Free Nobody's Son by Sean Stewart Page A

were strangely delighted at the prospect of having him for a brother-in-law.
    Valerian bobbed owlwise, like a schoolmaster. “The Count and Duke believe the King will never make you Consort, nor let your blood besmirch the royal line. Gail seemed once a likely choice for Queen: there is steel in her. Gerald and Laszlo and the other dukes fought like dogs for years to keep great Richard, Duke of High Holt, from forcing Gail’s engagement to himself. It seemed that they had lost when Anujel came in on Richard’s side. But lo! in Shielder’s Mark a hope unlooked-for! They think the King will not allow a workman’s child to sit astride the throne. The Duke and Count must now believe they have the contest to themselves.”
    “So the buggers have no reason to fear me,” Mark said, anger edging his voice. He caught a glimpse of Laszlo across the room, his round head riding on its plate of lace, talking to a Bishop.
    “To underestimate a man like you is not the kind of error those men make,” Valerian said, frowning. “Nor will Duke Richard. The powerful will think: a man so great as he must be, who broke the Ghostwood from its ancient spell, once having married Astin’s daughter may find it no great matter to reach out and pluck the Crown as well. Greatness will not sleep tonight, my friend, but pace its floor with furrowed brow, and gaze upon the moon, and curse at fate for bringing peril to the palace, shaped as Shielder’s Mark. Can you imagine Astin has thought of aught since you arrived, but how to keep his kingdom from your clutches, and your knife out of his back?”
    “But I didn’t mean… I didn’t know —”
    Valerian grinned. “Poor Mark,” he drawled. “My eyes drop millstones for you, thrust abruptly into greatness, power, wealth and wife.”
    Eh?
    Mark grappled with the idea of himself as one of the great, wrestling for power and influence.
    Power.
    All he’d ever wanted was to break the curse and earn a safe place for himself and his family. But how safe were grey stones and soldiers in livery if he still had enemies?
    But if he used his position well, took advantage of the power it offered him, he and his could be safer still.
    He looked thoughtfully at Valerian. “Is that why the King filched Sweetness? He didn’t want its name added to my own?”
    Valerian sipped his punch. “A voice would carry farther, that sang to Sweetness’ song. And his Majesty knew something must be salvaged for his vassal, Richard.”
    “Who is this Duke Richard? Everyone seems to be watching ower shoulders for him.”
    Valerian nibbled a piece of crumbly Rhenant cheese. “Duke of High Holt, Richard is, and greatest noble in the land. He has many friends at Court. His strings are fine as cobweb: hard to see, but sticky, running everywhere. He’s like to be your closest, kindest, deadliest enemy.” Mark blanched. “No great act is without its consequences, good and evil,” Valerian said quietly. “If you will set free a shadow chained a thousand years, there will be changes in the land, and in your life, and nothing says those changes will be good. Or had you never thought of that?”
    “You… you make it sound very complicated,” Mark said.
    “Power is rarely simple,” Valerian replied. “At least, not here.”
    As Mark digested this unpleasant thought a bell rang to announce dinner, and they were seated.
    How do the lasses sit while wearing those hoop-skirts ? Mark wondered, mystified. But manage it they did, and flawlessly.
    The King and Queen sat at the head table, along with their daughters, Duke Gerald, Count Laszlo, and the horse-faced woman Mark had seen earlier, whom Val identified as the Duchess of Fenwold. “Heavier than lead and tougher than mutton,” he whispered.
    The rest of the company was arranged six to a table. Mark and Valerian were to dine with the Countess Malahat; Talyard Cirdon, the Bishop; a sharp-featured young woman named Janseni (”Brilliant musician!”); and Lord Peridot,