The Curse of Chalion

The page swallowed and found his voice again. "My lord dy Cazaril, the Royesse Iselle bids you attend upon her in the green chamber immediately following breakfast."

"Thank you," said Cazaril coolly. He nodded in sober dismissal. The page scampered off.

The morning excursion for which Iselle demanded Cazaril's escort turned out to be nothing farther afield than the promised tour of Orico's menagerie. The roya himself was to conduct his sister; entering the green chamber, Cazaril found him dozing in a chair in his postbreakfast nap. Orico snorted awake and rubbed his forehead as if it ached. He brushed sticky crumbs from his broad tunic, gathered up a square of linen wrapping some packet, and led his sister, Betriz, and Cazaril out the castle gate and off across the gardens.

In the stable yard, they encountered Teidez's morning hunting party forming up. Teidez had been begging for this treat practically since he'd arrived at the Zangre. Lord Dondo, it appeared, had organized the boy's wish, and now led the group, which included half a dozen other courtiers, grooms and beaters, three braces of dogs, and Ser dy Sanda. Teidez, atop his black horse, saluted his sister and royal brother cheerfully.

"Lord Dondo says it's likely too early to spot boar," he told them, "as the leaves are not yet fallen down. But we might get lucky." Teidez's groom, following on his own horse, was loaded down with a veritable arsenal of weaponry just in case, including the new crossbow and boar spear. Iselle, who evidently hadn't been invited, looked on with some envy.

Dy Sanda smiled in contentment, as much as he ever smiled, with this noble sport, as Lord Dondo whooped and guided the cavalcade out of the yard at a smart trot. Cazaril watched them ride off and tried to figure out what about the fine autumn picture they presented made him uneasy. It came to him that not one of the men surrounding Teidez was under thirty. None followed the boy for friendship, or even anticipated friendship; all were there for self-interest. If any of these courtiers had their wits about them, Cazaril decided, they ought to bring their sons to court now and turn them loose and let nature take its course. A vision not without its own perils, but...

Orico lumbered on around the stable block, the ladies and Cazaril following. They found the head groom Umegat, evidently forewarned, waiting decorously by the menagerie doors, open wide to the morning sun and breeze. He bowed his neatly braided head to his master and his guests.

" ‘S Umegat," said Orico to his sister, by way of introduction. "Runs this place for me. Roknari, but a good man anyway."

Iselle controlled a visible twinge of alarm and inclined her head graciously. In passable court Roknari, albeit improperly in the grammatical mode of master to warrior rather than master to servant, she said, ~Blessings of the Holy Ones be upon you this day, Umegat.~

Umegat's eyes widened, and his bow deepened. He returned a ~Blessings of the High Ones upon you too, m'hendi,~ in the purest accent of the Archipelago, in the polite grammatical form of slave to master.

Cazaril's brows rose. Umegat was no Chalionese half-breed after all, it seemed. Cazaril wondered by what convoluted life's chances he'd ended up here. Interest roused, he ventured, ~You are a long way from home, Umegat,~ in the mode of servant to lesser servant.

A little smile turned the groom's lips. ~You have an ear, m'hendi. That is rare, in Chalion.~

~Lord dy Cazaril instructs me,~ Iselle supplied.

~Then you are well served, lady. But,~ turning to Cazaril, he shifted modes, now to that of slave to scholar, even more exquisitely polite than that of slave to master, ~Chalion is my home now, Wisdom.~

"Let us show my sister my creatures," put in Orico, evidently growing bored with the bilingual amenities. He held up his linen napkin and grinned conspiratorially. "I stole a honeycomb for my bears from the breakfast table, and it will soak through soon if I don't rid myself of it."

Umegat smiled back and conducted them into the cool stone building.

The place was even more immaculate this morning than the other day, tidier by far than Orico's banqueting halls. Orico excused himself and dodged aside at once into one of his bears' cages. The bear woke up and sat up on his haunches; Orico lowered himself to his haunches on the gleaming straw, and the two regarded one another. Orico was very nearly the same shape as the bear, withal. He unwrapped his napkin and broke off a chunk of honeycomb, and the bear snuffled over and began licking his fingers with a long pink tongue. Iselle and Betriz exclaimed at the bear's thick and beautiful fur, but made no move to join the roya in the cage.