He went down to his apartment, Uwen and Lusin and Syllan with him, to find it in as great an upheaval.
“Your lordship,” one of his night guards said, red-coated men of the King’s Guard, whom they had left to stand duty by the doors, “there’s His Majesty’s servants here, sir.” This last to Uwen, who was in charge, and sobered but reeking of holiday ale.
The door was by that time open. “M’lord,” Tassand said, at the door, and by Tassand’s tone and the presence of the king’s servants going to and fro in the apartment, along with the disarrangement of clothes out of the bedroom and onto the chairs, packing was in progress. Clearly the message had reached his servants.
He sat after that in an apartment rapidly ceasing to be his, in every bundle carried out to the wagons. His tenure in the Guelesfort and his safety in Cefwyn’s company was likewise ending… piece by piece, like the fall of the stones, the little ones, the great ones. It still felt like ruin, and everything he had planned had to be questioned.
Then Idrys came, slipped right through his defenses and into the apartment, and turned up leaning in the doorway to his bedchamber.
“Sir,” Tristen said, all attention, and rose to deal with him, for Idrys was always on the king’s business, whether or not Cefwyn knew about it.
“Your Grace,” Idrys said. “His Majesty will not come here, must not see you, you understand. There are those who will notice, if he should.”
“I understand, sir. Bear him my goodwill.”
“I shall. By my orders you will have Captain Anwyll with you. Rely on him.”
Tristen frowned, no disrespect of Captain Anwyll, who was an honest, good man; but for Uwen’s sake. “Uwen will be enough, sir. He will be entirely enough.”
“For Uwen’s sake, take Anwyll to command the Guard at least through the winter. This is my advice, and no slight to your man.”
Idrys asked nothing for personal reasons, and had no reason to prefer Anwyll for his own advantage. But it was still unacceptable.
“Uwen is my captain,” Tristen said, “if I am to have a household. I shall take Captain Anwyll only if he respects Uwen, sir.”
“Who is a sergeant come captain in a great hurry and who has done very well in all of it. I say nothing against Uwen Lewen’s-son. But to keep accounts you will need men, both military and civil clerks; you will need a quartermaster; an armorer—master Peygan can recommend a man.”
“I shall take master Peygan’s advice,” he said. He ill liked to dispute Cefwyn’s word. But he had arranged in his own mind how things should be. “The rest will be Amefin, sir.”
There was a small silence in which Idrys looked him up and down. Idrys had taken his measure before this, and spoke to him frankly, as he would never discourage Idrys from doing. But he did not wish Uwen countermanded by a newly appointed Guard captain who was, he was sure, Idrys’ man.
“His Majesty has appointed a duke of Amefel, then,” Idrys said with a look that did not disapprove him, but that was much more guarded than before. “His Majesty regards you as his friend, sir. I trust that remains true, and will remain so.”
“With all my heart, sir. I should never do anything to displease him.”
“His friends mustdisplease him,” Idrys said. “Few others will. Say rather that you will keep your oath to him, and that says all. It even explains why you must leave court and the likes of Sulriggan may return.”
“He will not, sir!” He was appalled. “Has His Majesty recalled Sulriggan?”
“The final price for His Holiness’s blessing tomorrow. Sulriggan will return into the sunlight of His Majesty’s favor…” Idrys’ sarcasm was rarely so evident, and Idrys’ grim look rarely so transparent. “His Majesty might pack off the lot of them, ten to a bundle, and keep you by him, but that would mean war with the Quinalt, which is not to any advantage just now. I’m giving Captain Anwyll strict orders, and all honor to Uwen Lewen’s-son, whom I may not order, I am giving him the benefit of my opinion relayed through a man I trust. I would have kept Emuin here, next to His Majesty. My choice was not regarded. His Majesty must not have any loud commotion arising out of Amefel, and, I entreat Your Grace, there must be no dealings across that border with Elwynor. Satisfy those two conditions and you will do His Majesty a very great service.”
“Earnestly so, sir. He explained to me the reasons for proceeding next spring with an advance from Guelessar. You did overhear.”
“I did. Gods know there are worse choices to set over Amefel, far worse. Beware of Aswydd influences, have none of that house near you, have your food tasted, and do not be misled by plausible villains. Spend modestly, but for the gods’ good grace, attend Bryalt ceremonies faithfully and speak with all courtesy to the Quinalt patriarch in Henas’amef. Give a donation to the Quinalt shrine. The man’s a sullen prig, but you’ll serve His Majesty if the reports that go back from that priest to the Holy Father contain no wild speculations on sorcery. Don’t let the hedge-wizards sell their charms in the market. It sets the Quinalt’s teeth on edge. I ask all this for His Majesty’s sake. Neither I nor His Majesty care how many charms against toothache the old women sell. Only don’t have them hung openly in the market, or worn on the street, or the rumors will fly that you promote Sihhë wizardry and practice gods-know-what in private. Take master grayfrock’s advice in all things. His Majesty will sorely miss it. Someoneshould use it.”
“Emuin will not give it me when I ask.” He understood what Idrys was telling him, and earnestly agreed with the sense of his advice; but it was a point of frustration with him that he had no advice from master Emuin, and yet the man was up in his tower sending down bundles, baskets, and crates, protesting that the night was too short and never offering to stay in Guelemara to safeguard Cefwyn. “I never asked him to go with me. Yet he will. He will not advise me. Yet insists on going.”
Idrys frowned, hearing that. “Well,” he said, “well, at noon tomorrow, in the Quinalt, roof or no roof, advice or no advice, you will swear for Amefel. There will be appropriate ceremony, the town turned out. His Majesty is doing this in full witness of the barons, compelling His Holiness to hold the ceremony and the barons to stand and pray over it. If you have any governance over the lightning, Your Grace, I pray you keep the roof from further damage tonight. We already have Sulriggan back among us. His Majesty pleads with you to assure no untoward events between now and the ceremony. And let us enjoy clear weather if you can manage it.”
“I have no governance over the weather.”
“A jest, if you please.”
“Yes, sir. But you should know—you must know: the Lines in the place are set amiss.” He wished to keep no secrets from Idrys, whose opinion of him had survived the direst suspicion, and he knew he could not affright the man. “And there are shadows, many of them. But I have no sense that they have broken out. The lightning bolt will have been a disturbance to them, but I have no sense that it made matters worse.”
“The lines are set amiss,” Idrys repeated.
“The Lines that keep shadows in their places. All that keeps a place safe.”
“Is it urgent?” Idrys, of all men, was ready to listen to his estimation of threat, and he was careful, accordingly, not to give a false sense of alarm.
“I don’t think so. I have no sense that they’ve gotten out, or that they might, easily. The walls are intact. Ynefel had many holes in the roof, and they never mattered.”
“AtYnefel, you say.”
“Only the windows. And the doors. When it fell…” He never liked to remember that, the wind and the wailing and the groaning of timbers. And the silence after, with the occasional fall of heavy beams. “But the shrine will not fall. I don’t feel there’s danger of that. I shall swear to Cefwyn. I shall be his friend. I shall hope—” He had not said it aloud since he had heard the news. “I shall hope he will call me back again, in the spring.”