The Nightborn by Isabel Cooper (howl and other poems TXT) 📗

had responded with equal practiced politeness to Zelen’s introduction before Altien had excused himself for the evening.

“No,” said Zelen, “I was just finishing. I can’t say I expected you, of course.”

“There were a few business affairs to manage—nothing that you need to be concerned about, naturally. I’d been intending to return to the house, but I know that you allow the servants a remarkable degree of latitude and employ very few,” Gedomir said, “so when your butler said that you were occupied here, I feared that they might not be prepared to receive a guest.”

“Considerate of you,” said Zelen, trying to make himself believe that it actually might have been. “But I’m sure they’d manage. You don’t exactly demand luxury.”

“Luxury, no. Correctness, yes. You appear…well,” Gedomir said, glancing between Zelen’s smock and the folded doublet on the desk. “And keeping interesting company.”

“I must have written about Altien. Can’t easily match his skill, or his dedication.”

“If that’s your judgment, of course you know these matters better than I do. I suppose it would be good to have an assistant with your tasks here—one without other duties to occupy him.”

“Altien’s a partner, not an assistant. Fully as good as I am in most areas, and better in a few others. We do get a few nonhumans in here from time to time, you know.” Zelen stacked up his final paper and pulled his tunic over his head, ignoring the way Gedomir dramatically turned his back. “Remarkably insightful about the dangers of the sea too. Literally lifesaving, when the fishing boats or the ships are out.”

“I’m sure,” said Gedomir.

“How are the family?” Zelen asked, rather than pressing the issue.

“Well.” Gedomir sounded far more approving. “Mother and Father are aging, of course, but still strong, and Hanyi’s taking her place as a help to them.”

“Alize settling into married life?”

“Yes, to the best of my knowledge. No word of issue yet, alas.”

“It’s only been a year. Besides,” Zelen said, “getting an heir or three is really your responsibility, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes. Mother’s spoken of a few appropriate candidates, though I haven’t heard any names.”

“Better you than me, though I’ll look about for you if you’d like. Kolovat and Yansyak both have single daughters, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Mother has it under control. And not Yansyak. That line—”

“Tinival’s…justice, Gedo.” He caught the oath at the last second, made a quick substitute for the anatomical term that he’d been going to use, and still knew without seeing the man his brother had grimaced. “That was a hundred years ago.”

“And we’re still paying.”

“Not for Yansyak’s part in the affair. Infidelity’s common enough. Most people don’t kill in response, much less murder an entire household and try to destroy the world. Speaking of Thyran…” In conversation with anyone else, Zelen would’ve been surprised it had taken him so long to think of the day’s news. His brother had a way of diverting his mind.

“I heard as much this evening,” Gedomir said. “The woman’s story—the woman herself—seems interesting. She came alone?”

“From the sound of it, Criwath’s forces are pretty well occupied at present.”

“If her tale’s reliable.”

“We could easily demand that she swear it to one of Tinival’s knights. She has sense enough to know that.”

“I heard she offered, yes,” said Gedomir. “I also heard that you talked with her a fair amount and provided her with an escort back to the high lord’s estate.”

“You have very accurate sources,” Zelen said, and opened a desk drawer. He kept a set of ruby-colored glasses in there and a bottle of half-decent wine. Usually he drank with Altien after a hard day, but now he knew he’d need help keeping the conversation from turning into the sort of flaming row he and Gedomir had often had in their younger days. “I’m surprised you even need my report. Drink?”

“I haven’t started indulging, no. What do you know about this Alanive creature?”

Zelen poured and sipped. “Very little so far. She’s clearly done service in the army, or as a warrior, even if she’s stuck in diplomacy now. Smart, well spoken, from what I’ve seen, but a king would hardly send an envoy who wasn’t.”

Rather lovely, he added, but silently.

“You could likely find out more,” said his brother. “That might be quite useful.”

“Oh, yes. I’ll use my astounding seductive abilities to uncover all Criwath’s state secrets, shall I?”

The burst of sarcasm got only a raised eyebrow from Gedomir. “Nothing like that, I’m sure. Only cultivate an acquaintance, form impressions, and add what you discover to your letters. Father and Mother would be grateful for the knowledge.”

He didn’t have to say that it was barely any effort compared with what a younger son owed his family, or remind Zelen whose funds kept him fed, clothed, and housed, the clinic running, and wine in the glass he was holding. Those lectures had taken place years ago and hadn’t only come from Gedomir.

“Getting to know her won’t be a chore,” Zelen admitted, “and I doubt she’d share knowledge with me if it was truly secret. Very well.” He tossed back the last of the wine. “And now perhaps I’ll make an early night of it. One of the children here went missing, and I’ve offered to help search tomorrow.”

“Ah,” Gedomir said. He paused in consideration, brow furrowed, then added, “Take Nislar along when you go. I won’t need two bodyguards before I leave, I’m certain, and he might be of some assistance.”

Gratitude warred with shame for his former thoughts. “That’s kind of you, Gedo.”

“Oh,” Gedomir said, “we each serve in our proper place.”

* * *

A low table held a small white bowl and pitcher, with enameled pink roses and blue dragon-eyes twining across both, as well as a towel and a cake of soap. Branwyn crossed to the table, poured out water, and silently began to wash.

Action helped to settle the mind, so long as the action itself wasn’t thoughtless or impulsive. So Branwyn’s teachers had said, and she’d found it to be true before. This was no exception. By