"Bloody hell!" Herald Keren said, in sheer admiration. She shook her head. "All this time? You've been running around in Hell's own neighborhood all this time?"

"Since Dethor his Second made me," Alberich confirmed. Keren grinned at him, with a glint in her eye that made her partner Ylsa sigh and cast a glance up towards heaven.

"Bloody hell! When did you sleep?" Keren demanded.

"Infrequently, apparantly," Ylsa muttered.

He knew he would have to let Ylsa in on the secret the moment he'd decided to recruit Keren, if he could; he had learned as a commander that the only way to ensure perfect cooperation from his men—or now, his women—was to make certain their partners knew what was toward. And although by the strictest Karsite creed, what was between Ylsa and Keren was—not to be thought of—Alberich had been a leader of men for far too long not to know that things that were not to be thought of were commoner than priests admitted.

Back when he'd been a Captain of the Sunsguard, two of his men had had an understanding between them, though the rest of the troupe had not known, and Alberich doubted that even the two in question ever realized he had discovered their association.

Several more of the men had clandestine marriages with women in one or another of the villages—ordinary fighters were not permitted to marry, at all, under any circumstances.

This had all conflicted with what the Sunpriests decreed. Eventually he had come to a decision on his own about what the men did or did not do. If some behavioral trait of one of his people did not affect performance and honor adversely, it mattered not at all. If it affected performance and honor positively, it mattered a very great deal. So far as he could judge, Keren and Ylsa were good partners. Keren gave Ylsa a boost to thinking imaginatively. Ylsa steadied Keren down, something that hellion badly needed.

"And you want me to help you out?" Keren continued, still with that glint in her eyes.

"From time to time. Not often. But there are some things women tell not to men. And some places men are welcome not." He shrugged. "That there is the greatness of threat to Valdemar that there was once, I think not. That there is the threat still existing, however, I do think. Valdemar was not impoverished in the wars as it could have been—"

"Thanks to you," Ylsa pointed out. "If you hadn't gone after those children, and got the lion's share of the Tedrel loot in the process, we would have been."

He waved that aside. "Still, seasoned fighters were lost; Valdemar hires not from the Mercenary Guild, so weakened will Valdemar be for some time. A weakened land is a land that others may seek—to exploit."

"Hmm." Ylsa sat back in her chair, and stroked her chin speculatively. "That could be...though we've friends on the east and south."

"There is the north," Keren pointed out. "And there's always the west. Pirates on Evendim. Bandit bands large enough to qualify as armies. Weird stuff out of the Pelagirs. Barbarians."

"Even so." Alberich nodded. "The Northern border and the Western are—"

"Fluid," Ylsa supplied him. "And what's more, Selenay inherited a Kingdom where war had allowed other problems to be ignored. And I suspect you know that at first hand."

He shrugged. "Indeed. The enemy I fear most lies within our borders. Opportunists come in all stripes, and all ranks. Where there are fortunes to be made, men will seek to make them, be the source never so vile."

"And once you start selling one vile thing, further vileness comes easier. Especially when the price is good enough." Keren shook her head. "Well. How would you like me to start?"

"By learning to act a part," Alberich told her immediately. "The hellion will not always welcome be, where I would ask you to go. Sometimes, the serving-wench. Sometimes, the whore."

Keren snickered at that. "Me! Nobody'd look twice at me!"

"You are not old, not raddled with drink, have all your teeth, most of your mind, and no disease," Alberich said pragmatically, before Ylsa could jump in. "In the quarters where I go, that is enough."

Keren snorted. "Most of my mind! I like that!"

Ylsa laughed. "You're a Herald. You are volunteering to spy in the worst parts of Haven, dear. That's not exactly anything I see sane people queueing up to do."

Keren made a face. But she didn't argue.

"So. There it is. Can you act a part?" Alberich asked.

Keren scratched one eyebrow thoughtfully. "I'm pretty sure I can. Not for days and weeks at a time, but then, you aren't going to want that, I suppose."

"No," he agreed. "If it must come to days and weeks, another solution sought must be. Nor you nor I can be spared our assigned duties. A few hours at most, is what we will need."

"For a few hours, I can manage anything," Keren decreed. "I suppose I could even manage pretending to be a lady."

