Great Sportsman, it’s a waste of time!”
“Shhh,” hissed the other, with a quick glance at the throne, where the Lord Paramount had stirred slightly. “Aged or not, we are sworn to him, and as the universe knows, we Aresians never waver from our oath of service.” His lips firmed as he said sententiously, “Faithful service is our pride. It says so in the Aresian security services prospectus.”
The other actually did smile at this, a quick twitch of the lips, his eyes roving the room as they always did, taking note of every gentle movement of curtain, every shift of light, every sound that might presage a visitor. He stiffened slightly at a sound in the hallway outside the door, then relaxed at the familiar tramping of feet. Behind the two, the doors slid soundlessly open to admit the change of guard who eased into the places Ogberd and Lokdren silently vacated.
Outside in the corridor, Lokdren removed his helmet, wiped his brow, and continued the interrupted conversation, though softly. “I’m less concerned with what’s in the prospectus than I am what’s in our orders. We may be fulfilling the prospectus, but we’re damned well not finding out what we came to find out!”
Ogberd’s lips twitched. “We’ve learned a lot about rug-weaving looms and chandeliers and wine-making equipment and miniature sheep, though, haven’t we?”
Lokdren shook his head. “More than I care to know, frankly. Time is running out. Father’s getting impatient. He sent another indignant message this morning. If we don’t come up with something soon, he’ll do something irrevocable.”
“Do you care?” Ogberd shrugged.
His brother nodded back. “Haven’s a nice enough littleplace. Some of the people are pleasant. I’d hate to see them in father’s hands, the mood he’s in, put it that way. He won’t stop at anything. I’m sure of it.”
“Nonsense. Father’s an honorable sportsman.”
“Is he now? Are any of us?
Given the consequences if we don’t find out?”
“Given the consequences …” Ogberd sighed. “Damn. Well, I don’t know. Given the consequences … I suppose even Father … well, I suppose even he could … do the unthinkable.”
Lokdren thinned his lips and snarled. “Better start thinking about it, brother. Just so it won’t be unthinkable, when it happens.”
SIX
One’s Place in Havenor
G ENEVIEVE, AS HER FATHER DIRECTED, WAS TO TAKE LEAVE of her friends at school, return with her belongings to Langmarsh House, and there oversee the packing of such furnishings and garments as would be needed in Havenor. Meantime, the Marshal himself would go to Havenor and obtain lodgings, which might or might not be to either of their liking. Havenor was always crowded with members of the court and others who came to seek favors from the Lord Paramount, and there was often little to be had in the way of houses or apartments.
“I am sorry to lose you, my dear,” said Mrs. Blessingham, with a pang she herself thought unwarranted. Girls were always going away; why should she anguish over this one? Nonetheless, she did anguish.
“I don’t want to go,” whispered Genevieve, admitting it for the first time to someone other than herself. “Oh, I do not want to go, Mrs. Blessingham. I would so much rather stay here.”
“Do you think this journey is possibly what your mother meant?”
Genevieve looked up, spilling tears. “I’ve thought … perhaps it is. Though … I’m not sure.”
“Think on it, dear.” Mrs. Blessingham actually wrung her hands. “Please, Genevieve, it will be wise for you totake a great deal of notice of what’s going on around you. You must be alert in Havenor.”
So Genevieve went home, all at doubts and dithers, with no idea what Havenor had to offer or what she should take with her. Soon, however, the post packet that plied the River Reusel stopped at Sabique, a Wantresse County village in the valley below Langmarsh House, and from there a fast rider brought
“Shhh,” hissed the other, with a quick glance at the throne, where the Lord Paramount had stirred slightly. “Aged or not, we are sworn to him, and as the universe knows, we Aresians never waver from our oath of service.” His lips firmed as he said sententiously, “Faithful service is our pride. It says so in the Aresian security services prospectus.”
The other actually did smile at this, a quick twitch of the lips, his eyes roving the room as they always did, taking note of every gentle movement of curtain, every shift of light, every sound that might presage a visitor. He stiffened slightly at a sound in the hallway outside the door, then relaxed at the familiar tramping of feet. Behind the two, the doors slid soundlessly open to admit the change of guard who eased into the places Ogberd and Lokdren silently vacated.
Outside in the corridor, Lokdren removed his helmet, wiped his brow, and continued the interrupted conversation, though softly. “I’m less concerned with what’s in the prospectus than I am what’s in our orders. We may be fulfilling the prospectus, but we’re damned well not finding out what we came to find out!”
Ogberd’s lips twitched. “We’ve learned a lot about rug-weaving looms and chandeliers and wine-making equipment and miniature sheep, though, haven’t we?”
Lokdren shook his head. “More than I care to know, frankly. Time is running out. Father’s getting impatient. He sent another indignant message this morning. If we don’t come up with something soon, he’ll do something irrevocable.”
“Do you care?” Ogberd shrugged.
His brother nodded back. “Haven’s a nice enough littleplace. Some of the people are pleasant. I’d hate to see them in father’s hands, the mood he’s in, put it that way. He won’t stop at anything. I’m sure of it.”
“Nonsense. Father’s an honorable sportsman.”
“Is he now? Are any of us?
Given the consequences if we don’t find out?”
“Given the consequences …” Ogberd sighed. “Damn. Well, I don’t know. Given the consequences … I suppose even Father … well, I suppose even he could … do the unthinkable.”
Lokdren thinned his lips and snarled. “Better start thinking about it, brother. Just so it won’t be unthinkable, when it happens.”
SIX
One’s Place in Havenor
G ENEVIEVE, AS HER FATHER DIRECTED, WAS TO TAKE LEAVE of her friends at school, return with her belongings to Langmarsh House, and there oversee the packing of such furnishings and garments as would be needed in Havenor. Meantime, the Marshal himself would go to Havenor and obtain lodgings, which might or might not be to either of their liking. Havenor was always crowded with members of the court and others who came to seek favors from the Lord Paramount, and there was often little to be had in the way of houses or apartments.
“I am sorry to lose you, my dear,” said Mrs. Blessingham, with a pang she herself thought unwarranted. Girls were always going away; why should she anguish over this one? Nonetheless, she did anguish.
“I don’t want to go,” whispered Genevieve, admitting it for the first time to someone other than herself. “Oh, I do not want to go, Mrs. Blessingham. I would so much rather stay here.”
“Do you think this journey is possibly what your mother meant?”
Genevieve looked up, spilling tears. “I’ve thought … perhaps it is. Though … I’m not sure.”
“Think on it, dear.” Mrs. Blessingham actually wrung her hands. “Please, Genevieve, it will be wise for you totake a great deal of notice of what’s going on around you. You must be alert in Havenor.”
So Genevieve went home, all at doubts and dithers, with no idea what Havenor had to offer or what she should take with her. Soon, however, the post packet that plied the River Reusel stopped at Sabique, a Wantresse County village in the valley below Langmarsh House, and from there a fast rider brought
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