“Ahh, yes, you look so honored. You know it’s a Reaver trait to read people and I can see how irritated you are right now, boy,” Lord Jexon said, his gaze slowly moving to High Lady Nerathane at the window. “Of course, I can guess as to why,” he finished and brushed past Truce, heading for one of the tables.
Guessing it was best to simply remain silent after such a comment, Truce smiled, the expression nearly frozen on his face. His only solace was the fact that he had told his wife to relax at home so she didn’t have to endure this as well. His attention rose as High Lord Rivasa and High Lord Morcaillo entered, apparently in deep discussion. By the expression on Rivasa’s face it was apparently a topic he enjoyed.
“Ahh, Truce, how are you, my boy?” Lord Morcaillo called as he noticed him.
“Very good, Lord Morcaillo, thank you for asking. I regret that my father himself is not here to greet you both,” Truce said, bowing his head to the two high lords.
“Have you heard the good news?” Lord Morcaillo asked with a smile.
“What news would that be, Milord?” Truce scanned his mind frantically for any recent news that might have pleased the man this much but came up blank.
“That peasant girl that has been troubling your sister so much has been arrested,” Lord Rivasa said with a smirk. His voice sounded like the crashing of boulders next to Myth’s more fluid drawl.
Truce shook his head slowly at the two men and kept the smile in place. His mind however was whirling with what Sovaesh’s reaction might be to this turn of events. The Assassin had been quite adamant on them backing off his daughter-in-law. This was hardly something he could have prevented, though. Realizing his silence was stretching too long, Truce pushed the thoughts away and shook his head slightly again. “No, I hadn’t heard that as of yet. Might I ask what she was arrested for?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light.
“Impersonating a High Lady. Apparently the child has gotten it into her head that she is of Merrodin blood,” Lord Rivasa chuckled and the stocky man’s voice reminded Truce of an avalanche. When you combined the garish house colors of yellow and orange with the man’s personality, Lord Rivasa was quite possibly the most obnoxious guest his Father ever invited to dine with them.
“It’s ridiculous. Everyone knows the Darks slaughtered the Merrodin,” Lady Nerathane broke in, her high voice a grating contrast to Lord Rivasa’s deep rumble.
“I wonder where she ever got such a notion,” Truce said absently, though in truth he was actually wondering how much longer his father could possibly be. Lord Avanti had a tendency to be fashionably late to everything in order to make a grand entrance and to avoid being bored while waiting for others.
“I hear she is in league with the Fionaveir. It’s likely those brigands put her up to it,” Lord Rivasa said with a disapproving frown.
His beard rather makes him look like a pissed off walrus when he frowns, Truce noted silently and watched Lady Nerathane bobbing her head in agreement. He kept his expression schooled as he watched the Lord and Lady. Despite all of the dinners his father had held, he couldn’t remember a single other time he had ever seen Lord Rivasa and Lady Nerathane in such agreement.
“I heard the same rumor. We should simply eliminate those outlaws once and for all,” Lady Nerathane chirped.
“I believe we have been trying to do that for three hundred years without much success.” All eyes turned to him at the words and Truce mentally cursed himself. He hadn’t actually intended to voice the thought. Shrugging he smiled again and motioned toward the bar. “Can I get anyone a drink?” he asked, hoping the offer of Avanti wine would soothe the feathers he had just ruffled.
“Yes, thank you, Truce,” Lord Morcaillo said with a nod and quickly began to gather the others in conversation again.
With a sigh, Truce crossed to the bar and began filling glasses with the finest vintage available. It wouldn’t do to short-change this crowd.
“You don’t care much for any of them,” Jexon said quietly.
Truce glanced up at the man who was now leaning on the bar a few feet away and shook his head slightly. “No, not at all Lord Jexon, I’m simply not much of a gossip, I’m afraid,” he lied and offered the man a glass of wine.
“Does he have anything stronger than wine back there? I think I will need to be partially drunk to make it through a dinner with Wilameir Nerathane.” A delighted high pitched giggle mingled with Rivasa’s heavy rumbling laugh echoed across the room as Jexon spoke and Truce gave a silent nod, pouring them both a tumbler of brandy. Jexon raised his glass and nodded to Truce. “To getting through this dinner,” he said raising his glass for a toast.
“And the next year,” Truce muttered taking a sip from his own glass. His gaze rose to the stairs as footsteps sounded and he let out a breath of relief as his father made his way into the room. As always, Lord Avanti was dressed far superior to his guests with brocade vest and filigreed boots. Even the buttons on his jacket were precious stones. “It’s a good thing we are rich, with the way he and my sister dress,” he mumbled, drawing an amused snort from the much more sedately attired Jexon.
“As pretty as a maid at her wedding,” Jexon muttered with disgust and flicked his gaze to Truce, taking in the dark colored suit and single ring he wore. “No man should ever be pretty. Remember that, boy, and I’ll respect you more for it,” he said quietly and pushed off the bar to greet Lord Avanti.