"Yes, sire?"
"If from Tylara, then it may have come from the University," Ganton said. "I would know if it did."
"Aha. Majesty, had there been letters for you, they would have been brought by now."
"Perhaps."
"Surely."
"Then Octavia has chosen not to write to me."
"You cannot be certain. Indeed, you do not know the message was from Lady Tylara, and certainly you do not know that it was sent from the University. Can you doubt that the Lady Octavia would take any opportunity to write to you? I cannot."
"Ah. You believe then that she does not dislike me?"
Morrone shrugged. "What matter her likes and dislikes? I believe that she is intelligent. As to you- you brood too much. I am certain that my lady of the evening has a friend-"
"But are you certain your lady mother did not play the Eqeta false with a panderer from the stews of Rustengo?"
Morrone laughed again. As indeed, Ganton thought, he must, for if there were any hint that I was serious-I should watch my tongue, even alone with my only friend.
Then Morrone's laugh died, and his voice became very serious. "Are you certain that you are not getting yourself into more of a coil about the Lady Octavia than she deserves?"
"And why do you reckon her desserts?" There was a hint of danger in Ganton's voice.
"Majesty, it is my duty to advise you."
Yes. It is, Ganton thought. And indeed, you were one of the few who supported me when I thought to bring the Lady Octavia north on this tour. But I did not, through the advice of the Lord and Lady of Cheim, and Chancellor Yanuif, and Camithon- "Advice! I hear nothing but advice, from my first visit to the jakes in the morning until you blow out the last candle at night! Only Yatar could listen to so much advice!"
"Yatar does not need advice," Morrone reminded him. "You do. Or you have said you do. You are of age now, and the time has passed when I could speak to you as once I did, but I will, once more. Ganton, my friend, if ever you wish my silence, you have only to say so, and I will remain your friend yet."
"Ach, not you also!" Ganton shouted. "They all say that! All, all, they threaten to withdraw their counsel, and though they do not always say so, it is in their minds, that my father lost his throne through failure to listen to his advisors. And yes, yes, that is true enough, but much of what I hear is senseless! Yet must I listen, and smile, lest someone with more power than wits be mortally offended! Surely there is more to being Wanax than this?"
Morrone made a wry face. "I offered one of the rewards of majesty, and you made free to insult my mother for reply." He grinned to show he wasn't offended. "And there is little chance that Lady Octavia would ever know, though why you remain so tender for the feelings of Lord Rick's hostage to the Roman alliance I will never know."
"Is she no more than that?"
"How can she be else?"
"If Lord Rick and Chancellor Yanulf think of nothing but hostages, why have they not gathered in the children of Publius' dead sister?"
Morrone shrugged again. "The discussion grows serious. Will you have more wine?"
"Yes."
Morrone poured and brought the goblets to the bed. "Caesar's other grandchildren are not important because they cannot be offered in marriage. Not when the eldest is five. While the Lady Octavia is ripe enough. Majesty, think you that I oppose your suit?"
"Of course not." Morrone had more than once been messenger when the University authorities tried to keep Ganton and Octavia apart.
"For indeed, were she queen, the way might lie open to more than ever we dream," Morrone said. "Rome itself." He stepped back and raised his hand in the Roman manner, and there was no mockery in his voice at all as he said, "Hail, Caesar."
"Only if-only if Lord Rick permits it," Ganton said.
Morrone nodded. "Aye, for the moment the star-men hold power over us. But they will not forever mock the anointed of Yatar!"
That phrase, and the way Morrone said it, reminded Ganton of something, someone else who'd said that in just that way, but the wine and the venison and the lateness of the hour overcame him before he could remember who it had been.
23
The morning ritual was the same here as at the palace. Rick dressed, put on armor, and with Mason beside him came out for his first appointments. His personal guards waited for him in the corridor. Today they were commanded by Padraic, the under-captain of the Mounted Archers. Four Guardsmen walked ahead, then Rick and Mason, followed by Jamiy and Padraic.
Mason hadn't much cared to have a new man armed and behind his captain, but he hadn't any choice. Caradoc went with Tylara to the Garioch, and somebody had to be Mason's second in command of the MP's. Padraic, son of a Drantos lord and a Tamaerthan mother, knew the customs of both lands, and had been loyal since the archers were formed. There wouldn't be anyone better… which didn't stop Art Mason from worrying.
Rick had no trouble reading his companion's mind. Mason worried a lot about loyalties. At least, Rick thought, he understands why we've got to expand the leadership, bring in locals and govern by Tran custom and law, not just be a flock of wolves here. Mason understands. And Gwen. I think Elliot and Warner. The rest-well, the rest of them saw what happened when Parsons tried taking over by force, but I'm not sure how well they learned the lesson. And how loyal are they? To me, to anyone?
They reached the chamber set aside for them by their host. Beazeley and four locals stood guard outside.
"All secure?" Mason asked.
Beazeley grinned. "Yes, sir, all secure now."
"Eh?"
"Found two different listening places," Beazeley said. "Alcove behind a tapestry, about like you'd expect. But something different." He opened the door and led the way inside a stone chamber about twenty-five feet square. "Behind that tapestry, there, by the window. That was one. And see that picture there? Back of that's a corridor. Real secret passage."
"Who was in there?" Mason demanded.
"Unarmed clerk types," Beazeley said. "Real anxious to prove they were unarmed, too."
Rick nodded. "I expect they would be. Have you secured that corridor, then?"
"Yes, sir. I put two MP's at each end of it. Nobody to go in without your permission. Rest of the room's clean, as far as I can tell." Beazeley laughed. "I didn't look too hard for electronics."
"No. Thank you," Rick said. "All right, we'll deal with Lord Ajacias later. Meanwhile, Art, go escort the king, please. And I expect we'll need wine, and a pot of that stuff that passes for tea. Morrone will have to see to that."
"Yes, sir," Mason said. "Okay, Jack, let's go."
Rick paced around the room. It held a carved slab table, two side tables, three comfortable chairs, some benches, and a solid-looking cabinet that probably unfolded into a writing desk. On a whim Rick went to it and opened it. There were no dwarves inside, but it did have goose quills, parchment, and ink.
"Make way," someone called outside. The door opened, and Mason stood aside to let Wanax Ganton enter. Lord Morrone followed him in.
"Welcome, Majesty," Rick said.
"Thank you."
Morrone gestured, and servants brought in wine and a silver service of the local equivalent of tea. It was bitter stuff, but it did have caffeine. If only the Shalnuksis would bring a few pounds of real coffee- "Thank you," Ganton told Morrone. His voice held dismissal, and Morrone left Rick and Ganton alone in the room.
"Your Companion was not overly pleased to leave us," Rick said.
"Nor your soldiers."