"I'd pay money to see that!" Ylsa chortled.

"If it is a lady I need, to Talamir I should take myself," Alberich told them both. "Better to find one within the court who is a friend—and I assume that he has more than one such already."

"Probably," Ylsa agreed, and Keren nodded.

"Well, then, I thank you both." He stood up, and motioned them both to remain seated. "I shall myself let out. Not soon will this be—nothing have I that needs a female, at the moment."

"Better to have the gaff in your hand before you try to land the sturgeon," Keren observed. "Take me with you a time or two when you've not got something on the boil, and I can get used to playing a part."

"I shall," he promised, and let himself out of their somewhat cramped quarters. All things considered, he wasn't unhappy about being down in the salle. If he wanted or needed more room, he could just add on, as apparantly, generations of Weaponsmasters had done before him. Quarters in the Heralds'

Wing were best described as "tight" by his current standards.

He walked slowly down the hall in a rather satisfied state of mind, actually. The interview had gone well, Ylsa had not made any objections, and Keren seemed positively eager to help. A good outcome, all the way around.

And her suggestion of going about in persona when there was nothing particularly that he needed to do was an excellent one. It would establish her personas and allow him to correct her, if need be, at a time and place where breaks in the persona would not be dangerous. Better to clear all that up before it could be fatal.

He'd better warn her about the food in The Broken Arms, though. There were some things even Keren's famously iron stomach could not digest safely.

#

Selenay chased the last of her servants out and closed the door to her bedchamber, even though she hadn't the least intention of going to sleep. It had been a long day, and unfortunately, it had also been a very dull one. It had not helped that every moment of it, she had been poignantly aware that just outside the Palace walls, virtually every creature of Court and Collegia—with the possible exceptions of the two scamps who'd broken the salle mirror—was taking the time to have some winter fun in the heavy snow. It made her feel very forlorn.

It had also made her miss her father very much. Sendar had loved the winter; had he still been alive, he'd not only have chased her out to play, he'd have contrived a way to join her.

She bundled up in a fur-lined robe over her nightdress, and took a book to the window-seat in her bedroom, though she had no intention of reading it. Instead, she rubbed a clear patch through the frost on a window-pane with the sleeve, and looked out over the gardens.

The moon was just up, shining through the branches of the trees as if it had been trapped there. It was just a half-moon, with a little haze around it, and a faint golden cast to its face. Light from other windows in the Palace made golden rectangles on the surface of the snow beneath, with the occasional shadow passing across them as she watched. She had retired early tonight, but life in the rest of the Palace went on as usual. Even as she watched, she heard a giggle from outside, and vaguely feminine form bundled up in a cloak and hood ran across the snow, followed by a second, then a third, scudding across the white snow like clouds across the moon. Three of the young ladies of the Court, out for a moonlight frolic? Were they meeting young men, or just having some girl-fun? Or were they servants, or even Trainees? They couldn't be Heraldic Trainees, for the cloaks had been too dark to be Grays, but they could be Bardic or Healer Trainees....

Perhaps not Healers, who tended to be very serious indeed, and not likely to be out for a moonlit frolic in the snow. But Bardic, perhaps. Or even—well, no, probably not three of the common-born female Blues, either, the ones who got into the Collegia on merit. Those young ladies, fewer than the males by far, tended to be even more serious than the Healer Trainees, spending their evenings in study, except for taking the rare night off to go to the Compass Rose. Their positions were hard-won, many of them had come here over parental opposition, and they were not going to hazard what they'd gained by frittering it away.

Selenay sighed, feeling a wistful kinship to that handful of young women. She was in a very similar position, or at least, it seemed that way to her. She, and they, were prisoners to their duty and their responsibilities

Except that they were self-imprisoned; she was bound by blood and rank as well as duty. Surely self-imposed bonds were less galling than ones imposed from the outside.

She sighed, and rested her chin in her hand, and wondered what it would be like to be ordinary.

:That rather depends on what it is that you mean by `ordinary,': Caryo

replied. :An ordinary Herald, for instance?:

:I suppose,: she replied, unable to even think of what her life would be like without Caryo.

