A Posse of Princesses (4 page)

Shera grinned back. “Shall we call for
one?”

“Let’s,” Rhis said, adding, “I’ll buy it for
the trip, and teach you what I know!”

Within a very short time the girls had
established a good understanding.

“My letters,” Rhis said apologetically. “Elda
had to read them before she would let me put them in the courier
bag.”

Shera grimaced. “And my governess had to read
mine. But when Elda wrote to me, it was always to tell me how much
you were learning, and how grateful you were for her lessons, and
how I ought to work hard to be just like you.”

“That’s what she said to me about you,” Rhis
exclaimed.

“Mama is always twitting me about my
behavior.” Shera curled her legs beneath her in a fashion that
would have caused gasps of dismay from Elda. “I guess I take after
my Uncle Kordey, who Mama always calls
that frivolous,
dream-touched, undutiful brother of your father’s
when no one
else is around. Try as I might, I just couldn’t measure up to Mama
and Elda.”

“In your letters, all you talked about was
your garden,” Rhis said cautiously.

“It was the only place I could be alone,”
Shera explained. “Planning elaborate gardens is now fashionable, so
I could write about it. But actually I left all the planning to the
head gardener, and I really spent as much time as I could there to
dream and sing,” Shera admitted with a quick, merry grin.

“I have a tower,” Rhis confessed, liking her
sister-by-marriage more with every exchange. “That’s where I keep
my books, and my tiranthe. Elda’s too stout to go up there, and her
awful maid Sazu refused to climb all 538 steps.”

“Sazu.” Shera wrinkled her nose. “How I
remember her! She used to spy on me, and report every mistake to
Elda and Mama. It’s her sister who I have as governess, and let me
tell you, if nothing pleasant—besides meeting you at last—happens
on this trip, at least I will have this time away from her.”

“Poor Elda.” Rhis’s conscience gave her a
pang of regret. “Tried so hard to turn us into proper princesses.
Well, at least we’ll know how to behave when we get to Hai Taresal
and meet Queen Briath, because I’ll wager anything
she
doesn’t play a tiranthe or daydream in her garden.”

“No!” Shera clapped her hands. “But we won’t
be going to the capital. Didn’t you get word? No, I guess you
couldn’t, for the letter arrived just before I left home, and you
would have already been traveling. We’re to go to Eskanda, which is
Crown Prince Lios’s own place. The celebration will be there.”

“Is it? But we’ll still be meeting the queen,
won’t we?”

Shera shook her head. “Papa says she never
leaves Hai Taresal.”

Rhis tried to picture the map. Hai Taresal,
the capital of Vesarja, lay right in the center of the kingdom
where two great rivers met, a city whose beauty was legendary. She
remembered vaguely that Eskanda lay in the north-western quarter of
Vesarja. “I wonder why they changed it? We’ll have a lot farther to
travel.”

Shera shrugged. “And we can enjoy every
moment of it. As for why, who knows? But this I’m sure of: if the
queen stays behind, all the older, stuffy courtiers will probably
stay too, unless they have daughters to try to marry off, which
means that things ought to be much more fun in Eskanda.”

Rhis gave a sigh of pleasure. “So it will be
all people our age? How wonderful!”

Shera wrinkled her nose again. “Well, don’t
count on that, for I know that Iardith will be there, and probably
we’ll find others like her.”

“Iardith?” Rhis remembered the name from her
lessons. “Princess Iardith of Arpalon?”

“That’s the one.” Shera fluttered her fingers
on either side of her head. “You’re lucky that your father and the
king of Arpalon are mad at each other over some trade agreement,
because
you
haven’t had to meet Iardith.”

“What’s wrong with her? Is she evil?”

“Oh, nothing so interesting,” Shera said with
a laugh. “She really is a perfect princess—and if you don’t happen
to notice all her perfections, she will tell you about them. But
only in private. In public, she’s just as sweet and dignified and
proper as Elda and the others could wish. We don’t have a hope of
attracting Prince Lios’s attention while she’s there, which doesn’t
matter to me—much—because I’ve been twoing with Rastian, the son of
the Duke of the Northern March, for eight months and seventeen
days—ever since I was formally introduced at Mama’s court.” She
waved her hand vaguely northward.

