No progress with the Court of Artisans so far,he wrote to Juste later that night.I am investigating ways we might acquire the influence we lack there, but I fear it will not be asimple prospect. Of greater concern is the social influence we lack. We need a few noblewomen to act as Rem’s agents in Segoile. I can’t swear to what Her Grace is going to find when she gets here.
Though honestly, Edemir wasn’t sure he could swear to what Remin might find, either.
Duke Ghislain Berebet had caused consternation last fall when he wrote to congratulate Remin on his marriage, offering to host the new Duke and Duchess for the social season months before they were summoned to go. His first contact with Edemir had lagged by comparison; he had been in the city for a full month before they finally met, at a different banquet a few nights later.
The fact that Edemir and the patriarch of a ducal House were at the same banquet was proof of exactly how curious the capital was about the Duke of Andelin.
“Lord Edemir of Trecht,” said Duke Berebet, lifting a cup to Edemir as he approached. He was a lean man of medium height, with a neat mustache and salt-and-pepper hair. And Miche had bedded at least one of his daughters. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Your Grace.” Edemir bowed his head. “You honor me.”
“You will find yourself frequently honored, this year,” Berebet replied cynically. “Everyone is mad for news of the Andelin. It was good of your lord to send someone to sate our curiosity.”
“It would be hard to recognize the place, after the past year,” Edemir agreed. “It is a proper town now, between Master Didion and Master Ffloce…”
That wasn’t what the duke really wanted to talk about, but they were taking each other’s measure. Berebet was the first nobleman of substance to make an overture to House Andelin. Why?
“I am glad to hear the land prospers,” Berebet said approvingly. “It is hard work, building something from nothing. Do you know the origins of House Berebet?”
“Not much, I’m afraid,” Edemir apologized. His own House Trecht was in the duchy of Leinbruke, and Edemir had been drilled on the glories of the House of Lein—which included wool, cheese, and many other sheep-related products—since he was five.
“We are not so ancient as some other houses,” Berebet conceded. “We were not kings before the arrival of Ospret Far-Eyes. My ancestor, the first duke of Berebet, was fortunate enough to rule a bit of land in the back of beyond, and was content to keep it that way.”
“I had not heard that,” Edemir remarked.
“He was a clever man, Gllaomin of Berebet. In all those early wars of Ospret’s ascendance, there were no battles over his bit of bog, and no notice of all the iron and copper in his hills. But when Gllaomin was called to the oathtaking in Starfall, he was the first to arrive, and bore the mightiest gift. For while all the other great lords had been making war, you see, he had been preparing for the peace.”
“Great Houses are born of foresight,” Edemir said carefully. Berebet was choosing some very alarming subjects.
“I thought you would understand,” Berebet agreed. They had moved away from the press over the course of their conversation, and stood alone on a balcony now, out of earshot of anyone else. Berebet set his glass down on the railing and leaned back, exhaling a faint white puff into the chilly air. “It is telling, who a lord chooses to send as his emissary.”
“Or if he sends no emissary, and comes himself,” Edemir returned, and won a smile.
“Well, we have already endured the formalities.” There was something about the cast of his face and the glint of his teeththat made Edemir think of a lynx. “Do you know what Gllaomin brought, as a gift to Ospret?”
“No.”
“Copper and iron,” said Duke Berebet. “Not treasures. Not heirlooms of his house. Copper and iron, because Ospret wanted to build.”
Three days later, a message came from the masters of the Guild of Masons saying that they would be pleased to meet him at his convenience. Edemir hardly needed to see the Berebet insignia on the messenger.
It was a shrewdly selective use of Berebet’s influence, all the more impressive for its subtlety, with the underlying message that House Berebet had determined it wise to offer the Duke of Andelin a gift.
The question waswhy.
***
Two weeks left.
Ophele was counting down the days, and there just weren’t enough of them.
Every day she found another plan, another project, another corner of Tresingale that could do with a little tweak or two. In the middle of the night, she jerked awake thinking:wait.She had an entire library of books now, of all levels of difficulty, including some that Jacot could have been practicing on, andwhyhadn’t she thought of that sooner?
She felt like a condemned prisoner, forced to spend her remaining days learning fan language and Articles forty-five through fifty of the Imperial Code. And even when she appealed to Remin, certain that he would agree that the welfare of Tresingale must come first, he had just told her to keep a list and give it to Lady Verr. That was a lady-in-waiting’s job, after all.
Ophele made him pay for it by inviting company over.
“I got this tea from Master Guian today,” she said as she lifted the kettle from the hearth and poured hot water into Remin’s teacup, then Azelma’s. She was careful to let him break the wax seal on the tin of tea himself. “It’s from Bhumi, roasted with lotus fruits. Sugar?”
