Дэйв Дункан - Magic Casement

He paced over to her, while she attempted a smile of welcome and carefully did not gawk like a moron. He took her hands and bowed over them. His eyes had already spoken volumes—regard, pleasure at seeing her… deep sorrow?

Sorrow?

And finally he said, “My Princess!”

“Sir Andor!” She could say nothing more. His princess! Oh, yes!

Finally Andor acknowledged Kade, swooping her a bow.

“Sir Andor!” She beamed. “How nice that you can rejoin us!”

And the old harridan on the high chair had not missed an iota of that reunion, not a crumb.

“Be seated, ladies!” she croaked in her thin, antique voice.

Unable to stop staring at Andor, Inos allowed him to lead her to a chair and then watched as he walked over to sit opposite her, gracefully swirling his cloak out of the way as he sat. Kade and the other men had found chairs somewhere.

What could possibly be so wrong?

“Sir Andor has brought news for you, Kadolan,” Ekka said.

“For me, Sir Andor?” Kade was being cautious, her eyes flickering from Andor to Inos and to the others. For her, that was a strange failure of poise.

“Your Highness,” Andor said, pulling his gaze from Inos, “I am the unhappy bearer of grievous tidings. Your royal brother is… is most gravely ill.”

Inos heard herself gasp, but Aunt Kade recovered herself at once. Now she knew what was involved, she registered only polite surprise. “You have come from Krasnegar, Sir Andor?”

He bowed his head slightly. “I have. You will wonder why I did not tell you that it was my destination when I left here, and that omission I must explain to you at length. But I stayed there until almost Winterfest. When I departed, your brother was failing fast.”

Father! Inos clasped her hands tightly and forgot that this was Andor speaking. Oh, Father!

Andor glanced at her and then back to Kade. “I have brought a letter from the learned Doctor Sagorn, but he disclosed its content to me. He does not expect his Majesty to recover from this affliction. A few months at the most.” Taking a packet from the pocket of his cloak, he rose and moved over to deliver it.

Father! Father! Dying? No! No! No!

Aunt Kade took the letter and held it out at arm’s length to scan the inscription. Then she laid it unread on her lap and folded her hands over it, while Andor swept back to his seat.

“You think then that we should be prepared to depart on the first ship of spring, Sir Andor?”

“If the venerable sage is correct, ma’am, that may not be soon enough.”

The harsh tones of the graceless Yggingi broke in. “Are you suggesting that these gentle ladies attempt the journey overland?”

Andor gave him a long and inscrutable stare. “That must be their own decision, Excellency. I have known worse journeys.”

Worse! Inos thought of all the horror stories she had heard and shuddered anew. This marvelous Andor could dismiss that terrible trek so easily?

“Such as?” Yggingi was scowling at this poised young upstart.

“The Plain of Bones. Dyre Channel? Anthropophagi frighten me much more than goblins do.”

“You met goblins in the forest?”

“Twice.” Andor spread his hands and smiled. “I prefer not to discuss their habits in the presence of ladies, but I still have all my fingernails, as you can see. Childish savages, but quite hospitable. My wrestling was rusty, but apparently acceptable—a few sprains was all.”

Marvelous man!

“If Princess Kadolan decided to venture this journey, Proconsul,” the duchess asked in her threadbare voice, “Could you provide an escort for her?”

The big soldier regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. “I have the troops, certainly. The worst of the cold is behind us, but it would still be a test of endurance, even for men. For ladies of quality, it would be a serious ordeal.”

He stopped and waited.

“It would certainly be an adventure,” Kade remarked cheerfully. “Inos and I must discuss it when we have read what the skilled Doctor Sagorn has written. We shall keep your generous offer in mind, Excellency.”

Inos found her mouth hanging open and closed it quickly. That her aunt would even think of such a journey was unthinkable.

“I am most curious, Sir Andor,” Ekka creaked, “as to why you set out from here for Krasnegar without informing my sister- in-law or her niece of your destination. They would have wanted to send letters.” She bared saffron fangs in a smile that should have frozen his blood.

Andor acknowledged the point with a token of a nod. “It is not a matter of pride to me, your Grace.” For a moment handsome young man stared up at ugly old woman in what seemed strangely like a contest of wills, but then he continued placidly. “I stupidly placed myself in a grievous conflict of honor. It concerned a promise made to an old friend, one to whom I owe much, a dear friend also of my father’s—”

“I have forgotten your father’s name and station, Sir Andor.”

“Senator Endrami, ma’am.”

Inos resisted a temptation to leap up and cheer. Let them chew on that! An Imperial senator? No lowly adventurer, Andor, but the son of a senator?

The duchess granted the score. “I did not forget, then. I had not been informed. A younger son, I assume?”

“His eighth.” Andor’s smile could have tamed a clutch of basilisks. “A much younger son of a much older father. I honor my father’s memory, your Grace, but I prefer to be judged by whatever I make of my own life, rather than by his accomplishments.”

Another point to Andor!

“However,” he continued, “Doctor Sagorn is an old and dear friend, one who helped me much in my youth. He, in turn, was indebted to a friend of his, King Holindarn of Krasnegar, whom he visited last summer, at his invitation. He saw then that the king was likely dying.”

Father! Inos gasped and looked at Kade, who avoided her eye. So she had known, or at least suspected!

Andor had paused for them to consider his words. He continued, speaking now to Inos. “Sagorn knew of potions that could ease your father’s suffering, but the ingredients were not available at Krasnegar. So he returned to the Impire to collect them, and by then the shipping lanes were closing for the winter. He asked me, as a favor, if I would escort him back to Krasnegar, for the overland trail is a long and hard travel at his age.”

Now Inos understood. She smiled her understanding and gratitude.

Andor, however, frowned. “It was then that I made my foolish error. He needed some time to gather his materials and he had mentioned to me that the king’s daughter was coming to Kinvale. I presumed upon mutual friendships to call and meet her.” He brought the pouting duke into the conversation with a glance. “It was sheer nosiness… and I—I lost my heart.”

Inos felt herself blush scarlet and quickly looked down at her lap. “You see my predicament,” his voice said softly—and surely he was still speaking to her. “I had been sworn to secrecy by Sagorn, for ailments of kings are matters of high import. So I could not discuss my mission.”

She raised her eyes to meet his. She smiled her forgiveness. She smiled that she had never doubted him.

He returned the smile, a little—thanking her for it—but his eyes remained grave.

“And so we went to Krasnegar. By Winterfest Sagorn had no doubt. The king commanded that the secret be kept, and the matter should properly have been no affair of mine. But now I knew Inosolan. I was his Majesty’s guest, and his daughter’s slave, but not his subject. Once again I found myself trapped in a conflict of honor, for I knew that Inos would want to know. So that was my penance for nosiness—that I must take her the doleful tidings. I bought a couple of horses, and here I am.”