Дэйв Дункан - Magic Casement

May it be so, Gods! I did remember love, as I was bidden!

Outside the windows, the fields and woods of Kinvale rolled by in watery sunshine under a smoke-blue sky. The end of winter meant the start of spring—soon, but not quite yet. Grass was green, and shy flowers smiled in the hedgerows. Ahead and behind the coach, Corporal Oopari and his troop thumped erratically along. Krasnegar’s men-at-arms were not notable riders, but they could manage on the straight, smooth roads of the Impire. They could certainly keep up with the rocking, clattering carriage. A couple of the men were new recruits, replacing others who had formed romantic attachments and chosen to remain at Kinvale. Ula, the maid from Krasnegar, was long forgotten. Stupid Ula had disgraced herself within days of her arrival and been hastily married off to a gardener.

Andor rearranged the rug spread over their laps, as the bouncing of the coach threatened to dislodge it. Her hand found his again, out of sight.

All those farewells…

“I can’t believe it!” Inos said for the hundredth time. “We are really on our way!”

“You may find it all too real before we arrive, ma’am.” Andor smiled.

With that smile beside her, Inos could face anything.

“It will be a great adventure!” Aunt Kade said brightly. Her shiny-apple cheeks were flushed with excitement, but not a single hair protruded wrongly from under her cornflower-blue traveling bonnet. “I have always wanted to try the overland route.”

Well, if she could believe that, who was Inos to contradict her? Aunt Kade’s indestructible good humor could be very irritating at times, but it would be easier to bear on the journey than sulks, and few persons of her age would have been willing to contemplate at all what she was undertaking so cheerfully.

Andor pointed out the final glimpse of Kinvale, as the carriage crested a hill. Then it was gone.

“Well, Sir Andor,” Kade said, snuggling into her corner. “At last we have time to hear all the news.”

Again Andor’s smile warmed the whole carriage. “Of course, ma’am! Remember that it will be stale, though—I left at Winterfest. But, apart from your brother, everyone in the castle seemed to be well. Chancellor Yaltauri’s lumbago was troubling him. Doctor Sagorn prescribed a liniment with a powerful odor of cheese…”

In moments he had the three of them in stitches, even Isha, who was not supposed to show that she was listening, and who knew none of the people being discussed. He ran through the foibles of the whole palace hierarchy and moved on to the notables of the town. Apparently he was already acquainted with everyone in Krasnegar and that was a surprising thought, one that would need a little time to absorb. Yet under her laughter Inos wondered about Ido. And Lin. What news of the friends of her childhood? A transient cloud shadowed her happiness. They would be friends no longer. An abyss of rank would cut them off now from the princess they had once accepted as one of themselves. What use to tell Ido of the latest dance craze from Hub? What need to play the spinnet for Rap? Chatterbox Lin would not care about Kinvale scandal, nor share what local gossip he had with his queen. Yet she felt an irrational nostalgic longing to know how the old gang was faring. Who was married, who was courting? Those things would interest her more than details of Chancellor Yalta Uri’s lumbago.

But she could not ask. A gentleman like Andor would not have troubled himself over chambermaids or scullions. Or Stableboys.

Inos and Kade picked their way carefully down the hazardous staircase, to find Andor waiting for them, morning-fresh and resplendent in tan suede riding habit. He swept as deep a bow as was possible in the cramped confines of the hostelry. Despite the early hour, the inn was packed with people, most of them soldiers, apparently—noisy, bustling, a noticeably rough and unwashed collection.

“Highnesses, you slept well?”

Kade chirruped something much more cheerful than Inos could manage. A rank stench of men and beer was not a welcome greeting so early in the morning. Andor started clearing a path, leading them through the melee to one of the tiny tables in a corner by a window.

The inn had been a great shock to Inos. Somehow she had come to imagine that the whole of the Impire was as comfortable and luxurious as Kinvale, a very stupid assumption. The tiny bed she had shared with Kade had obviously been stuffed by stonemasons; the leaky thatch had been dug out of a silo, and there had been things living in that thatch. Just after she had retired, a great clamor of voices and horses had arisen outside and continued for hours. That must have been all these soldiers arriving, and now they completely filled the lower room.

The sun had not yet risen. Barely enough light spilled through the tiny, grubby window to show Corporal Oopari and one of his men sitting at the table. They sprang up, yielding their stools to the princesses. She wondered if this had been more of Andor’s foresight. Isha would have to eat on her feet, as many of the soldiers were doing.

“For breakfast, honored ladies,” Andor said in the unctuous whine of a waiter, “we offer a selection of either porridge or porridge. However, you may choose whether to eat the lumps or leave them. Our hot tea is cold and unloved. The chocolate is passable.”

Inos suppressed a lurching feeling inside her, a yearning for the fresh rolls and sweet preserves of Kinvale. Porridge? Ugh!

“I should love some porridge,” Aunt Kade said brightly. “After all that rich food at Kinvale, it will be a pleasure to return to a simpler diet. You, my dear?”

“Just the chocolate, I think.”

The man-at-arms was dispatched into the throng. Apparently the hostelry staff had been immobilized by this military invasion. The table was small, splintery, and filthy.

“Your Highness!” Corporal Oopari was addressing Kade, and his tone snapped Inos out of her engrossing self-pity. He was an earnest young man, Oopari, but too old to have been one of her childhood friends, and too stolid to be good company anyway—dull, but dependable as winter. His family had served hers for generations. He had the dark coloring of an imp, with enough jotunn in him to make him taller and bonier than most men in the Impire. Someone jostled him at that moment, and he almost fell over the table. He straightened up without turning around to seek retribution or apology. That alone showed that he was upset over something, and his face was deeply red.

“Yes, Corporal?”

“I take orders from you only, do I not, Highness? That was what the king told me.”

Aunt Kade looked up at Andor, who was standing at the corporal’s side, likewise squeezed against the table.

“Proconsul Yggingi has joined us, ma’am.”

“Oh!” Aunt Kade seemed to read something from Andor’s tone or expression. She glanced around, and suddenly her smile seemed strangely forced. “All these men are here to escort us, you mean?”

Andor nodded solemnly. “A whole cohort. You will be well guarded.”

Yggingi himself? Inos felt a strong upsurge of distaste, and then saw that something more was bothering the others.

“We don’t need guarding yet, do we?” she asked. This was only the second day of the journey, and they were still well within the Impire. She had caught a glimpse of the mountains from upstairs, but still a long way off. The real adventure would begin on the far side of the pass, Andor had said, and he estimated at least four more days to Pondague.

“Apparently you are going to have an escort, whether you need it or not.” Andor returned his gaze to her aunt. “Corporal Oopari has been informed that he is now under the proconsul’s orders.”

Kade looked flustered, while the angry, stubborn expression on Oopari’s homely face reminded Inos momentarily of someone, but she could not think of whom.