King's Artesan: Artesans of Albia trilogy (Artesans Series Book 3) Page 19

  “That might be just as well,” observed Sullyan dryly when Rienne voiced her regret. “If he saw you looking like that, the pair of you would not make it to the banquet at all!”

  Rienne smiled coyly.

  When the men entered after politely tapping on the door, there were gasps of admiration all round. Bull, already very fond of Rienne, instantly fell in love with her, never having seen her dressed so finely before. Robin, however, only had eyes for his lady, and Sullyan’s prediction concerning Cal’s reaction was also true of the Captain. Her smile promised shared delights later.

  Poor Taran was as badly affected as ever by the sight of Sullyan and was nearly overcome by the strength of his desire. He valiantly tried to conceal it, but it was naked in his hazel eyes whenever he looked at her, and obvious in the way he studiously avoided looking at her. She was aware of his feelings—his emanations were too plain to miss—but there was nothing she could do to help him. Robin gave no sign of noticing Taran’s hopeless infatuation, but Sullyan knew he was aware of it too.

  The men were simply dressed in fine lawn shirts of various hues, sleeveless tunics that showed off their muscular forms, and dark breeches. Sullyan commented on how handsome they looked, knowing that the unattached ladies in the palace would find both Bull and Taran irresistible. However, she decided against warning them both to be careful; it would remind them too forcibly of the last banquet they had attended. Bull was well versed in such occasions, and she knew she could trust him to keep an eye on Taran. Although, she reflected ruefully, if the Adept’s expression was anything to go by, he would pay little attention to anyone else that evening.

  She sighed. That particular problem would have to wait.

  At the appointed hour, a page arrived to escort them to the Great Hall. The huge vaulted room was hung with bright banners and bedecked with lavish tapestries. The tables were laden with all manner of foods, fruits, and sweets, and positively glittered with gold and silver plate, jeweled cutlery, and whatever early flowers and greenery the gardeners had been able to procure. Every noble, every palace dignitary and lady was there, and all were presented to the Heir and Lord Tikhal as they arrived. Pharikian had asked Sullyan and her friends to enter next to last. As the Champion of the Crown he felt it was her due, and she could hardly refuse.

  So it was that they made a grand entrance at the top of the marble stairs leading down into the Great Hall. Baron Gaslek, acting as Master of Ceremonies, caused the huge silver gong to boom when he saw Sullyan and her party approaching. The Major paced serenely forward on Robin’s arm, his dark blue shirt and gold trimmed tunic complementing her green gown to perfection. Gaslek formally announced their names, adding Champion of the Crown to Sullyan’s other titles. Rienne and Taran were both surprised to find the epithet Captain attributed to them, as they had virtually forgotten their honorary and temporary Manor rank.

  Bull had begged and been granted the right to escort Rienne, and he looked as proud as he could be leading her down the stairs behind Sullyan and Robin. Taran walked at Rienne’s other side. They were then presented to Lord Tikhal, a man in his late thirties with long, dark, curling hair and pale blue eyes. He greeted them warmly, his slit-pupilled gaze lingering appreciatively over Sullyan’s and Rienne’s slim forms. Then they moved to stand before the Heir, and Pharikian himself made the introductions.

  Master Artesan Aeyron Pharikian was possibly an inch or two taller than his father and had the same long, straight nose and generous mouth. His eyes were a shade paler than the Hierarch’s, reflecting the light blond of his hair. His manner was open and friendly, his voice a pleasant baritone. Taking Sullyan’s hand as she made him a deep obeisance, he raised it to his lips. “I am very pleased to meet you at last, Lady Brynne.” Smiling into her eyes, he raised her. “My father and I are deeply in your debt. If there is ever anything we can do for you, you must not hesitate to ask.”

  She replied demurely. “Your Highness is most kind. I was pleased to be able to give service to Andaryon’s Crown.”

  As the others were introduced, Sullyan and Robin moved on down the line. When they had all completed this part of the proceedings, a trilling fanfare sounded from the double doors at the top of the marble stairs. All conversation ceased, every head turned. Sullyan watched the Prince’s expression closely as the final pair of guests stepped through the doors. She smiled with real pleasure to see Ty Marik with the Princess Idrimar on his arm, proud of his steady gait. She was well aware that his legs had lost all strength.