:You've had some taste of it, when you accompanied Herald Mirilin down to the Heralds' Courts in Haven,: Caryo reminded her. :The real difference between you and them is that you can never escape being Queen, and they can sometimes escape being Heralds for a candlemark or two.:

:Exactly.: Selenay was relieved that Caryo hadn't started in on a lecture about how she should be grateful, that there were hundreds of young women in her Kingdom who had gone to bed hungry and would wake up with no better prospect of breakfast than they'd had of supper. That there were young women who had done extremely unpleasant things in order to get a supper, or a bed, and would do the same tomorrow. She knew that; knew that very well, no matter how much Talamir and Alberich tried to shelter her from it. She also knew that there wasn't anything much she could do about it with the limited resources at her behest. She knew that children went to bed hungry and cold, or even curled up in a doorway without a bed at all. She was doing what she could about that, with what she had—the mandatory schooling was a help, as were the "Queen's bread" meals she'd managed to get instituted, so that at least every child had one meal in a day....

....but never mind that now. She was just grateful that Caryo understood.

:Of course I understand. The wild songbird that's had its wings clipped and been clapped in a cage doesn't feel much like trilling, no matter how comfortable the cage is, nor how good the food in its cup.:

She sighed again. That was a pretty accurate summing-up. And no matter where she looked, it seemed that someone around her was trying to install yet another set of bars.

She wanted some fun again. She wanted to be irresponsible for just a little while. She wanted to tell the Council, the courtiers, the petitioners, to just wait for a candlemark or two while she went skating and sledding.

It felt almost as if she was being punished, and not only had she done nothing to deserve being punished, she'd done everything she was supposed to be doing!

She didn't remember her father being so hedged about—

—wait a moment—-

She blinked, and ran through that thought again.

I don't remember father being so hedged about that he couldn't take a candlemark or two—-

But the Councilor would have kittens.

Just who was the Monarch here, anyway?

:Exactly so,: Caryo agreed calmly. :It would be one thing entirely if you neglected your duties to spend all of your time in pleasure and games. But since the moment the Crown was put on your head, the most you've stolen was a candlemark or two at bedtime to read.:

:But how do I—: she began, then stopped, thinking back to her father. All right; Sendar'd had the authority to simply stop everything and say, "I'm going out for such-and-such." She didn't. So—

:I'll have to schedule it. Won't I?:

:Better still, decree it, in such a way that it becomes a duty—in their eyes—to take some pleasure.: And as she tried to work out how she could decree a few candlemarks off to go skating, Caryo added helpfully, :There is a cold spell—a very cold spell—on the way. It's already frozen the verges of Evendim out to almost a furlong from the shore. It'll freeze the Terilee solid, and it should last for a fortnight at the least.:

She blinked. She could barely remember the last time the Terilee had frozen solid. And when it had—

:I declare an Ice Festival?: she hazarded.

:Annouce there will be one if the Terilee freezes,: Caryo agreed. :Your Councilors will be so certain it won't that they'll just smile and ignore the decree. Then, when it does, it'll be all over the city, and they won't be able to cancel it.:

:But—what does one do—:

:Leave that to the merchants, for the most part,: Caryo said wisely. :Once you make the decree, they'll do exactly what they do for a Midwinter Faire, except that they'll prepare to set the booths and tents up on the ice. All you need to do is send someone to rummage through the attics for some prizes for skating contests and other competitions, and arrange for a Royal Pavillion out there with some provisions and cooks. And talk to the Deans. Perhaps the young Bardic Trainees could perform gratis? Certainly there should be at least one day off from classes.:

The more she thought about it, the more excited she became. :But what if the ice starts to break—:

:Just find some people that know ice to be ice-wardens; if it starts to break up, there'll be plenty of warning.:

Competitions—there ought to be skating races, of course, short and long. Perhaps something for trick skating? A prize for the best ballad on a winter theme. One for the best spiced cider and mulled wine?

:And hot meat pie,: Caryo said, with a mental shudder. :There are so many wretched hot pies, any encouragement to make them better would be a boon to your people.:

Ice-fishing. There should be a prize for the biggest fish caught ice-fishing.

