A Posse of Princesses (2 page)

oOo

Everyone from high degree to low knew that
Elda was a princess, born and raised in Gensam, and Rhis’s mother
was just a magician whose family had been farmers. They knew
equally well that when King Armad was gone, Rhis’s mother would
sail east to the Summer Islands to teach magicians and Gavan and
Elda would rule Nym. Still, no one—including Elda—ever argued with
Queen Hailen.

“Very well,” Elda said, and walked out,
scarcely giving Rhis a glance.

“Come, child.” The queen rose to her feet. “I
have worked the morning away. Now I need to stir a bit.” As she
passed the king she bent a little and laid her hand briefly on his
old, gnarled hand.

The king smiled at them both, then returned
to his work. Rhis glanced back doubtfully. She hadn’t really
thought about how
old
her father was. She knew that after a
long single life, refusing every match, he’d been nearly fifty when
Queen Hailen was sent to replace the old Royal Magician, and he
fell in love with her almost at once. Gavan and Sidal had been born
each year following the marriage, but another fifteen years had
passed before Rhis was born.

She seldom saw her father, except for formal
occasions. Now, as she and her mother passed out onto the roofed
terrace, she wondered how she could not have noticed how frail he
looked.

The door closed behind them. Rhis turned to
discover her mother studying her. She was now fully as tall as her
mother. Who had aged, too. Rhis was eye to eye with her mother. For
the first time she saw the tiny lines at the corners of the queen’s
mouth and eyes, and her brown hair, so neat in its coronet, was
streaked with gray.

“Is Papa all right?” she asked in a
whisper.

“Your father’s health is good, and his mind
is quite as strong as it was when he was young.” The queen smiled,
but her eyes were serious. “I confess it would hearten him very
much to see you well established.”

“Well, I do know what my duty is,” Rhis said,
trying without success not to sound resentful. “I’ve always known
that Gavan and Elda will one day rule, and after them Shera.” Rhis
thought of her thin, small niece, named after Elda’s own sister.
Princess Shera was so good and perfect. She studied all the time,
and never smiled, or laughed, or made jokes. Despite the fact that
Elda never failed to hold Shera up to Rhis as an example of what
she ought to be, Rhis sometimes felt sorry for her niece. “Sidal
will be Royal Magician. And since I did not want to go away and
study magic, my duty is to marry to the benefit of Nym.” On impulse
Rhis pleaded, “Oh, but is it so wicked to wish for adventure and
romance first?”

“Wicked? No one could say it’s wicked.” The
queen laughed softly. “Perhaps the wish for adventure is, oh, a
rash one, as adventure is seldom comfortable for anyone undergoing
it.”

Rhis smiled. She had embroidered the saying
she thought so wise, taken from one of her ballads:

Adventure is tragedy triumphed.

“And romance, for those who wish it, is not
unreasonable. It can also lead to disaster, if one makes it an end
in itself.”

Rhis held in a sigh. How many lectures had
she endured from the sharp-tongued Elda on the follies of young
girls and love?

A hesitation, a quick glance, then her mother
said, “This invitation is a splendid opportunity. It will be a
chance to practice courtly behavior among others your age, and to
hear the wisdom of your elders in another kingdom. You could learn
much.”

Rhis curtseyed. “Yes, Mama.” She peered out
through the misting rain toward the green mountain slopes. In the
distance a waterfall thundered. Now that she’d gotten over the
surprise, this invitation was beginning to sound more like a
duty—and not very romantic at all. The invitation sounded more like
a summons.

“But . . . you wish that this unknown prince
had come courting you here, am I right?”

Rhis stared at her mother.

“You remind me very much of my sister, who
was even more romantic than you,” the queen said, still smiling.
“At least you can be practical when it is necessary. Consider this:
if you were to marry Prince Lios, you would be living in Vesarja.
How else can you find out if you can adapt to their ways?”

Rhis exclaimed, “Oh! I see. But why are they
inviting me? No one knows me—I’ve met no princes. In fact, I’ve
hardly met any boys my age.”

