Barrick should have been too weak for fury, but he wasn't. Don't speak in my head and tell me lies. Alone? How could I be more alone than stuck here with your empty bodies? What if something happens to you and your thoughts are… lost, or something like that? I would rather it happens to me, too, than to be left here with your corpses.
Gyir stared at him a long time. / will consider it.
"I don't think it's a good idea, either," Vansen said out loud.
Barrick did his best to regain his mask of cold control. "I know you don't follow orders you don't like, Captain Vansen, but unless you have given up your allegiance to me entirely, you are still sworn to my family as your liegelords. I am the prince of Southmarch. Do you think to order me as to what I may and may not do?"
Vansen stared at him, a dozen different expressions moving across his face like oil spreading on a pool of water. "No, Highness," he said at last. "You will do what you think best. As always."
The guardsman was right, of course, and Barrick hated that. He was a fool to take such a risk, but he had told the truth-he was far more terri¬fied of being left alone.
"Doirrean, what are you doing? He is too far from the fire-he will be cold and then ill." Queen Anissa leaned forward in her bed to glare at the nurse, a sturdy, sullen girl with pale, Connordic features.
"Yes, Highness." The young woman picked up both the baby and the
cusion underneath him, taking tare to show just how much trouble she was being put to, and then used her foot to move the chair closer to the large fireplace. Sister Utta could not help wondering whether a healthy baby was not at more risk from flying sparks than from a few moments naked in an otherwise warm room. Of course, I've never had a child, though I've been present for my share of births. Perhaps it feels different when it's your own.
"I just cannot understand why I am saying things over and over," Anissa declared. Her thin frame had rounded a little during her pregnancy, but now the skin seemed to hang loosely on her bones. "Does no one listen? Have I not had enough pain and suffer… sufferance?"
"Don't fret yourself too much, dear," Merolanna told her. "You have had a terrible time, yes, but you have a fine, fine son. His father will be very proud."
"Yes, he is fine, is he not?" Anissa smiled at the infant, who was staring raptly up at his nurse in that guileless, heart-tugging way that babies had- the only thing about them that ever made Utta regret her own choices in life. It would be appealing, she thought, perhaps even deeply satisfying, to have an innocent young soul in your care, to fill it like a jewel case with only good things, with kindness and reverent thoughts and love and friend¬ship. "Oh, I pray that his father comes back soon to see him," the queen said, "to see what I have done, what a handsome boy I have made for him."
"What will you name him?" Utta asked. "If you do not mind saying be¬fore the ceremony."
"Olin, of course. Like his father. Well, Olin Alessandros-Alessandros was my grandfather's name, the grand viscount of Devonis." Anissa sounded a bit nettled. "Olin. What else would I name him?"
Utta did not point out that the king had already had two other sons, nei¬ther of whom had been given his name. Anissa was an insecure creature, but she had reason to be: her husband was imprisoned, her stepchildren all gone, and her only claim to authority was this tiny child. Small surprise she would want to remind everyone constantly of who the father was and what the child represented.
Somebody knocked at the chamber door. One of the queen's other maids left the group of whispering women and opened it, then exchanged a few words with one of the wolf-liveried guards who stood outside. "It is the physician, Highness," she called.
Merolanna and Utta exchanged a startled look as the door swung open, but it was Brother Okros, not Chaven, who stepped into the room. The
scholar, dressed in the wine-colored robes ol Eastmarch Academy, bowed deeply and stayed down on one knee. "Your Highness," he said. "Ah, and Your Grace." He rose, then added a bow for Utta and the others. "Ladies."
"You may come to me, Okros," called Anissa. "I am all in a trouble. My milk, it hardly ever flows. If I did not have Doirrean, I do not know what I would do."
Utta, who was impressed that Anissa was nursing at all-it was not ter¬ribly common among the upper classes, and she would have guessed the queen would be only too glad to hand the child over to a wet nurse- turned away to let the physician talk to his patient. The other ladies-in-waiting came forward and surrounded the queen's bed, listening.
"We haven't spoken to Okros yet," said Merolanna quietly, "and this would be a good time."
"Speak to him about what?"
"We can ask him about those strange things the little person said. That House of the Moon jabber. If it's to do with Chaven, then perhaps Okros will recognize what it means. Perhaps it's something that any of those doc¬toring fellows would know."
Utta felt a sudden pang of fear, although she could not say exactly why. "You want to… tell him? About what the Queen's Ears said?"
Merolanna waved her beringed hand. "Not all of it-I'm no fool. I'm certainly not going to tell anyone that we heard all this from a Rooftopper- a little person the size of my finger."
"But… but these matters are secret!"
"It's been a tennight or more and I'm no closer to finding out what hap¬pened to my son. Okros is a good man-a smart one, too. He'll tell us if he recognizes any of this. You let me take charge, Utta. You worry too much."
Brother Okros had finished with the queen and was writing down a list of instructions for her ladies. "Just remember, he is too young for sops."
"But he loves to suck the sugar and milk from my finger," said Anissa, pouting.
"You may give him milk on your finger, but not sugar. He does not need it. And tell your nurses not to swaddle him so tightly."
"But it will give him such a fine neck, my handsome Sandro."
"And bent shoulders, and perhaps even a pigeon chest. No, tell them to swaddle him loosely enough that the act would not wake him if he was sleeping."
"Nonsense. But, of course, if you are saying it must be so…" Anissa
looked as though she would probably deliberately forget this advice as soon as the physician had left the room.
Okros bowed, a smile wrinkling his thin, leathery face. "Thank you, Your Highness. Blessings of the Trigon-and Kupilas and our good Madi Surazem-upon you." He made the sign of the Three, then turned to Merolanna and Utta, bowing again. "Ladies."
Merolanna laid a hand on his arm as he passed. "Oh, would you wait for a moment outside, Brother Okros? I have something I would ask you. Will you excuse us, Anissa, dear? I mean, Your Highness? I must go and have a little rest-my age, you know."
Anissa was gazing raptly at her infant son again, watching Doirrean swathe him in linen. "Of course, dear Merolanna. You are so kind to visit me. You will come to the Carrying, of course-Sandra's naming cere¬mony? It is only little while from now, on the day before the Kerneia- what do you call that day here?"
"Prophets' Day," said Merolanna.
"Yes, Prophet's Day. And Sor Utta, you are most certainly welcomed for coming, too."
Utta nodded. "Thank you, Highness."
"Oh, I would not miss it for a bag of golden dolphins, Anissa," Merolanna assured her. "Miss my newest nephew being welcomed into the family? Of course I will be there."
Okros was waiting for them in the antechamber. He smiled and bowed again, then turned to walk beside them down the tower steps. Utta saw that the duchess really was tired-Merolanna was walking slowly, and with a bit of a limp because of the pains in her hip.