  Marik had taken great care over his attire and wore his customary maroon velvet, trimmed now with gold. His clothes were cut to accentuate his lean height, and on his breast lay the heavy gold chain that was a gift from Pharikian for his part in Rykan’s defeat. He stood straight and tall with Idrimar by his side, the stately Princess looking serene and happy in an extravagant gown of purple and gold. Her color choice did rather clash with that of her intended, but no one attending this special occasion was going to quibble over the niceties of fashion.

  Baron Gaslek sang out their names, and the pair paced regally down the marble stairs.

  They came to a halt before the Prince, and Sullyan watched Aeyron closely. The Heir wore a carefully neutral expression rather than the smile she might have expected, and she caught a flicker of uncertainty in Idrimar’s eyes. Gaslek, who had followed them down, now formally introduced the Count, and Marik executed a deep and courtly bow before holding out his hand to the Prince, who took it.

  “I am honored indeed to make your acquaintance, Count Marik,” said the Heir, his voice curiously devoid of inflection. “I tender my heartfelt thanks for your aid in averting Lord Rykan’s threat. Andaryon’s Crown stands forever in your debt.”

  His tone was neutral, even cold, and Sullyan saw Princess Idrimar fix her brother with a pleading, desperate gaze. According to the customs of Andaryon’s ruling House, she had to obtain both her father’s and her brother’s permission before she could wed. She already had Pharikian’s blessing, but the Prince could block the union if he didn’t approve her choice.

  Looking pale, her voice trembling slightly, she said, “Your Highness, my brother. I formally ask your permission to marry this man, Ty Marik, Count and Lord of the lands of Cardon, within the fiefdom of Kymer. My father has already given me his blessing and approval. Will you do the same?”

  Aeyron turned pale yellow eyes upon his sister. He seemed to consider a moment before saying clearly, “I do deeply regret it, my sister, but I cannot approve this match.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  A shocked gasp sounded from the assembled guests. Idrimar turned white, while Marik stood there trembling, his eyes a little wild. Rienne clutched at Sullyan’s arm and hissed, “What’s the matter with him? He can’t do this, it’ll break her heart!”

  Sullyan didn’t take her eyes off the Hierarch. She murmured, “Hush, Rienne. Just wait.”

  Pharikian stepped forward. “My son and Heir,” he said formally, “by what reason do you reject this match?”

  The younger man glanced from Marik to Idrimar, noting their stricken expressions. “I reject it by reason of status, Majesty. My sister is a Princess of the ruling House of Pharikian. This man is merely a Count. There is no parity in the match.”

  Guessing what was coming, Sullyan smiled. Marik and Idrimar must have caught on too, because they both visibly relaxed.

  Pharikian turned to Gaslek, who approached his ruler bearing a highly polished ceremonial blade. He offered it to the Hierarch, who took it and turned to Marik. “Count Ty Marik, step forth.”

  Marik released the Princess’s arm and moved forward to stand before the Hierarch. He was still trembling, but now with anticipation.

  Pharikian’s deep voice rang out, true and strong. “Ty Marik, for seven years you held the lands of Cardon under your liege-lord, the rebel Rykan, Duke of Kymer. Rykan died a traitor’s death by the hand of the Crown, and so all his lands and fiefs are forfeit. They have reverted to the Cro
wn, and thus I proclaim you landless.”

  Despite his hope for the Hierarch’s intentions, Marik turned pale. For a noble, even a lowly one, to be proclaimed landless was tantamount to becoming outcast.

  “On the field of battle,” continued Pharikian, “you did of your own free will forsake your former allegiance, swearing fealty instead to the House of Pharikian, even to the pledging of your life. I ask you now; do you here, before these Witnesses, aver and declare that oath to be true?”

  Marik swallowed before replying clearly, “Majesty, I so swear. I am a humble servant of your House and will uphold your supremacy all my days.”

  The assembled guests roared with one voice, causing the walls and floor to vibrate with the strength of their approval, “Heard and Witnessed!”