“Is Iardith very beautiful, then?”

“Very.” Shera rolled her eyes. “Hair blacker
than midnight with no moons, and glossy, and never messy, though it
is quite long, and light brown eyes—the boys who like poetry call
them
topaz
, how disgusting. She has long, dark lashes, and
perfect features, and a perfect figure, and she dances perfectly,
and uses her fan perfectly, she has perfect manners—when others are
around. And she knows more than you do—as she will tell you, ever
so nicely—about every fashionable subject, whether flowers or
artists.” Shera sighed. “When she came to visit us for my mother’s
birthday, every one of the fellows at court acted like puppies
around her. Disgusting!” She grimaced. “Even Rastian got a little
silly after she started looking at him over her fan and blinking
those long and perfect eyelashes. I thought she looked like a cow,
but the effect on Rastian was like he’d walked into a wall.”

“Did you get mad at him?”

“I certainly did. He pointed out that I
haven’t yet met a prince who is quite that comely, and if I did,
and I got silly, too, he’d forgive me, so I forgave him. But still,
it was lowering because she did it on purpose. When he followed her
right out of the room and into the garden, she looked back at me
and gave me
such
a nasty smirk.”

“I suppose she’s already met and fascinated
Prince Lios, then?” Rhis asked.

“She couldn’t have.” Shera poured out more
chocolate for them both. “Didn’t you know? He’s only just returned
from overseas, after years and years. Now that he’s the heir, he
had to come home—and stay home.”

“I don’t hear anything,” Rhis admitted. “That
is, about people. I can tell you what father thinks of every
ruler’s trade policies, and I can also tell you a lot about what
Mother thinks of the various royal mages in each kingdom, but they
don’t talk about people as people, and Elda, of course, thinks mere
gossip quite improper. A princess, she says—”

“—Needs only to behave with dignity and
grace, and the worthy suitor will recognize her merit.” Shera
pinched her nose. “Didn’t I hear that one a million times! But in a
court there’s gossip, especially from those who travel, and so I
hear things. Not much about Lios, but then,” she added
triumphantly, “neither has Iardith, since he’s been so long
gone.”

Nevertheless, Rhis felt the last of her
dreams of attracting the unknown Prince Lios fade away. Who would
possibly prefer a tall, angle-faced beanpole with hair the color of
a wooden plank to such a paragon as Iardith? She shrugged,
resolving not to let it bother her. “Well, as my sister said, quite
rightly, at least there will be dancing, and picnics, and lots of
fun.”

Shera nodded vigorously. “And lots and lots
of music!”

oOo

While the girls chattered far into the night,
ending with playing and singing of their favorite songs, their
entourages made all the preparations for the long journey to the
northwest.

They set out the next day. Rhis asked Keris
to put the tiranthe into the carriage, and not pack it. Keris
complied without betraying any shock or horror. Once again Rhis
gave silent thanks to her mother for putting her into the care of
this calm, kind-hearted woman.

The days stretched into a week, and then a
second week, as the girls crossed the length of Vesarja, but they
were happy in each another’s company. Rhis had never met an
eligible young man in Nym’s isolated fastness, so she was
fascinated by Shera’s descriptions of what her Rastian said and
did—and of course Shera loved to talk about him.

When they weren’t talking they were singing,
or playing the tiranthe. Shera learned rapidly. Rhis found out that
Shera wasn’t really interested in history—or great deeds—only in
great love matches, the more fraught with perils and sufferings,
the better. Those made the best songs, she pointed out. Sometimes,
when their fingers tired of playing and they tired of talking,
Shera hummed absently under her breath as she stared out her
window. She didn’t have a great singing voice—neither did Rhis—but
Rhis discovered she liked listening to these little pieces of
melody.

Twice heavy spring rainstorms caused them to
halt for a day or two along the road. The last inn had hired
musicians and promised nightly dances, and there were plenty of
travelers also caught by the rain, so Rhis got her first chance to
practice with real partners. The men were mostly older, and none
were princes. Rhis was self-conscious, and spent most of her dances
looking over at Shera and giggling. Shera did the same. At the end
of her last dance, she dared to look up at her partner—a balding
fellow with a pleasant face and a silvery beard. He had begun by
complimenting her on her grace, but he’d gone quiet soon after.
When she glanced up he suppressed a yawn as he stared over her head
at the other dancers.

