When she was gone, the senator turned to Gil.
“I am deeply sorry for this unfortunate incident, my prince. I take the responsibility completely upon myself. I should never have quartered you with that cunning woman. I should have foreseen that she would coerce you into going along with her treacherous scheme. But you are safe now, my prince.” Rashas was soothing, reassuring. “I will find other quarters for you this night.”
Gil knew what his father would do in this situation. Tanis would have swallowed hard and then he would have slugged Rashas.
Grace under pressure.
Hitting Rashas would solve nothing, however, only make matters worse. Gil knew what his mother would do.
Sighing regretfully, Gil assumed a calm and placid expression that gave away nothing of his thoughts, an expression he’d seen more than once on his mother’s face.
“I thank you for your concern, Senator.”
Rashas nodded, then continued smoothly on. “The members of the Thalas-Enthia want very much to meet you, Prince Gilthas. They asked me to bring you to tonight’s meeting. That is why I returned early. I was sent to bring you to the senate chamber. Fortunate, don’t you think? It shows the gods are with me.”
god, at least, Gil thought grimly. Or should I say goddess?
“But you don’t look well.” Rashas was all sympathetic concern. “Not surprising. You were in grave danger from that conniving female.” He lowered his voice. “There are some who say she is a witch. No, no. Don’t try to talk, my prince. I will convey your apologies to the senate.”
“Please, do that, Senator,” Gil said. He could play this game, too. He only wished he had a clearer understanding of the rules.
Rashas bowed. “Sleep well, tonight, Prince Gilthas. You have a busy schedule ahead of you tomorrow. It is not every day that a man is crowned king.”
With a gesture, the senator summoned one of his Kagonesti servants.
“Take His Highness to new quarters—away from the witch. And see to it that he is not disturbed."
Chapter Eleven
All that night, Gil lay in his bed and made plans for morning. It had occurred to him, shortly after he had been escorted to his room, that he and Alhana were worrying over nothing. He knew what to do, how to handle the situation. It was all very simple. He was only sorry he couldn’t tell Alhana that she had nothing to fear.
Gil rehearsed in his mind several times what he would say to Rashas.
Anxiety eased, the young man fell asleep.
The sound of knocking woke him. He sat up, glanced out the window.
It was still dark.
A Kagonesti guard opened the door, permitting three serving women to enter Gil’s room. One of the women carried a large basin of fragrant rose water; orange blossoms floated on the surface. Another brought in a lamp and food on a tray. The third held—carefully—soft yellow robes, draped over her arms.
The Kagonesti woman carrying his breakfast was very young, not more than Gil’s age. She was very lovely, too. Her body was not painted, as were the older elves', either as a matter of taste or perhaps the custom was dying out among the young.[4] She had the darkly tanned skin of her people, however, and her hair was burnished gold. Her eyes—by the soft light of the lamp—were large and brown. She smiled shyly at him as she placed the tray of food on the table by his bedside.
Gil smiled back, not thinking of what he was doing. He was then deeply embarrassed when the two older women laughed, said something in their lilting language. The young girl blushed and moved hastily away from Gil’s bed.
“Eat. Wash. Dress,” said one of the older women, embroidering her crude Qualinesti speech with darting motions of her hands. “The master will be shortly with you. Before sun rises.”
“I want to see Queen Alhana,” Gil said firmly, trying to sound as dignified as possible, considering that he was more or less trapped in his bed by these women.
The Kagonesti woman slid her eyes toward the guard, who was standing watchfully in the door. He frowned, barked a sharp command, and the women hastened out.
“I want—” Gil began again loudly, but the guard only grunted and slammed the door shut.
Gil drew a deep breath. Soon, apparently, he must confront Rashas. He went over the words again and again as he performed his morning ablutions.
With barely a glance at the yellow robes—the ceremonial robes of the Speaker of the Sun and Stars—Gil put on his traveling clothes, the clothes he had worn to Qualinesti, the clothes he intended to wear home.
Home! The reminder brought tears to his eyes. He would be so glad to return; he doubted if he’d ever leave again. His gaze went to the tray of food. He remembered the lovely girl who had carried it, remembered her eyes, her smile.
Well, maybe he wouldn’t leave home for a short while. He would come back here, when all this was over, when Alhana and Porthios were once more rightful rulers. And next time, he would come back with his parents.
He tried eating breakfast, but gave it up. He sat on the bed, in the lamplit darkness, waiting with impatience for Rashas.
A tinge of rose-colored light glistened on the window-pane. It was nearly dawn. Gil heard footsteps and then Senator Rashas entered the room. He strode in abruptly, hurriedly, without knocking. The senator’s gaze went first to the robes of the Speaker, lying untouched on Gil’s bed, then to Gil himself.
He had risen to his feet, was standing respectfully, but certainly not humbly, before the senator.
“What is this?” Rashas demanded in surprise. “Didn’t the women tell you? ... Damn their ears! Those barbarians never get anything right. You are to dress yourself in the robes of the Speaker, Prince Gilthas. Obviously, you misunderstood—”
“I didn’t misunderstand, Senator,” Gil said, using the formal appellation.
His hands were cold. His mouth was so dry he feared his voice would crack, which would ruin the effectiveness of his carefully prepared speech. But there was no help for that now. He had to go on as best he could. He had to do what was right, do what he could to make amends for all the trouble he’d caused.
“I’m not going to be your Speaker, Senator. I refuse to take the vow.”
Gil paused, expecting Rashas to argue, ridicule him, or even remonstrate and plead.
Rashas said nothing. His face was unreadable. He crossed his arms over his chest, waited for Gil to continue.
Gil licked dry lips. “Perhaps, Senator, you assumed that because my parents didn’t choose to raise me in Qualinesti I have been kept ignorant of my heritage. That is not true. I know all about the ceremony to crown the Speaker of the Sun and Stars. My mother explained it to me. I know that one thing is required. The Speaker must take the vow of his own free will.”
Gil emphasized the words. The speech was coming easier. He was too absorbed in it to realize that Rashas’s reaction—or nonreaction—might bode trouble.
“I won’t take the vow,” Gil concluded, drawing in another deep breath. “I can’t be your Speaker. I don’t deserve such an honor.”
“You’re damn right you don’t,” Rashas said suddenly, softly, with suppressed fury. “You arrogant little half-breed. Your father was a bastard. He never knew the name of the man who rutted with the whore that was his mother. She should have been cast out in her shame. I said as much, but Solostaran was a soft-hearted, doddering old idiot.
“As for your own mother! What decent elven woman dons armor and rides to battle like a man? I have no doubt she found it most entertaining—surrounded day and night by so many soldiers! Your mother was nothing more than a glorified camp follower. The half-elf was the only man to have her after the others were done with her! With such a heritage, to even let you sniff the air of Qualinesti is a greater honor than you deserve, Prince Gilthas!” Rashas sneered when he spoke the name.
4
The Qualinesti consider the custom of body-painting barbaric and have been working to halt the practice among the Wilder elves, especially those who come to live and work in Qualinesti. The elder Kagonesti adhere rigidly to the old ways, but the younger elves—particularly those who want to remain in Qualinesti—have given up the custom. This has not pleased many of the Kagonesti, who have accused their cousins of attempting to lure their young away from them, perhaps even eradicate the Kagonesti race.