He smiled approvingly as she lifted her fork to sample Quiss’ panbread and gravy.
For several minutes while she ate a little of everything on the platter, he sat in silence, gazing out into the sunshine through the nearest window. She had the impression that he was waiting for her to finish; but he didn’t seem impatient. In fact, he appeared quite content to look out on the street and nod amiably at anyone who caught his eye. If war was coming to Houseldon, it didn’t show on the face of the Domne. Geraden had said of him, The things he values most don’t need to be fought for because they can’t be hurt. Yet Terisa wasn’t sure that was accurate. Despite his look of contentment, she thought he cared deeply about a number of things which could be hurt very easily.
When she put down her utensils to indicate that she was done, he glanced over at her, then returned his gaze to the window. In a relaxed way, as if he were continuing an earlier conversation, he asked, “What was your impression of Nyle?”
Her stomach knotted around the food she had just eaten. Cautiously, she countered, “What did Geraden tell you?”
The Domne’s manner disarmed anxiety. “That you think Nyle is still alive. That this Master Eremis still wants to use him against us. That’s not what I want to know. What did you think of him? How is he?”
Because the answer was painful, she said shortly, “He’s miserable.”
“Ah,” sighed the Domne as if he had both expected and feared her reply.
This time, she let herself say, “I don’t blame him. Everything he believed that got him into trouble – everything about King Joyse and Orison and Elega and Prince Kragen – it was all plausible. King Joyse has been working for years, setting himself up to be betrayed. Nyle was just unlucky enough to fall into the trap – the same trap Elega fell into herself. He believed what his King wanted him to believe.”
Ignoring the Domne’s reputation as one of the King’s dearest friends, she went on, “He’s really just a victim. Eremis probably would never have been able to get his hands on Nyle if Nyle hadn’t been stuck in the dungeon with nowhere to turn for hope.”
If anything she said offended the Domne, however, he didn’t show it. “Families,” he murmured mildly. “They are endlessly interesting. Elega and her father. Geraden and Nyle. Sometimes I think the fate of the world depends on how people feel about their families.
“What sort of family do you come from, Terisa? Did you have sisters? Not six sisters, by any chance?”
The idea was so absurd that she almost laughed aloud. “No, Da. I was an only child.”
He looked at her again, more sharply this time. “Do you mean to say that after you your parents were able to restrain their enthusiasm for children? Were you that bad? Or were you so good that any other child would be a disappointment?”
“No,” she answered as candidly as she could. “I was an accident. My father sure didn’t have time for children. And he didn’t want my mother to have time either.”
“ ‘Didn’t have time’?” Abruptly, the Domne pushed his sore leg off the stool. Grimacing, he shifted the position of the stool so that he could face her more directly, then heaved his leg back onto it. Propped straight with his elbows on the table, he asked, “What vital and consuming work did your father do, that he ‘didn’t have time for children’?”
Unsure of where the discussion was headed – and uncomfortable because she was always uncomfortable when she talked about her parents – Terisa replied briefly, “He made money.”
Odd how both she and the Domne were speaking of her father in the past tense. But she thought about him in the past, as part of something which wasn’t true anymore.
“For what purpose?” inquired the Domne.
She shrugged. “To make more money. I don’t think he had any other reason for doing it. He did it because that was what he was good at.” She thought about conversations she had overheard from the dining room while she sat out of sight on the stairs, listening when her parents thought she had gone to bed. “Money was the best way to get things that weren’t his. Social standing. Political influence.” Then she remembered some of the valets her father had hired. “Muscle.
“He made money because he believed if you can do that you can buy everything else.”
“Very strange,” pronounced the Domne. “He would have flourished in Cadwal.
“And what did your mother do while your father made money?”
With an understated vehemence which unsettled her, Terisa said, “I think she practiced.”
“ ‘Practiced’?”
“Being ornamental. So my father could show her off whenever he was in the mood.”
“ ‘Women should be seen and not heard’?” The Domne couldn’t restrain a burst of laughter. “That explains where you got your beauty. Terisa, I don’t know how to tell you this – but I think you’ve already met High King Festten. Even though you wouldn’t recognize him if you saw him.”
Terisa tried to smile, but she didn’t succeed.
The Domne studied her; sunlight from the windows reflected in his eyes. “However, that raises a fascinating question. How did you get here from there? How did the daughter of parents like that become the kind of woman my youngest son – perhaps my best son – would kill for?”
She wanted to answer him. At the same time, she wanted to stop talking about her parents. Roughly, she told him something that she hadn’t revealed to anyone else in Mordant, not even to Geraden.
“When I did something my father didn’t like, he used to lock me in a closet until I got scared enough to stop crying.”
For a long moment, the Domne stared at her without expression, as if the energy of life had been wiped off his face. Then, slowly, carefully, he turned away. He took his leg from the stool in order to put it back in its former position, toward the window. He settled himself again with his leg up and his spine stretched against the back of the chair; he might have been getting comfortable for a nap.
After that, one at a time, he picked up his canes and flung them out the window. The first sailed clear; the second clattered against the frame and fell just outside.
So fiercely that she winced, he whispered, “What are you doing to me, Joyse? Everybody who is worth anything in your entire kingdom is being hurt, and I’m sitting here crippled. What are you doing?”
There was nothing she could say. Geraden had surely told his father what she knew about the King’s intentions. There was nothing else.
Briefly, the Domne put his hands over his face, and his shoulders clenched. Almost at once, however, he rubbed his cheeks briskly, as if he were scrubbing passion off his features; with a long, slow exhalation, he let his anger go.
“It’s remarkable, don’t you think,” he murmured, “that we’re such good friends, King Joyse and I?
“Of course, that isn’t the reason our friendship is famous. It’s famous because I refused to fight in any of his wars. I refused to let him make me into one of his soldiers. People consider that strange. Don’t I think Mordant is worth fighting for? Of course I do. Don’t I think his ideal of a Congery that turns Imagery into something benign is worth fighting for? Of course I do. Then why don’t I fight? What’s the matter with me?
“But I think our friendship is more remarkable than anything I have or haven’t refused to do in my life.”
“What do you mean?” Terisa asked, wanting him to go on.
“Well—” The Domne spread his hands. “We have next to nothing in common. For one thing, he has little sense of humor. He’s not incapable of seeing the funny side. He just thinks on such an heroic scale. Everything is serious – everything is a matter of life and death. You don’t have much time for jokes when you’re busy saving the world.