Perhaps not Healers, who tended to be very serious indeed, and not likely to be out for a moonlit frolic in the snow. But Bardic, perhaps. Or even—well, no, probably not three of the common-born female Blues, either, the ones who got into the Collegia on merit. Those young ladies, fewer than the males by far, tended to be even more serious than the Healer Trainees, spending their evenings in study, except for taking the rare night off to go to the Compass Rose. Their positions were hard-won; many of them had come here over parental opposition, and they were not going to hazard what they’d gained by frittering it away.
Selenay sighed, feeling a wistful kinship to that handful of young women. She was in a very similar position, or at least, it seemed that way to her. She, and they, were prisoners to their duty and their responsibilities
Except that they were self-imprisoned; she was bound by blood and rank as well as duty. Surely self-imposed bonds were less galling than ones imposed from the outside.
She sighed again, more deeply, and rested her chin in her hand, and wondered what it would be like to be ordinary.
:That rather depends on what it is that you mean by “ordinary,”: Caryo replied. :An ordinary Herald, for instance?:
:I suppose,: she replied, unable to even think of what her life would be like without Caryo.
:You’ve had some taste of it, when you accompanied Herald Mirilin down to the City Courts in Haven,: Caryo reminded her. :The real difference between you and the other Heralds is that you can never escape being Queen, and they can sometimes escape being Heralds for a candlemark or two.:
:Exactly.: Selenay was relieved that Caryo hadn’t started in on a lecture about how she should be grateful, that there were hundreds of young women in her Kingdom who had gone to bed hungry and would wake up with no better prospect of breakfast than they’d had of supper. That there were young women who had done extremely unpleasant things in order to get a supper, or a bed, and would do the same tomorrow. She knew that; knew that very well, no matter how much Talamir and Alberich tried to shelter her from it. She also knew that there wasn’t anything much she could do about it with the limited resources at her behest. She knew that children went to bed hungry and cold, or even curled up in a doorway without a bed at all. She was doing what she could about that, with what she had—the mandatory schooling was a help, as were the “Queen’s Bread” meals she’d managed to get instituted, so that at least every child had one meal in a day that it could count on. . . .
But never mind that now. She was just grateful that Caryo understood.
:Of course I understand. The wild songbird that’s had its wings clipped and been clapped in a cage doesn’t feel much like trilling, no matter how comfortable the cage is, nor how good the food in its cup.:
She felt her throat close a little, and blinked back the urge to cry—she was tired of weeping, tired of feeling sad and beaten and alone. That was a pretty accurate summing up. And no matter where she looked, it seemed that someone around her was trying to install yet another set of bars.
She wanted some fun again. She wanted to be irresponsible for just a little while. She wanted to tell the Council, the courtiers, the petitioners, to just wait for a candlemark or two while she went skating and sledding.
It felt almost as if she was being punished, and not only had she done nothing to deserve being punished, she’d done everything she was supposed to be doing!
She didn’t remember her father being so hedged about—
—wait a moment—
She blinked, and ran through that thought again.
I don’t remember Father being so hedged about that he couldn’t take a candlemark or two—
But the Councilors would be furious. There were so many things they wanted her to attend to, it often seemed that they even begrudged her the time she took to eat and sleep.
Just who is the Monarch here, anyway, me or them? Are people going to die because I take a little time to relax and have some fun?
:Exactly so,: Caryo agreed calmly. :It would be one thing entirely if you neglected your duties to spend all of your time in pleasure and games. But since the moment the Crown was put on your head, the most you’ve stolen was a candlemark or two at bedtime to read.:
:But how do I—: she began, then stopped, thinking back to her father. All right; Sendar’d had the authority to simply stop everything and say, “I’m going out for such-and-such.” She didn’t. So—
:I’ll have to schedule it. Won’t I?:
:Better still, decree it, in such a way that it becomes a duty—in their eyes—to take some pleasure.: And as she tried to work out how she could decree a few candlemarks off to go skating, Caryo added helpfully,: There is a cold spell—a very cold spell—on the way. It’s already frozen the verges of Evendim out to almost a furlong from the shore. It’ll freeze the Terilee solid, and it should last for a fortnight at the least.:
She blinked. She could barely remember the last time the Terilee had frozen solid. And when it had—
:I declare an Ice Festival?: she hazarded.
:Announce there will be one if the Terilee freezes, and make the announcement public,: Caryo agreed. :Your Councilors will be so certain it won’t that they’ll just smile and ignore the decree. Then, when it does, it’ll be all over the city, and they won’t be able to cancel it.:
:But—what does one do—:
:Leave that to the merchants, for the most part,: Caryo said wisely. :Once you make the decree, they’ll do exactly what they do for a Midwinter Fair, except that they’ll prepare to set the booths and tents up on the ice. And you know, merchants being merchants, if you don’t decree a Festival, they’ll do this anyway. At least by making a royal occasion out of it, you can set a time limit on it. All you need to do is send someone to rummage through the attics for some prizes for skating contests and other competitions, and arrange for a Royal Pavilion out there with some provisions and cooks for the highborn. And talk to the Deans. Perhaps the young Bardic Trainees could perform gratis? Certainly there should be at least one day off from classes.:
The more she thought about it, the more excited she became. :But what if the ice starts to break—:
:Just find some people that know ice to be ice wardens; if it starts to break up, there’ll be plenty of warning.:
Competitions. There ought to be skating races, of course, short and long. Perhaps something for trick skating? A prize for the best ballad on a winter theme. One for the best spiced cider and mulled wine?
:And hot meat pie,: Caryo said, with a mental shudder. :There are so many wretched hot pies, any encouragement to make them better would be a boon to your people.: