"There are times when I think so," Grus admitted. There were times when he was sure of it. He didn't feel like admitting that, even to himself. He went on, "Besides – thrall women? They're only a short step up from the barnyard animals."
As though that would stop you. It hovered in the air, but Estrilda didn't say it. She did say, "What about after they've had the spell lifted?"
She wouldn't let it alone. Grus didn't suppose he should have been surprised. He'd given her plenty of reasons to doubt him – more reasons than she knew, in fact. But he wasn't lying when he said, "They still have a lot of growing up to do after that happens."
"Really?" Estrilda's voice was as chilly as any winter sent by the Banished One. "I saw the woman Otus brought back from south of the Stura. She looked all grown up to me."
"Fulca will grow up faster than a little girl would," Grus said. "Otus certainly did. But talk to her. You'll see what I mean."
Estrilda still didn't seem happy. In fact, she seemed determined not to be happy. She said, "What about when you go back next year? The women who were thralls will be all grown up by then."
"I hope they will," Grus said. Estrilda sent him a sharp look. He explained, "If they aren't, something will have gone wrong. Either we won't have truly freed them or the Menteshe will have found a way to enslave them again."
His wife looked as though she wanted to challenge that, too, but she couldn't figure out how. "Well, all right," she said reluctantly. "You really did beat back the Banished One, didn't you?"
Grus shook his head. "No. We beat back the Menteshe. They're still fighting among themselves, and that made it harder for the Banished One to do anything to us. I'm afraid we're not out of the woods yet, though." He told her why not.
"Oh," she said, and then, "Queen Quelea in her mercy grant that he can't do anything so wicked."
"May it be so," Grus said, doubting it would be. What had the gods in the heavens done to stop the Banished One since exiling him to the material world? Some people said they'd given Avornis the Scepter of Mercy. If that was true, though, why had they let the Banished One and his minions hold it for so many centuries? Grus had no answer for that, and didn't think anyone else did, either.
Changing the subject, Grus asked, "When did Ortalis start keeping company with these junior guard officers?"
'This past spring," Estrilda answered. "He goes hunting with them sometimes, when he's not with… the arch-hallow." She couldn't help reminding Grus that Anser was his bastard.
"Hunting," Grus said with relief. "That's all right, then." He wasn't going to worry about his son as long as Ortalis had some reasonable cause to hang around with the guardsmen. Ortalis had never shown himself to be very interested in politics.
"Limosa will have her baby before long," Estrilda remarked.
That wasn't quite a change of subject, though Grus wished it were. He said, "Maybe she'll have another girl. That will leave things the way they are."
"So it will." His wife looked at him. "What if she has a boy instead?"
"What if she does?" Grus answered. "It makes life more complicated, that's what. Crex isn't just connected to us. He's part of the old dynasty, too. Limosa's son wouldn't be."
"Will Ortalis care?" Estrilda asked.
"Not by the way he's been talking, from what I hear," Grus said.
Estrilda studied him some more. "Will you care?"
"Him having a son would make things… untidy," Grus said. "I don't like untidy things." He didn't want to come right out and say that he preferred the succession to pass through Lanius to Crex, not through Ortalis to his son. He wasn't sure Estrilda agreed with him.
"I can't say that I blame you," Estrilda said now. "We had a pretty good idea of how things would go. Now it could be all up in the air again." She sent Grus another sour stare. "All the gods in the heavens be praised that Anser doesn't care about the throne. That's only luck, you know."
She wasn't wrong there, either. Grus thought about Nivalis in a way he hadn't before. If he himself lived another fifteen or twenty years – far from certain, but also not impossible – his bastard little boy would grow to be a young man. What would Nivalis think about his place in life? Would he think about what might have been his if he'd been born on the right side of the blanket? Would he think it might be his any which way?
"He's a good fellow, Anser," was all the king said, and even Estrilda couldn't disagree with that.
Again not really changing the subject at all, she repeated, "Maybe Limosa will have another girl."
"Here's hoping." There. Grus had said it. He didn't want his only legitimate son to have a son of his own. If that wasn't sad, what was? He couldn't think of anything to match it. A moment later, though, he found something, for the mother of his only legitimate son nodded agreement.
Not only did she nod – she also said, "I wish Lanius and Sosia would have another baby – with luck, another boy. So many things can happen, even when children aren't in line for the throne."
That was also true. Grus said, "They've seemed… not too happy with each other lately, from what I've heard."
His wife glared at him. "You know the reason why, too, or you'd better. He seduces serving girls, or lets them seduce him. It amounts to the same thing either way. And you're a fine one to tell him to stop being unfaithful to our daughter, you are, when you can't keep it in your drawers."
Since Grus couldn't deny that as a general working rule, he did his best to deny it in this particular case, saying, "Well, if you're worrying about what goes on south of the Stura, you can cursed well worry about something else. I already told you, nothing's going on down there – nothing like that, anyway."
"Oh, such thrilling news!" If Estrilda had used a different tone of voice, Grus might have thought she meant it. As things were, her sarcasm only stung the more.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The last time Limosa had a baby, there'd been a small scandal when all the rumors about lash marks and scars on her back proved true. By now, that was old news. When she disrobed for the midwife this time, no one would get – too – excited about it.
Lanius had other things to worry about this time around, chiefly whether she would have a boy or a girl. Ortalis had the same worry, even if his hopes and the king's ran in opposite directions.
It had just started to snow when Limosa's bag of waters broke. That was a sure sign of labor beginning in earnest, and servants hotfooted it from the palace to bring back the midwife. Lanius listened to Ortalis burble and babble for a little while, then excused himself and got as far away from his brother-in-law as he could.
He started to head for the archives, but changed his mind. He'd needed years to teach the servants not to bother him there. Someone would have to come with news of Limosa's baby. Better not to be with the moncats, either. And he also couldn't go to his own bedchamber, because Sosia was there. She still didn't appreciate his company.
That left… what? He ended up in one of the palace's several small dining rooms. Instead of eating, he caught up on correspondence. He felt virtuous. He also rapidly grew bored. This was the part of governing that Grus did better than he did.
Someone opened the door and stuck his head into the room. "Oh," Grus said. "Sorry to bother you, Your Majesty. I was just looking for a quiet place where I could get a little work done until Limosa has her baby, however long that takes."
Laughing, Lanius answered, "That's exactly what I'm doing here."
"Oh," Grus said again, and then, "Mind if I join you?"
"Not a bit," Lanius told him. "And if you want to write some letters for me along with your own, I don't mind that, either. I was just thinking you're better at this part of being a king than I am."