“That’s different.”
Kyedra is silent for a time as the two walk along the corridor back to the east wing of the palace.
“You like him, don’t you?” asks Natroyor abruptly, then continues, “That doesn’t matter. You’ll have to consort his older brother. Or Khesyn’s grandson. They’re the heirs. If anyone asks at all. Father won’t let you consort a younger son. Neither will Mother. Or Grandpapa Aenslem. Besides, you don’t even know if he likes you.”
“Do you like being cruel, Natroyor?” Kyedra’s voice is low, but not gentle.
“You’ll see what I like. You will.”
Kyedra remains silent as the two continue toward the east wing.
Since neither is talking, Lerial slips away as they take the main marble staircase up to the fourth level and then drops the concealment before making his way back to his quarters, not that he needs that much time to ready himself, but he has not had a chance to talk to Polidaar.
The squad leader appears as Lerial nears his quarters. “Ser?”
“Nothing’s amiss, is it?”
“No, ser.”
“Good. We need to talk.” Lerial opens the door to his sitting room and motions for Polidaar to join him.
The comparatively young squad leader is hesitant, but then steps inside.
Lerial closes the door and takes a seat, gesturing to one of the chairs. He can see that Polidaar has seldom been in such quarters, perhaps only these quarters and only to inspect them … and possibly he is worried that he may receive some critical words. Once the squad leader sits, only on the front of the chair, Lerial smiles warmly, then asks, “Have you had a chance to talk to your men about what they’ve seen and what they think about Swartheld?”
“Yes, ser.”
Lerial nods and waits.
“Well … ah … they all think it’s not that clean a place. That’s excepting the fancy merchanting part of the palace road.” The squad leader offers a lopsided grin. “I know you said … about the women … but they’ve never seen a place with so few women on the streets, and all of them are … well dressed.”
Completely covered, you mean … or more so than in Cigoerne? “I have to say I noticed that as well. What else.”
“The Afritan Guards aren’t as well disciplined, either, and they talk … when they think no one’s listening … maybe because they don’t realize most of our rankers speak Hamorian. And … well … what they say about their officers … ah … you wouldn’t like it, ser.”
“They can say what they want, just so long as our rankers don’t … or our officers don’t give our men reason to speak that way.”
“No, ser … I mean, yes, sir…”
“Go on.”
“It’s just little things. One of the men saw a peddler whipping a boy so hard his back was bloody. Everyone just turned away. No dogs, either. I like dogs, ser. Grew up and used them for keeping the herd in line. You see dogs in any hamlet in Cigoerne … and in the city. I haven’t seen a one here in Swartheld. And the people. They’d give us a look and they just turn away. Not like they were afraid. Like they just didn’t care. Even the children.”
After Polidaar leaves, Lerial walks to the window, thinking. The people pay no attention to the Afritan Guard.… . or us … and no dogs in Swartheld? What does that all mean … if anything? And is what the Guard rankers have said about their officers the way it was in Cyador before the end? Or worse, for all Polidaar is denying, do they talk that way about Lancer officers now? There certainly have been some, like Veraan, who was forced out and is now a trader, or Captain Dechund, who was a traitor. Even Majer Phortyn … But they were only a few. Still … He shakes his head.
Then there is what little he has overheard between Kyedra and her brother. The more he sees and hears of Natroyor, the more appalled he is that the spoiled youth is the heir to the duchy. Lerial has had his problems with Lephi, but Lephi is without faults compared to Natroyor. As for Kyedra … She seems smarter and far nicer than her brother. She has a smile that lights up her face … He frowns. Does she agree with what Natroyor said about your hair? That shouldn’t bother him, but it does, at least a little.
He has to admit that he’s more impressed with Kyedra and her mother than with either Atroyan or Natroyor. But you haven’t seen enough yet … He smiles wryly. He has seen and heard enough about Natroyor, but he needs to reserve judgment on the duke. Anyone who’s managed to hold power for so many years with all the merchanter scheming has to have more abilities that he’s revealed.
Lerial washes up and uses a damp cloth to freshen up his uniform as well as he can … then frowns. Surely, he can get his uniforms cleaned … but no one has even mentioned that. It’s probably assumed.
He shakes his head, walks to the door, and looks to the duty guard. “If you’d pass on to the squad leader … have him find out what we need to do to get our uniforms cleaned.”
“Yes, ser.”