Gale set up with her dulcimer, donning her finger hammers. Monochrome drew the sections of her bone flute from her hair and assembled them. Shee dressed and produced her shells.
Then Havoc sang, while the three women provided background voices and instruments.
He led them through all three verses of the rousing declaration. It was a fine song, well sung, expertly and feelingly accompanied, and perfectly reflective of the mood of the occasion. The star of the new day was ascending, after their formidable labors. Apart from that, he absolutely loved performing for an audience. He had always been a minstrel at heart. He had originally trained as a martial artist, and retained those fighting skills, but there were few joys like that of singing on stage. He knew the same was true for Gale, who had become a respectable minstrel in her own right. Monochrome and Shee both loved performing too. Perhaps it was another quality of the Makers: artistry.
They finished, and the audience applauded again. But they were waiting for his second item. What was it?
"As you know," he said as the women faded back, "I did not want to be king. I was co-opted and required to serve, lest I be executed for treason. I was angry but I served. I wanted to resign after a year, but could not; the job was unfinished. I wanted to resign after five years, but could not. After twenty years, but there was another crisis. But now at last the third crisis has been navigated, and I am free to retire."
All of the people were staring at him. They did not like where this was leading.
"My true ambition in life has been to be a traveling minstrel. During my years as king I often left the kingdom in the nominal charge of an emulation, while I wandered afield as Hayseed the Minstrel. Now at last I can indulge that desire. Consider the song we just did: what a minstrel troupe the girls and I could make! So I will turn the kingdom over to my son Warp, who is competent, and go my way with my wife and mistresses, I hope with your blessing."
There was a pause as the others digested this additional surprise. Then they applauded, the loudest and longest yet. They knew it was the right decision, for him.
"Now at last we celebrate," he concluded. "There is abundant food adjacent, and the Mistresses Minstrels will play for dancing. On!"
Gale, Monochrome, and Shee brought out their instruments and played again, a lively dance tune, telepathically coordinated. Havoc, as king until the formal arrangements were made, did the first dances, first with Gale, then Monochrome, then Shee, while the two not dancing played. Thereafter other couples joined in.
Then for Havoc it was women's choice as a line formed to dance with him. And the first in line was—Ennui.
"Surprise," he said as they danced. She was better skilled at this than he expected, though they kept it sedate out of respect for her mortality and age. She did have womanly skills that had been largely suppressed during her service as his personal secretary and effective executive of the kingdom. "I thought you were quit of me."
"I will never be quit of you, Havoc. Now I am doing what I always wanted to do."
"Dancing with me?"
"In part."
"Question?"
"Interacting with you socially. I was not free to do that while I worked for you. It would have been improper."
"Ennui, you could do anything you want with me. You're my oath friend, and I think I would have trusted you without the oath. I do not want to lose your association."
"You are setting up to be a touring minstrel show with your women. You know the bath girls will insist on coming along; they have oriented on you and it would be cruel to deny them."
"Agreement," he said, realizing.
"Which will make it a party of nine right there. Monochrome's three assistants will accompany her, and you will surely be seeing her maid Scent at odd moments, she of the bondage scene. That makes it twelve, with a need for some privacy between presentations. You can't just camp on villages not equipped for such a troupe. You will have to be self-sustaining, providing your own quarters, food, and waste disposal. You will also need a competent itinerary, as there will be thousands of requests and bad feelings by those denied. Coordination will be essential. There will be props to set up, stages to arrange. Who will handle those details?"
"Ennui, you know I'm no good at details! That's why I depend on you. I see I will still need you. I beg you—"
"Don't beg, Havoc. It's not kingly."
He pouted. "Please."
"And you still have obligations, Havoc. Such as siring Opaline's second fourth in two years. You will need to be reminded, because it is not your nature to renege."
"Ennui—"
"So it seems the Lady Aspect and I will have to join your throng, accomplishing our retirement traveling that way. Our husbands should be able to assist; they do have some organizational experience." That was a considerable understatement; the men had helped govern the planet.
She wasn't leaving him! He put his hands under her shoulders and lifted her into the air before him so that her feet dangled.
"Havoc! What are you doing?"
"Something I've wanted to do for a quarter century, but protocol prevented. Kissing you." He slowly brought her face close to his.
She glared at him. "Havoc!"
But she didn't turn her face away.
He kissed her soundly on the mouth. She accepted it fully. There was a special love between them, unlikely as it might have seemed. They had always needed each other. She gave him necessary guidance; he gave her life meaning.
And the applause erupted again. Of course everyone was watching.
Author's Note
It has been a decade since I started writing this series, doing one novel roughly every two years. When I wrote #4, Key to Liberty, my wife's condition was deteriorating and my writing slowed to a crawl. We finally got the diagnosis, Chronic Inflammatory Demyelinating Polyneuropathy, and with treatment she slowly recovered. Then Congress changed the rules, and the hospital would no longer give her the essential treatment. Instead we picked up the cost ourselves: $3,000 per treatment, every five to six weeks. The choice was that, or to allow her to slowly descend toward paralysis and death. Fortunately we didn't waste our money made in my bestselling years, and were able to cover the cost.
This affected my appearance. My wife used to cut my hair. When she became too ill to do it, I stopped having it cut. Now after more than two years I have naturally waving brown tresses over a foot long, which I wear in a pony-tail. I never knew what lovely hair I had until after I turned 70. I think I'll keep it, even if I do spend more time doing my hair each day than I save by not having it cut.
This time my wife had heart surgery. Technically, an aortic aneurysm, wherein the largest artery of the body, leading directly from the heart, was swollen and getting worse, so it seemed almost as large as the heart itself. If not fixed, at some point it would leak or burst, and she would be dead. Surgery was scheduled for early May, 2007, but then postponed a month because of an infection. So in that windfall month we saw three movies, bought new furniture, got an errant air conditioner fixed, and replaced our 19 year old washing and drying machines. And I had my best month writing the novel, and completed it.