He loomed over them like a cloud, black and lambent with evil; the rage seemed to burn out of him like thunder heat. Before the threat of his power, Alde looked suddenly very small and young, and Ingold seemed old and ragged.
Except for his eyes; they were bright and fierce under their white brows and met Alwir's unafraid.
"Prohibitively expensive, in fact," the wizard said. "For who knows which way the die will fall, my lord?" Like a fencer disengaging, he turned his deceptively mild gaze to Stiarth and inquired, "Would your lord the Emperor press his demand for this term of alliance at the risk of losing the alliance itself?"
"I cannot in truth..." the Imperial Nephew began deprecatingly.
Alwir rasped, "Nothing will make me forgo the alliance!"
"For indeed," Ingold continued, as if the Chancellor had not spoken, "if there is a conflict and a schism in the Keep, who knows who would hold the power afterward?"
The Chancellor gasped, taken for one instant utterly off balance, as if he could not conceive another coming to power in the Keep. Then his black brows dived over his nose, his face clotting with rage. "And who speaks of that, pray?" He would have reached out and shaken the old man, had not Ingold without apparent effort turned aside Alwir's grasping hand with his staff.
"No one, of course," the wizard replied, widening his eyes at Alwir in surprise. "But surely my lord the Emperor knows that in times of trouble many things may come about."
"Indeed he does." Stiarth got to his feet and salaamed gracefully in the direction of Alwir, Ingold, and Minalde. "Had I known that the match was so repugnant to my lady, I would have hesitated to trample her sensibilities by even the suggestion, nor, I am sure, would our gracious lord the Emperor. It is true that, having heard tales of her loveliness and gentle breeding, he earnestly desires such a union; indeed, the federation of our two Realms has long been a scheme close to his heart."
A voice from the back of the Gettlesand rangers muttered, "I bet it has."
"I am desolated to have been the fomenter of such difficulties. My lord-my lady -I await your convenience." He bowed again; in a whispering cloud of layered silken capes, he turned and minced from the room.
Vair sprang to his feet like a tiger. From among the Gettlesand rangers, Rudy could see him overtake the lithe Ambassador in the doorway, catching the petaled edge of Stiarth's sleeve with his hooks. "Are you mad?" he demanded. "The Emperor said-"
"My Imperial Uncle entrusted this matter and all others to my judgment," Stiarth replied softly. With two fingers, he disengaged his fragile ruffles. "And believe me, Commander, I would far rather deal with the brother than have the sister and the wizard come to power in the confusion that would follow schism. I trust you concur?" Then he was gone in a rustling of perfumed silk, the click of his high heels audible for some moments as he retreated down the long hall.
It was Alwir's voice that broke the silence. "My lord wizard," he said quietly, "I would have a word with you- alone."
"I should never have let him go." Alde spoke without raising her head, her chin resting on her crossed wrists upon her drawn-up knees. On the other side of the common room hearth, Rudy put aside his long-silent harp.
"It had to happen," he said softly. "Oh, Christ, Aide, what are we going to do?"
She shook her head despairingly. "I don't know."
It was midmorning and the common room was empty. Voices murmured among the complex of cells-Dame Nan's yapping curses, Tomec Tirkenson's rumble of protest, and Kara's patient "Mother!" The only light was the honey-gold glow of the hearth. The room smelled of rising bread and of the braided strings of herbs and onions that hung from nails on the walls. Tad the herdkid had brought word that Tir was still safe in concealment among the Keep orphans. If Alwir was looking for him, it had not occurred to the Chancellor that he would be hidden there.
How do I manage to do stuff like this ? Rudy wondered miserably, looking across the hearth to the girl who sat folded so compactly in the inglenook, staring unseeingly into the fire. All I want is to love her and to be happy. Why is it that all I've managed to do is comprehensively screw up her life and bring her nothing but pain and disgrace, excommunication and exile, and loss? Was Ingold right? Are mages born damned ?
"Aide, I'm sorry," Rudy said wretchedly. "I never meant for it to turn out this way."
She looked up at him, tears shining in eyes that looked almost black in the shadows. "It had nothing to do with you, Rudy," she murmured. "Really," she added, seeing the weary denial on his face. "Don't you see? It would have come to fighting between Alwir and myself whether I-I loved you or not. It's just that -I thought for so long that he cared for me." She shifted her position, the white brocade of her skirts polished by the firelight as they rippled down over the hearth bricks. She was fighting to keep her mouth steady. "He could be so kind to me in the old days, but maybe that was because he Knew I-I respond easily to kindness. I suppose he'd say Ingold knows that, too. I always thought he was a very contradictory person, but he's not. I-I'm only sorry you had to be caught in it, that it had to spoil something that was-that you-"
Rudy cried miserably, "Aide, nothing could hurt my love for you! Not time or distance or politics or the Void... Nothing."
For an instant neither of them moved, but only looked at each other, separated by the glow of the hearthlight, as one day the brighter light of the Void must stand between them. Then, with swift impatience, Rudy swung to his feet, crossed the light with his great shadow sprawling across the walls behind him, and dragged her to her feet and roughly into his embrace. She clung to him, her face buried in the rough fleece of his gaudily painted vest, her hands locked behind his back. He whispered desperately, "Aide, if I had a choice, I'd never leave you. I'd always be here."
She whispered back, "It doesn't matter. I'll love you no matter where you are or what becomes of you."
They clung to each other in the dim glory of the topaz light, as if they felt already the currents of their separate universes turning to drag them apart.
Then a deep, rusty voice intruded upon Rudy's consciousness. "My children?"
"You're all right!"
Ingold caught Alde by the shoulders, halting her impulsive rush to embrace him, and smiled into her flushed, anxious face. "Did you conceive that your brother would stab me the moment we were alone?"
"The way he looked, yes!" Rudy put in. "What-" His voice failed him, and he stood uncertainly, looking into his master's face. He swallowed, but still could not speak.
The wizard reached out gently and laid his hand upon Rudy's shoulder, warm and very strong. His eyes went from Rudy's face to Minalde's, a kind of wry sorrow in their deceptively bright blue depths. "Do you love each other so much, my children?"
Neither spoke, but Rudy's hand sought Aide's, the twined shadows of their fingers a closing knot in the firelight.
Hesitantly, Alde said, "If it were lawful..."
"If I- if I could stay..." Rudy stammered.
Ingold sighed. "Indeed." In the fitful lambence of the fire, his lined features looked sad and a little resigned. "I fear I had the temerity to point out to your brother, Minalde, that there are worse things than your permanent alliance to one who is forbidden by Church law and the code of the Council of Wizards to rule those who are not mageborn. And I reminded him that you are strong-willed and stubborn, and that you have, in fact, a power base among the outland chiefs. For a woman such as yourself, it is not inconceivable that at some future time, if driven to desperation, you might ally yourself to some landchief whose realms come only nominally under the sway of the Lord of the Keep of Dare. Your brother was neither pleased nor gracious-but he agreed with me."