Kai stared. "Down the line? You aren't the Prince of Althea?"
Alaire laughed. "Oh, no. That would be Derek, my oldest brother, the firstborn. I get to choose what I'm going to do with the rest of my life!"
"I see," Kai nodded. "In a way, I'm glad. You cer- tainly didn't act like a prince."
Alaire opened his mouth to comment, something like, and you do? but thought better of it. Instead, he continued with the family tree.
"I'll take that as a compliment. My identity is a secret, so I guess my acting must be pretty good!" He grinned, and Kai managed a feeble smile in return.
"I'm the youngest of eight brothers. The others had their destinies planned for them. Grant, the next born, is a natural fighter and is in training to become Lord. Trevor, number three, will become Ki Seneschal, given his high intelligence and wit.
Contemplative Phyllip was our family's 'gift' to the priesthood and Church. When Father sugg Roland start studying to become the Court Researcher and Librarian he nearly had a fit, he was so pleased -- "
Kai stared at him, apparently fascinated that Reynard had taken such pains to suit his sons' desti- nies to their talents.
Alaire restrained a smile. "As the more obvious positions became filled, as it were, it became a little less obvious what to do with my brothers. I rem Father once asking Mother why she couldn't have had some girls for a change! But we coped, you know; and when Drake, who's number six, turned out to have a temper as fiery as his name, Father decided that he'd better serve under Grant and have that temper tamed with military discipline. The seventh, Craig, still doesn't know what he wants to do. Last I h Father was just going to leave it up to him." He left out the fact that Craig was proving something of a black sheep, idling his way among the ladies of the court, and thinking of little besides clothing, wine and women. Best not give him any ideas.
"And you're number eight -- " Kai left the sentence unfinished.
Alaire nodded. "Even as a child I felt like an embar- rassment, with nowhere to go. The 'extra extra prince.
I thought Father hated me after I heard him Mother that bit about daughters."
Kai's expression was sour. "I think my father would prefer a daughter."
But Alaire shook his head. "Don't be so certain.
When I thought Father had given up on me, he sur- prised me. I remember the day clearly. I was only six, but I remember when he came into the palace nursery and shooed all the nurses away so we could talk, just the two of us, 'man to man,' he said. He asked me what I wanted to do, that I could be anything I wanted to be. At first I didn't know what to say."
"And then?" Kai said. He was hanging on every word, fascinated by Alaire's story.
"I told him I wanted to be a B-Minstrel." Alaire stuttered. Sure hope he didn't pick up on that near slip!
Kai laughed. "A B-Minstrel? Is that like a bar min- strel, paid less, seen and heard only in bars?"
Alaire chuckled nervously. "Ah, no, just a garden variety minstrel. He asked why, and I told him that -- "
Think quickly, Alaire! " -- that minstrels go every- where and see everything and no one notices them.
They become part of the furnishings, and they learn a lot. I wanted to do that, you see, to become Derek's eyes and ears, and learn the things no one would tell him to his face. And I had already chosen an instru- ment. A harp."
He realized that he had wasted his frantic thought when Kai ignored the long speech and focused on the last words. "A harp! Did you bring it with you?"
He shrugged. "Well, it's back in my room."
"Please, you must play for me!" Kai urged, as excited as a child with a promised treat.
Alaire assented, glad to be able to play at long last.
It's been a long few days since I've played anything, with Bardic Magic or not. I have to admit it would be a pleasure, and if anything it would give me a chance to practice.
"Later," he promised. "After we've eaten. I'd be happy to."
Kai seemed pleased all out of proportion to the promise. "I didn't know you could play an instrument.
I tried to learn the lute, but I just didn't have what it took, I guess." Then his expression fell. "Like every- thing else in my life."
"That isn't true," Alaire responded automatically, but couldn't think of any reason why this was so. I I knew him better. I might be able to get a handle on this, know which words to use to lift his spirits. But here he is, getting all maudlin again.
"Father never talked to me that way," Kai contin- ued, miserably. "I've never been more than a nuisance to him. At least since I was ten. Before then we got along just fine, but after that, well, something hap- pened."
"It's not unusual for fathers and sons to have prob- lems. Though they usually get worked out," Alaire soothed, trying to guess what could have happened when Kai was ten. A peculiar age for problems like that to start. Early puberty, perhaps?
"But not our problems. He'd rather see me dead."
Kai took a long drink from the skin, licked his lips loudly and burped defiantly. "It doesn't matter. What's the point, after all? I can't please him, so I might as well enjoy myself!"
Alaire shrugged. I chipped away some of the ice, at least. For a little while, anyway. All this I'm seeing now, this drunken fool of child, is his only defense against himself and whatever or whoever he views as his enemy.
"Well?" Kai asked. "You game?"
Alaire shrugged. "For what?"
"Another round of enjoyment, what else. After all, you're useless too!"
He didn't really want to give in, and go through another drunken evening, this one beginning much earlier, at noon. But he remembered his promi Naitachal. Be a friend to Kai, and find out as much as he can.
Well, Kai certainly needed a friend. And this was something he felt he could become, given time.
Alaire did not think he would see much useful infor- mation out of Kai.
Alaire half expected to find Kai leading them back to the tavern district; much to his surprise, how Kai took him out for a short walk on the palace grounds. The day was unseasonably warm, so they needed no coats. Alaire had no idea of their destina- tion, however, until they reached the vineyards. These grapes were, he soon learned, Kai's pride and joy.
"I had this strain planted myself," Kai said proudly, before the rows of brown, dormant vines. Even with- out the spring foliage, it was obvious that these were particularly robust and healthy vines. "Over there is the winery," Kai said, pointing to a rough rock building up against the palace wall. Alaire sighed. It made per- fect sense that the Prince had his own private wine-making operation, given the amount the lad con- "Are we going there today?" Alaire asked. He'd wanted to grab a bite to eat, but Kai didn't seem to care about food. The hunger pains had subsided somewhat on their own, but Alaire knew that wouldn't last.
"Not the winery. I have something else planned for us."
Kai led him through an overgrown garden, brown with winter. Alaire appreciated how these people relied on natural growth to give form to their gardens.