Her mother made a quiet gesture of agreement.
Nym’s rulers did not keep court. They met frequently with the guild
council, and Elda and Gavan spent the summer and autumn months each
year traveling about the country, the better to truly see what the
various provincial governors were doing. Last year they had taken
their daughter—as future queen, Elda explained, Shera ought to get
to know her important subjects—but Rhis had been deemed
unnecessary.

The Queen said, “Your father knows Queen
Briath, for they are close to the same age. He thinks that she has
invited every young lady she deems eligible so she can look them
over at once.”

Rhis turned to her mother in silent dismay.
“So it
is
a summons!”

The Queen’s eyes crinkled—just like Sidal’s.
“What that really means is that there will be parties, picnics,
ridings, dances, and all manner of wonderful festivities planned
for the young people. You can be sure that if there are princesses
and girls of suitable high rank invited, there will also be boys
who very much want to meet those princesses. Even if you and Prince
Lios do not take to one another, there will be many opportunities
to find another boy you might like better—and you’ll have the time
to get to know one another. And meanwhile, you will be an
ambassador for our own kingdom. Good relations with our neighbors
is important.”

Rhis laughed. “Being an ambassador might not
be romantic, but the parties and dances sound like fun!”

Queen Hailen patted her cheek. “I think it
will be. Flirt all you like, but remember you cannot marry until
you are at least twenty. That might be a comfort.”

Comfort
, Rhis thought indignantly.

Her mother went on with a smile, “At sixteen
we often make vows about the rest of our life, but the truth is,
the rest of our life usually looks very different at seventeen, and
even more different by eighteen. Enough talk! You have a long
journey ahead, so you must prepare. And part of that preparation is
to listen to Elda. She knows a great deal about the etiquette of
court life. This is something I know nothing of, which is why she
undertook to teach you, and not I.”

Rhis bit her lip. She did not want to
complain about Elda, but she did not look forward to extra
lessons.

Her mother took both her hands in her cool,
strong fingers. “Part of being a ruler is to recognize that
everyone has something of value to offer. What isn’t as valuable
can be . . . overlooked.”

Overlooked. Did that mean that the queen knew
as well as Rhis did that Elda was a sour-pie?

The queen gently squeezed Rhis’s hands. “I
see you understand what I mean.”

It was all she said, but suddenly Rhis felt a
lot more grown up. “All right, Mama,” she promised. “I’ll learn as
much as I can.”

Once the decision had been made that Rhis
should go, Elda took over the organization of her journey. With her
customary brisk and indefatigable energy, she not only insisted on
doubling Rhis’s lessons in proper royal etiquette, she also made
certain that Rhis would travel with an entourage fit for a princess
of Nym—complete to a new wardrobe.

This last item made all the tedious lessons,
and lectures, worthwhile for Rhis. For the first time, she realized
what being rich
meant
.

Though no one would know it to look at them
all in their sturdy castle that had for several centuries held off
ferocious winter winds, and equally ferocious warriors, Nym’s royal
family was wealthy. Queen Hailen only had a single jeweled and
embroidered velvet gown not because they couldn’t afford any
others, but because she only wore it once or twice a year, and
thought it impractical to order more. She was more proud of her
mage’s robes anyway—those she’d earned, she’d told Rhis once.

Nym was small, mountainous, wealthy—and not
the least romantic any more.

Rhis could recite Nym’s history without much
thinking about it. Its gemstones were world famous, and its
mines—most of them made by magic centuries ago by the mysterious
Snow Folk, whose descendents lived in the fog-shrouded Summer
Islands to the east—difficult for anyone but the people of Nym to
find and exploit. Many had been the attempts over the years to
conquer Nym, and failing that, to raid the caravans that left twice
a year to sell gems. For ages they had been protected by the tough
mountain fighters who had honed their abilities in Nym’s
interminable clan feuds, but after the country was united, the king
had chosen to protect his interests through magic rather than
bloodshed.

Rhis had learned her history, but until now
the only part of it that had interested her were the old romances.
Not that there were many, but those few had been fairly
spectacular—night-time raids, escapes, abductions (planned by the
princess in question herself, so it would go right)—and most of
them happy. She didn’t like the ones that had come out
tragically.

