Wolf-Speaker

FUGITIVES (#ulink_6aff4133-d4fe-568d-bd19-0f13b2a4ba36)

‘Oh, Ozorne,’ the newcomer scoffed. ‘No, I felt too – restricted, serving him. I’m my own man now – have been for a year.’ He and Numair shook hands.

‘Tristan, you know our guest?’ The lady rose from her chair and walked towards Numair, as graceful as a dancer.

‘Know him?’ replied Tristan. ‘My lady, this is Master Numair Salmalín, once of the university at Carthak, now resident at the court of Tortall.’

Yolane offered Numair a hand, which he kissed. ‘How wonderful to find such beauty in an out-of-the-way place,’ he said gallantly. ‘Does King Jonathan know the finest jewel in Tortall does not adorn his court?’

The lady smiled. ‘Only a man who lives at court could turn a compliment so well, Master Salmalín.’

‘But Tristan didn’t call you that,’ Lord Belden said coolly. ‘He called you Arram something.’

‘I was known as Arram Draper in my boyhood,’ explained Numair.

Tristan grinned. ‘Oh, yes – you wanted a majestic, sorcerous name when you got Master status. Then you had to change it, when Ozorne ordered your arrest.’

Yolane and Belden looked sharply at Numair. ‘Wanted by the emperor of Carthak?’ the woman asked. ‘You must have done something serious.’

Numair blushed. ‘The emperor is very proprietary, Lady Yolane. He feels that if a mage studies at his university, the mage belongs to him.’ He looked at Tristan. ‘I’m rather surprised to see you here. You were the best war mage in your class.’

War mage, Daine thought, startled. That’s who Numair said blasted the mines and killed the Riders.

‘I brought the emperor to see reason,’ Tristan replied, looking at Daine. ‘I’m sorry, little one – I didn’t mean to be rude. Who might you be?’

‘May I present my student?’ Numair asked. ‘Master Tristan Staghorn, this is Daine – Veralidaine Sarrasri, once of Galla.’

Yolane’s lips twisted in a smirk. ‘Sarrasri?’

Daine turned beet red. The lady knew it meant ‘Sarra’s daughter’, and that only children born out of wedlock used a mother’s name. She lifted her head. She was proud she was named after Ma.

‘Are you a wizard?’

Maura’s question startled Daine; she’d forgotten the girl was even in the room. ‘No,’ she replied. ‘Not exactly.’

A manservant entered and bowed. ‘Ladies and lords, if it pleases you, your meal awaits.’

Numair offered his arm to Yolane. She accepted it and guided him towards a door in the back of the room. ‘Would you explain something? We heard you were at the attack on Pirate’s Swoop last year. Wasn’t it from an imperial fleet? I was surprised His Majesty didn’t declare war on Carthak.’

‘He nearly did,’ replied Numair. ‘They used Carthaki war barges, but the emperor claimed they were sold to pirates. As the king was unable to prove we were attacked by anyone other than pirates, he was forced to drop it.’

Tristan offered Maura his arm with a mocking bow. The younger girl sniffed and took it. Belden, who appeared to spend much of his time in a brown study, followed them and left Daine to bring up the rear alone. For the first time in many, many months, she felt like a complete outsider. She did not like the feeling.

The dining hall was large enough to seat a household. Daine had been in many homes in the last year where servants and lords ate together, but tonight, at least, Dunlath’s nobles dined alone. Four other guests were already seated at a table placed lower and at an angle to the main board. They rose and bowed when the nobles entered. Daine saw Numair halt, dark brows knit in surprise.

Tristan said, ‘Numair, I think you know Alamid Mokhlos, and perhaps Gissa of Rachne?’ A man in a silk robe and a dark, striking woman bowed to Numair, who hesitated, then bowed in return. ‘They were on their way to the City of Gods and stopped to pay me a visit.’

‘My lord’s hospitality is so good, we fear we shall be here forever,’ the woman said in a heavily accented voice. ‘It is good to see you again, Arram.’

