Crown of Renewal(27)

“My … how do I know what to call my first father?”

“First father sounds good to me. Or first-da.”

“He was from Vérella and never anywhere else. Wasn’t it hard, leaving home by yourself?”

“Yes … but not as hard as staying would have been.”

Arcolin finished his business with the mayor and walked over to Kolya’s house. He had visited often since her illness; she seemed to have recovered completely. He found her supervising two of the town boys, who were digging her garden.

“I’m not supposed to do heavy work yet,” she said to Arcolin.

“Can I help?” Jamis asked.

“We can’t stay long,” Arcolin said. “Don’t get too muddy.”

“Tell you what,” Kolya said to Jamis, leaning down. “I need more kindling in the front room: These boys stacked branches beside the woodpile—could you take two armloads inside for me? They’re busy.”

“Yes, sera,” Jamis said.

When he was far enough away, Kolya said, “That’s a good lad you have there. Very good.”

“He’s supposed to be on best behavior in town,” Arcolin said. “But I promise you, there’s a little mischief from time to time out at the stronghold.”

“He’d make a good heir, unless Calla bears a son—”

“She’s expecting—just told me. But he’s my heir anyway; they’re coming with me to Vérella, and I’ll make it formal with the king.”

“Good.” She nodded. “I was hoping you would. So are others.”

“Need anything from Vérella? Or—do you want to come down with the troops and witness the ceremony for the Council? You could come back with Calla and her escort. And it would give her a woman companion to chat with when Jamis is riding with me.”

She looked surprised, then nodded slowly. “I could do that. Belan took over the pruning for me; we’d be back in plenty of time to thin the fruit. Thank you.” She looked at the boys now making furrows in her garden. “I wish it would rain. We haven’t had that much since the half-Evener storm. And last summer was drier than usual.”

Arcolin remembered reading that in the year rolls, but the harvest had been down only a little. “As long as it rains this year,” he said. “I expect it will.”

On the ride to Duke’s West, Arcolin told Jamis what to expect in the ceremony. “You won’t need court clothes at your age, but your best clothes certainly. Your mother will probably insist on a lace collar—”

“Lace is itchy.”

“Yes, but this is at the king’s court, where everyone wears lace and itchy clothes. It helps us remember we’re in a special place, very formal. I will wear lace, too, and so will your mother.” Jamis nodded. “Now,” Arcolin went on, “our king here in Tsaia isn’t an old man, as my father was, but a young man. Older than you but scarcely half my age. His younger brother, Camwyn, is his heir. The king isn’t married yet and has no son to follow him.”

“But he must marry, mustn’t he?”

“He will, I’m sure. When you meet him, you must bow very low—I’ll show you when we get back this evening so you can practice. And you say ‘Yes, sir king,’ and ‘No, sir king.’”

When they returned to the stronghold, they found Calla already packing and also planning Jamis’s clothes for the ceremony. “We don’t have the right cloth here,” she said. “It’s all good wool, but for this he will need velvet in your colors, and he will need new shoes. We can get those in Vérella, but it will take me several days to have his clothes made up. I’m sure it will take several days to set up the audience, so that should not be a problem.”

“I’m sending a courier to the king to ask him to arrange it as soon as possible after we arrive; the courier will be in Vérella at least three days before we are, more if we get much rain on the way. You could send word to your parents to prepare clothes, couldn’t you?”

“Indeed I could. I’ll just measure him—Jamis, come here. By the time you’ve written your letter, Jandelir, I’ll have mine ready.” She pulled a length of cord from her pocket

Arcolin went to his study to write the king about both his new-named heir and the gnomes’ questions about boundaries, then letters to the barons whose lands bordered his to the west. He had met Dortlin once at court, a tall man, younger than himself, with thinning hair and a thick north-country accent, the southern of the two. Kieri had mentioned Masagar, whose very small holding was north of Dortlin’s. Arcolin had never met him and had no idea how far north he claimed.