“But how can I be sure they don’t really intend an invasion?”
“Kostandan’s never been as aggressive as Pargun,” Arcolin said. “Besides—they don’t know the terrain, and we can protect against them.”
Mikeli finally agreed and called in the Kostandanyan ambassador. The ambassador nodded on hearing Arcolin’s suggestion that they seek King Kieri’s approval for troops to march across Lyonya and use the South Trade Road. Arcolin did not mention his suspicion that some Kostandanyan troops were also being sent by sea to Slavers’ Bay.
“Looks like trying to hide plans,” the man said, grinning. “March along river, obvious. This, not so. King will like. King Kieri called Fox for good reason; he will like, too. Must be force big enough. Rumor say advance of more.”
“Have you already talked to King Kieri?” Mikeli asked.
The ambassador raised his brows. “Is not me. With pardon, Lord King, is considering our beloved and admired Princess Ganlin still?”
Mikeli turned red. Arcolin intervened.
“The Royal Council has concerns, milord. Not about the lady but about other factors concerning our traditions here. For instance, she is with the Company of Falk, quite honorable, yes, but untutored in the Company of Gird and the Code of Gird.”
The man scowled. “What matters what wife knows or does not know other than obedience and pleasing king? It is not wife who rules.”
Arcolin shook his head. “Tradition here, milord, is that wives be capable of taking on a husband’s duties if necessary. King Mikeli’s mother was his regent after his father died, until she also died. She had been schooled here; she grew up with our laws, our customs. The Council feels that the king’s wife, the mother and guide of his children to be, should be familiar with the Code of Gird and be herself Girdish. The matter is still under discussion.”
“There is no more princesses. That Pargunese one will never marry.”
“We have no tradition of the king marrying princesses,” Arcolin said.
“There is another factor,” Mikeli said, having recovered himself. “My cousin Rothlin, who met the princess in Lyonya, is much taken with her. Should I come to agree with my Council, he may well seek your king’s permission to wed her.”
The ambassador pressed his lips together and then nodded. “He is in succession to you, is right? What number? Is mage or not?”
“Not a mage,” Mikeli said. “And presently third, after my brother and my uncle.”
The ambassador nodded again and then turned to Arcolin. “But would Council object, so close to throne?”
“I suspect not,” Arcolin said. “I would not object. Rothlin will not be so close to the throne when the king begins his own family, and that would give time for the princess to learn more in case …” He stopped there. One did not discuss a king’s possible death or failure to sire children in front of him. “At any rate, the important thing is to ensure that Alured—the Duke of Immer—does not succeed in his plans.”
“Yes.” The ambassador bowed to both of them. “If the Lord King will send a short word over his hand, I will send courier to my king at once.”
Mikeli looked at Arcolin, then nodded. “I will do so.” He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out an inkstick, the mixing bowl, and other writing materials. In less than a half-glass, he handed the ambassador the letter, sealed with the Tsaian Rose, tied with the formal rose and white ribbons, enclosed in its tube, also tied with formal ribbons and then in a small rose velvet pouch. “Duke Arcolin already has his company on the march south; I suppose your king will send his quickly.”
“Very quickly,” the ambassador said. He bowed and withdrew.
“I hope that was wise,” Mikeli said. “And now—we shall go look at those maps in the library and settle the issues with your gnomes.” He led the way out of his office, and two of the guards fell in behind them. “Tell me, do you have to speak gnomish to them?”
Arcolin answered in gnomish and then translated. “That was the proper greeting from a gnome prince to his own gnomes. I have had to learn gnomish, yes. I suspect my accent is very bad, but they understand me, mostly, and I’m much better with gnomish than I ever expected to be.” He pulled out the stole he wore. “I wear this always now, so if I meet a gnome I can identify myself and we are within Law.”
“Girdish law?”
Arcolin shook his head. “According to gnomes, there is but one Law, that handed to them by the High Lord. They taught Gird what they could but say that no human legal system is truly Law. We are, they say, not precise enough. Where there is only the light of Law and the darkness of un-Law, we see shades between, which they do not think are real but only our blindness of mind. As the eyes of the old become clouded, they say, so are the minds of humans.”