does here.”
Hanner knew that was, at most, only a slight exaggeration. “It’s not our business if he does,” he said.
“You can say that because he’s never dragged you along,” Alris said. “He insists I have tomeet people.”
“He sends me out to meet them on my own, instead,” Hanner said. “I don’t see that as much better.”
“You don’t have to stand there looking innocent while the great man seduces some poor woman who’s dazzled by his title.” She picked at a loose thread on her skirt and said, “I don’twant to meet people.”
“Have you ever told Uncle Faran that?”
“Of course I have! But he doesn’t pay any attention.” She looked up from the thread. “You’ll get to meet his latest conquest.”
“I will?”
“He told me this one wants to see the inside of the Palace, so he’ll probably be bringing her up here.”
“And he’ll probably want us to stay out of the way,” Hanner said. “She won’t be coming to meetus.”
“Which is a good thing. She’s probably stupid. Most of them are.”
Hanner did not want to argue about their uncle’s taste in women, so he attempted to change the subject. “Where’s Nerra?” he asked.
Alris gestured toward the passage to their bedchambers. “In there somewhere,” she said. “She and Mavi were talking about clothes again, and I got bored.”
“Mavi’s here?” Hanner tried not to sound too pleased. While he generally didn’t think much of his sisters’ friends, Mavi of Newmarket was an exception. Nerra had met her while shopping for fabrics in the Old Merchants’ Quarter, and the two had quickly become close; Hanner admired Mavi’s generosity of spirit and lively interest in almost everything. And her fine features, charming smile, shapely figure, and long lustrous hair didn’t lower Manner’s opinion a bit.
Alris nodded. “She’s boring,” she said. “Like Nerra.”
Hanner grimaced. Alris was thirteen and thought everything was boring.
Or almost everything; like Uncle Faran, she was fascinated with magic. She had tried for months to convince Faran to apprentice her to a magician, but he had refused, on the grounds that she might well inherit or marry into an important position in the government of the Hegemony of the Three Ethshars-but that she could not take such a position if she were a magician.
Hanner suspected that Uncle Faran might well intend to marry Alris off to some important politician, as much for his own advancement as hers; as Alris said, she and Nerra were often taken along on Faran’s travels, while Hanner never was.
Any such intention got no support from Alris herself. She had argued that she didn’twant a government position or a prestigious marriage, but as usual their uncle had prevailed, and now that she was six weeks past her thirteenth birthday she was too old to be properly apprenticed to anyone, magician or otherwise.
So now she spent her time moping around the Palace, being bored and disagreeable.
“You were talking to magicians all day, weren’t you?” Alris demanded.
“Most of it, yes,” Hanner agreed. “Three witches, a theurgist, two sorcerers, and four different wizards.”
“Did any of them show you any magic?”
“Not really,” Hanner lied. One sorcerer and two of the wizards had shown him a number of spells and talismans, and one of the witches had read his mind and offered to heal some of the discomfort in his soul.
Hanner did not have any discomfort he wanted cured, so he had refused the offer. He suspected that whatever he might have cluttering up his soul was the result of his dissatisfaction with his own actions, and he wanted that left intact, to give him incentive to do better in the future.
“I’ll bet they did,” Alris said enviously. “You just aren’t admitting it.”
Before Hanner could reply he heard footsteps; he turned to see Nerra and Mavi emerging from Nerra’s bedchamber.
Nerra was five years younger than Hanner’s twenty-three years, five years older than Alris, and like her siblings a little shorter than average. While not as stocky as Hanner, she was definitely heavier than Alris.
Mavi, on the other hand, was an inch or so taller than Hanner, and shaped very nicely indeed, in Hanner’s opinion-though of course he would never dare tell her so.
“I thought I heard your voice,” Nerra said. “Has Uncle Faran gone?”
“He just left,” Hanner replied. “Does he still think the Wizards’ Guild is plotting to take over the World?”
Hanner sighed. “Something like that,” he admitted.
“Arethey plotting to take over the World?” Mavi asked with a sly smile. “Have you found any evidence of their dire schemes?”
“They’re enforcing their rules, just as they always have,” Hanner said wearily. “No mixing different sorts of magic. No mixing magic and government.”
“It’s stupid,” Alris said from the window. “Why should they care?”
“They don’t want anyone getting too powerful,” Hanner explained, as he had several times before-but never in Mavi’s hearing, which was why he continued. “After all, some wizards live for centuries-if the overlord were to live that long, who knows what he might do?”
Mavi and Nerra looked at each other, then burst out laughing. Hanner blushed. “Notour overlord,” he said. “I don’t think Lord Azrad the Sedentary would ever get much done no matterhow long he lived. But imagine if thefirst Lord Azrad were still alive, and had had two hundred years...”
“What if he had?” Alris demanded. “What business is it of the Guild’s?I wouldn’t mind if old Azrad the Great were still running things!”
“Uncle Faran would mind,” Nerra said. “He couldn’t order everyone around the way he does if Azrad the Great were the overlord.”
“Who cares?” Alris said. “The overlord is sixty-seven. Someday he’s going to choke to death on a fishbone or something, and then Azrad the Younger will be Azrad VII, and he’ll probably throw Uncle Faran out anyway. They don’t like each other very much.”
“And suppose that the overlord had some sort of magic that would let him live for hundreds of years-what would Azrad the Younger do?” Hanner asked. “Justwait?”
“He might just find another job,” Mavi suggested.
“Or he might hire a wizard or a demonologist to assassinate his father.”
“Lord Azrad wouldn’t do that,” Nerra protested.
“He can’t,” Alris said. “The Wizards’ Guild would kill any magician who agreed to assassinate a government official.”
“But we’re assuming the Guild isn’t enforcing their rules anymore,” Hanner said.
“It’s stupid,” Alris said. “It’s a stupid assumption, because theyare enforcing their stupid rules, and Uncle Faran can’t make them change that.”
“And this is a stupid argument,” Nerra said. “I’m hungry-is the overlord dining in state tonight?”
“I don’t think so,” Hanner said. “Then let’s go down to the kitchens and get ourselves some supper. I don’t want to eat here, and besides, Uncle Faran would probably rather we aren’t here when he brings his current woman in.”
“True enough,” Hanner agreed. He looked longingly at the couch by the wall-his feet hurt, and he would have liked to rest them briefly-but turned and led the way to the door. He was as hungry as Nerra, and he could rest his feet when they got to the kitchens-three flights down and a hundred yards to the west, beneath the great hall.
The vast and cavernous kitchens were swarming with servants and courtiers, preparing, transporting, and consuming a variety of fine foods. One table was roped off, with a guard standing nearby-that was where the master chef was making the overlord’s dinner.
The overlord was traditionally expected to dine in the great audience hall, with his family and courtiers gathered about him, but Azrad VI had never wanted to put that much effort into his meals; he preferred to eat in his apartments with a few close advisors-usually his brothers and Lord Faran, if Faran was around. That left the other occupants of the Palace free to make their own arrangements.
