The Sand Prince (21 page)

The Zaalmage turned back to Ilaan, looking for a moment a bit disoriented. But he quickly regained his composure and said, "We will talk again soon, my young brother Mage."

"The Conclave... the
Naa Kansima
," began Ilaan, who was feeling as if he'd missed something important.

"Ah, yes, the Conclave, of course. You'll hear from us. Oh, yes you will. Sooner rather than later. Now if you'll excuse us..." The Zaalmage turned his back on Ilaan and nearly galloped into one of the darkened corridors, followed by his robed, hooded, hissing, and sighing brothers.

Ilaan was suddenly alone in the big round room.

Well, that was a lot to take in
, he thought. He wanted to think more carefully about what the flames had shown him, but that could wait. Based on how young everyone looked, most of that stuff was from a long time ago anyway. He pushed it aside. The little display with the paper, well, he didn't quite know what to make of that. But at least it was over and it appeared that no harm had been done. He had a party to toss in only a few hours and he had to get ready.

"Now, the food changers should already be there, and the servers ready to pour. Do I have enough glasses...?" Since no one was around to take offense, he shimmered himself out of their dark Raasth and back into the brightness of his own comfortable quarters.

***

I
n a low ceilinged stone room, in total darkness, the Zaalmage raised his hands to calm his restless, twitching brothers. In fact, he could barely contain himself. As he spoke, light, grey and dim, streamed from his palms.

"What is the law?" There was a collective moaning gasp.

"The law makes him ours. The law gives him over to our hand. The Queen's own law brings him to us. Our long wait is over! We shall take him this very night!" He leaned towards them, "Are we bold enough to tread the steps? Are we brave enough to face the sky and take what is ours?"

A triumphant hiss.

"Brothers, we may proceed!"

They had only a few hours, noted the Zaalmage, and there was much to do.

Preparations to make.

Knives to sharpen.

––––––––

"Don't you know why you’re here, girl?"

Gwenyth dashed away her tears. She had been told that the Duke was very impatient with emotional women.

"My Father said... I am to..."

"That's enough, wench. Get you gone or I'll send you to sleep in the stables!" The Duke pointed towards the back stairs and the girl fled to the comfort of the kitchens. Damned if she wasn't a beauty! He reminded himself of how that had gone for him in the past.

-The Claiming of the Duke, pg 40

Malloy Dos Capeheart, Little Gorda Press (out of print)

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M
istra City

100 years after the War of the Door, Mistran Calendar

20 years later, Eriisai calendar

Barton Grove High Street

"Oh, these are nice. And they go with my black dress... but I really shouldn’t." Lelet spent another moment admiring her hand in the black lace glove, set with tiny red stones and with a row of black pearl buttons at the wrist, before stripping it off and setting it back on the table with its mate. "Father sent down a missive from the mountain. It involved my budget."

"How awful for you," smiled Althee, who had no budget for gloves or anything else she fancied. "Gloveless, and at a time like this." She tried on a red velvet cloche hat with a spray of blue and green feathers. The feathers curved around under her chin. "What do you think?"

Lelet tucked her chin into her hand. "Even for you, that’s a bit much. Maybe without the feathers? In a different color? And if it wasn’t a hat?"

Althee laughed and put the offending hat back on its form. "I know. Redheads"—and here they spoke together—"should not wear red." She nodded at Lelet’s own hair. "What’s off the table with that shade? Does it have a name, incidentally?"

Lelet smoothed her hair and looked offended. "The bottle claimed it was Living Pink. Are you saying it’s less than fabulous?"

"I’m saying I hope you saved the receipt." She looked around the shop. "Anything else you can’t live without? Because I’m desperate for lunch." She scooped the black lace gloves off the rack and handed them to the hovering clerk. "Ah, why not? I’ll take the red velvet also. On my account, thank you."

"Oh, Al, no. I couldn’t possibly."

Althee shrugged. "That dress you’re wearing tonight needs gloves. You look like a disembodied pair of arms without them. I can’t do anything about the hair but I like to help where I can." She took the parcels from the clerk and they stepped out of the dim coolness of the shop into the bright day. It was just before noon, and the boulevard was crowded with the idle children of the Fifty Families—mostly Thirds and Fourths—spending their family’s money, and being seen.

"Did you hear? Suelee snagged herself a Second. She’s moving to Upper Garden," said Lelet, who hadn’t sorted out if she was envious or contemptuous.

