“I think the black and silver,” Seliora announced.
“You look good in both,” I said.
“I like red,” declared Diestrya firmly.
Seliora shook her head. “With you two…”
“Want to go with you,” Diestrya announced.
“This reception is for adults,” Seliora said. “Tomorrow night you’re coming with us to Grandmother Maelyna’s and Grandfather Chenkyr’s. Your cousin Rheityr might even be there…and your Uncle Culthyn.”
“Want to go tonight.”
“Where you’re going now is down to supper.” I picked up Diestrya and carted her downstairs, ignoring the short-lived wailing and the small fists beating on my shoulders. She did settle down, and I fed her the meal that Klysia had waiting. Then I went back upstairs and dressed in formal blacks.
We arrived at the residence of High Holder Shendael at a fraction before seventh glass in a Collegium coach-social engagements were considered duty, provided they were not excessive, and with the unspoken agreement that the driver received one or two silvers, an arrangement that Elreyt appreciated more than many, because he had three children. The timing seemed appropriate, since a cream-and-silver coach had just arrived, and the footman who opened the coach door was the same young woman who had greeted me earlier in the week.
“Welcome, Maitre Rhennthyl, Madame.”
“Thank you.”
As we walked along under the covered portico to the main entrance, Seliora murmured, “You didn’t mention the woman footman.”
“I didn’t. I forgot. There are several.”
Once we entered the mansion, another liveried woman took our cloaks, and we were escorted to what looked to be a drawing room, modest for a High Holder, a chamber paneled in white birch with pale blue hangings, a mere ten yards by eight or so.
Juniae D’Shendael turned from where she stood talking to a white-haired woman in a flowing emerald- green gown, accompanied by a man in the uniform of a Sea-Marshal, and walked toward us.
“Madame D’Rhennthyl, you look as beautifully formidable as ever, and you, Maitre, so unassuming.”
“And you as beautifully brilliant as always,” returned Seliora.
I wasn’t about to claim I was or wasn’t unassuming, which was the point of her greeting.
“You must join me and Sea-Marshal Caellynd and his wife Rowlana.” With that she eased us toward the other couple.
I was trying to place the silver-and-blond-haired Sea-Marshal, whom I’d never met, then realized from his name that he was Valeun’s deputy, the second-in-command of the entire Naval Command. Did Juniae D’Shendael know every senior officer in the Navy? She well might.
“Rowlana, Caellynd, I’d like you to meet Maitre Rhennthyl and his wife Seliora.”
“Ah, yes, I’ve heard of your beauty, dear lady, but the descriptions do not do you justice…and the redoubtable Maitre Rhennthyl.” Caellynd smiled warmly.
I had to admit that I liked him instantly, although I wondered if that just meant I should trust him even less. After the reception, I’d have to ask Seliora what she felt. “Hardly redoubtable, but pleased to meet you.”
“You’re far too kind,” said Seliora sweetly, “but after a long day, I will take the compliment.”
Rowlana smiled. “You must have young children.”
“I do, but I also work as a design engineer in the family business. You may have heard of it-NordEste Design.”
Rowlana inclined her head slightly, then offered an empathetic smile. “You’re doing far more than I would ever have tried.” Her eyes turned to me, and her smile became more wary. “You’re the one who’s been giving Sea-Marshal Geuffryt fits.”
“Oh, no, Madame. He’s been the one giving me fits. No one could do that so well as he.”
Caellynd laughed. “I’m afraid Maitre Rhennthyl has the right of that, dear. Marshal Geuffryt is very good at what he does, but it can be a bit wearing on others.” He turned more to me. “Before I forget, I want you to know that I did send a communique to Fleet-Marshal Asarynt, instructing him to give all possible assistance to your Maitre-in-Command. All of us with fleet experience would like to see a quick resolution to this conflict.” He shook his head. “We can’t even call it a war, since no one on either side wants to declare it one.”
“I do appreciate that.” I definitely did, but why had he mentioned that he’d sent the communique, unless to suggest that Valeun had done nothing of the sort…and that Valeun didn’t fully appreciate the situation?
He glanced at his wife and then back to me, before saying with a laugh, “I think we’d best not talk any more about the Naval Command or the Collegium.”
I grinned. “Don’t you think we’re looking at a colder winter than we’ve had in years?”
“Absolutely,” he agreed.
“There is warm spiced wine at the serving table,” suggested Juniae.
“How is your latest book selling?” I asked. “The latest is
“It is. The publisher says that it’s selling as do all my books…slowly, but with just enough copies that they might publish another. If I don’t finish it too soon.” Juniae raised her left eyebrow, an ironic effect, before continuing. “Rowlana, have you finished that watercolor? Did you know that Maitre Rhennthyl is also a noted portraiturist?”
From the momentary surprise in Madame D’Caellynd’s eyes, it was clear that she had not known.
“For all of his military-like appearance, Rhenn has an artistic side, as does his wife, whose fabric designs grace many of the best salons in L’Excelsis.”
It became apparent, very quickly, that we were the exhibit of the evening.
Shortly, we were eased over to meet one of the high justices, Symmal D’Juris, and his wife Maedlynaie, a petite woman who barely topped Seliora’s shoulder and was most likely less than five years older than Seliora, who was the youngest of all the guests. Later in the evening, we met Madame D’Lhoryn, but High Holder Lhoryn was away dealing with estate matters, and Seliora and I both gained the impression that he was always “away” for Madame D’Shendael’s salon receptions.
By the time we left, my head was aching from the dual effort of being pleasant to all too many people I did not know, all of whom had heard about us, and trying to remember as much as I could. The only good sign about it all was that in the cold clear winter air, both Erion and Artiema shone down nearly full as the coach carried us back to Imagisle.
58
Dinner at my parents’ house on Samedi evening was quiet, and that was a relief. Since Khethila hadn’t traveled from Kherseilles, not that I expected any such travail, I didn’t mention much about the reception, except the feeling of being on display.
“That comes with the perquisites, Rhenn,” my father had replied, not quite brusquely. “Too bad you couldn’t ask about wool contracts from those Navy types.”
Mother had looked sharply at him, and the conversation had turned quickly to children.
The remainder of the weekend had been mostly quiet, although I did embark on beginning the actual painting of the portrait of Diestrya. That would take a number of short sittings, because she certainly couldn’t sit still for long. By Lundi morning, I couldn’t help but think that Dartazn and the imagers should be in the process of deploying to begin the attacks on Ferrum. What if what we had planned so meticulously didn’t work out? What if too many of the young imagers froze and couldn’t do what had been asked of them?
I did ask Schorzat what he knew about Caellynd.
His response was close to what I’d expected. “He’s been recently posted to the Naval Command. He was the senior Fleet-Marshal for close to seven years, and the one who was so successful in the first Ferran conflict. The Council picked him as Valeun’s deputy and successor.”
