. The room felt cold,and Tam was glad of the warmth of her coffee through the thin delicate porcelain. The cup was gold rimmed, with a graceful pattern of a vine. Another of the little touches of beauty that signified wealth.
    It was the first time she had been alone with her sister-in-law since they had arrived, and they chatted of what Tam had seen so far before Cina said, “I’ve shopping to do this morning, will you come?”
    Tam gave it thought. Had the weather been good she would have assented; she had seen only a bit of the city on her way in and she wanted to see more. Dalrinia was considerably smaller than Caithenor. But puddle-dodging and wet dashes from store to store did not appeal to her, and she said, “Not today, thank you.”
    “What will you do instead? It’s hardly a day for strolling the gardens.”
    “Explore the palace, and then I expect I’ll read,” she said. The library was extraordinary, and even though she could not take books out—that was a privilege of nobility—she could easily spend hours there. It had books in it that were so old they were written by hand. The most valuable were locked up, but there was a displayed manuscript of the Treaty of Pell dating back seven hundred years that she was itching to get a longer look at.
    “You’re not bored already, are you?”
    “No, of course not. But on a dreary day like this people will be squabbling, and that’s no fun.”
    “There’s something to that,” Cina agreed. “At least everything else is calm.”
    “Really?” Tam asked, thinking that tension probably swirled around and under many of the conversations between jealous men and women.
    “No full-blown scandals yet or serious rifts. Those will come later. Court is still young. Keep your eyes open, Tam, and not just for love affairs. It’s about preferment and power too, and you’re not experienced.”
    “I’m not an innocent, Cina,” Tam said, grimacing.
    “I know that. But it’s different here from your home. Just be