Althee shrugged. "Good for her, I guess."

Lelet nodded sagely. "I know, the inherent unfairness in the system prevents the... ah...."

"Prevents the natural progression of the superior intellect," Althee reminded her.

"Intellect! Of course. I knew it was superior something. That was the part where I dozed off," Lelet admitted. She was not over fond of lectures, and she’d been dragged to this particular one by Althee. "Something about hindering flowering? Or was that the orchid one?"

"All right," replied Althee. "I won’t make you come to any more talks." They strolled on in silence for a few minutes. Lelet lit a cigarette and Althee opened her mouth to comment before changing her mind.

"That man was right, though," said Lelet. "The one about the system."

Althee looked up, surprised. "I thought you were asleep."

"I was, but before that. The bit I heard was right. I mean, obviously you should be in charge of your family’s business. Like, why did you have to go back to the house last night?"

"To do the books. Cecille is hopeless with figures."

"But she’s the First. And you’re a Fourth. She’d rather be out shopping, but she can’t. Maybe it is wrong," Lelet laughed. "Didn’t mean to get radical. Should we have lunch here?" They’d stopped in front of a busy café. Lelet tossed the butt of her smoke in the street. "This is the place with the cute waiters."

Once they’d been seated and had coffee in front of them, Althee said, "See, that’s a nice thing about being a Fourth. If you want to enjoy a waiter, no one will look at you cross-eyed. If May started hanging around with the staff, your father would... ah...."

"He’d be less than pleased," Lelet said quickly. She knew Althee had been about to say ‘kill himself’ and wanted to save her friend the embarrassment. No one said that phrase in front of the va’Everly children. "Not that anyone seems excited about Billah...."

"So is tonight to be the night? Did we just fix you up with Dumping Gloves?"

Lelet sighed, "I don’t know. I’d just have to find someone else, and that’s so boring."

Althee grinned. "I could set you up with my spider guy. He still asks after you." The Seshelle family made their fortune in import-export, and had a spider wrangler on full time retainer to mind the goods. The rate of theft in their warehouses was so low as to be legendary.

"The fact that you have a spider guy just makes me love you more. How is Ranette, by the way?"

Ranette was Althee’s pride and joy, her pet Alsatian Rugosa, an arachnid as big as her palm, with silky, auburn spider-fur. She’d adopted the creature after it had been deemed too small to put on guard duty. She let it walk around on her desk while she was working. It kept interruptions to a minimum. "He is fat and fine, and taking after his namesake by stealing my hatpins."

"You know it’s slightly disgusting that you named it after my brother. Who is also slightly disgusting.”She couldn’t fathom her friend’s affection for her repulsive older brother.

"I think he’s delicious." Althee sipped her coffee and scanned her menu. "Don’t tell him I said that, I’d never hear the end of it." She glanced up at the waiter—young and handsome— and smiled. "Salad with the dressing on the side, and the fish, thank you."

"The breaded cutlet, pasta side, and should we get half a bottle of the white?"

Once the waiter had left, Lelet continued. "Don’t worry. I don’t tell Rane anything, ever. He’s the biggest freak in the family. Oh, wait, no. I guess Scilla is the biggest."

"Have you heard from her? Did you tell her to look for Olly?"

Althee’s affection for the entire va’Everly brood warmed Lelet, even if she didn’t understand it. She set down her cup. "Olly, your cousin Olly." She slapped her forehead, "I totally forgot. I don’t talk to her much. You’re lucky, your family is so normal. Even if they can’t do math." She stirred sugar into her coffee and looked out the big front windows. "Know what I wish?"

"That you had big tits," Althee replied promptly.

Lelet snorted a laugh. "What
else
I wish? It’ll sound stupid." Althee leaned forward expectantly. "I wish I could have an adventure. A proper one, like in a book. With... pirates."

"You want to be kidnapped by pirates? That’s not... no, you’re right. That
is
stupid."

"Shut up. A nice one. Clean," Lelet warmed to her subject, "and tall."

"No point in a short pirate," Althee agreed. "He could hardly reach the mizzenmast."

"And smart, with good manners." They paused as the waiter brought their lunch.

"So you want to be carried off by a well-read, polite, neatly dressed pirate with clean fingernails and who knows which fork to use? Sorry, I think he’d be more interested in seamen." Althee laughed at her own joke.