:One and two-horse sledding races.:

That was just about all she could fit in a single day, she thought with regret. And she wouldn't dare to take more than one day off—

:So have all of the elimination contests before the Royal day,: Caryo advised. :That way there will be some real anticipation building up, and you won't have to taste more than five or six final entries in the food and drink contests.:

Or listen to more than five or six ballads on the subject of winter....

:And end with a feast and entertainments by moonlight on the ice, with the feasting supplied by the Crown,: Caryo said. :It will be very romantic. Some of your young ladies have been trying to get their young men to come to the question since you were crowned, and if this doesn't do it, nothing will.:

She thought of those giggling girls out in the snow, and sighed, wistfully. She could certainly understand their frustration!

Not that she had anyone she wished would come to the question with her. Far from it. No, she wished mostly that for once a "courtship" didn't consist of her Council shoving names and portraits at her. It would be so nice to listen to poetry, even bad poetry, about the beauty of her eyes. It would be wonderful to listen to stammered, clumsy compliments in the moonlight, and to pull away from an attempted kiss at the last possible, and most coquettish, moment.

Was it so wrong of her to hanker after romance, to long for a circle of adoring young men who didn't adore the crown rather than the girl? Oh, she knew that most young women of her Court went off to arranged marriages rather than romantic ones, but still, they usually weren't bartered off to the highest bidder like prize cattle. They usually had some choice in the matter.

Well, she had choice, she supposed. She could always say "no." They could badger her and nag her, but they couldn't force her to marry anyone.

:Think about your Festival,: Caryo advised. :You've taken all the steps you need to about the marriage plans. Think about something pleasant.:

But would Talamir and Alberich approve? They were in charge of her safety, after all....

:Alberich has already supposed that you were going to do just this, and has been making his own plans,: Caryo said instantly. :Or so Kantor tells me.:

What? Her head came up, like a hound suddenly sniffing something it did not expect on the breeze. But how—

:Partly knowing you, partly knowing you need some pleasure in your life about now, but mostly, I suspect, that ForeSight of his giving him a nudge in the right direction. It doesn't always have to be a disaster that he ForeSees. And when it isn't—he probably doesn't realize that it's ForeSight.:

Well, that made perfect sense to her. And it was comforting, knowing that someone she trusted as much as she trusted Alberich thought this was a good idea.

:Oh yes. For the people as much as for you. There's been too much sadness. When you mourn for too long, you start to forget how too feel joy.: She sighed, and felt Caryo sighing with her. That struck to the heart of the matter, and had been something she had not felt comfortable voicing aloud. It had felt somehow disloyal to her father's memory to be weary of weeping for him—and yet, how many tears could she, should she shed?

So Alberich, who had been as loyal to Sendar as anyone could have asked, felt she was ready, and Valdemar was ready, to let go and move on?

Perhaps she didn't need to feel guilty, then.

But Talamir?

:Rolan says that Talamir will have no problem with this.:

Well, she wouldn't expect Talamir to participate; it would be unkind. She wouldn't really need the Queen's Own for something like this, just some good bodyguards. Alas. She wished she could have done without those as well.

But probably the monarchs of Valdemar hadn't been able to do without bodyguards since—well, for as long as she could think. Certainly as long as there had been difficulties with Karse.

So, there was one good thing; if she had to have bodyguards, they could at least be people she knew would be able to enjoy the Festival with her.

#

:Heh,: Kantor said, just as Alberich was choosing a book to read by his fire before going to bed. :I doubt that you're going to be surprised at this. Caryo has just told me that Selenay has decided to hold that Ice Festival.:

He settled down in his favorite chair, and adjusted the lamp behind him so that the light fell properly on the page. His window had an interesting look to it, with the light falling on it rather than through it. Rather like colored stone set in a mosaic. No doubt the Glassmaster had considered this as well, when he'd chosen the glass and the colors. :Good,: he said firmly. :It will be good for her, and good for Haven. But we'll need to slip it past the Councilors, so tell Caryo to suggest that Selenay wait until she's holding public audience, then make a decree tomorrow that if the Terilee freezes solid, there will be the Festival.:

:What difference will that make?: Kantor asked. Alberich sipped his hot wine. :First, the decree will be in public, which will make it more difficult for the Councilors to object. Secondly, they'll applaud this in public as being a grand gesture, and think in private that it's about as likely as pigs flying. Then, since the decree will have been posted all over the city, when the river does freeze solid, it will be too late for them to do anything about forbidding any such festivities.:

He was rather pleased with this. He wanted Selenay to have a victory without having to fight for it. The more of those she got, the more her Councilors would become accustomed to the idea. Sooner or later, she was either going to have to rule in truth, or become the mouthpiece for her Council, a figurehead, but not a leader.

