Exile's Valor

:What about—: Kantor interrupted his pretense at reading. :—if we concoct another point of protocol? That any final-year Trainee of appropriate age and gender can serve as the Queen’s dance partner?:

He thought about that for a moment; it would effectively double the number of young faces at the occasion, and what was more they would be people Selenay already knew and would feel comfortable around. It wasn’t that long ago that she’d been a Trainee herself.

Perfectly reasonable. While we’re at it, throw the doors open for the Bards and Healers as well. No reason why they can’t be included. Every reason why they should be.: And Bards and Healers were just as trustworthy as Heralds. With any luck, there would be so many of them that no one else would even get a chance at taking a dance with Selenay.

He felt Kantor’s approval. :Good. Bards make better dancers anyway.: And, once again, he sensed Kantor’s withdrawal.

He felt himself smiling; there was something to be said for this particular kind and purpose of conspiracy. It made everyone who was involved in it feel good. And it got their minds moving in directions that had been sadly unfamiliar for far too long. Poor Selenay had been spending the last six moons and more thinking only of the welfare of those around her and dependent on her. It was about time that they all returned the favor.

:If Keren and Ylsa are going to be her bodyguards, shouldn’t she have an official escort?: Kantor said, coming “back” from wherever he’d “been.”

Good God, another sticking point, another point of vulnerability. Not one of the suitors—oh, no. That would be opening the door to all sorts of potential trouble and danger. But who? :Since this is a Festival, what about a Bard?: he asked, thinking about all the really handsome-looking Bards he’d seen in and around the Collegia. :Besides, with a Bard around, you never lack for conversation. It’s their job to be witty.:

:Good idea. Then she can’t be accused of favoritism for the Heralds, but she won’t be stuck with one of the suitors.: Kantor “vanished” again, and Alberich was left alone with his book.

He might even manage to get a page or two read, in between thinking of yet more security holes, and coming up with schemes to block them. While she was up here, behind her walls, she was secure. But down there, for the God’s sake, out on a solid sheet of ice—

But her people love her. Even down there, in the worst part of Haven, there was anger when that whore tried to make trouble. He had to take comfort in that; had to remember that this was not Karse and Selenay could move among her people without fear.

Most of them, anyway—

He sighed, and put down the book. No point in trying to read now. It was time to start making some lists, or his mind would be buzzing and he’d get no sleep at all this night.

“When do you sleep?” “Infrequently.”

He sighed, and fetched a pen and paper.

5

Clear sky of a brilliant, cloudless blue, and it was cold enough to freeze the—Well, it was colder than Alberich had ever been without also being wet clear through. It got cold in Karse, but never quite like this, a dry, biting cold that didn’t penetrate so much as stab. He was grateful for the extra pairs of socks he was wearing, as well as for the peculiar contraptions that Keren had cobbled up for everyone at the Collegium, leather straps with five or six tacks in them that you could strap on over your boots to give you traction on the ice. She said that people used them for ice-fishing on Lake Evendim. Well, he would take her word for it, because if it was cold enough to freeze that lake this thick every winter, he never wanted to go there.

He’d never learned to ice skate, and at this point in his life, he was a bit dubious about the odds of his success if he started, so it was a good thing he had these so-called ice cleats on his feet. They kept him from measuring his length on the slippery river ice more than once.

He just wished there was something for sun glare off of ice and snow that made him wear a squint that was beginning to feel permanent. He had his hood up and a hat on top of it to shade his eyes, but that did nothing for the reflected glare. It was also beginning to give him a headache.

Still, this Ice Festival was something to be seen, and worth the cold and the rest of it. He didn’t often get out during the day down in Haven in one of his disguises, and for once, he wasn’t even down here on “business.”

Whoever the jolly lad had been who’d been paying for people to foment dissension over the Queen, evidently getting his hireling arrested had frightened him off. Not a rumor, not a sign, not a breath