‘Not Arram any more,’ Tristan corrected her. ‘Numair Salmalín.’

‘That’s right.’ Alamid had a high, cutting voice. ‘We’d heard you were the Tortallan king’s pet mage.’

Tristan introduced the remaining two men in plain tunics as Hasse Redfern and Tolon Gardiner, merchants. Yolane and Belden had taken their places at the main board, and waited with polite impatience for the introductions to end. A maid gave Daine a seat beside Maura, at a table across the room and opposite the four less important guests. Tristan steered Numair to a place next to Yolane. Daine was interested to see that Numair’s seat was so far from Alamid, Gissa, and the others that he wouldn’t be able to talk to them during the meal.

Her own place beside Maura was entirely out of the stream of conversation. If they strained, they could just hear what was said by the adults on the dais.

‘If you’re waiting for them to talk to us, you have a long wait,’ Maura informed her at last.

Daine came to herself with a jerk. It occurred to her that she was being rude. ‘I’m sorry,’ she apologized, and tasted her soup. It was cold.

Maura correctly interpreted the face she made. ‘My sister doesn’t want servants eating here, as they did when our father was alive. She says the king doesn’t eat with his servants, so we won’t, either. That made the servants angry, so they take their time bringing meals.’

A mouse was exploring Daine’s shoe. She broke off a scrap of bread and fed it to him. When he finished, he whisked out of sight. ‘Why should the way the king eats decide how you take your meals here?’

‘We’re his closest relatives – third cousins or something like that,’ replied Maura, eating her soup. ‘Yolane says if he hadn’t married and had children, she might be queen today. If you’re from Galla, why do you live here? And what was your name again?’

Daine looked at her dinner companion, really looked at her, and smiled. The girl’s brown eyes were large and frank under a limp fringe, and freckles adorned her cheeks and pug nose. Perhaps to preserve her ivory skin Lady Yolane never went into the sun, but her sister was a different kind of female.

‘I’m called Daine, for short,’ she replied. ‘And it’s a fair long story, how I came to Tortall.’

‘It’s to be a fair long meal,’ said Maura. ‘She insists on having all the courses, just like at court.’

The mouse had returned, with friends. The feel of their cold noses on her stockinged legs made Daine smother a giggle.

‘I keep telling her, if she likes court so much, why doesn’t she live there all year, like some nobles. She doesn’t take the hint. Uh – Daine, don’t jump or screech or anything, but there’s a mouse in your sleeve.’

Daine looked. A pair of black button eyes peered up at her. ‘That’s hardly a safe place,’ she commented.

The mouse replied he liked it there.

‘Who are you talking to?’ asked Maura.

Daine blushed. ‘The mouse,’ she explained. ‘I understand what animals say, and they understand me. Oftentimes I forget that we aren’t speaking as humans do, and I talk to them as I might to you or Numair.’ To the mouse she added, ‘Well, if a cat sees you, there will be all sorts of trouble.’

‘No cats in the dining hall,’ interrupted Maura. ‘Yolane hates ’em.’

‘I knew there was something about her I didn’t like,’ muttered Daine.

Servants took the soup bowls, replacing them with plates laden with meat and vegetables. Daine was glad to see steam rise from her food, although none came from those that went to the head table. She mentioned it to Maura as she coaxed her mouse friend to sit beside her, rather than in her sleeve.

‘The servants like me, so they try to keep my food hot. It’s just hard with soup – it cools fast.’

Daine hesitated, trying to decide how to ask her next question. While she thought, she continued to feed bread to the mice. ‘You two don’t seem like sisters,’ she commented at last.

‘Half sisters,’ Maura said. ‘Her mother came from one of the oldest families in the realm. She died a long time ago, and Father remarried when Yolane got engaged to Belden. She tells everyone my mother was a country nobody.’

Daine frowned. ‘Forgive my saying so, Lady Maura, but your sister doesn’t sound like a nice person.’