The sad part was, he could see even the Heralds who were on her Council gently manuevering her into that role, all the while telling themselves that it was for her own good, that she was still too young to take the burden of the crown, that they would just guide her....

It was always easier to hold power than to give it up. That was how the Son of the Sun and his strongest Priests had come to rule Karse. And look where that had gotten them.

Kantor seemed to be following his thoughts. :Good idea. I'll tell Caryo.: And after a moment, :Who do you want for Selenay's bodyguards? I doubt she'll be able to take more than a day away from her duties, but she'll need guards when she does.:

Good question; assuming that the Collegia would be taking a full set of hollidays, the various teachers and their assistants wouldn't be needed, but the Royal Guard would, in its full strength. :Might as well make it Keren and Ylsa for the daylight hours.: He gave some more thought to what this Festival should involve, for lowborn and high as well. :I suppose she'll have a feast and entertainment for the highborn in a pavilion on the ice the same evening that she attends the games? Or should I say, there will be two feasts, one for the common folk, and one for the Court? And I mean all of the highborn, as many as can come at short notice in winter?:

Kantor was taken by surprise by that question. :I don't think she'd even considered a Court Feast, but it's a good idea. A very good idea. I'll pass it on.:

Alberich felt a certain amusement that he, born poorest of the poor, and bastard to boot, should be the one to be making suggestions about what the great and grand would find appropriate. Still. He'd been raised on tales of it, after all. Virtually every child had. And he'd been watching this Court for years, now. :A grand feast for the Court will help lighten things considerably. Midwinter was shadowed; the first one without Sendar, and Selenay still in mourning. I don't think anyone had the heart for it. But this won't have any memories, any connotations. It's the sort of thing that ought to make the Councilors happy with the whole idea, since they'll be able to haul in all their so-called elligible candidates for her hand and hope that one of them charms her,: he added, with just a touch of sourness. Sourness, because, truth to tell, it annoyed him to see these supposedly sensible men trying to force the poor young woman into a destiny of their choosing. And because they were wasting so much time and effort on the project, time and effort that could be going to some task more useful. If they would put half the concentration they put into working together that they put into finding a mate for the Queen, three quarters of the current difficulties besetting the kingdom would vanish over night.

:And she can be impartially charming right back to all of them,: Kantor agreed. :I wish that more of them were worth being charming to.:

:So do I.: The fact that so many potential mates had been sytematically disqualified by Selenay in public meant that anyone who was dredged up and hauled in for the Ice Festival was bound to be marginal at best. Unsuitable in the extreme, unless some cross-cousin out of the back of beyond happened to get hauled in, Chosen on the spot, and proved to be the man of Selenay's dreams. If she even had any dreams on the subject. It was hard for Alberich to tell. Selenay's mind was often opaque to him.

:And whatever suitors are hauled in will probably be stone-deaf and ninety at worst,: Kantor sighed. :Poor Selenay! It will be a shabby lot of dancing-partners she'll be getting.:

Another aspect that hadn't occurred to him. With things so subdued at Midwinter, she hadn't seemed to want any dancing. Well, maybe he could do something about that.

:I think at an occasion like an Ice Festival, she ought to dance every other dance with a Herald, don't you?: he asked Kantor. :In fact, isn't there some sort of mandate about that, somewhere? So that no highborn can claim two

dances with her in an evening?:

:If there is, Myste can find it,: Kantor replied, with a chuckle. :And if there isn't—:

:Myste can still find it,: he replied, thinking with real pleasure of how Myste and Selenay together had foiled the entire Council plan to get her safely betrothed to someone of their choice. It had been a thing of beauty, according to Myste. He was just glad that he had kept himself out of it, so that when he'd been asked, he'd been able to truthfully disclaim any knowledge of it all.

