Cuddling the child, she said, 'My baby here says we have been married at least two years. You can invent a story.'
He said, 'Yes. All right. We're married. What's your name?'
She laughed. He laughed.
Strangely, after all these years, he remembered that unexpected shared laughter as vividly as he remembered the shared bed that eventually followed, although the sheer intensity of the pleasure she revealed to him that night had been one of the greatest surprises of his life. He had been a reasonably competent husband thereafter, until failing health affected his virility.
She shrugged. 'How does 'Paola' sound? Paola Apicella. Name your daughter, master.'
'Frena,' he said at once, his mother's name.
It had taken his agents almost a year to pry out the rest of the story and establish the child's identity. By then it had not mattered. He never learned the details of Paola's background, for she had been a person of no importance.
Had she truly been a Chosen? He had never again tried to ask her. She had been loving and well loved. She could not be compared with the Queen of Shadows, whose foes died with ghastly speed and regularity. He had wondered, sometimes, when a business rival had sickened or met with misfortune, whether Paola's curses had assisted Ucr's blessing, but there had never been any way to tell for certain. He did not even know if the odious Pukar was what he claimed to be, or just a very slick imposter fleecing him.
Yesterday's joys ... Three years ago he had lost the mother and now he was going to lose the daughter. There was no joy in that prospect, no joy today. Alas, he had long ago learned that nothing replaceable was worth a care. All the incomparable wealth he had gathered, and the thing he prized most—
The door of the cellar creaked open.
¦
There were several of them. They let him hear their footsteps moving around him, but took their time before speaking. Despite his confidence, he was strung tight in expectation of sudden bone-shattering agony. 'Ready to talk?' growled a low voice. 'Mmm?' Even without his familiar mooing mannerism, Eide Ernson always sounded like a hungry, rather sullen, bull. He thought like one, too.
'How may I serve my lord?' Horth was admitting nothing. Any man dangling in a dungeon would address his captor as 'lord.'
'I want your daughter as wife for... a certain young man.' Eide, simple soul, had almost said more than he had been told to say.
'A match approved by my lord would be an enormous honor. But I fear our ancestry is not worthy.'
'Yours, no. Do you know who she is, mmm?'
Who else was present? Saltaja included her bovine husband in important meetings only when she needed testimony from a Witness. If a seer were present, Horth must not lie.
'I know. She does not. Her foster mother did not tell me—I made it my business to find out.' There were times in negotiation when knowledge must be concealed. There were other times when it could be volunteered to advantage. 'I have made it my business to keep abreast of Celebrian affairs ever since. Frena's father the doge rallied somewhat in the spring, but his health still causes great concern. I understand that a successor must be found, but I naturally assumed that one of Frena's brothers would be selected.'
Outflanked by unexpected information, the satrap grunted.
'Is he telling the truth?' inquired the throaty voice of Saltaja Hragsdor.
Silence.
'Is he telling the truth?' Eide echoed.
'He is speaking what he believes to be the truth, lord,' a woman said in the singsong voice of a seer witnessing. 'His information concerning Celebre must be hearsay, as is yours.'
'Mmm? Hadn't heard about the doge man rallying before.'
Eide and the seer were both in front of Horth, and Saltaja lurked somewhere behind, and very likely there would be Perag or another henchman to wield the club if the meeting turned sour.
'The prisoner's information may be more up-to-date than yours, lord. I can judge only what he believes.'
Eide grunted again. 'Do you consent to the match, mmm?'
Horth drew a deep breath. 'Will my lord do me the honor of describing the young man I shall be so honored to welcome into my house?'
'Who do you expect?' asked the Queen of Shadows.
'It would be absurdly presumptuous of me to—'
'Answer, or I'll have Perag break your legs.' Saltaja had the reputation of never bluffing.
'My lady is kind,' Horth sighed. 'The last I heard from Kosord, the city was preparing to celebrate the imminent initiation of the satrap's youngest son into the Heroes. He is two years older than Frena. Since all your own sons and all your nephews were sent over the Edge as soon as they were blessed, Cutrath would seem to be a very logical candidate to become puppet ruler of Celebre.'
'Mmm?' Eide bellowed. 'He's been spying on us! Seer, how does he know that?'
'Ask him, my lord.'
'How do you know that, prisoner?'
'Speculation based on public knowledge, my lord,' Horth said.
