It's an ill wind that changes direction.'
'
ELOSA? Elosa! Wake up!'
Elosa opened her eyes and blinked up at her mother. Jassina, on the cot in the corner, awoke with a scream.
'Quiet, you stupid girl!' the duchess snapped. 'Leave us!'
Jassina scrambled to her feet and ran, stumbling, to the door. It thudded shut behind her.
'I don't believe I heard you knock,' Elosa said.
'Very likely not,' her mother agreed. 'Put your wrap on and come with me. It's important.'
There was only one important thing around Ninar Foan at the moment. 'The prince? You've had word?'
'Yes. Hurry!'
Obviously the duchess was not about to explain. Elosa put on an expression of wounded, dignity and took her time. The dingy pink lighting did nothing to improve her bleary-eyed feelings, nor did the gray stone walls and threadbare carpet. She had been evicted two days before from her own room, which was much larger and more fancy--and sunside. She found it hard to sleep without sunlight shining in her window; her father took the church's precepts seriously and required that all the castle drapes be closed during the third watch, but even as a child, Elosa had sneaked out of bed when her parents had left and let the sun back in.
She slipped into her blue vicunya wrap, which was conveniently lying on the chair by her bed, then sat before the mirror and started to brush her hair. Normally Jassina did that for her. She was hoping that the delay would annoy her mother enough to make her say what all this was about, but the duchess had moved over to the window, a brooding, angular figure in moody brown colors. What her father had ever seen in the woman was a constant puzzle to Elosa--too tall, faceted in flat planes and sharp joints, her colorless hair pulled back in a bun, and a constant air of suppressed despair. Although perhaps that was worse lately?
Elosa herself had inherited not only her father's glossy black hair but also his trim skyman frame--she was deliciously tiny and proud of it. In her leather flying suit she looked like a boy, very fashionable among the aristocracy, and she came from the very highest levels in the aristocracy. Her mother, a mere earl's daughter, did not.
'There was an eagle in the sun today,' the duchess muttered. 'That always means bad news.'
'I expect if you were feeling less liverish you would have seen an onion or a floor mop,' Elosa retorted, tossing the brush away. Obviously the hair strategy was not going to work. 'Now, do I get an explanation?'
Her mother strode to the door, tapped, and opened it. That tap gritted in Elosa's ears. She had not merely been evicted from her own room and forced into sharing with Jassina, but the anteroom which should have been her maid's was now occupied by a
At least he was awake and dressed. Sir Ukarres rose with difficulty, leaning on his cane and bent sharply at the hips. One side of his wrinkled ocher face was permanently pulled down, giving him a quizzical expression; the eye on that side was blind. He was as ancient as the Ark, but also impossible to dislike for very long at a stretch. As well as being a distant relative, Ukarres was seneschal, and it was he, not the duchess, who was making arrangements for the crown prince's visit; that lady had no excuse at all for her bad temper and frayed nerves.
'Elosa!' he said in his whispery voice. 'Please forgive this imposition. It distresses us greatly to disturb you like this, and before three bells, too.'
'I had not noticed that so far,' Elosa replied.
'Are you going to leave him stand there all day?' the duchess demanded, closing the door.
'I thought you were in charge,' Elosa said. 'Uncle, please sit. I shall be quite comfortable here.' She perched on the bed.
The old man eased painfully back into his chair. The duchess stepped over to the window and stared out at nothing once more. Ukarres leaned both hands on his cane and studied the floor for a minute, as though uncertain how to begin. He did not even have a carpet over the flagstones, Elosa noticed.
'Elosa, my dear,' he said at last. 'You are very close now to your seventh kiloday, and therefore adulthood. I have regarded you as an adult for some time now, and I hope I have treated you as such? What I have to tell you is very much adult business. We are relying on you for discretion.'
That was more like it. 'Of course I shall respect your confidence, Uncle.'
Ukarres nodded and gave her his scanty-tooth smile. 'Good! We have just had word that the prince is making better time than expected. He has sent word that he will reach Vinok today. If the hunting is good, he will remain there a day or two. Otherwise he will be with us by first bell tomorrow.'
Elosa's heart started a little solo dance in fast time. 'That is good news.'
Sir Ukarres hesitated. 'Yes...and no. Of course the whole place is in a panic now--we were not ready.'
He seemed to dry up, and Elosa felt a twinge of uneasiness. 'What's wrong?'
The old man glanced at the duchess, who was still looking out the window, and then back to Elosa. 'Have you not noticed? You remember when the royal courier first brought the news that the prince was coming?'
Elosa would never forget that excitement, that moment. They had all been dining in the great hall when that scarlet figure had appeared in the doorway. She would never forget--he was the first royal courier she had ever seen. 'Of course, Uncle.'
'I don't think your father has smiled since.'
What? But it was true that her father had seemed strangely preoccupied lately. And her mother was certainly bitchy.
Now it was Elosa who glanced at the duchess's back and found no help there. 'You mean he doesn't welcome the prince's visit, Uncle?' she asked.
'It is a grave responsibility,' he said. 'And not only have we just had news that the prince is almost upon us, but there is also word of danger. Remember, this is in confidence.' His voice dropped, although it was never much more than a whisper. 'There will be an attempt made on his life when he is here--here at Ninar Foan.'
Elosa gasped. 'The rebels? They wouldn't dare! And how could they? The castle is impregnable! Uncle, you are joking.'
He shook his head. 'We have clear warnings of treachery, Elosa, within the castle itself.'
'But...' The idea was too absurd, and yet surely he must be serious. 'Then you must guard him!'
'Oh, he is always well guarded,' Ukarres admitted. 'I do not for a moment say it will succeed. But even the attempt would be a disaster for the honor of your father's house.' He shuddered. 'Think of the king's vengeance!'
'Vengeance?' Elosa snapped. 'Uncle, you forget your history--the king owes Father an eternal debt.'
'It is not history to me,' Ukarres said sadly. 'And debts, being orphans, die young.'
'But...' she said again. 'But the castle servantry are all father's thralls and have served us all their lives! Who?'
'We don't know. Your father does not know.'
'Elosa,' her mother said, wheeling around. 'He is worried to death. You must have noticed how ill he looks? Or don't you even see--'
Ukarres held up a hand to silence her. 'Your parents--and I--are extremely worried. We take this very seriously. Your father has decided that Vindax should be warned--advised not to come here.'
Not come? It was unthinkable. All her life she had known that her destiny was to marry the crown prince. After all, she was the daughter of the premier noble, and there was a great dearth of eligible girls within Rantorra and even in the adjoining kingdom of Piatorra. She had all the qualifications: breeding, rank, age, beauty. When that royal courier had appeared, she had been certain that he was bringing the invitation to court which she had long dreamed of. And instead the prince himself had been coming to Ninar Foan. No crown prince had ever done that-- nor any king of Rantorra, either, without an army. His reason was obvious. And now he was to be stopped?
'Obviously,' Ukarres said, 'such things cannot be said in public. Nor can they be written--the honor of your house is involved, my lady. It is a shameful thing, but less shameful than the alternative. Your father will take the