Lelet folded her arms. "Well, ha ha. I’m sorry I told you."

Althee took a sip of her wine and shook her head. "Don’t be. You want to have an adventure? What were we just talking about? You’re a Fourth. You’re free. Run off with whomever you like—who’s going to stop you?"

"Come with me," said Lelet, suddenly inspired. "We’ll go adventuring."

"Not likely," Althee laughed. "Cecille would drive the business into a ditch, and Luce needs me to help her with eligibles. You know she has no more sense than a spoon. But you should come with us when we go south next summer. There are beautiful boys as far as the eye can see, and they think scrawny northern ladies with pink hair are to die for."

"Hmmm, maybe." But in her mind, she was on a galleon with the wind in her face and a tall stranger at her side.

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E
riis City

20 years after the War of the Door, Eriisai calendar

100 years later, Mistran calendar

Yuenne’s family residence

It was turning into the sort of event where everyone showed up early and stayed until the dust rose around the windows.

Ilaan was delighted with the way his father's house looked—every old weapon shone with new polish and was hung with white banners. It was a nicer house than the one he'd grown up in—bigger and in a much more desirable location, close by the royal quarters. The view from his tower was without equal. Plus, the property next door, half vanished by the Weapon, made for a very impressive courtyard. When he had moved the whole family and their retainers to this great house a year earlier, Yuenne had decided on changing the family colors from grey and black to white only—a daring move considering the dust. Ilaan had thought it pretentious at first, but had to admit it did look quite eye catching, all that white. And Yuenne had finally (after much begging) removed his beloved mountain of traveling gear into a back room.

Ilaan had long ribbons of tiny white flowers made, descending from the baskets of glowing stones above the party goer’s heads and strung along the rails and. Tables of little bites of fruit, meat, bread, and cheese (cheese was a fairly new addition to Eriis' menu. It was very exciting that his family had managed to serve so much—and in two different colors). And in the center of the great room, an actual water fountain! A stream of real water seemingly coming from nowhere! (He'd hidden the pouring vase behind a screen). And crystal cups for everyone to take home, once you were done holding up your cup and filling it in mid-air. It was quite a trick, if he did say so himself. Rhuun had laughed and asked where he was hiding the river of
sarave
.

"You drink too much," Ilaan told him.

"I liked it better when we weren't telling each other everything," Rhuun replied cheerfully. He had clearly already started on what he referred to as 'liquid invisibility.'

Yes, it all looked quite fine.

And looking most particularly fine was his
shani
, his Niico, who was wearing a white silk tunic heavy with dun embroidery, and dark brown leggings, as his family favored the darker shades. Niico was becoming a bit of a celebrity; his matches and bouts were always fully attended, and he had invented some interesting midair turns and twists. This caused some grumbling among older fans of the sport who were wedded to the traditional air assault, but it made Niico a bit of a hero to the younger set. Now, everyone stopped to congratulate Niico on his string of victories, many taking a moment to surreptitiously touch or tap his shoulder for luck—an old belief that seemed to be gaining some new popularity. Luck draws luck, and Ilaan had noticed a few tugs and pats on his own arm as well. And why not?

Ilaan made his way slowly through the crowd, all drinking, smiling sweetly, plotting, and planning. He listened where he could and made notes on whom to pull aside later.
These will be my tools, and I can find a good use for them.

Since he'd agreed to join the Conclave Ilaan found himself thinking about the future quite a bit. And with his translation almost done, his best tool was—well, his tool was, drinking too much and arguing with his girlfriend, as Rhuun so often was these days.

The two stood half in, half out of the courtyard. Rhuun liked to be near a shadowed corner and the courtyard was only dimly lit with shallow dishes of softly glowing rocks. Rhuun had a vague half smile and was looking fixedly at the flowers above Aelle's shoulder, hanging on to a glass of
sarave
for dear life. She, for her part, was a beautiful mask with a pretty, dimpled smile. Her hair was coiled and dressed with black and white beads, a daring imitation of the Queen's style which caused more than one party goer to look twice. Their heads were as close together as possible considering how much taller he was. He was definitely at the advantage; if he didn't want to listen all he had to do was straighten up. At the moment they were looking in opposite directions and nearly nose to nose. This was a bad fight. Ilaan waved at them and headed the other way. Neither took any notice.