Finn. "Odds are it's some inbred aristo with warts and a speech impediment."
"Actually," said Douglas, just a little diffidently, "it's Jesamine Flowers."
"Bloody hell!" said Lewis, so loudly that everyone in the vicinity looked around sharply. Lewis lowered his voice and leaned in closer. "The Jesamine Flowers? Bloody hell. . . I've got all her recordings . .."
Finn studied Douglas thoughtfully. "Something of a prize, certainly. But. . . this came from Parliament, rather than your father, didn't it? Are you really going to allow them to tell you what to do, this early in your new career? You could be setting a precedent you'll come to regret."
"Oh, come on!" said Lewis. "This is Jesamine Flowers we're talking about! I'd crawl across broken glass just for a smile and a wave!"
"I'm in no position to defy Parliament's wishes," said Douglas. "Not yet, anyway. And their logic is unassailable. The King must have a Queen who can do the job. Jesamine Flowers will be a very popular choice with the people ... It could have been a hell of a lot worse . . ."
"You'll have no time for your old friends now," said Lewis, grinning. "People like Finn and me will probably be banished from the Court as bad influences on you."
Douglas reached out and took Lewis by the arm. "Nothing will ever part us, Lewis. Not the Throne, not my marriage; nothing. Not after all we've been through together. You're the only real friend I've ever had.
We'll talk more about this, after the Ceremony. Now I've got to go and make nice with my bride-to-be.
If you're both very good, I'll try and get you autographs."
He left them then, striding quickly off through the crowd, frowning so fiercely that people hurried to get
out of his way. Lewis and Finn watched him go, looked at each other, and then shook their heads slowly.
"This is turning out to be a day of surprises," said Lewis.
"Some more significant than others," said Finn. "He might have told us who's going to be Champion.
Who's closer to him than us?"
"Come off it," said Lewis. "Everyone knows it's going to be you. You're the longest-serving Paragon, with an unmatched record. He'd have to be crazy to give it to anyone else. No one else has half your experience. You're the better warrior."
"And the better man," Finn said solemnly. "Don't forget that. And, of course, incredibly modest."
"Well, yes," said Lewis. "But then, you have so much to be modest about."
They laughed quietly together, and then turned and looked out over the packed Court. Neither of them had anything much to do now, until it was time for the Ceremony. Lewis snagged glasses of champagne from a passing waiter, and they drank in silence. Lewis had never had any doubts as to who would be Champion. Finn was the greatest Paragon there'd ever been. Everyone knew that. And, Finn was Logres's Paragon. Local boy made (very) good. His exploits were common knowledge throughout the Empire. A warrior and a hero well on his way to being a legend in his own lifetime.
Even if he was sometimes a little extreme in his actions.
Lewis had never considered himself worthy to be Champion. Half the time he didn't even feel worthy to bear the legendary Deathstalker name. It wasn't like he was even a direct descendent. The direct line died with David, on Virimonde. Technically Owen was still listed as Missing in Action . . . but after two hundred years only the really devout still thought he'd turn up some day. But such was public sentiment for the legendary name, that King Robert had promoted an indirect branch, and made them Deathstalkers. And every damned one of them had been a Paragon. Lewis had never wanted anything else, ever since he was a child. The day he left Virimonde as its choice of Paragon, to go to Logres for his confirmation, had been the happiest and proudest day of his life.
And yet it wasn't something he intended to do for the rest of his life. Being a Paragon was a young man's job; a job for a man without wife or family to grieve
"Actually," said Douglas, just a little diffidently, "it's Jesamine Flowers."
"Bloody hell!" said Lewis, so loudly that everyone in the vicinity looked around sharply. Lewis lowered his voice and leaned in closer. "The Jesamine Flowers? Bloody hell. . . I've got all her recordings . .."
Finn studied Douglas thoughtfully. "Something of a prize, certainly. But. . . this came from Parliament, rather than your father, didn't it? Are you really going to allow them to tell you what to do, this early in your new career? You could be setting a precedent you'll come to regret."
"Oh, come on!" said Lewis. "This is Jesamine Flowers we're talking about! I'd crawl across broken glass just for a smile and a wave!"
"I'm in no position to defy Parliament's wishes," said Douglas. "Not yet, anyway. And their logic is unassailable. The King must have a Queen who can do the job. Jesamine Flowers will be a very popular choice with the people ... It could have been a hell of a lot worse . . ."
"You'll have no time for your old friends now," said Lewis, grinning. "People like Finn and me will probably be banished from the Court as bad influences on you."
Douglas reached out and took Lewis by the arm. "Nothing will ever part us, Lewis. Not the Throne, not my marriage; nothing. Not after all we've been through together. You're the only real friend I've ever had.
We'll talk more about this, after the Ceremony. Now I've got to go and make nice with my bride-to-be.
If you're both very good, I'll try and get you autographs."
He left them then, striding quickly off through the crowd, frowning so fiercely that people hurried to get
out of his way. Lewis and Finn watched him go, looked at each other, and then shook their heads slowly.
"This is turning out to be a day of surprises," said Lewis.
"Some more significant than others," said Finn. "He might have told us who's going to be Champion.
Who's closer to him than us?"
"Come off it," said Lewis. "Everyone knows it's going to be you. You're the longest-serving Paragon, with an unmatched record. He'd have to be crazy to give it to anyone else. No one else has half your experience. You're the better warrior."
"And the better man," Finn said solemnly. "Don't forget that. And, of course, incredibly modest."
"Well, yes," said Lewis. "But then, you have so much to be modest about."
They laughed quietly together, and then turned and looked out over the packed Court. Neither of them had anything much to do now, until it was time for the Ceremony. Lewis snagged glasses of champagne from a passing waiter, and they drank in silence. Lewis had never had any doubts as to who would be Champion. Finn was the greatest Paragon there'd ever been. Everyone knew that. And, Finn was Logres's Paragon. Local boy made (very) good. His exploits were common knowledge throughout the Empire. A warrior and a hero well on his way to being a legend in his own lifetime.
Even if he was sometimes a little extreme in his actions.
Lewis had never considered himself worthy to be Champion. Half the time he didn't even feel worthy to bear the legendary Deathstalker name. It wasn't like he was even a direct descendent. The direct line died with David, on Virimonde. Technically Owen was still listed as Missing in Action . . . but after two hundred years only the really devout still thought he'd turn up some day. But such was public sentiment for the legendary name, that King Robert had promoted an indirect branch, and made them Deathstalkers. And every damned one of them had been a Paragon. Lewis had never wanted anything else, ever since he was a child. The day he left Virimonde as its choice of Paragon, to go to Logres for his confirmation, had been the happiest and proudest day of his life.
And yet it wasn't something he intended to do for the rest of his life. Being a Paragon was a young man's job; a job for a man without wife or family to grieve
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