Annoyance flushed through her, but she just
curtseyed politely when the dance came to an end, and the man bowed
equally politely and then promptly moved away.

She thought about that after she and Shera
parted to sleep. Dancing well really wasn’t enough, she realized,
remembering what her tutor had said. Part of the art of dancing was
to converse well with your partner. And—she had to admit—she hadn’t
even tried to talk with him, but had spent her time peering at
Shera and her partner, and laughing when their eyes met.

What will I talk about when I dance with
Prince Lios?
She burrowed into the pillow, sleepily wondering
what he’d be like, and what she’d say, and what he’d say, until she
slid into dreams.

oOo

Slowly the great forests of the east changed
to rolling farmland. The air smelled much different than mountain
air—like grass and herbs—and Rhis liked it very much. There were
lots of gardens along their route, and Shera, who had learned much
from the gardener in Gensam, gave Rhis names and properties of
different plants. Rhis found herself gradually taking an interest
as they compared size and hues of various blossoms. Reading about
plants you’ve never seen is boring, but seeing gardens in all their
brightness and variety was like discovering surprise after
surprise. Beautiful surprises.

Finally they turned north, heading toward a
more mountainous region. It did not make Rhis homesick—she was
enjoying herself too much for that—but she loved the broad trees
with their complicated leaves, so different than the ever-present
pines of home.

The two days before they reached Eskanda
caused the girls much excitement. By then they had gone through
each other’s wardrobe to determine which gown ought to be worn for
their first appearance in company. In Rhis’s mind was that mental
image of the perfect princess Iardith. She did not really expect to
make a stir (much as it was fun to imagine universal gasps of
admiration when she first walked into the grand parlor), but she
did want to do credit to Nym, so she tirelessly discussed the pros
and cons of each outfit with Shera, who had the better knowledge of
what was the very latest fad, and what wasn’t.

At last their carriage rolled through the
gates of Eskanda Palace, a vast structure built of a warm
gold-veined marble that glowed in the westering sunlight. The sun
reflected off hundreds of arched windows, which made the palace
look like it was decorated with firestones. A magnificent garden of
grand proportions made Shera draw in her breath in admiration. This
kind of garden, she pointed out, was only achieved after at least a
hundred years of being constantly tended.

The garden was pretty, but Rhis saved her
attention for the people. Not that many were in view, except for
liveried servants moving back and forth. The courtyard was quite
empty when their carriage clattered to a stop. The girls stepped
out onto a mosaic pattern made of a variety of bricks of different
shades. As they shook out their gowns they were approached by an
impressive man who wore the blue and white of Vesarja’s royal
family. Otherwise, Rhis thought to herself, she would have thought
him some royal relative.

He stopped to briefly address the girls’
outrider, then came forward with stately step and bowed low. In a
sonorous voice he said, “Prince Lios bids me welcome you to his
home, Your Highnesses. If you will consent to follow me, I will
show you to the quarters prepared for you.”

“Thank you,” Shera said in a small voice.

Gensam might be a lot more sophisticated than
Nym, Rhis thought, but Vesarja and its royalty were even moreso.
She kept resolutely silent as she followed behind the dignified
steward.

Once inside, she stared in silent amazement.
She’d thought the Royal Inn at Gensam’s border fine, but it was
nothing compared to this palace.

No stone was in evidence, except in carved
columns supporting stairways, each of which was wide and curving.
Those were all marble. The ceilings far overhead were splendidly
painted with graceful decorative figures of intertwined plants and
birds.

They progressed down several very long halls,
up three flights of stairs, and at last the steward threw wide two
carved doors and they walked into a large circular parlor with four
great windows that looked out over the garden. The ceiling here was
made of inlaid wood, in complicated geometric patterns. On the
walls hung painted still lifes, and the furnishings were all carved
and polished darkwood, with pale blue satin coverings.