work. Briuly Blackpath was as little to be bought as Touchstone or the Shadowshapers, with whom he’d hitched a ride to Seekhaven this year, so despite his brilliance with the lute, he didn’t have a noble employer. Like his cousin Alaen, he played when and as it suited him. Rich he was not, but he kept himself in strings and tavern patrons kept him in beer, and he was just as happy to have it so.
Briuly had an advantage possessed by no other musician: He was known personally to Princess Miriuzca, for last summer he had been one of the party sent to escort her to Albeyn. Word had got round that at this, the first Trials she would ever unofficially witness, she had asked for him to be present, just as she had asked for Touchstone to be the theater group sent to her homeland. It was Hadden Windthistle’s opinion that Briuly was too unworldly to take advantage of this preference; Mieka understood this to mean that, like Cayden at times, Briuly was too full of himself and his notions of the Purity of Art to attend to the practical side of life.
When Touchstone reached the castle on the night they were engaged to play for the ladies, Briuly was already there, seated on the edge of the stage, spindly legs dangling as he played whatever pleased him at the moment and ignored the milling throng of Court ladies. Cade went over to him, bent to murmur something in his pointed Elfen ear, and Briuly nodded without breaking the complicated rhythm of his fingers on the lute strings. Watching this, Mieka shook his head and sighed resignation as he mounted the side steps and approached the glass baskets full of withies. The Blackpath cousins were two of a kind, no matter how little they resembled each other physically. Both were deeply in love—Briuly with his lute, Alaen with Chirene—and neither of them had any time or thought for anyone or anything else. In fact, Alaen had stayed in Gallantrybanks during Trials, for Chirene was there and Sakary was here and the silly giddiot continually cherished hopes of seeing her alone.
The ladies began to settle into their seats at the Pavilion, eagerly anticipating the shock of what they were about to see. They all wore the usual masks and veils, pretending that nobody knew anybody else and none of them were really here. Princess Iamina was as always identifiable by the jewel of yellow diamonds and pearls that fixed a thin silk veil to her high-piled braids, but this year she had competition regarding rank. For the first timein Mieka’s experience—admittedly not extensive—the Queen was present at a performance. He’d never heard of Roshien’s attending one of these late-night pretend-secret shows. But that pudgy morsel of rose silk and wispy gray veils could only be the Queen, for everyone curtsied as they passed her, and again to the tall, masked girl in blue beside her. Mayhap Roshien was here because of the play’s historical importance. Mayhap she had been persuaded by her new daughter-in-law. Mieka smiled to himself, wondering how much of the Court shared Miriuzca’s secret.
Near Princess Iamina, and also providing competition, was the new Archduchess, flagrantly waving to someone. Had she wished to remain anonymous—and Mieka couldn’t think of a single reason why she would—she would have done better than to wear her husband’s colors. Included in this tribute of gray and orange was her wedding ring: a great lump of gray pearl surrounded by orange topazes. The thing reached almost to her fingernail and looked heavy enough to anchor a ship. Much had been made of this gift in the broadsheets, and it served to make her as recognizable as did Princess Iamina’s gaudy yellow flower. Honestly, Mieka thought to himself as he mounted the steps to the stage, the things women did to outshine each other. Rather than turning at once for the glass baskets that had already been set up for him, he walked over to where Rafe stood at his lectern.
“I think the Archduchess needs a bit of
Briuly had an advantage possessed by no other musician: He was known personally to Princess Miriuzca, for last summer he had been one of the party sent to escort her to Albeyn. Word had got round that at this, the first Trials she would ever unofficially witness, she had asked for him to be present, just as she had asked for Touchstone to be the theater group sent to her homeland. It was Hadden Windthistle’s opinion that Briuly was too unworldly to take advantage of this preference; Mieka understood this to mean that, like Cayden at times, Briuly was too full of himself and his notions of the Purity of Art to attend to the practical side of life.
When Touchstone reached the castle on the night they were engaged to play for the ladies, Briuly was already there, seated on the edge of the stage, spindly legs dangling as he played whatever pleased him at the moment and ignored the milling throng of Court ladies. Cade went over to him, bent to murmur something in his pointed Elfen ear, and Briuly nodded without breaking the complicated rhythm of his fingers on the lute strings. Watching this, Mieka shook his head and sighed resignation as he mounted the side steps and approached the glass baskets full of withies. The Blackpath cousins were two of a kind, no matter how little they resembled each other physically. Both were deeply in love—Briuly with his lute, Alaen with Chirene—and neither of them had any time or thought for anyone or anything else. In fact, Alaen had stayed in Gallantrybanks during Trials, for Chirene was there and Sakary was here and the silly giddiot continually cherished hopes of seeing her alone.
The ladies began to settle into their seats at the Pavilion, eagerly anticipating the shock of what they were about to see. They all wore the usual masks and veils, pretending that nobody knew anybody else and none of them were really here. Princess Iamina was as always identifiable by the jewel of yellow diamonds and pearls that fixed a thin silk veil to her high-piled braids, but this year she had competition regarding rank. For the first timein Mieka’s experience—admittedly not extensive—the Queen was present at a performance. He’d never heard of Roshien’s attending one of these late-night pretend-secret shows. But that pudgy morsel of rose silk and wispy gray veils could only be the Queen, for everyone curtsied as they passed her, and again to the tall, masked girl in blue beside her. Mayhap Roshien was here because of the play’s historical importance. Mayhap she had been persuaded by her new daughter-in-law. Mieka smiled to himself, wondering how much of the Court shared Miriuzca’s secret.
Near Princess Iamina, and also providing competition, was the new Archduchess, flagrantly waving to someone. Had she wished to remain anonymous—and Mieka couldn’t think of a single reason why she would—she would have done better than to wear her husband’s colors. Included in this tribute of gray and orange was her wedding ring: a great lump of gray pearl surrounded by orange topazes. The thing reached almost to her fingernail and looked heavy enough to anchor a ship. Much had been made of this gift in the broadsheets, and it served to make her as recognizable as did Princess Iamina’s gaudy yellow flower. Honestly, Mieka thought to himself as he mounted the steps to the stage, the things women did to outshine each other. Rather than turning at once for the glass baskets that had already been set up for him, he walked over to where Rafe stood at his lectern.
“I think the Archduchess needs a bit of
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