“Then you truly won’t be distressed?”
“Have you become hard of hearing as a war maid, dear?”
“No! No, I haven’t,” Leeana assured her with another, freer laugh.
“Good, because I was beginning to think you must have!”
The two of them sat in silence for the better part of two minutes, then Hanatha picked up her own glass of lemonade, sipped, and set it back down once more.
“I trust you do have a plan of campaign,” she told her daughter with a composed expression, “because I’m quite sure he’s spent the last seven years going over every reason it would be totally unsuitable, unacceptable, wrong, and diplomatically disastrous. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised by now if he’s managed, with that excess of nobility I’ve noticed he tries very hard to hide, to decide he never actually felt any of those things in the first place. In fact, he’s probably done almost as good a job of it-no, maybe even a better job of it-than Trianal’s done where Sharlassa is concerned.”
“Trianal and Sharlassa? ” Leeana’s eyes widened.
“Of course, Leeana!” Hanatha shook her head. “She’s a dear, sweet child, but that isn’t the only reason I’ve been so happy to have her staying here at Hill Guard while we polish her education in all those things you managed to run away from. And she, of course, thinks she’s far too poorly born to be a suitable match for Trianal, while he thinks she’s too young-Lillinara, all of seven years younger than him! — for him to be thinking about ‘robbing the cradle’ or using his position as your father’s heir to ‘pressure’ her into accepting his advances.” The baroness rolled her eyes. “There are times I feel surrounded by nothing but noble, selfless, utterly frustrating blockheads.”
“Oh, my!” Leeana laughed, leaning back in her own chair. “It really would be a perfect match, wouldn’t it? And it would take all of the traditional political alliance-building out of the equation when it comes time to find Trianal a wife. Even better, no one on the Council could possibly object if father and Sir Jahsak both approve of it. And you know Sir Jahsak would always support Trianal as his father-in-law!”
“You see? You truly are your father’s daughter. Leaving aside the undoubted political and tactical advantages, however, I think it would be a good idea because whether they realize it yet or not, they’re both in love with each other. Which, oddly enough, brings me back to you, my dear.”
“It does? How?” Leeana’s voice was wary, and her mother snorted.
“You have been listening to me for the last, oh, half hour or so, haven’t you? Trianal and Sharlassa? You and…someone else? You wouldn’t happen to see any parallels emerging here, would you?”
“Well, yes, actually,” Leeana admitted.
“Well then. Do you want my advice or not?”
“Of course I do,” Leeana said, mostly honestly, and Hanatha smiled.
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to be direct, love,” she said. “Possibly very direct, because I think you can trust him to come up with at least a thousand perfectly plausible reasons why it would all be a dreadful mistake and somehow a betrayal of your father’s hospitality and friendship. Not to mention a political disaster.” She cocked her head thoughtfully for a moment, then shrugged. “Actually, the ‘political disaster’ idea is probably his best argument against it, so if I were you, I’d take steps to avoid or neutralize it as early as possible. I understand war maids can be shamelessly forward in matters like this. Is that true, my dear?”
“I’ve…heard it said, yes, Mother,” Leeana replied primly.
“Good. A frontal attack, that’s the ticket. A surprise assault,” Hanatha’s eyes gleamed with what Leeana realized was genuine humor, possibly even delight. “An ambush, before he can get his defenses erected.” She gave her daughter another very direct look. “Was that approximately what you had in mind?”
“Something very much along those lines, actually, Mother,” Leeana admitted, feeling the blush heating her cheekbones.
Her mother considered her for several moments, then smiled.
“Good,” she said again. “And now that that’s settled, my dear, would you care for a little more lemonade?”
Chapter Eighteen
‹ No, she hasn’t told me why she’s here.› Walsharno’s long-suffering mental voice didn’t sound particularly surprised, Bahzell noted. ‹ She never tells me why she does things. Why should she? I’m only her older brother. Only a champion of Tomanak. Why in the world should she worry about telling me why she does things? I can tell you this much, though-she’s got some kind of secret that has her just absolutely delighted with herself!›
“Well,” Bahzell replied, his own tone rather more pacific and consoling than his companion’s as Walsharno moved smoothly up the approach road towards Hill Guard, “I’m not so very surprised as all that, I suppose. I’m thinking there’s never a sister been born as didn’t think her brother was after poking his nose where it didn’t belong. Not a one of mine ever did, any road.”
‹ I’m a courser,› Walsharno pointed out. ‹ We’re supposed to poke our noses into each other’s business! It’s one of the traits we share with the lesser cousins.›
“And mighty handy I’m sure you find that when it’s time to be pestering Gayrfressa,” Bahzell observed shrewdly. “And not so much when it’s time for her to be pestering you.”
‹ You’re supposed to be on my side, you know, Brother.›
“Ah, but himself wouldn’t be so very pleased if I were to take it into my head to be starting to lie just because the truth’s one as you’re not so very fond of.”
“My mother,” Brandark remarked to no one in particular from where he rode at Bahzell’s side, “always told me it was impolite to have a conversation in which not everyone present had the opportunity to participate.”
“Did she, now?” Bahzell looked down at the Bloody Sword with a smile.
“Yes, she did.” Brandark tilted his head back to look back up at his towering companion. “Of course, now that I think about it, I believe she also mentioned something about Horse Stealers’ ideas about politeness and manners in general being just a little backward.”
‹ Tell him I’d be perfectly willing to include him in the conversation if I could only figure out how to hammer a thought into his brain,› Walsharno said tartly. ‹ Of course, first I’d have to find it!›
“Now, that I won’t,” Bahzell told his companion, smiling at Walsharno’s mobile ears. “If it’s an insult you’re mindful to give him, then I’m thinking you should figure out how to do it yourself and not be dragging me into it. I’ve insults enough for him of my very own.”
“Oh, you do, do you?” Brandark’s eyes glinted. “Well, I’ve got some for you that I’d considered trotting out, but I thought better of it.”
“ You thought better of it?” Bahzell flattened his ears, regarding the Bloody Sword incredulously.
“Yes, I did,” Brandark said virtuously. “I was inspired by something Vaijon pointed out to me before he left with Yurokhas, actually.”
“Aye?” Bahzell’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “And what would that have been?”
“He simply pointed out that it’s both unjust and unfair to challenge an unarmed man to a duel.”
“Did he now?” Bahzell glanced up at the curtain wall and towers beginning to loom before them and his expression turned speculative. “I’m wondering how high someone would bounce if someone else was to be tossing him off the main keep’s battlements?”
“Lady Hanatha would be very upset with you for making such a mess in the courtyard,” Brandark said severely.
“Aye, there’s that,” Bahzell acknowledged. “Still and all, I’m thinking she’d likely consider why it might be I’d gone and done it, and she does know you. Taken altogether, I’ve no doubt she’d be willing enough to forgive me as long as I promised to be cleaning up the mess my own self.”