Finally the last day arrived. Everything was
packed, and loaded, and guards picked, and all the servants that
Elda thought appropriate for a Princess of Nym were also ready.
This included a lady’s maid, something Rhis had never before had.
Elda had declared that she would choose a proper lady’s maid, but
unexpectedly Queen Hailen had intervened, and saw to the selection
herself.

Rhis did not say anything, but she was
secretly glad. Elda’s own lady’s maid was a prim, sour-mouthed
woman who spied on servants and royalty alike, reporting
wrong-doings—real or assumed—to Elda. Instead of getting another
such person (who would, no doubt, write awful reports back to Elda
on every mistake Rhis made) she was introduced by her mother to a
quiet, calm-faced woman named Keris, with a sweet voice and quiet
ways.

And so, at last, night fell. A terrific storm
raged outside the castle. Rhis lay in her bed listening to the wind
howl and rain and hail clatter against the windows. The rain itself
didn’t disturb her. Anyone who grew up in Nym knew that mountain
weather, though fierce, seldom lasted long. But she was so excited
she couldn’t sleep—and even if the night had been balmy and silent,
she suspected she’d still be lying awake.

Finally, when the distant bell rang the
pattern for midnight, she gave up trying and clapped on her
glowglobe. She could at least read for a while, and daydream.

She was just reaching for a book when she
heard a soft tapping at her door.

She dashed across the cold stone floor.
“Who’s there?”

The door opened, and to her surprise a tall
silhouette in pale blue emerged from the dark hallway and walked
into the light room—her sister Sidal.

“I came to wish you a safe and happy
journey.” Sidal sat on the bed beside Rhis.

As long as she could remember Sidal had been
tall and competent and a little remote, busy with her magic
studies. At an early age she had showed magical talent, and had
trained hard in order to take Mama’s place when it became
necessary. Rhis had also shown magical talent—but she’d never had
her sister’s interest in the hard work of becoming a mage.

“Sidal,” Rhis asked doubtfully. “Do you think
I’m silly to wish for romance?”

The silvery light of the glowglobe glinted in
her coronet of soft brown hair. Sidal was not pretty—no one in the
family was considered pretty. They all had long faces and strongly
marked bones—but right then, while she was looking out at the
rain-washed window, Rhis thought privately that Sidal was
beautiful. “I think,” the princess-mage said slowly, “that it
depends on what you mean by romance.”

“Oh, like the ballads. Overcoming great odds
to find your true love, or doing great deeds to save him.
‘Adventure is tragedy triumphed!’ Or he does great deeds to win
you. Something dashing and heroic,” Rhis explained. “For love.”

“Not great deeds.” Sidal gave a tiny shake of
her head. “Too many great deeds translate out to be great pain for
those who lost.”

“Except it’s always villains who lose,” Rhis
said quickly. “They deserve to lose. When the heroes lose, then
it’s a tragedy, and I
hate
tragedies.”

“The villains would think their losses
tragedy,” Sidal said with a rueful smile. “Of course there are
truly evil people in the world. The emperor of Sveran Djur is
reputed to be one, and I believe it, for he has done terrible
things with his magic. But there are so many others who set out
with the best intentions, or what they believe to be the best
intentions, and find themselves on the opposing side of others who
also have the best intentions. The people on each side, in their
own ballads, appear as heroes, and the other side as villains.”

“I know. And Elda’s told me many times how
rulers agree that no one can rule a kingdom and be a mage. That
Mama had to sign a certain type of treaty, and cannot rule after
Papa dies. All just because of that emperor.” Rhis sighed. “That
doesn’t sound romantic. It sounds nasty.”

“Wars and fighting and using magic for
coercion are always nasty.”

“Well, I don’t want that. Since I have to
marry anyway, I just want, oh, to fall in love, or have a wonderful
prince fall in love with me. And no
terrible
fighting,” she
added hastily. “Just something exciting! Like in a ballad. Maybe a
duel or two, or some chases, but nobody gets hurt.”

Sidal laughed, a soft and sympathetic sound.
“Sounds like you want a stage play sort of life! And there’s
nothing wrong with that, as long as you remember what I’m sure Mama
told you as many times as she told me when I first went away to
magic school—”