  Stepping closer, the Hierarch raised his sword, and Marik went down on one knee, bowing his head. Pharikian leveled the naked blade and offered it to Marik’s lips. “Ty Marik, you have sworn allegiance to the ruling House and to the Crown of Andaryon before Witnesses. Will you serve faithfully and sincerely for as long as you have life?”

  Marik kissed the blade and replied, “Majesty, I will.”

  “Ty Marik, it is the Crown’s pleasure to bestow upon you the title of Duke. Will you swear to govern your people wisely and well, pledging to raise troops from your lands as required by your ruler, in defense of the Crown and the realm?”

  Once more kissing the blade, his voice reflecting the gravity of the moment, Marik responded, “Majesty, I will.”

  Pharikian passed the sword back to Gaslek and held out his right hand for Marik to kiss the royal amethyst seal upon his finger. Raising Marik, he said, “Ty Marik, the Crown confirms and avers that you hold the title of Duke to the province of Kymer. It is also our wish that the lands of Cardon be joined seamlessly to this fief, these lands to be united under you and your heirs in perpetuity. May their people serve the Crown better than under their former liege.”

  This was clearly more than Marik had expected, and he looked stunned as the Hierarch turned him to face the assembly. Without exception, the gathered nobles made obeisance as Pharikian’s voice rang out once more.

  “My Lords and Ladies, nobles all, the Crown presents Lord Marik, Duke of Cardon and Kymer.”

  A great wave of cheering and applause rose from the assembled guests. Idrimar’s eyes were shining, the Prince was smiling, and Marik was so proud that he didn’t know what to do next. His problem was solved by Pharikian, who embraced him whole-heartedly, slapping him on the back. Then Idrimar reclaimed his hand, leading him once again before her brother. They stood smiling at each other before the Princess repeated her request. “Your Highness, my brother, I wish to formally ask your permission to wed this man, Lord Marik, Duke of Cardon and Kymer. Will you give us your blessing?”

  “Dearest sister, with all my heart.”

  Whatever they said to each other as Idrimar’s loving arms fastened around his neck was lost in the cheers and roars of approval that rang around the joyful Hall.

  *****

  The rest of the day passed pleasantly in feasting, music, and good company. Sullyan found time to approach the newly invested Duke of Kymer, adding her congratulations to the many others he had received. Marik was still struggling to take it all in and was thoroughly embarrassed by the deeply reverent curtsey she made him.

  “So, my Lord Duke,” she said, giving him an impish look, “are we mere mortals permitted to address your Grace?”

  Marik grabbed her hand and raised her. “Stop that, Brynne,” he scolded, glancing wildly about to see if anyone had seen. “You’ll make people think I’m giving myself airs.”

  “You?” she murmured. “Never!”

  Mindful of her damaged arm, he swept her into a hug, then glanced at Robin for permission before guiding her onto the dance floor. “I never dreamed he would give me Rykan’s lands as well as my own, you know. It was quite a shock.”

  As the musicians struck up, she melted into his arms. “He was right to do so. You will govern them well, Ty. And you are part of the royal family now, or will be once you and Idri are wed, so you will need lands and status enough to be worthy of her.”

  “I suppose so. But I’ll tell you one thing, Brynne.” His tone had turned cold. “I’m going to raze that cursed palace of Rykan’s to the ground. I’m going to burn the lot. There’ll not be a single trace left, especially of those thrice damned cells.”

  She was overcome by his vehemence. “Oh, Ty, you do not have to worry on my account.”

  “I want to,” he said grimly. “There’s no way I could ever live there, and my old mansion is far too small to accommodate Idri’s household, no matter how finely it was renovated. So I’ve decided to build a new palace, somewhere between the two, one that will be a symbol for the merging of two lands and two families.”

  She smiled, loving him for his sentiments, and after another dance gave him up again to the arms of his betrothed.

  During the latter part of the evening, Sullyan was approached by Anjer and Torien. She was sitting at her ease, watching Robin partner one of the court ladies. Anjer and his tiny wife sat down beside her, and Sullyan smiled pleasantly at Torien. The woman blushed crimson every time the Major looked her way. Sullyan couldn’t help but be amused. The incident in their bedchamber and the personal nature of her advice to Torien raised no awkwardness in Sullyan. She had never been embarrassed by intimate matters, having lived most of her life among men. She had been inured at an early age to innuendo and frank talk. Even had she not been, the necessity of attending to bodily functions alongside the men of her company when out in the field would soon have swept any shyness away, as privacy was rarely possible. Her early experiences had ensured she was never troubled by shyness.

