hard for a father to judge, sir.”
The Lord Paramount gave him a sharp look. “Ah … you think so? Well, I have an idea. Since that equerry of yours would be looking after her here in Havenor, let him take a look at her. We old fellows, we can’t judge women, and it’s not our place, anyhow. Though Delganor does very well. Proper judge of livestock, Delganor. Gave me a marvelous stallion, just recently.”
“As Your Majesty wishes,” murmured the Marshal, backing away from the presence while trying not to show his discomfort. Why had he mentioned having responsibilities? Still … if the Lord Paramount had meant what he might have meant …
Behind him, in the small council chamber, silence fell. A servant crept through a side door and circled the throne, putting the scattered booklets into a basket and rearranging the pile at the Lord Paramount’s side before creeping out once more. The Lord Paramount dropped the booklet from his lap onto the carpet and took the top one from the pile, leafing through it, marking the pages here and there. The Aresian mercenaries by the door continued their restless watch upon the room, raising their weapons briefly as the curtain behind the baldachin opened and Yugh Delganor slipped through to lean familiarly across the Lord Para-mount’s shoulder.
“So, do I invite the girl to join us all here at Havenor?”
The Lord Paramount smiled. “Give it a little time, Yugh. It isn’t as though we’re in a hurry, eh? Look at this animal, here. Like a sheep, only tiny. It’s a kind ©f lapdog. I want one. Or several.”
“As Your Majesty wishes.”
“Ten of them, I think. That way I’ll have replacements. They don’t last long, pets. Such short lives. Better bring them in stasis. And look here, this admirable new type of rug weaving looms. I must have some of these.”
Yugh Delganor scanned the booklet, bowing. “Your Majesty is no doubt correct.”
“I’ll have Krivel look at it. We may be non-technological, Yugh, but we have to keep up with things, ah?”
“Your Majesty can say nothing less than truth.”
The Lord Paramount nodded, the pages flickering in his hands. “Let that young colonel look her over, the Marshal’s daughter—look at this dinnerware! Quite marvelous—if you think she’s all right and he’s a suitable one to …”
“Oh, definitely. Very … puissant.”
“Then he’ll no doubt find her charming, despite the nose.”
“She may have grown into it by now,” the Prince interrupted.
“Despite the nose,” repeated the Lord Paramount, an edge to his voice. This time Delganor did not interrupt him. “Then you can go down to her school or academy or whatever it is and invite her. If all goes well, we’ll have you wed shortly. Your third wife, won’t it be?”
“Fourth, Your Majesty.”
“Pity. I remember your first wife. Charming girl. Look at this boiler arrangement, Delganor. Now that’s innovative …”
The Prince did not reply. He merely bowed and departed, taking no notice of the Aresians who had measured his every movement and recorded his every word. The Prince was a source of much information to the intelligence people on Ares. They drew sustenance from every casual word uttered by the Prince. More than from the Lord Paramount, who spoke unequivocal nonsense most of the time.
After a time the lips of the guards curved in not-quite smiles at the slither of booklets spilling from the lap of the man on the throne, followed by a gentle but unmistakable snore.
“So, likely we’ll be getting a new woman to flit abouthere for a while,” said one, Ogberd by name, speaking barely above a whisper without moving his lips. “Destined for the Prince. Brother, it’s interesting that they never stay long, do they?”
His brother, Lokdren, assented with an almost invisible nod. “Lady Marissa was the last young one, and none since she married Lord Tranquish. Lately I’ve felt like an attendant at a home for the aged, and by the
The Lord Paramount gave him a sharp look. “Ah … you think so? Well, I have an idea. Since that equerry of yours would be looking after her here in Havenor, let him take a look at her. We old fellows, we can’t judge women, and it’s not our place, anyhow. Though Delganor does very well. Proper judge of livestock, Delganor. Gave me a marvelous stallion, just recently.”
“As Your Majesty wishes,” murmured the Marshal, backing away from the presence while trying not to show his discomfort. Why had he mentioned having responsibilities? Still … if the Lord Paramount had meant what he might have meant …
Behind him, in the small council chamber, silence fell. A servant crept through a side door and circled the throne, putting the scattered booklets into a basket and rearranging the pile at the Lord Paramount’s side before creeping out once more. The Lord Paramount dropped the booklet from his lap onto the carpet and took the top one from the pile, leafing through it, marking the pages here and there. The Aresian mercenaries by the door continued their restless watch upon the room, raising their weapons briefly as the curtain behind the baldachin opened and Yugh Delganor slipped through to lean familiarly across the Lord Para-mount’s shoulder.
“So, do I invite the girl to join us all here at Havenor?”
The Lord Paramount smiled. “Give it a little time, Yugh. It isn’t as though we’re in a hurry, eh? Look at this animal, here. Like a sheep, only tiny. It’s a kind ©f lapdog. I want one. Or several.”
“As Your Majesty wishes.”
“Ten of them, I think. That way I’ll have replacements. They don’t last long, pets. Such short lives. Better bring them in stasis. And look here, this admirable new type of rug weaving looms. I must have some of these.”
Yugh Delganor scanned the booklet, bowing. “Your Majesty is no doubt correct.”
“I’ll have Krivel look at it. We may be non-technological, Yugh, but we have to keep up with things, ah?”
“Your Majesty can say nothing less than truth.”
The Lord Paramount nodded, the pages flickering in his hands. “Let that young colonel look her over, the Marshal’s daughter—look at this dinnerware! Quite marvelous—if you think she’s all right and he’s a suitable one to …”
“Oh, definitely. Very … puissant.”
“Then he’ll no doubt find her charming, despite the nose.”
“She may have grown into it by now,” the Prince interrupted.
“Despite the nose,” repeated the Lord Paramount, an edge to his voice. This time Delganor did not interrupt him. “Then you can go down to her school or academy or whatever it is and invite her. If all goes well, we’ll have you wed shortly. Your third wife, won’t it be?”
“Fourth, Your Majesty.”
“Pity. I remember your first wife. Charming girl. Look at this boiler arrangement, Delganor. Now that’s innovative …”
The Prince did not reply. He merely bowed and departed, taking no notice of the Aresians who had measured his every movement and recorded his every word. The Prince was a source of much information to the intelligence people on Ares. They drew sustenance from every casual word uttered by the Prince. More than from the Lord Paramount, who spoke unequivocal nonsense most of the time.
After a time the lips of the guards curved in not-quite smiles at the slither of booklets spilling from the lap of the man on the throne, followed by a gentle but unmistakable snore.
“So, likely we’ll be getting a new woman to flit abouthere for a while,” said one, Ogberd by name, speaking barely above a whisper without moving his lips. “Destined for the Prince. Brother, it’s interesting that they never stay long, do they?”
His brother, Lokdren, assented with an almost invisible nod. “Lady Marissa was the last young one, and none since she married Lord Tranquish. Lately I’ve felt like an attendant at a home for the aged, and by the
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