House of Shadows(40)

When he had heard the tale of the elder princes’ executions, Taudde had felt only righteous outrage and horror against their father. Now he was forced to think of Prince Tepres as well. This was not comfortable. He ate a bite of creamed leeks, grimly.

“Ordinary men seldom think of what they do in those terms, I suspect,” Ankennes answered the prince’s tutor. “I believe the exigencies of magecraft are more clearly evident. At least, men who are not mages seldom appear to see the darkness hiding behind their actions until it is very late in the day—too late, indeed, to remedy even the most grievous error.” But, as the third course was brought in, the mage smiled and turned to welcome it, dismissing this bleak observation.

The course consisted of a whole fish stuffed with bread crumbs and minced vegetables, its scales replaced with parchment-thin slices of white radish. Miennes greeted the murmurs of approval with a deprecating wave of his hand and the information that his kitchens were run by a woman who had been a keiso in her youth and had then managed a restaurant for several years.

“Oh—that would be Disanna, who was Starlily and then owned the Crested Dragon,” said Koriadde in startled recognition. “She is a friend of my mother’s—I had heard that she had taken private employ! I hope for your sake you are paying her a very generous wage, my lord, as otherwise I shall feel tempted to hire her away from you and I surely cannot afford such a lavish expense.”

Miennes assured the young man he was paying the woman very generously, at which Koriadde pretended to be extravagantly disappointed.

“A friend of your mother’s?” Taudde asked, before he could quite prevent himself. It did not, however, appear to be a difficult topic, for Koriadde seemed perfectly comfortable.

“My mother is keiso, of course,” he said, and his brother Kemes—half-brother, Taudde now realized—leaned over and said something to him in a low voice that made Koriadde laugh.

Prince Tepres had said nothing through any of this. But Taudde caught a faintly wistful look in his dark eyes and wondered whether possibly the heir of Lirionne sometimes wished that he, like his surviving brothers and like Koriadde, was keiso-bred rather than a legitimate son of his father. That was another uncomfortable thought. Taudde tried not to grimace. He did not want to like, or approve of, and certainly not pity the prince. Especially as he had no doubt Miennes meant to use him as a weapon against the young heir.

But it was better not to think about such possibilities. Not just now. Not when he needed to pay attention to the present moment. The future would hold what it held. For this moment, Taudde set to studying and deliberately courting the company. He didn’t dare use even the merest trace of sorcery, but he didn’t scruple to use all his bard’s tricks of tone and attitude; this was a courtship at which he meant to succeed.

Of the men his own age, Koriadde was the friendliest, and his brother Kemes also easy-natured. The prince himself spoke seldom, and yet Taudde suspected he might be courted through his friends and be inclined to favor someone whom Koriadde liked. Taudde rather suspected Koriadde was probably more discerning and a good deal less casual than his easy manner suggested.

“I have,” Taudde said at last, over a course of mussels and the finest Enescene black rice, “lived in Lonne for some weeks now, and yet I have not visited the candlelight district in all that time. All this talk has made it clear to me that I must repair this oversight. I have heard mentioned the name of Cloisonné House as perhaps the finest of all the Houses of the flower world. Perhaps some of you would do me the kindness to accompany me there as my guests?”

Only a foreigner, Taudde suspected, would have had the presumption to thus issue an invitation to the heir himself and his companions. The young men might have accepted easily if they had been alone; now they all looked, cautiously, to their prince.

The heir of Lirionne leaned an elbow on the table and studied Taudde, evidently bemused. Jeres, on his right, touched his arm and murmured to him. Whatever he said, the prince dismissed it with a small gesture and a frown.

Taudde, shamelessly trading on his foreign status, said, “Eminence, if I have offended, I can only plead unfamiliarity with the customs of Lonne and ask forgiveness.”

“We are not offended,” the prince said at once. “Indeed… I am even inclined to accept your generous invitation.” He slid a glance toward his bodyguard, met Jeres’s scowl, and half smiled. “Perhaps as early as the evening after next, if that should please you. You might make the reservation in your own name. You might perhaps fail to mention mine.”