'Well, I don't think they're going to kill each other, and I do think your Midwinter present is a success, Tilden,' Kethry laughed, as three of the mastiff pups together broke from the mass and attacked Warrl's tail. Warrl ignored them, and after a few futile attempts to make the tail do something, the pups galloped back to the larger pile. Even the Archduke's eldest girl, the quiet scholar who considered herself an adult at thirteen, had joined in the romp.
'I was afraid you might be annoyed when I descended on you with more livestock,' their old friend replied, eyes twinkling. 'But I could hardly have given the girls their pets and not have brought identical offerings for your brood.'
Tarma laughed, and slapped him on the back. 'You show a fine grasp of diplomacy in your old age,' she told him. 'And since the manners and morals of the nobility often resemble those of children, I predict you are going to go far in your political career. Let's go off to somewhere where we can talk without having to scream at each other. We can leave Warrl in charge of maintaining a pretense of order and let them sort out which animal belongs to who by themselves.'
Tilden's chief Midwinter presents to all of the children consisted of one Brindle Mastiff puppy and one Arborn Hunting Cat kitten for each child old enough to appreciate and care for their pets. With sound judgement, he had left the animals in the nursery and brought in the children, but had not parceled out particular animals for each. Hunting Cats and Mastiffs were about the same size and strength, were often kenneled and trained together and would be perfectly happy paired up together.
'Good idea,' seconded Jadrek, who winced as a particularly piercing shriek split the air.
The adults returned to Kethry's solar, which was just large enough to seat all of them without anyone feeling crowded rather than cozy. The furniture was of good quality, but with the touch of shabby comfort about it that furnishings often acquire in a house where there are many well-loved children. Tilden looked around and nodded -- with satisfaction, Tarma thought.
'You know,' said the Archduke, when they were all settled -- and in some cases, sprawled -- comfortably in front of the fire, 'this has been such a pleasant Midwinter, I'm tempted to ask you to invite us again next year.'
'In spite of the circumstances?' Tarma asked, arching an eyebrow at him.
'Absolutely.' Tilden nodded his handsome head, and his wife gave silent agreement. 'The twins have no real friends at home, and to be brutally frank, I dread Midwinter Court -- it's when every social-climber and bore in the Kingdom shows up to rub elbows with the great and the pretenders, then goes home to drop names to impress his provincial friends. I'd be just as happy to have an excuse to come here instead of bringing the twins home for the holidays every year. It wouldn't be any more difficult to get up a caravan for us to come here. Easier, in some ways -- my guards would only be making one round trip instead of two.'
Unspoken was the clear and obvious fact that no one in his right mind, however bold and fanatic, would attack the Archduke and his retinue. Not with Tilden's reputation as a warrior.
'Tilden!' his wife laughed. 'How can you say that about our worthy peers?'
'Our worthy peers are so preoccupied with sucking up to the King that he could set them on fire and they'd thank him for the honor,' Tilden replied brutally. 'And I'm glad to be among friends with whom I can speak my mind for a change, instead of mouthing polite idiocy and trying not to feel as if I ought to be scraping them off my boots.' He turned to Tarma, and she shrugged.
'Don't look at me,' she declared. 'I'm just a barbarian nomad with no sense of rank or decorum, remember? You can keep your Courts; I don't want any part of them.'
'You're well out of it, and I wish I'd had your sense and declined the damned title,' Tilden grumbled, yet with a smile. 'You have no idea what those of us who actually do some work have to put up with from the drones. Listen to this, will you-'
She sat back and enjoyed Tilden's witty, acerbic commentary on the current crop of Rethwellan nobility, as his wife added sweetly pointed asides and Jadrek commented on the lineage (or lack of it) where each was concerned. It was wonderful to have Tilden and his family here; she'd forgotten how much she enjoyed his sharp tongue and razor wit. And of course, Jadrie was thrilled, for she not only had her best friends here for the holiday, but she had a new friend in the shape of Tilden's eldest daughter Arboli. However scholarly Arboli might be, she was also the daughter of a bodyguard and a Horsemaster -- she rode like a Shin'a'in and could hold her own in rough games and contests. She couldn't match even Kira in swordwork, but she was wickedly accurate with a snowball and was endlessly inventive in coming up with new amusements to act out.
As for Kethry's twins, they were overjoyed at having a whole new set of playmates, even if those playmates were girls. Even the two youngest played happily together -- insofar as any two strange toddlers could play together. At least it was with a minimum of squabbles.
There was never any question of Kira and Meri going back to their father after their ordeal -- they were still sick from the effects of cold, fear, and the seeds they'd eaten, and the new Healer in the village insisted they remain in bed at the school so that she could make certain there would be no lasting effects from their experience. They ate as if they were hollow, and slept when they weren't eating, for three days straight.
Meanwhile Kethry had gotten messages to their father telling him what had happened. While the twins were recovering, Tilden had made his excuses to the King, packed up the entire family, and headed at top speed for the school, with the baggage train following at an easier pace. And when he and his retinue appeared on the doorstep, Tarma wasn't at all surprised to see them. She'd expected him to do exactly that -- and if he had been hesitant, his wife Diona would have overcome that hesitation.