Not that he'd wanted to be anywhere near the room at the time the entire thing unfolded. Whenever certain members of the Council were thwarted, they always looked at the Karsite as the source of their troubles. Funny. They suspected his hand behind even this without his being anywhere near the Council Chamber that day; they'd entirely overlooked Myste. :I'm not entirely certain about all those cross-cousin links Myste was finding. Surely the highborn of Valdemar aren't that closely inbred.:

:Chosen! You don't think Herald Myste would concoct information, do you?: Kantor asked, pretending to be aghast at the thought.

:You're forgetting she was a clerk before she was a Herald,: he replied. :They spend a quarter of their lives writing things down, a quarter finding what other people have written down, a quarter in hiding what was written down, and a quarter in making sure if it should have been written down and wasn't, it is now.:

Kantor had no real reply for that, but Alberich didn't really expect one. And no, in the case of something important, he really did not think that Myste would stoop to forgery. But in the case of something like this, where nothing was hanging on a little judicious creativity but Selenay's all-too-rare pleasure, Myste could and would unbend her rigid ethics in order to ensure that the "tradition" existed, even if it hadn't been a tradition until a few moments ago when he'd thought of it.

Apparantly Kantor agreed. :Consider it a tradition that's been in place for centuries. You know, Myste is very good at aging documents.:

Well, she had to be; she had to know how to forge them in order to detect fogeries. And it wasn't as if she'd be doing anything really unethical, like forging the Great Royal Seal. She could just insert it in a a list of protocol from the last Ice Festival, hand it to the Seneschal as the guide to how he should conduct the Feast at the end, and no one would be the wiser. And Selenay would get dancing-partners that she could relax with. In fact, he'd hand-pick them.

Which reminded him of something else.

:Don't the wretches generally sneak off to some private, Heralds-only party as soon as they can?: he demanded, recalling that they had done just such a thing at Selenay's Coronation.

:Um—: Kantor began, with overtones of guilt.

:Well, not this time, and that is an order, and have Talamir enforce it,: he said firmly. :Not until Selenay is ready to leave. By Vkandis' Crown, if she doesn't get to enjoy most of this affair, it'll be no fault of mine, and it won't be for lack of good company, friends among the rest, as well as dancing-partners!:

:Yes, sir!: Kantor replied, for once, with no hint of mockery or irony whatsoever in his Mindvoice.

Hmph. He settled into his book with a feeling of satisfaction, as Kantor and the other Companions—and whatever Heralds would be involved in the plot—coordinated themselves. Myste, Talamir, the Seneschal's Herald, presumably. Those here at the Collegium who were young, good dancers, or both—

:What about—: Kantor interrupted his reading :—if we concoct another point of protocol? That any final-year Trainee of appropriate age and gender can serve as the Queen's dance-partner?:

He thought about that for a moment; it would effectively double the number of young faces at the occasion, and what was more they would be people Selenay already knew and would feel comfortable around.

:Perfectly reasonable. While we're at it, throw the doors open for the Bards and Healers as well. No reason why they can't be included. Every reason why they should be.:

He felt Kantor's approval. :Good. Bards make better dancers, anyway.: And once again, he sensed Kantor's withdrawal.

He felt himself smiling; there was something to be said for this particular kind and purpose of conspiracy. It made everyone who was involved in it feel good. And it got their minds moving in directions that had been sadly unfamiliar for far too long. Poor little Selenay had been spending the last six moons and more thinking only of the welfare of those around her and dependant on her. It was about time that they all returned the favor.

:If Keren and Ylsa are going to be her bodyguards, shouldn't she have an official escort?: Kantor said, coming "back" from wherever he'd "been."

:Since this is a Festival, what about a Bard?: he asked, thinking about all the really handsome-looking Bards he'd seen in and around the Collegia. :Besides, with a Bard around, you never lack for conversation. It's their job to be witty.:

:Good idea. Then she can't be accused of favoritism for the Heralds, but she won't be stuck with one of the Suitors.: Kantor "vanished" again, and Alberich was left alone with his book.

Which was, to his way of thinking, fine company to be in.

Very fine, indeed.

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4