  Torien, however, had been more delicately raised, and it was no surprise to Sullyan that she found such topics difficult to broach. What did surprise her was that Anjer also seemed less than comfortable discussing the subject.

  Avoiding her direct gaze, he said, “My lady tells me that we have cause to be grateful to you, Brynne.”

  This was a glad topic, and as the events of the evening had further lifted her spirits, Sullyan mischievously chose to misunderstand him. “I only helped ward you from further damage, my Lord,” she said. “You would have recovered by yourself, only more slowly.”

  He stared hard at her innocent expression. “I wasn’t referring to that! I was talking about the other matter.”

  Her eyes on Taran, who was being guided through the steps of a stately pavane by an attractive young lady from Tikhal’s retinue, Sullyan asked, “What matter would that be, my Lord?”

  “You know what I’m talking about, dammit!”

  She ceased her teasing and smiled. “My Lord General, you and Lady Torien will make excellent parents. I wish you every joy of your future offspring. I am sure you will both more than enjoy your efforts to obtain them!”

  Anjer’s face flushed. “Witch!” he accused. Torien’s face was flaming too, but she couldn’t hide her smile. “You just wait,” continued Anjer. “I bet it won’t be long before that handsome young captain of yours wants to start a family.”

  Her happy mood fell instantly away and she glanced across at Robin. “Yes,” she murmured, absently rubbing her aching wrist, “I am sure you are right.”

  There was one other surprise before that pleasurable evening finally drew to a close. It was one that Sullyan whole heartedly approved of, although she hadn’t known of it beforehand. Ky-shan and his men had been invited to the Great Hall to join in the celebrations, although most of his band had chosen to remain with the soldiers and join in their rowdy festivities. Ky-shan himself, however, with Jay’el, Ki-en, and the twins, had consented to attend the Hierarch’s gathering and had not disgraced themselves. Sullyan had danced with them all, as had Rienne, but at this late hour only the younger members of the gathering still had energy for dancing. The older seamen had retired to the sidelines.

&nbs
p; As she sat peacefully listening to the minstrels, Sullyan noticed that Pharikian and Aeyron seemed to be conducting a deep discussion, and that their eyes repeatedly fell on Ky-shan’s stocky form. She was intrigued, so when they rose and approached the seaman, she managed to creep close enough to overhear their conversation without being observed. Ky-shan was watching his son’s creditable performance in the close embrace of one of Tikhal’s young ladies and didn’t immediately see the two men. When he did, he glanced at Pharikian sharply.

  “Ky-shan,” began the Hierarch, “I wanted to tell you personally how grateful I am for your efforts against Lord Rykan. Not least for the assistance and support you gave Major Sullyan at a most difficult time. Your … care of her here at the Citadel was also noted and appreciated.”

  Ky-shan’s swarthy complexion deepened under Pharikian’s praise. “We only did our duty, Majesty.”

  Pharikian smiled. “Then you did it very well.” He changed the subject. “I won’t prevaricate, Ky-shan. Aeyron and I have a proposition to put to you, and we would be obliged if you would consider it very carefully before coming to a decision.”

  The seaman’s eyes narrowed as he glanced from Hierarch to Heir. Pharikian traded a look with Aeyron before continuing. “We have some shipping interests on the eastern seaboard which we want to expand. We have employed a succession of factors to manage these interests for us, but they have all been land-based and this has proved a problem. It seems there are too many ways in which ships can be lost or taken on the open ocean, and we are reluctant to sink much more investment into the venture without firmer assurances of a return on our expenditure. What we need is a factor who understands the sea. A man who can speak with authority on the best design of cargo vessels, and the safest, most profitable routes those vessels should take. A man who can hire the right captains for those ships, who will manage and oversee the entire venture in return for a share of the profits. What do you think, Ky-shan? Could you be the man we’re looking for?”