Goddess of the Ice Realm by David Drake Page A

felt uncomfortable with smoother, harder, fabrics next to his skin. He grinned: Duzi knew that he was uncomfortable enough at public functions as it was.
    â€œI’d have awakened you shortly,” said Liane as she looked critically at the robe she’d laid on a chest, then put it on again. “You asked your friends to meet with you for dinner.”
    â€œRight,” said Garric. “I trust my council, but I’m not an Ornifal noble and most of them are. They don’t have the same instincts that I do—and frankly, I
prefer
my instincts.”
    â€œAnd mine?” Liane said, smiling sidelong.
    Garric took her in his arms and kissed her; with love if not with the passion of a few hours earlier.
    â€œLiane?” he said, turning to choose an outer tunic from the rack; he wouldn’t wear his cuirass to dinner. He cocked the shutters farther open as he mused. Then he went on, “Is there a shrine to the Sister here in Carcosa?”
    â€œI think there probably is,” Liane said. If she was surprised, her calm face didn’t betray it. “If I can’t find it in the gazetteer I brought, I’ll check with my local agents. How public is your interest?”
    She made sure her dress was presentable, then walked toward the adjoining room of the suite where servants had laid out the luggage she’d brought from Valles. Most of her gear consisted of document cases, generally in code. Liane’s father had been a far-traveled merchant, and she’d turned his shipping contacts into an intelligence service that reached into every major city in the Isles.
    â€œIt’s not a secret,” Garric said, strapping on his right sandal. His footwear was functional, not a pair of court slippers. He’d sooner have been barefoot in this weather, but that would’ve shocked the palace servants—though not his friends. “I just had a thought.”
    He was glad Liane didn’t question him about his interest; he wasn’t sure what he would answer.
    But just maybe,
maybe,
his dream had solved a problem that he’d known he’d face as soon as he decided to come to Carcosa.

Chapter Five
    The chamberlain suggested we eat in the roof garden,” Liane explained as Garric opened the door to the corridor. “He says we can move under the marquee if it starts raining again.”
    The squad of Blood Eagles jumped to attention. It was Garric’s whim not to have guards or even attendants in his rooms while he was present. He wasn’t as fiercely hostile to the idea as Ilna was, but he’d been too long waiting on others in his father’s inn to be able to ignore the fact that servants were people who saw and who heard and who spoke to their friends.
    â€œSo long as you know how to get there,” Garric said, wryly amused. He’d always thought of himself as having a good sense of direction, but that was before he had to get around palaces like this one, which covered as much ground as all of Barca’s Hamlet. While he was outdoors he’d been picking up cues from the sun and stars without ever being conscious of them; in a maze of corridors he was as lost as if he were trapped in a cave.
    Not that there was ever a likelihood that he’d be
alone
in that cave. As soon as the door opened, half-a-dozen voices chorused, “Your highness, if I could have a moment—” or some close approximation of that. Garric recognized three of the speakers—one was Lord Tadai’s chief clerk—but the others were strangers, and they all had either a document in their hands or some other person in tow.
    â€œNot
now,” Garric said. Carus had been right: there weren’t enough hours to do all the things he was expected to do. Having people pick at him like yarn thrown to a litter of kittens didn’t make the job easier. “See my clerks!”
    The Blood Eagles forced the petitioners back with an enthusiasm that showed